Dandelion Eyes
"He loves me."
The sentiment hung in the air, caught in crosshairs of fading sunlight as the wind whispered back, "Liar."
She sucked in a deep breath and stole some blissful ignorance from her scenery. The sky was beginning to come alive with the hues of dusk, the bright blue bruised with deepening magenta.
She had no idea what time it was. She'd lost the outside world somewhere between the soft blades of grass surrounding her.
"He loves me not."
The yellow petal fluttered from her fingertips with sympathetic softness. She observed with vague interest as the passing breeze cradled the blossom, carrying it to the earthbound doom marked with the graves of its comrades.
The dandelion was unquestionably the most resilient, most beautiful of weeds. Yet even its courage was no match for fate.
"Loves me."
x x x x
It was only her first day as a King of Iron Fist Tournament participant, and already she was making an utter mess of the whole ordeal.
She determinedly patrolled the halls of the unfamiliar building, retracing her steps and inwardly hoping a kind soul would notice her strife and offer a helping hand. Her desperate search eventually uncovered a lean form draped in a worn leather jacket. He was hunched over a drastically creased piece of paper.
Hopes slightly lifted, she approached the mysterious figure. Presumably wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't stir.
"Um, hi. I was wondering if—"
He made no move to acknowledge her.
She sank her teeth into the friendly smile she'd donned, instantly tasting waxy balm. Leaning in, she saw thin wires dangling from his ears. She tentatively removed the left headphone and cleared her throat firmly.
He jerked away defensively. The action yanked forcefully on the cord in her hand, snapping the charcoal bud loose.
She gawked at her palm. "I'm sorry!"
His expression easily shifted from hostile to nonchalant. "I'm Hwoarang. Nice to meet you, Sorry."
Incredibly lame, but she couldn't keep herself from smiling.
"I think this belongs to you."
"Thanks. I was sick of being able to listen to music with both ears anyway."
She gestured to the sheet in his opposing hand. "Would that happen to be the tournament schedule?"
"Yup."
She let out a relieved sigh. "Oh, good. I somehow managed to lose mine in the five minutes since they were handed out."
He quickly scanned the top of the page. "And would you happen to be—Ling Xiaoyu?"
She nodded.
"Don't you have a match at 10?" he asked with a smirk.
She looked down at her watch and gasped. 9:58.
"Great. Just great!"
A light chuckle bid her farewell as she took off down the corridor.
x x x x
"Loves me not."
x x x x
"Scoping out the competition, huh?"
She found herself grinning at the mere sound of his voice, a comfort she'd missed greatly during the hiatus.
"Naturally," she answered, "And keeping an eye out for Jin."
"Naturally."
"I just hope he's alright." Her tone was laced with quiet concern.
The weight of his stare rested on her profile. She resisted the urge to quell the carbonated curiosity in the pit of her stomach, instead deciding to savor the fuzzy sensation.
"Who's that?"
She traced his averted gaze to a young woman who was wading through the rather stiff crowd, chestnut hair clawing at her shoulders in short wisps. She self-consciously noted the girl's interesting choice of attire—short shorts and a low-cut tank top.
She didn't recognize her from the previous two tournaments. "Dunno."
She watched the newest addition to the lobby menagerie pause at the front desk, then impulsively snuck a glance at him. He had also followed her movements. Unsettling heat slithered up from her abdomen to her cheeks, painting them pink.
"I should go introduce myself. You never know, she might have some intel on Kazama."
"Doubtful," she snickered defensively, "She probably doesn't even know him."
"Yeah, you're right. She's way out of his league."
Her heartbeat seemed to gain a voice of its own. She held her breath, hoping to slow the deafening drum inside her chest.
"Either way, it definitely couldn't hurt to talk to her."
The room shrank just beyond her grasp. It was suddenly quiet, too quiet. The verbal networking she'd become accustomed to was packaged in static at the narrow end of a long tunnel.
He prepared to join the muffled masses and her hand pleaded to lash out, to stop him from crossing the threshold into somewhere for someone, leaving her nowhere with no one.
But her arms wilted across her chest, and she allowed silence to speak for her again.
x x x x
Her skirt shuddered against a sudden gust, coaxing her mind from the uncomfortable territory it had stumbled into. The emerald residents of her botanical bed brushed the arches of her knees and elbows.
"Loves me."
x x x x
She'd been watching romantic comedies again.
She tended to avoid them, but in the end she was still a teenage girl. The movies themselves were usually enjoyable. Cliché at times, maybe, but there would always be a plot twist waiting to recapture the attention of the skeptic in her.
It was what they turned her into she despised—a blubbering mound of pathetic loneliness. The adorable displays of unconditional affection would blur behind a curtain of stifled tears, and her mind would be left wheeling from forlorn possibilities and the imminent arrival of the unanswerable.
"Why don't things ever turn out the way I plan? Where's my happy ending? Do I even have a soulmate?"
And this one had left behind a particularly vicious ache by the name of, "What's wrong with me?"
And he noticed immediately.
"What happened to your smile?"
She forced a grin, stretching the artificial sweetness as far as she dared. Amusement flickered across his palette, but he was clearly unconvinced.
"Not that one. The real one."
She tried again, but this time even she could sense the deception etched into her lips. The smile wavered precariously, then evaporated in shame.
He reached out for her unexpectedly, strong hands curling around her sides. She tensed, stunned, until she realized his intentions.
He, of all people, was about to find out that she was extremely ticklish.
"Stop it, Hwo," she warned, swallowing a giggle as she squirmed away, "I'm not in the mood."
"Who're you tryin' to kid, Xiao? As long as I'm around, the ladies are always in the mood."
A boisterous laugh erupted from her mouth without permission. "I'm being serious!"
"So am I. Now c'mon, where're you hiding it?"
He ensnared her waist from behind, preventing her from escaping. Her eyes fluttered shut as she mostly involuntarily overdosed on his familiar scent.
And all at once, she was the beautiful protagonist with a heart of gold, and he was the stubborn smart-mouth at last learning what love was.
"No f-fair," she accused, smiling as she caught her breath.
"There it is," he declared triumphantly, flashing her a grin of his own, "Try not to lose it again, will ya?"
x x x x
Somewhere in reality, a motorcycle revved loudly, issuing its ominous battle cry to the streets of Japan. A string of feminine laughter joined in the loud chorus.
"He loves me not."
So the boy with dandelion eyes had finally fallen in love.
Just not with her.
As she tossed the naked stem into the clumsy pile she'd created beside her, the wind once again scorned her.
"Liar."