Title: flowers in the dustbin
Series: Kaichou wa Maid-sama!
Characters: Misaki, Aoi, mentions of Usui
Rating: PG13 to be safe
Genre: Drama/Angst/Romance. As expected from me.
Warnings: OOC-ness. Inaccuracies. Nonsensicality. Song lyrics. Me trying my hand at short blitz fic. Also, my first fic for this fandom.
Summary: He loves her and she loves him. There was nothing else left to do about it but some portion of his mind can't stop hoping, and wishing, and regretting every second of doing so. One-sided Aoi/Misaki one-shot typed in thirty minutes.
Remember those times when he sent you flowers? Throw them away.
Forget about his charming smile too, as soon as possible.
His gentleness might bind you in a spell, so wake up quickly.
Your goodness is such an enigma – let me keep it a secret.
He does not know when this thing started, and he decided that he might as well not care.
But he does. Oh, god, he does. He notices it everytime she walks in a room, wearing some plain outfit that would look so not cute on her, and somehow he still notices the sparkle in those brown eyes that makes his heart skip a beat. He notices it when she is swept up in an embrace, all blond hair and tall frame and tight grip blocking her from view. He takes the time to notice how cute she looks when the other man makes her flustered, but he cannot help but notice the way that his vision seems to turn red at the sight.
He notices the way she makes him feel – it is a feeling oddly familiar to not feeling the earth under his feet, a feeling that made him feel as if his face was perpetually on fire that made him sick to his stomach – he notices the way she looks at the taller blond, and he notices that she never looked at other people (him) that way.
After all, he was fourteen, but he wasn't stupid.
He notices everything and yet, admits nothing. He knows that he likes(/loves) her but he could never tell it straight to her face. He knows that he can see that she is cute (and would never hesitate to say it if needed, especially if the dress she was wearing was made by his own two hands), but he could never tell her that he thought that she looked stunning even when she wore her normal clothes. (Because Aoi-chan loves cute things and normal-clothes-mode Misaki was so uncute.)
She calls him Aoi-chan. Like a little girl. Which is fitting, because well, he's always loved being like a cute girl, right? (Which was why Aoi-kun became Aoi-sama, the pretty net idol.) But there are times when he unconsciously thinks that he would also want to be treated as a man (like how she treats him, albeit with admirable resistance), and it makes his heart make this little somersault that he never knew it could do.
He knew that she loved him. He knew that he loved her. They were a perfect couple, no matter what the fortunes said – and it made him happy and yet brought him to tears. She was cuter by Usui's side anyway, and that was better, because that meant that it was okay for him to like her because he liked cute things first and foremost, after all.
But, when he looked at it in hindsight, it was wrong.
If Misaki looked cute when she was with Usui, then that would make her cute if she was by his side, and since Aoi only liked (loved) cute things, that meant that as long as she was with Usui, Aoi would like (love) Misaki.
It was disturbing. He never thought that there would come a time that he, the great Aoi-sama, would feel like this. That one visit to his aunt's maid café would lead to him meeting the woman that embodied his downfall.
And since that she would only be cute when she was with the other man, then that meant that without him, she'd be uncute and he wouldn't have to feel this way about her anymore, right?
So the first thing to do would be get rid of Usui. Then all his problems about the lifespan of his heart rapidly decreasing when he saw her (in the other man's arms) would disappear, wouldn't they?
And when she was alone and uncute, and the tall stalker man was no longer following her every move, everything would be perfect, wouldn't it?
(Everything would be perfect and he would finally make her his.)
He blanched, looked like he wanted to throw up, and threw what he was holding onto the nearest thing resembling a surface. With his heart thumping rapidly in his chest, he opened the door he had exited from and walked back the way he came.
He didn't notice the black and white vision of a girl he almost tripped in the process. "Aoi-chan!" That familiar voice, that familiar scent…he didn't know how to react to her, to talk to her, when he had been thinking of her these past few moments (and maybe even in his dreams). "You look sick. Are you okay? You look like you're burning up-"
He swats away her hand with his arm (because he knows that if she touches him now he'll do it and then and then and then) and growls "Leave me alone," because really, that is the only way he can rid himself of her. He walks past the hallways, past the kitchen, the staff room and the café, walks past the squealing customers and the bewildered maids, trudging off home without so much as looking back.
On the other hand, in the place that Aoi recently vacated, a certain Misaki Ayuzawa was thoroughly and utterly confused on how there was a bouquet addressed to her sitting on top of the trash can.
They were red carnations, added a small voice in the back of her mind.
A/N: The song is Super Junior's "Super Girl" (which I was LSS-ing on badly after watching the beach episode for some reason), and the title comes from the Sex Pistols' song "God Save the Queen", which in turn came from a Hetalia fanfic I read.
Goodness, Maid-sama has been sort of a guilty pleasure for me now. And as usual, I go for the crack pair. Don't get me wrong, I love the way Usui cares for and loves Misa-chan deeply, and I also know that Aoi knows his feelings but decided not to go through with it, but I just wanted to play with this idea for a little while. (and of course, they are not mine. nothing ever is. /sulks in a corner)
Also: red carnations = my heart aches for you. Flower motifs. Yeah, I love them.
Reviews will be very much appreciated.