Disclaimer: I have a dream. Okay. I have a lot of dreams but I'ma share to you one of 'em. I seriously want Hiro Fujiwara to draw me a picture of Usui and I TOGETHER. I hope this confession makes it obvious that Kaichou wa Maid-sama is not mine!

Chapter 03:

N is for Nostalgia

Who lives in a… click… weather forecast… click… new mountain… click… spaghetti… click… art… click…

Fifty-three channels surfed and not one decent show found.

Usui yawned, settled on a random channel, then dropped the TV remote beside him. Barely a minute later, his lazy gaze shifted from the television and to the large glass window.

Darkness.

Ah… another night has come again. He mentally patted himself for his accomplishment. Honestly, if boredom could seriously kill, he would have been dead hours ago.

He titled his head lower and locked his vision on a lone figure on the floor.

A thought formed around his head.

Ever so slowly, he crawled off silently down the mattress, a devilish look suddenly gracing his handsome face.

Here he was again. Predator on prey.

"My sweet, sweet Misaki, oh, won't you let me take a peek in you diary?"

"Gah!" Misaki jumped up from her peaceful spot on the floor and took five steps away from the crouching young man, journal clutched tightly against her chest. "Do you not get the concept of personal space, you pervert? I told you to stop breathing in my ear, or coming up behind me all the time."

"But I was bored." Usui said with a pout.

"Watch a freaking show on the television."

"There's nothing interesting on."

"Then sleep."

"Not if you're with me."

Her eyes narrowed at him. "Throw yourself against the window and just die."

"When you're finally here with me? No way." He stuck his tongue out on her.

"Tch. Then I will." She grumbled as she stared at the chocolate-brown carpeted floor. Usui watched her cautiously, feeling a little guilty for pushing Misaki a bit too far than intended with his hourly teasing.

Emphasis on one part of that line. A little.

"Where are you going, Misa-chan?"

Misaki was walking around him, pen and journal in hand, all the while making sure she was at least five feet away from the blonde pervert. "In the bathroom and if you dare go inside, or say one more word to me in the next two hours, I swear to God, I will drown myself in the toilet bowl. Just leave me alone for a while."

"Mi - -"

Glare. "I'm serious."

Slam.

Usui flinched at the noise.

He stood up from his place on the floor and went back up the messed up bed, scratching his head along the way. He settled himself on the soft mattress and proceeded to watch mindlessly on whatever was on the television, volume on a minimum that it was almost all just a hum.

A thought suddenly sunk in.

How was he going to be able to go to the bathroom when the need arose?

"Mmm…"

Minutes later, he laid on his side and just drifted off to sleep.

'Whoa. Déjà vu.'

Inside the bathroom, though finally in the comfort of solitude, Misaki didn't know exactly what to do. Being confined in a room for approximately twenty-four hours since her dramatic flight with a stranger has not been doing her any good. To her, it was no different from her previous predicament with the Igarashi Foundation except, of course, her present companion was someone more irksome than the slit-eyed butler whose most lethal attack was his unwavering kooky grin.

She has never felt this overwhelmed and confused, nor have such an overpowering want to be alone so she can sort her thoughts out. She blamed her tumbled thoughts and emotions with the fact that she wasn't able to sleep a wink the previous night. Laying on top of the bed felt like laying atop clouds; it was an absolute heaven on earth but what kept her up all night was the man who slept at the other side of pillow that had kept on crossing over her makeshift barricade. 'Like I'd let myself get taken advantage off in my sleep.'

Though she had to admit that what really threw her off the edge was that Usui was adamant to not tell her much about himself.

Earlier that afternoon…

"Wanna play on my PSP?"

Pi-ping. Ping. Klink. Klink.

Misaki turned her head to look up at him from her spot on the floor. "N- -,"

"Of course you don't. You're not much of a fan of video games. You find their music irritating." He interjected as he continued to press along the black device.

"What? Why'd you - -," She swallowed down her questions as she watched him laugh.

Damn. She had walked in straight to one of his traps… again.

"I don't find it fair that you know almost everything about me but I don't know much about you."

"Well, well, well… suddenly interested, now, are we? How ironic, Misa-chan."

Misaki huffed. "I'm sorry if I've ignored you - - and trust me, you're not the only one - - but it's been a hard year for me. At least cut me some slack."

And he just right out ignored her.

"I want to hit you so hard right now." Out of habit, Misaki did start cracking her knuckles as if warming up for the beating her fist' would soon impart.

"Eh? So Misa-chan's an 'S'?"

"What does that even mean?"

"Nothing."

"Ugh." She turned her head back to the television, refusing to see more of that haughty grin of his. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Sooooo much." Usui drawled.

"Fine. Don't tell me. I'll figure it out eventually."

"Whatever keeps you sane, Misa-chan."

Her head snapped sharply back at him. "Is that a challenge I hear?"

"Competitive as always."

