And one more V-Day gift. Thought I should get this one out of the way before another year went by. A little bittersweetness for the holiday. Wishing you loves of all types!

23. Valentines
Alicia Blade
723 words

It was a secret he would never tell a soul.

He could just imagine the look on Motoki's face if he knew the truth. He could already hear the laughter ringing throughout the arcade. He knew that the confession would haunt him through life and follow him to an early grave. He would rather die then have a single person in the wide world know his true disposition on the matter.

It was such an overbearing, sinful pleasure that he often tried to convince even himself that it wasn't true.

So when Usagi slid into the booth—beside him for once—and inched close to his shoulder and batted those long lashes in his direction and whispered in a sweetly conniving voice, "I know your secret," Mamoru thought for sure the world had ended.

He held his breath and stared back at her, all pale and blue eyes and thumping heart, and thought for sure the hanging hearts and pink steamers and plastic roses surrounding them were beginning to close in. He was suffocating in the sheer magnitude of Valentine's Day—and of her. Still smiling impishly. Still batting those lashes. Still unimaginably, unfairly close.

He cleared his throat and tried to force himself into the crate-papered wall and out of his misery, but the wall didn't budge.

"Wh—what are you talking about, Odango?" If it hadn't been for the stammering and sweating and wide-eyed deer in headlights look, he was sure it would have come off as quite smooth.

Her smirk grew and she cooed in that sultry little voice, "About Valentine's Day."

How did she know? How did she know? How could she possibly know?

He'd been so nonchalant. So discreet. Not even Motoki had a clue, and Motoki knew everything!

"V-Valentine's… Day?"

"Mmmhmmmm…" she drawled, relaxing her chin into the palm of her hand and tapping one finger idly against the side of her perky mouth. "So confess."

He zipped up his lips and shook his head. No way was that quirky smile getting to him again. Not today. Not now. Not with something so important.

"Oh, come on." She paused and huffed, before her eyes began to twinkle ominously again. "I have a secret, too. If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?"

Oh, damn her. Must resist temptation. Must resist temptation. Must resist—

"Okay."

Mamoru cringed. What was he, suicidal?

Usagi lowered her eyes to the table and seemed to be pondering something for a moment, before inhaling a slow breath and quietly murmuring, "I don't like Valentine's Day at all."

Mamoru had to force his jaw from dropping, but there was no stopping his eyes from bugging. "You what? But… but you've been so excited the last few weeks! Hell, you're wearing a skirt with hearts all over it."

She nodded whimsically, but did not smile. "It's true. I'm a fraud. I just figure it fits more with my character to act like I love the holiday, but I don't. Not really."

"Why not?"

Pushing some confetti around the table with her fingernails, she answered, "I'm not sure. I used to really like it. But… I guess I just filled it up with too many dreams that never came true."

Lowering his gaze, Mamoru felt grimy and scummy and dreaded the next words out of her mouth.

"Your turn, now. Confess."

He sighed, his shoulders drooping, and mumbled half-heartedly, "I love Valentine's Day."

There was a moment of the world closing in again, before a gentle nudge in his side urged him to look up, and she was smiling impishly again, and he was blushing.

"I know. You're really good at hiding it, but I could tell."

"Don't tell Motoki, okay?"

She laughed. "I won't. But you have to tell me—why?"

He thought about it a moment, watching her curious blue eyes on him, and chose his words carefully. "It's the only day of the year that I ever fill up with dreams."

Her smile turned dreamy. "Do they ever come true?"

And if it had been a movie or a romance story, he would have kissed her while she was sitting there all lashes and odangos and pink-hearted skirts. He considered it, even, briefly—her little lips were still turned up, beckoningly, almost hopefully.

"No," he finally answered. "Not yet."