Last Stop

AN: Well, I didn't really intend on writing this right now (bet you didn't want to hear that . . .) but I seem to have a major case of writers block (which doesn't occur often). It's not that I don't have anything to write (quite the contrary), it's just that I don't like anything that I'm writing right now. But LS has a tendency to just flow from my fingertips (I just never have much time to let it do so). Maybe it's because I love this first person thing. I dunno. But yeah . . . I work well when I am Van, haha (even if he makes me cry, wah. Who's controlling whom here?)

Chapter Eight: The Ultimate Fairytale

Late fall had set in, the air becoming increasingly crisp. Less people ventured out to shop, which meant less people rode the bus. Of course, nothing stopped Hitomi from coming, whether it be lightning, sleet, a blizzard, you catch the drift. I even wondered if sickness would stop her, but I supposed it would, only because she wouldn't want to infect others. The thought made me smile, although it felt like someone had tied my intestines in a knot. For today, I knew Hitomi wouldn't be waiting out in the cold alone.

Today, her friends were coming along.

All day I'd been thinking about it, though I tried not to. I knew this was something to be expected, something normal couples did, something that was inevitable, but it scared me half to death, for I remained highly anti-social. Not only that, but this meeting seemed important to Hitomi (with good reason). She'd seemed a bit off-center herself when asking me to meet them. Her words and mannerisms replayed in my mind.

We'd gone on a walk that evening, since Hitomi insisted that I needed more fresh air (you mean bus fumes aren't good for you?). We didn't talk as we walked along. My mind wandered over various things, some of which were pretty heavy. To stop myself from thinking too hard and being irrational, I focused on how nice Hitomi's hand felt clasped in mine. Yeah, it's cheesy, I know, but I still reveled in the little gestures she sent me. Her voice, low and uncertain, snapped me out of my half-daze.

"I want you to meet my friends," Hitomi said quietly, never looking at me, keeping her eyes focused on the path before us.

"When?" I asked, surprised.

"On Monday. They'll come to the orphanage on Monday," she assured.

"Okay . . ." I replied, confused as to why she would choose to have them come to the orphanage over something more . . . fun.

"They're really nice," she continued.

"Not half as nice as you," I offered, kissing her temple, trying to brush off the mood.

"Van," she whined, "I'm being serious. I want my friends to like you."

I stopped walking then, clutching Hitomi's hand tightly and spinning her around to face me. The moonlight reflected in her sea-green eyes, and her face seemed unnaturally pale, granting her the most fierce look I'd ever seen her have. If I had pointy ears like a wolf, I would have pressed them down against my head in that pathetic way dogs do. I felt like a child being scolded, but I didn't know exactly what for.

"I thought couples go on double dates or family outings or hang out or whatever when they want to meet friends." It definitely wasn't a question.

"I thought you'd be uncomfortable with things like that," Hitomi pleaded.

My eyes narrowed. "You didn't even ask me."

Hitomi took my other hand, stepping closer, looking up directly into my eyes. It was her way of challenging me. "Would you have said yes if I'd suggested something like that?"

I pondered that for a second before scowling, "That's not the point."

"So you wouldn't have, would you?" she pressed, our gazes never breaking.

"That's not the point," I repeated, unwilling to let her beat me again. It was awkward, standing in the middle of the park path, clasping both hands, glaring at each other. I couldn't explain my own anger, even to myself. But I knew I wouldn't feel sorry this time. Not this time.

She kissed my cheek lightly. "I'm sorry, okay . . . ?"

"We seem to say 'I'm sorry' a lot," I whispered, clutching her hands more tightly.

"I know," she whispered back. "But I am."

She knew she didn't have to ask me. She already knew my answer, because yes, I wouldn't have agreed to meet her friends under any other circumstance. The realization made me want to hang my head in shame. But the fact that she already knew exactly what I would say, how I would react . . . somehow comforted me. It proved how much she loved me.

Was I really that simple-minded?

oOo

My heart pounded as the five of them-- Hitomi trailing behind her four friends-- made their way to the front seats. She'd never specified to how many friends would be coming along; I guess I just assumed she meant two. And now, four came strutting down the aisle, intent on reaching the front seats to get a better view of me. The first in line-- a guy about my age-- had shoulder-length brown hair, darker than Hitomi's, with brown eyes. He wore a sort of beige color dress shirt with a red tie and black pants; I took this to be some sort of uniform (like, an old, prestigious high school uniform, perhaps?). He seemed to hold himself very confidently; his whole aura made me feel inferior.

I knew I had to make a good impression, but how? I just then began to devise a plan. Only, all I drew from my non-existent brain was a blank. My eyes began to dance around in a frenzy, when suddenly, the most embarrassing and foolish plan came to me.

