a/n: this was based on my all-time favorite japanese drama, love shuffle. google it! won't regret it


The blonde props her hands on her hips, a satisfied smile on her face. The latest arrangement that contributes to her dirtied manicure stares back at her shyly—the blend of colors beautifully aligned to form a flower arrangement that would tempt little girls to pluck some components from it. The blonde wipes her brow with the back of her hand and stands up to wash her dainty hands.

"Good morning, princess."

Smile disappearing, she folds her arms, a well-trimmed eyebrow raising skeptically at the newcomer waiting for her at the entrance. Ice blue eyes meets electric ones; pale, almost titanium long, tied locks against a mess of sunshine shade.

"Did you forget what I do for a living, perhaps?"

Sheepish grin greets her menacing voice. "Nope—I can't help it, though. Reminded me of you."

She sighs, but goes up to him anyways, a resigned smile on her lips. It does not stay long there, unfortunately—she hits him immediately as she closes in on the bundle in his arms, repetitively, ignoring his whines of pain.

"Are you telling me to die? Chrysanthemums represents grief!"


Naturally, he does not talk a lot. He isn't exactly a chatterbox by nature, though he is good when it comes to diplomacy. It's not like he hates talking, he just find it tiring when it's not necessary. Silence is a friend he welcomes.

With her, he can't.

She's always so delicate, sweet and gentle and submissive. It drives him almost crazy at the first, but he learns to compensate, like he always does. With her, and her shyness, he does not stay silent.

A little front, yes, but better than none.

"Where have you been all day?"

A little surprised, she smiles and puts down her dinnerware before answering. Always the prim and proper lady. "I looked at banquets and flowers with my sister."

"Yeah?" He prompts and smiles a little at her. "So how was it?"

"Oh, it was very nice. I wonder if you would like a more colorful flower arrangement or a more classic one?" She asks. "The classic arrangement has a lot more white, and there are not a lot of colors. But both are very nice, in my opinion. The florist is very talented."

His right hand lets go of the knife and goes for her left one. He smiles, strokes the soft skin on the back of her hand and notices the faint color adding up to her cheeks. "Anything you choose. I trust your decision would be best."


"Touch your hair, lean back to your left a little more."

"Like this?"

He nods and peers inside the shutter, followed by a number of flashes afterwards. "God, that's ugly. Roll back."

The redhead scowls and gives him the finger, but she rolls as he told nonetheless. "Fuck you."

"Didn't you just, last night?" He grins, before hiding behind the lens and letting another series of shots triggers the flashes. She's lying on her back, the expanse of her skin exposed completely to the lights. "Don't be too thirsty for me, sweetie. Not healthy."

"Why do I even?"

He laughs good-naturedly, his sharper-than-most teeth baring like a predator facing his prey. A feisty and undeterred prey—she might as well be his predator. "Yeah, babe, I wonder about that too."


She smiles at him. He doesn't smile back. She's used to it.

"Any good news for me? Have you been taking your medications properly?"

A nod.

She tries again. "Are they effective?"

He pauses, contemplating her question before stirring in his seat. He sits up straighter and shrugs. "Depends on your definition of effective."

She laughs easily, waving at him the papers on her lap. "That's just what I have. The definition of effective would be: easier and dreamless sleeping, without headache in the morning."

He laughs at this. Different from her formal, polite laugh, his laugh is always short, rash, and it sounds like a raspy, mocking cough. He laughs often, like this. "Wow, wouldn't that be nice."

"So I take it they aren't effective," she concludes, a frown on her face. "Do you suppose you need a stronger dose? They should really help you with your insomnia, you know. Also, they're the ones with the least side effects."

"In all honesty, yeah, they knock me out cold, to put it simply. So I guess I have enough sleep. I don't dream either," he says, teal eyes locking with her brilliant green ones. "The thing is, she doesn't only talk to me in my sleep."

She pauses, and scribbles on her notes. "I see."

For once, he looks genuinely tired and fed up. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and covers his face with his hands. He ran his hands through his messy mop of red hair and lets out a whisper. "She's inside my head all the time. Not just when sleeping. She keeps telling me to just—I want to listen to her."

She reaches forward and taps his hand, prompting him to look at her. She smiles, but her eyes are stern and commanding. "Do not."


a/n take a guess who they are! i'm writing this as i rewatch that lovely drama. i hope you enjoy x