A/N: Alright so. This is going to be a series of ficlets that correspond with the 2017 Shortaki Week. They go along with the art I made for each prompt. Art can be found at mikosarthouse on tumblr. I'm really more of an artist, honestly. I haven't written fiction in, I guess, over a decade or more so I'm basically new at this but I thought it'd be fun to give it a go.

Big shout out to K (FFN: theps118confessional tumblr: ps118daily) for being the most amazing beta and friend a person could ask for. If it weren't for her pushing the best out of me these wouldn't be nearly as good as they are. So major props go to her for being so awesome. I highly recommend reading her fics, she's fantastic and one of my favorite writers in this fandom.

History

It was like clockwork, really. He'd inevitably run into her before class, and she'd act as she always did. Or at least she'd try. A barely perceptible layer of anxiousness would cross her features and embed itself into her voice at the start. It was hardly noticeable, only if you were really paying attention.

Unfortunately for her, he did notice. Every time this daily little ritual happened she'd say her piece like always, and he'd stare at her intently for a few seconds longer than he should. An action he could tell unnerved her a bit. That wasn't his intention, honestly, but the fact that she could keep this up always made him pause. He'd wonder if she would ever get tired of this, and what it said about himself that he continued to put up with it. After a few beats, he'd step aside, as was customary, and give her the same calm response before continuing on with his day.

"Whatever you say, Helga."

His thoughts, however, would linger. His mind filled with her whenever it was given enough time to wander. A constant flow of memories on repeat for him to scrutinize. A tight grip on his sweater pulling him to safety from a flooding greenhouse. Beautiful words on a page from an entire volume that spoke of love dedicated solely to him. The ocean air, the sun shining off her hair, and the comfort she gave him when he realized the nasty sting of being used. The feeling of solitude lessening with her company as they walked around with tummies empty and minds full of feelings only they could relate to.

It made him restless, this growing need to learn more, to know more. He made it a point to observe her closer than he ever had before, gathering new bits of information throughout the day in an effort to make sense of the girl that invaded his life as far back as he could remember. It fascinated him just how much he could pick up by actively paying attention to her instead of simply ignoring her antagonism as he used to. Besides the few instances in which they'd have a truce going, his life was plagued with her actively doing everything in her power to make him believe she hated him. It had gone on for so long that he had believed it, anything that could run counter to that fact wasn't reasonable and made no sense so he'd quickly discard it. She'd conditioned him pretty well to believe that any romantic affection from her could only be an impossibility and the thinking of a mad man. Most days he'd wonder if even a normal friendship could potentially be possible someday, and even that thought could seem like a bit of a stretch. Love? His brain simply refused.

But he could no longer shrug off her behavior, ignore it, or shove it to the side. Designate it as nothing more than a tormentor having her fun with the unwilling victim. Deny any possibility that didn't fit the mold. Because he knew better now. He knew her better now. At least a little. And if he was going to figure out his own feelings on the mind shattering information he was given at the top of a certain building last summer, well, he had his work cut out for him.

Yes, he knew she had meant it, how could he not? The look on her face, the way her voice rang with a sincerity he ever rarely heard from her; the frenzied passion gushing out of her as if it were the only chance she'd ever get to finally release it. The kiss. One no normal fourth grader would ever expect to receive, heck, he certainly didn't.

Helga was a good actress, but no kid could be that good. It also didn't help her case that he had been the one to give her, give them both, an out. That he had seen her struggling to come up with an excuse in the aftermath for something they were both clearly not ready to face, so he handed it to her. Let her do with it what she will and give himself more time in the process.

All he could do now was run through their history together on his own in a desperate attempt to figure out just what he felt for this frustratingly vexing girl. Lord knows she wouldn't be much help on the matter, not with how desperately she clung to the status quo. He knew he liked her, no matter how much she bugged him, he'd always liked her.

"But what kind of like is it really?" he muttered into the hand that was half resting his head and half covering his mouth as the bell for lunch finally rang. He distractedly grabbed his bagged lunch and joined Gerald on their trek to the cafeteria, barely paying attention to the words coming out of his best friend's mouth.

His eyes subconsciously gravitated towards Helga's usual table as they walked in and found her own staring back at him. After her initial shock at being caught subsided, she scowled at him and then quickly turned to Phoebe and started talking. He noticed her start to crack her knuckles, a sign she was unnerved. He'd learned that tell pretty early on. He shook his head and mentally told himself to stop looking before the other guys at the table caught on. As he chewed his food he continued to think on the question he'd asked himself over and over again since that day. Where exactly did his feelings stand in regards to Helga Pataki?

This was too important of a matter to give a half-hearted answer to. If he could be sure of anything, it was that. Even if it took him a while to come to a solid conclusion. She deserved that much.

Didn't she?