Misaki ignored him this time and instead mused aloud. "Seeing as you know that I'm Seika's previous student council president, it's safe to assume that you will be going, are going, or went to Seika."

"…"

"But you also know about my part-time job…" She continued, eyebrows meeting at the center as she concentrated. "and no student in Seika knows about that… I mean, if one already knows, then everybody should have known already by now… so it negates the first assumption. You also don't even look too young to be a high school student… but… tell me, did you repeat a grade?"

Usui coughed down another round of laughter.

"So you didn't. Okay."

"I've been running through your mind."

"Since yesterday." She growled.

"No wonder I feel tired."

Misaki blanched as she got the cheesy joke.

"We can make things a lot easier for you, Misa-chan. Let's make a trade. I can tell you all about me as long as you get to tell me something about yourself too." He lowered his PSP and looked at her from across the bed.

"What do you not know about me?"

"What goes on inside that busy head of yours to make you not notice or remember me."

Misaki cocked her head to one side in obvious confusion.

"I'll tell you all the things you want to know about me in exchange for your diary." He said, simplifying his previous words.

"F.u.c.k.y.o.u."

"Misa-chan swore. How sexy."

"Never mind. I don't want to know a single thing about you anymore."

Misaki turned away from him again and continued watching some cartoon in the television.

"Ah. My PSP died."

Misaki massaged her temple for the nth time that day. 'I should really stop thinking about him for a while.'

Too worn-out to even continue writing on her journal, Misaki grabbed a clean white towel that hung near the shower and spread it on the cold, white tiles. She sat crossed legged and leaned against the wall.

Then stared at the toilet bowl.

'How enlightening.'

She took out her cell phone and checked the time. It read 7:53 pm. Misaki muttered a cuss. 'Hollywood filmmakers are big fat liars.'

Yes. If this was a Hollywood film, runaways would have been constantly bombarded by assassins, be on a fiery chase on the highway, or at least be announced on national television that they were wanted individuals. In plain terms, things should be exciting.

But running away and being undercover was far more simple than what she was made to believe it to be. They had not once gone out the room since they arrived the previous night; ordering room service once they were hungry, and not once had a ninja arrived armed to cut their heads off. All day, they only stayed inside and the most challenging ordeal that they had to face the whole time was trying to remain entertained and making sure that boredom was kept at bay.

'I guess I couldn't really blame him for feeling so restless.' But, though Misaki felt thankful and all for the sacrifices this stranger was doing for her family, still she felt that it was no excuse for him to be insufferable. 'Great. Now I'm even contradicting myself.'

She sighed and began flipping through the pages of her journal.

"Like hell am I gonna give you this."

September 29

To our dearest Misaki,

We noticed that you've been kinda distracted lately and that it's been really, really, REALLY affecting you badly so we decided to get you a planner that might just help you get back on track!

You may not be ready to tell us what's been on your mind lately, but know that we'll be all ears once you're ready to pour your heart out!

Happy birthday, Misaki! We love you veeeeery much!

xoxo,

Sakura + Shizuko

The dedication was the very first entry written there and Misaki felt warmness spread inside her as she read and re-read it. She was absolutely sure that she did not thank Sakura and Shizuko for even bothering to give her a gift and, with that, she felt as guilty as she did before. Moving on, her hands proceeded to trail into her first entry found just below the dedication.

'You don't deserve to have friends like them.'

It was a message written with so much force that the red-inked characters were engraved to the paper - - and on a side note, surprisingly, the poor thing had not tear through. The next page was the same only it was filled with all the profanities Misaki knew and, at the center, a single, crude caricature of one bastard heir whose body was severed off his head that was drowning in his own pool of blood.

The day Misaki turned eighteen was indeed one of the most eventful birthdays she wouldn't forget quite soon… or, perhaps, ever unless a freak accident causes her to loose her memories, of course.

"Happy birthday!" people would cheer but everything was really far from happy for the birthday girl. She had dreaded that very day ever since she had volunteered to take her father's place in paying for the debt he had with the Igarashi Foundation, and loathed it the moment it had arrived.

Her eighteenth birthday was, symbolically, the point of no return.

That day started out with her just being mad at herself for a reason she didn't know and still don't know but the greetings - - though done with only good intentions in mind - - she viewed as mockeries of her unfortunate fate. By the end of that same day, her finally snapping did not come as much of a surprise to herself anymore. Even her self-control and patience had its limits. But to whom it was directed to, well, that was a whole other case.

"Miss President!" Misaki instinctively turned around and smacked her hand against her forehead after realizing what she just did.

"I told you to just call me "Misaki", Yukimura." She said as the panting student council vice president reached her.

"A-ah, s-sorry. I-It's j-just… t-that…"

Misaki felt a headache coming just watching the boy trip on his own words. Simply watching him was already an energy-draining spectacle. "What did you want, Yukimura?" She said dryly, cutting him off.

