Fukuda/Kaya; sort of wondered why, I missed a kiss for you.
Together they blaze like firecrackers. He's never found someone who parallels his spark as easily as she does – how her eyes smoulder in bright electricity, his eyes glare out a solar implosion; lips curling in a happy smile as often as his purse into a frown.
There are bruises on his arms and shivers down her spine. He likes to think this but maybe it isn't true. But then he thinks, as her gaze lingers on him for a split second, lipstick glistening in the shimmer of light.
He'd match her flicker of anger in the shade of her hair: while she fumes, hair so red and pretty and clear and evident. It's easy, he thinks with a soft frown, his hair a different shade of anger, white and pale and cold but steaming. It could work, if the ring was not so heavy on her middle finger.
They're neon light bulbs, belching out electricity with quick remarks, and easy going rolls of the shoulders.
And then it changes: a quick remark, not so dolled up in pencil marks and karate chops.
There's a bruise on his face, and Fukuda thinks that she should be the protagonist of his manga.
One of these days, it'll happen.
Disclaimer: not mine.