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Chapter Three: Dare To Insult Comedy
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It was at this point I was panicking. Letting myself forget everything that just happened, I know, stupid right? Well, I already told you I was. Not my fault right now. Its Tarzan b- I mean Fujisake Nadihigo. Or something like that.
The door was opening; I turned around to him, my arms flailing. It burst open just like that, and my hands fell to my sides. I was shocked beyond belief. His hair was flowing down his back, over his…tuxedo? I didn't really remember that. His gaze was the least bit playful; it looked stern, full of hatred. His eyes glowered, glaring at me as I gaped at him. The headphones, as geeky as possible, weren't there, hanging on his neck. He looked the rich son of a royal family, almost like a fiancé.
Wait. Wasn't I expecting a fiancé?
"M-miss Mashiro!" the guards shouted. I turned, now completely stone. I didn't have an expression, I looked perfectly fine. He continued, the other guards looking extremely worried with him, "We s-saw someone coming towards the room! Is everything alright?" He stopped, noticing Nadihi…go…blah.
He bowed quickly, the other guards following suit. A different, side guard shouted in almost an exasperated tone, "S-so sorry!" I wasn't getting this. It all was quick, Nadihigo had his shirt unbuttoned, and now, he was trying to do the same to mine. I was embarrassed. Was this his situation to chasing them away!?
I listened to my instincts. Get him away. I thought. I already knew kicking didn't help, so I went for slapping. I aimed for his face, and there went my hand. I wish I actually succeeded, but he blocked my hand with a fist. That fist then gripped onto my wrist, pulled me closer.
I heard the guards leaving. Loud, thundering footsteps. Chattering, the blush that was easy to read on their faces. It was all as he leaned closer. Was he really and truly going to kiss me again!? But he sighed, let go quickly, to my surprise, and drew back, stumbling over. One of his hands brushed away his bangs, his mouth contorted in pure disgust.
He was mumbling to himself, over and over again, "Disgusting, gross, sadistic, stone cold, mean, stupid, dumb, no cooking, artsy or sports skills, bad aim…" he was shuddering, while reading out my worst characteristics.
I didn't understand. I fell to my knees. He looked up at me, and spat bitterly, "You are unstable, aren't you? Did you seriously believe I like you! Crying, too, hah! Pathetic; it makes me laugh."
"Crying?" I stuttered. He looked up, a little surprised. "I'm not sure of anything, because you are right. I'm dumb. So why would I know to cry or not, in a situation like this?"
He laughed. I cringed. Disgusting, I thought. "So, what are you going to do, pull me on you again? You stupid idiot!" He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
I knew I shouldn't have done it. But it was uncontrollable, all my emotions piled up to this one day, let loose, and then bound up again halfway through the process. I was only angry now. So, I punched him.
It was accurate, and it sent him flying to the wall. I smirked, cracking my knuckles. The voice that spoke wasn't me at all, and yet it was, "Stupid bastard…" I laughed, not a trace of sanity in it. "That joke was terrible!"
The breath was knocked out of him, as my fist pounded down his stomach. I kept hitting him with my fists. My heart was filling up with satisfaction. The things I hated most; a ruthless, mean and sarcastic boy, and especially humor used in the worst of ways.
I squished his head down with my foot, yelling loudly, "Nobody ruins the true purpose of humor, especially with a sarcastic voice!"
We were sitting in my bedroom, hours later, in awkward silence. He was rubbing his head in pain. I blushed, mumbling, "Sorry about that." I fumbled around in my chair, tapping my fingers on my knees. "I just don't understand why they left, and all that…"
He grumbled angrily to himself, straightening his tie. He stood up. I looked over at him, wondering all these things about him. He went from perverted and care-free…to some stern guy I don't remember. He replied in a monotone, "I'm your fiancé. Prince Fujisaki Nagihiko. I hate you, everything about you. The only reason I'm here, is because my father arranged to get us married."
Nagihiko left the room, practically slamming the door in my face. Even though I was across the room, it at least felt like he'd slammed it in my face. I swiveled the stool I sat on around to my mirror. I looked at my face.
No sign of happiness, sadness, anger…or really anything. I was confused. The options were limited. Did I just marry the guy? Or did I do what I want to do. I thought. I pulled my hair back, off my shoulders, and decided on the second option.
Morning went by. I couldn't stop thinking of my plan. I realized, for one, I could only attack him when he insulted the greatest thing in the world, comedy. So, earlier that night, I'd asked father for a little…preparations.
Noon was here. Everyone was setting up the ball room, pitching in, doing whatever they could…except for me. I drank from my favorite tea cup, sipping every once in a while. Because all I was thinking of was Nagihiko. I was drinking at a table in the ball room, observing everything.
Mostly just my fiancé-to-be in a few minutes…he was faking the smile, the generosity, all for the trust of my family. Nagihiko was also showing off his muscles; hint the short-sleeved shirt. It was normal. It looked normal. He was the very least bit normal. He was arrogant and stupid. His hands gripped the edges of the table, and then he lifted it up in the air and grinned. Everyone clapped.
I choked on my tea, slamming it onto the table, empty. I folded my hands over each other, on my lap, and looked away. I knew he was moving the tables. But unexpectedly, my table lifted.
My eyes widened, as the tea cup slid, and fell, down, down, down…
I looked at the ground as it smashed it little pieces. Silence filled the cheery hall, and everyone here, except Nagihiko, knew that was my favorite tea cup. The only memory I had of mother and father's happiness. He pretended to gasp, "Oops! Sorry Rima-koi!"
Then that was that. I bent down, my fingers wobbling uneasily. Piece after piece, piece after piece… I looked up, wanting to cry, but forcing back the tears. I needed to build up anger for the plan. He was smirking…evil bastard!
I quickly stood up, my feet crushing the little hopes the tea cup had left, right now, I didn't give shit, "You evil shit! That was the last of my fucking good memories, the very last! Unless you want to kill me next, life is worthless!"
The anger I'd built up, the sadness I'd built up for the plan…was all gone. He knew it, too. He knew all my weak spots just from today, and probably, my childhood. A smart, evil spawn of the devil had arrived. He needed a heart. I knew so too.
He giggled a mocking tone in his voice, "To think someone like you can ever like comedy! You're so boring!"
I then yelled, hands in fists, punching him square in the face, "You dare insult comedy!?" I hope when his head hit the floor, it landed in the tea cup mess. Blood, blood, blood…I'm not paying for the medical bill. His ego should.
Mikki: No ego be paying for medical bills! if that were true... _______ i'd have no money
Nagi&Rima: WTF!? D:
Mikki: haha.. nothing. R&R... BETCHES :U
Nagi: Rima-koi~ sorry i broke ur tea cup~ ^^ HOW CHEEZY IS THAT!? D: -reminds mikki of cheez-whiz death incident-
Mikki: cheez.. T__T whiz!!!! -runs away-
Rima: O_____O wtf?
