Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me!
Author's Note: I didn't have a lot to write about in the particular ficlet, because this was based off a memory between a friend and I, who I absolutely do not view as a romantic interest. Haha. Today's song is "Boyfriend" by Big Time Rush... Don't judge me.
Have you ever had the feeling you're drawn to someone?
Anything
Any reason they could have said or done?
Love was in the air at Pokey Oaks high school, the nature of romance in full bloom. Girls received a plethora of presents from their boyfriends—glittery jewelry, boxes of chocolate, and fancy bouquets from high-end flower shops. In return for the expensive gifts, the male halves of these materialistic relationships received cheek kisses, cupcakes purchased from the grocery store, and probably physical favors when the respective birds and bees found themselves alone, behind the protective shield of a closed door.
Actually, rather than love, it seemed teenage hormones pervaded the air.
"It's not that I'm not a romantic," Blossom deliberated to Brick as they walked around in laps around the courtyard, free to talk during their lunch period, "but the concept of buying presents seems anything, except romantic."
"It sounds to me like you're thinking about it too much," Brick replied, audibly sinking his teeth into an apple, "which is pretty typical of you."
Rolling her bubblegum-pink eyes, Blossom nudged her elbow against Brick's. "And you're not thinking about it enough, which is pretty typical of you."
"Hey!" Brick griped playfully, nudging her right back. "I'll have you know there is nothing typical about me."
"Suuure," Blossom laughed, her skeptical tone more indulgent than sarcastic.
The red Rowdyruff Boy and the pink Powerpuff Girl ceased their bitter rivalry long ago, when fate made them lab partners in the seventh grade during a frog dissection. In the middle of mutilating the amphibian's corpse, the two discovered they shared many interests such as a trivial passion for Egyptian mythology, a love for Shakespearean words though the stories themselves lacked vision, and a mild addiction to it's-so-bad-it's-good films. Granted, as children, their increasing fondness for one another was kept in the shadows, all the way until junior year of high school. Brick had grown independent from the purpose of his original design little by little, and left the world of petty thievery and destruction behind him, save pulling the occasional fire-alarm.
The Ruff and the Puff were unabashedly close to each other, the best of friends, never growing impatient with each others company and always partnering up when the opportunity came up.
"Anyway," Blossom continued. "I just feel it's a little superficial. "Why can't Valentine's Day be more about spending quality time together than about..." As if on cue, Blossom and Brick walked passed a couple that was too busy making out to nice the rest of the world walking right by them, as the girl held a bouquet of store-bought flowers in one hand, "that about that? It's so insincere."
"You're just saying that because no one got you anything," Brick snorted in between bites into his apple.
"On the contrary, I have more roses in my locker than I know what to do with," the pink Powerpuff replied. "I can probably start selling bouquets myself."
"Well, aren't you you the popular one?" Brick teased, humorlessly laughing. "I don't get it. Don't girls usually go nuts for fancy flowers?"
"Of course," she answered sheepishly, shrugging casually, "but I believe it would be a more heartfelt gesture if a guy picked flowers for me instead of purchase them at a holiday-exploiting shop. I'd prefer that any day."
"Okay," was Brick's simple response.
Blossom paused her stroll with Brick when the latter abruptly turned around and walked away. For a moment, she actually thought her best friend was irritated with her, but he hadn't wandered more than a few feet. Kneeling down next to the grassy area of the courtyard, Brick extended one arm, and carefully plucked a bouquet of dandelions and sunflowers, then neatly tied a rubber-band around the green stem. Perplexed at first, Blossom examined Brick's actions, tilting her head like a puppy.
"Here," Brick offered, handing over the group of flowers to Blossom.
She beamed at her male counterpart, appreciatively accepting his sweet, humble gift. "See? So much better," Blossom said, smelling the beautiful fragrance of the flowers—the scent potpourri-like with an expected air of dirt. "This is all I could ask for."
"Heh," Brick chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Don't get used to it," though in all honesty, he would happily give Blossom an entire garden if she wanted more flowers. Not because he thought of her as more than a friend or anything.
Continuing to sniff the sunflowers and the dandelions, Blossom gave Brick a warm smile. "I'll try not to." Pulling one stem from the tight rubber-band, she gently puffed a breath at the sunflower's elegant, yellow petals, and turned them ice-blue, and then gave it to Brick. "I think it's fair guys should get gifts, too."
Unable to make proper eye contact, Brick curled his finger around the singular, most significant present he'd ever gotten, "Thanks."