several drabbles from my notebook. these are part of scenes i can't weave into full-length stories, so i just sort of posted them all together to make this entry. hehehe. hope it doesn't get readers confused. U.U

—

colorless

He wonders, sometimes, long after Kaichou had left the shop and he's all alone, he wonders if life was always like this, always dull and broken and so empty; he wonders if he had a purpose before, someone to go home to, someone who cared for more than entertainment; he wonders, but then forgets what he was wondering about, and the cycle starts again and again and again, colorless and bland, just as he likes it best.

—

He wore casual shorts and a shirt with the careless grace of a man entirely comfortable with himself and his body. He was all green hair, light hair and a mouth that inspire several choice fantasies. In rapid, vivid succession. She was all too aware of the man standing next to her, and for once, she was at a loss for words. But Misaki was Misaki, so before he had a chance to say anything else she had turned her back on him.

—

sixth sense

She always knows where to find him; he can no longer surprise her by appearing out of nowhere—Misaki wonders if it's wise to taunt him with her new skill, if it's healthy to find Usui's barely masked vexed face appealing.

—

"Hey, Maid-sama."

"You are unbelievable!" she whirled, outraged, before checking to see if anybody happened to have heard. He glanced at her vexed face and chuckled as she muttered, "You really should stop holding me to that at some point."

"There isn't anything embarrassing about having to work to support yourself, Prez. What I don't understand is why you keep flailing around in an identity crisis."

She opened her mouth to give her a piece of her mind but then his words seemed to have sunk in, for she seemed to consider.

"That's not a bad way to put it, Usui-baka," she grinned a little ruefully. "But I think I've evolved into treading water now. No more flailing."

"Is the object to swim or to get out of the water?"

"I am not getting into this kind of conversation with you!"

She was gone, and Usui sighed. He would just have to wait for her to find herself and maybe, just maybe, she would get to find him still waiting sans those walls of hers.

—

smell

He's got a strange smell around him—not bad, per se, but very distinctive; it's the smell of rosewood and rich leather, mixing into a unique perfume that never fails to rile her up.

—

moon

Usui thinks they're like the sea, the both of them, pulling and pushing, coming and going, always under the capricious spell of the moon...if only they could know who their moon is, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.

—

air

Air, she needs air—she actually needs warmth, her family and home—but at the moment, Misaki is quite content with just a bit of air...now, if only she didn't have to take it from Usui's lungs, everything would be perfect.

—

water

Usui's starting to doubt Kaichou's capabilities as a healer—all she does is boil unholy amounts of water and shove them into his personal space without any apparent pattern or reason...her hands on him won't hurt anybody, though.

—

"I want us to be together," she blurted out, much more loudly than she'd intended. Her words rebounded along the vast emptiness of the auditorium and she felt her cheeks burn.

"What?" Usui said in that annoying singsong tone of his, his eyes narrowing like the way they did every time he made fun of her.

"That's it, I'm going," Misaki snapped, and she angrily grabbed the papers stacked on the table in front of her. "Usui, you idiot—"

"Are you kidding?" he demanded, his face suddenly masked up in an inscrutable expression. "You can't throw something like that out there and then just take it all back. Stop—running—away—"

"That's—" she paused, selecting her words carefully, stubbornness and pride be damned. And then—"That's all I have to say."

"That's not good enough, Misa-chan," he replied, his voice dry. "You want us to be together? Define 'together.'"

"Just—look, let's just leave it at that," she snapped, suddenly defensive. "Is this some kind of a deposition? I actually don't feel like playing games with you."

He shook his head instead and reached out to hold her face between his hands.

"I don't feel like playing at all," he said quietly. "I keep trying to tell you."

—

paralysis

"I keep trying to tell you," and the words hold her back, freezing her features and her mind and all she can do is hear her heart beat wildly, ignoring her battered mind as she gives in.

—

thanks for reading!:D