Veronica wandered into the mall, she had come here to go shopping, but she was not in the mood after all. She had found a cute dress, but she didn't feel that exited. Usually, when she went shopping, bought clothes, she looked forward to wear them. She imagined how and when and why. Like... at school, or on a date.

But lately, she had not so many things to look forward to. The semester started in only three weeks, and she wasn't going to go on a date any soon. The evening with Weevil, Dick and Mac had been great, but those two birds had to have time to fly together, and Weevil had work to do.

But she bought the dress anyway. Logan, back when the gang was complete, used to say that if you're not thirsty, you have to start drinking to get in the mood. Of course, he was a party boy. She bit her lip hard. Don't think about Logan now, Veronica.

She stepped out of the shop and overheard a conversation. She followed the girl's stares, curiosity had always been her weak spot. "Is that an ad ? I don't see the point ?" "Yeah, me neither, it looks like a love letter." Shock tuned out the conversation, Veronica found herself staring at.. well, herself. There, in the middle of the mall, was a huge hoarding, sporting a screencapture from the limo-prom. There was her, and Logan. He was talking to her, if she remembered correctly, jugging by his hand held out, it was just after she'd punched his arm. He was telling her she was hot in her soccer shorts and socks.

The heads weren't on the board, but the picture was cut just under them. A text was written all over the picture, tears began to run down her cheeks as she stepped absently forward, reading.

"You'll be angry at me for writing that. A cheesy thing, just for both of us, like you don't want. It's nothing, it's not us. It's like those easy sentences, put together one after one.

Take your time. Don't say no. Don't be mad at me. Look at what I'm doing for you. You treat me like a jerk. I don't mind. Look at what I'm doing for you.

We fight. We make up. Sometimes, I can say it, you're really a pain in my... well. If I'm down, I try to be better. Doesn't matter who's right, who's wrong.

Forgive me for writing you that, but telling you I love you while screaming at you didn't seem right. If I'm what I am now, it's because of you. Now, stop crying come into my arms.

I don't care. I don't give a damn. I don't give a shit. I don't give a toss, a fuck. Nothing matters. I don't have anything to sell, but anything to give. Look at what I'm doing for you."

Veronica gulped, whipping her eyes to read the end. "I love you so much that I preferred writing, because seeing you the other day touched me too much and I wasn't able to say what I wanted.

I love you, and no matter what you do, even if you're always getting over me, I'll always come back to you."

She looked around, people were staring at her. At the girl crying in the middle of a parking lot. She picked up the bag she'd dropped on the floor and ran to her car.

She collapsed on the seat, shuddering. She ran a shaking hand on her neck and tried to breath slowly. She took a deep breath and decided to drive back home. She was positive on the fact that she wasn't dreaming, but she really wanted to wake up.

On her way, she saw dozens of hoardings like the one she'd seen. Logan had had those notices all over town. Thank god we're the only ones to recognize that scene.

When he opened the door, she met his eyes. Logan found himself watching the girl he loved crying in front of him. He cursed inwardly, that wasn't what he had aimed for, he didn't want to hurt her, again. He just wanted to let her know how much he loved her.

He stepped forward, and she threw herself in his arms. He held her tight against him, feeling helpless that she was still hurting because of him. She clutched at his shirt, sobbing quieter after a while.

He couldn't believe how perfectly she fitted against him. His hand on her waist, the other on her back. Her head on the small of his neck, her lips on his lips. Wait.. what ?

"Veronica, what are you doing ?" He pulled away, using all his will to do so. Veronica stared back at him, blankly, at first. Then, after a second or two, a faint smile spread on her face, under the wet trails. "What does it look like I'm doing, morron ?"

She kissed him again, and she chuckled. "I'm not getting over you."

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The italic words are an approximate translation from Regarde, a frensh song by Kinito.