"Oh! Uhm… well, everyone in the student council remembered that Mi-Misaki-san's birthday was coming soon so all of us decided on getting you a gift t-that would be also a form of thanks for being our president last year… I've been trying to catch you the whole day but I'm glad I caught up to you b-before you went home…" He fumbled on his book bag and took out a small wrapped up box to give to her. Yukimura's smile faltered as he looked back up to Misaki. "M-Miss president?"

"Haven't I told you that I am not the goddamn president anymore, Yukimura? So, stop calling me that already!" It came out as a mixture of a whine and a scream, though threatening nonetheless.

Yukimura stepped back in shock. "I-I'm sorry, Misaki-san…" His eyes refused to meet her heated gaze anymore as his started to brim with tears. Misaki instantly felt sick as she realized what she just said - - just yelled - - to the innocent boy in front of her.

She ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "No… I'm sorry. I-I have to go home now." She said, ignoring the shaky, outstretched hand that still held the gift for her.

And things didn't end with just that.

The night of her birthday was spent with locking herself inside her room, ignoring the pleas of her family for her to go out so they can have a proper celebration, as she busily gave justice to the very purpose of the journal. This was something she shouldn't push away anymore for her and everybody's sake. She felt rotten to her very core and she needed to have an outlet for those negative emotions she's been harboring less she wanted to completely lose her mind.

The list was born that same night as the finish product of the venting but it was also as a form of self-punishment. It was a list of many changes and first that were brought about her selfishness and immaturity, and reading her journal made her feel better - - not good, just better - - as it sucked her to an abyss of guilt…

Dear journal/planner,

Which is the worse between getting slapped and yelled at by Honoka when I informed the Manager that I was quitting my job, or hearing majority of the male population erupt with uninhibited glee when they found out that I had stepped down as Seika's student council president on my senior year?

… yet, strangely, it was having a different effect now.

Misaki groaned, feeling more awful with each page. It was probably the most verbally abused journal in the world as it were filled only by her foul thoughts, and each entry, though short, were enough to bring about the memories of those stories back to life in her head.

Misaki stood up abruptly, walked, and leaned over the marble sink. She found herself staring at her reflection in the mirror; not liking at all what she was seeing. Cheeks bones slightly jutting out with the few pounds she has loss, dark shadows beneath her eyes… her eyes… her eyes… lifeless… empty except when they were fueled with irritation and anger.

"I'm really sorry, Misaki."

"For what, mom?" Misaki asked, looking startled.

"Because of me, you didn't get to really live your life." Minako wraps Misaki tightly in her arms as her tears overflow from her dark eyes. "I'll miss you so much, Misaki."

Misaki hugs her back before gently pulling herself away. "Tell grandma and grandpa that I say 'Hi'."

Misaki had withdrew from her life in the last year and a half. Knowing her doom, she didn't want to get more attached to the people, to the things, to the life she used to have just so that she wouldn't have to get hurt afterwards.

But doing so broke her instead of making her stronger.

Then a little, innocent-sounding voice inside her spoke.

'Mom always told me to live like a teenager. To enjoy my life… or something.'

Right before her eyes, her face shifted. She couldn't control the devious smile that made its way to her lips as the little voice continued whispering to her, a plan solidifying in her mind.

She suddenly turned the faucet on and splashed a palm full of water in her face, slightly shivering with the cold.

'Oh, come on.'

Slowly, she grabbed a clean towel near the shower and dabbed her face dry.

'Seriously?'

She was stalling.

'No, no, no, no!'

"Oh, God. Fine."

Misaki switched the bathroom light off, and held her breath as she opened the bathroom door, exhaling only when she was able to creak it noiselessly wide enough for her to fit through. The room was void of light except for the one produced by the television but it was enough to see the sleeping man on top of the bed.

She just stood there staring at him for a minute.

'…fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty.'

After reassuring herself that her loudly thudding heart had not woken up the pervert, she tucked her diary back into her bag then tiptoed her way out of the room.

Misaki let out another breath through her mouth as she successfully closed the hotel room door as quiet as she did with the one at the bathroom. 'I'm good at this.'

She then glanced at the bright, empty hallway.

"I'm not going to fail you now, mom."

'I never imagined ever doing what mom used to always tell me.'

End of Chapter 03

Author's Notes:

Condescension

That's a word "The Big Bag Theory" taught me. I was watching the show as I typed this and I didn't want to forget it… I really should get journal myself. T_T

It was surprising to know that a lot liked the previous chapter better than the first ones. This had a different tone again but I'll really keep those suggestions in mind when I'm writing the next chapters. And a possible sequel. Yup. Heard me right. A sequel to this story! I just thought about it yesterday. Ha-ha.

Loads of flashback this time too, huh? Yeah...

Uhm…

For once, I don't have much to say. I'm honestly feeling a little down. So…

Dear reader,

Can you give me a recipe for optimism?

Uhm… of course, please don't forget to review too! That… one up there… is just an addition.

Thanks for reading!

Hearts,

Mari

October 24, 2010