A/N: Second ParaKiss fanfiction! No flames, please. Constructive criticismwill be met with love and cyber-cookies.
It's typical, really. It's been five years since they last saw each other. She's matured, she's changed. As far as everyone is concerned, the Caroline of years past is gone. Now there is only Yukari Hayasaka. Professional, mature, and totally in control.
So why the hell does he smirk when he sees her?
She comes round the corner, snapping her cellphone shut and shoving it into her purse, and there he is, leaning nonchalantly against the wall like the world belongs to him. His blue hair is covered by a cowboy hat reminiscent of their high-school days. His eyes are closed, lashes barely touching his skin. His long fingers drum slightly against his thigh, a silent beat. He looks like he's sleeping.
Typical.
For a minute she contemplates walking right by him. It's been five years since that day. Five years in which she's had time to mend. But it tempts her, staring at his face and remembering. A long blue gown of his make, hair in a style Seiji would be proud of, back straight and long legs striding effortlessly across the crowded room, all eyes on her, the star, Yukari Hayasaka, queen of Tokyo, a woman countless guys would die for, and he pretends she doesn't exist.
She dismisses that thought instantly. She wouldn't ignore him for anything. No. No, wrong wording. It's because she wants to show him how much she's changed, how different she is. She is Yukari Hayasaka. She will not be wooed by his cheap tricks. She's been divorced twice, she's had six books written about her, and she will not be made weak-kneed by him anymore.
... Right.
"George?" she says, trying to make her voice regal. A queen, she reminds herself. Somehow, it comes out as a squeak.
He looks up, and she finds her heart beating faster. Damn. It wasn't supposed to work like this. As if he can read her thoughts, he grins slightly.
"Yukari." His voice is exactly the same. It still has the power to send shivers down her spine. Typical.
She raises her eyebrows. "I wasn't expecting to find you here." At least that sounds truthful. Last she heard he was in Rome. When she says so, he chuckles.
"Yeah, that's what I told them all. But I got bored with that. You've seen Rome once, you've seen it a million times." He says this so indifferently, like visiting the once most powerful city in the world is like shopping for lunch. A small voice in the back of her mind remarks that she's never been to Rome in her entire life. She ignores it.
"So were you working with a customer?" she says casually, wondering why they're acting like they're friends who see each other every day instead of ex-lovers who haven't talked in eight years. He seems unaffected.
"No, I was with my girlfriend." And here's the part where her insides turn to ice, watching him watch her from underneath that ridiculous hat, eyes unreadable. Bastard.
"G-Girlfriend?" She hates the way she stutters. It's typical. He's the cool, suave one, and she's the awkward, stupid one, acting like she's barely out of puberty.
"Yeah. I met her in Japan. She's a model, too, you know."
"Oh. Pretty, is she?" How easily they slip back into their games, he the puppet master, pulling on this string to see what will happen, she the pitiable marionette, allowing him to control her. It amazes her that they've only been talking for five minutes.
"Yeah." He seems to have decided something. "I broke up with her."
"How amazingly great for you." A small part of her wants to scream with joy. Another part of her wants to murder this creature standing before her.
He smirks. "Is that a hint of jealously I detect in your voice, Caroline?"
"Go to hell."
"Now that's just rude."
"Bastard." She has been with him for seven minutes exactly. Somehow, they've managed to start another argument. Utterly brilliant, and oh so typical.
"Really, how cruel... And after I've come all this way to see you."
She pauses mid-mind-dismembering. "...What?" she remarks brilliantly. This was different. The eighteen-year-old, Paradise Kiss-version of her skips with joy inside of her. He came all the way to see her? He still remembered her?
"I came all the way to pick you up," he says patiently, face slipping back into the mask of amusement reserved specially for her. "I heard you were here, I missed you... Look, do you want to go for coffee, or what?"
He missed her. He missed her. The paranoid Yukari shouts that this is all some kind of master plot to woo her, that he's purposefully smiling that smile, and he wants her to feel this helpless, and she decides once and for all that George Koizumi is a complete and total bastard, but for some reason she doesn't really care.
"Um, sure. Coffee sounds great," she says, fumbling for the cell phone resting her bag. "I just need to... call my agent. I'll cancel the photo shoot. It's not like it's important." Silently she pushes the thoughts that it is very important, actually, to the back of her head. They can wait until tomorrow.
"Sure. Just hurry up. I came all this way for you. You don't want to be rude by making me wait, do you?" He smirks again as Yukari glares. He is, and always will be, the arrogant, cruel, and self-absorbed George of Paradise Kiss, who could make her hate him and love him at the same time. And at this moment, she really doesn't care.
Typical.
Fin
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