Disclaimer: I don't own Hagaren.
PG, Hawkeye-reflections. OOC, I guess because I haven't written much about her. Not beta-read, sadly.
...Demands Love Returned
by Maaya
Aroha mai, aroha atu.
Love received demands love returned.
/ Maori Proverbs
Lisa Hawkeye had never before realized how many things she owned; her apartment was at the first glance a very tidy place - almost on the verge of feeling impersonal. It wasn't until one began digging through closets and wardrobes it became apparent just how much garbage she really did own. Admittedly, it wasn't she who had bought most of it (Hawkeye rarely ever bought anything new) but everyone does get a collection of random things over the years. For example, a large amount of her pictures and ornaments had once belonged to her late grandmother, and how practical Lisa ever was, she didn't have a heart to throw it away. Instead, she stuffed them into neat closets along with ugly handkerchiefs her mother had never used and given to her, fancy candles from a friend, postcards, books, boxes, souvenirs, useless toys, a magnetic chess-game she once bought for a long train trip with her cousin...the list could go on and on for an eternity.
She had never really thought about cleaning the closets out and throw away useless things before she once went looking for something, perhaps a deck of cards, and realized how hard it had been to find it because of all the crap she had been forced to look through. It was that day she decided she had to clean.
Hawkeye did not mind cleaning, there were so many things that were worse after all, but she did lack enthusiasm for it in general.
One Saturday when she had a rare day off (it worried her a little, how the colonel would fare without her around to make him work), she told herself that it was time and started. Black Hayate had been ecstatic at first - being the puppy he was - and followed her around everywhere to attack the dust-rag and flee from the broom. Whenever Hawkeye bent down to open a closet and pile up everything that had been inside on the floor, she found herself with a lapful of energetic puppy that seconds later was sniffing through the pile of things, tail wagging wildly like a flag announcing its happiness that said finally, my mistress is doing something interesting.
Luckily it didn't take long until Black Hayate was exhausted and dropped dead to the world in his favourite sleeping corner, leaving Lisa to take care of the cleaning on her own. It wasn't nearly as fun or interesting, she had to reluctantly admit, but much more productive.
It wasn't until she had decided to throw away a box of old letters that didn't held any special value to her, she found the books.
Black paper cover note-books, each one signed with a neat 'Lisa Hawkeye' on a white piece of paper glued onto the cover; Lisa had forgotten all about them and she opened one to skim through the contents, wondering in the back of her mind why she hadn't thrown them away years ago.
Her own neat handwriting covered the pages under similarly neat days, dates and years.
Lisa hadn't been one to write 'Dear Diary' in the beginning of each journal entry she had written as a child; it had sounded silly and plain stupid. She hadn't even written much or detailed - the diary had been more of a vague report of life from her teenager point of view.
Figures. She wondered if the colonel would be surprised to know she had written reports even before the military. Probably not.
As she was half-reading half-skimming through the text one particular entry caught her eye.
I avoided my first kiss today.
Lisa actually remembered the moment she had written that note. She had been what, fourteen, fifteen years old? Not much older than Edward Elric or his brother, really, and had just gone through her first so called 'romance'. Thinking back, she couldn't remember what the boy's name had been, but she did recall that he had been taller than her and had had very blue eyes.
Growing up, Lisa hadn't been very popular with males. She had kept away from the girls who were, not particularly liking their loud giggles and naïve view on life. But apparently, boys liked that kind of girls.
It had been fine, though, because she hadn't considered a romance anytime soon anyway. But there had been this particular boy who had liked her. Lisa didn't know him very well but had noticed him in school. He had accompanied her home from school once, she remembered, and did the mistake of kissing her before he left her alone outside her house. Only lightly, questioningly, but Lisa had been surprised enough to push him away. He fell clumsily on his ass, and got the meaning a little more forcefully than she would have liked.
He had walked away, muttering under his breath about 'stupid girls'. He never approached her again, and Lisa had mentally shrugged and written in her journal about the incident, noting that she had abused the first guy who had tried to kiss her.
Once again, she wondered if any of the guys at the office would've been surprised if they knew. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards; probably not.
It was, in fact, kind if satisfying to be able to say she had hit the first boy who tried to kiss her.
If her father had ever found out, he would've been proud.
End
I know, I know, pointless, pointless. ; But Hawkeye is pleasant to write.