I'd never used the radio before; there was no reason to do so. But besides that, I'd never even used my intercom (I'm sure most bus drivers do that occasionally, right?). Actually, staring at the bus panel, I'd never had to use much of any of these buttons. Now, as Hitomi's friends sat down, I caught Hitomi's soft smile in the mirror-- as if she were saying it'll be okay . . . but don't screw this up, or I'll kill you.

So I decided to use the intercom microphone thing-a-ma-bob to introduce myself, even though they were basically sitting across from me.

Picking up the tan communicator (the cord was a bit tangled), I stared at it for a moment, hesitant, wondering if I should really do this. I couldn't think of any other way to make a good first impression, so as I began to drive once again, I pressed down the release button.

"Well . . . this is different," I began like a total doofus, "It's not every day five people suffer my lonesome company to my last stop. I'm sorry if you find me dull . . .Anyway, I'm Van Fanel, your bus driver; but I suppose that's just a trivial fact compared to my being Hitomi's boyfriend. I'm humbled to make your acquaintance, and if I could pass you the intercom, I would."

I think that's one of the longest passages I've ever said at one time. And look, I made a complete ass of myself. As I glanced in the mirror again, Hitomi smiled. I couldn't tell if it was a nice job, funny guy smile or an I am SO going to kill you later one.

One guy just outright laughed-- but trust me, I was laughing with him. The intimidating one laughed, too. The girls just smiled.

Creating laughter isn't such a bad first impression, I guess.

"How cute!" a girl with a dark-purplish looking hair and energized brown eyes exclaimed. She looked at Hitomi, who happened to be sitting to the left, and gave her a devilish grin. "Hitomi, I think I'm jealous. You never told us how good-looking he is!"

Hitomi shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I have. You just never listen to me because you're too busy thinking about Amano."

"Yukari talks about me that much?" Mr. Intimidating-- or Amano, I suppose I must now call him-- asked with a faint smile.

"Of course. It's Yukari we're talking about," Hitomi replied.

"I do not talk about him that much," Ms. Purplish Hair (Yukari) hissed.

"ANYWAY," the albino guy with blood-red, scary-looking eyes and a twisted smile said icily. If Amano was Mr. Intimidating, then this guy was Mr. Scary. His clothes were mostly black, except for a smidgen of red, and his pants were clipped with chains and all that good goth stuff. I've got nothing against goth people, honestly-- they're just scary looking. Isn't that what they want to be, anyway?

"Hiya Vanny-boy," he began. "The name's Dilandau, and this here's Merle." Merle-- a girl with blaring pink hair and green eyes-- waved enthusiastically into the mirror and said hello.

"Don't you wish Amano and them would just shut up?" Dilandau sneered.

"Uh . . ." I had no idea what I was supposed to say to that. I could only think of how Dilandau called me "Vanny boy," and how it felt so awkward.

My first impression of Hitomi's friends- were they really her friends? They seemed too rambunctious, too childish, too typical of modern society. They're all talkative weirdos. But at least they seemed like nice weirdos.

oOo

Hitomi stopped next to me as her friends waited in the parking lot. Apparently, the plan was that I would take Hitomi home, and her friends would take the late bus. Personally, I wouldn't trust the late bus in this neighborhood; but hey, that's just me, what do I know?

"Are you okay?" she asked, that concerned look etched on her face.

"I'm just peachy," I said casually.

She gave me such a genuine smile, I couldn't resist teasing her.

"You act like I'm five or something. Can I go now?"

Instead of answering, she kissed my cheek lightly, whispered "I love you," and scampered down the stairs.

oOo

I never got to see Hitomi's friends initial reactions upon walking into the orphanage, but by the time I'd returned, they all seemed squeamishly comfortable. Yukari and Merle sat with the girls, talking and making jokes. Dilandau played monkey-in-the-middle with a group of kids (mostly boys). He made fake throwing movements and taunted the children to incite their anger, which simply made him laugh and throw to someone in the middle. Amano stood off to the side reprimanding Dilandau, telling him to stop messing around. I didn't see Hitomi or Hana, so I walked over to them.

"Vanny boy, want to play?" Dilandau asked. "I'll never let you get the ball," he sneered.

"It's just a game, Dilandau," Amano said. "Be nice and let Van get the ball sometime."

"As if," Dilandau snorted. "Come on, Vanny boy, you're holding up the game. Will you play or not?"

Although both were challenging me, indirectly calling me a loser in predicting that I could never get the ball, which peeved me and denounced my manliness, I declined. They probably thought I was a pansy or something, but I didn't really care (and I know I damn well could've gotten the ball). Instead, I asked, "Where's Hitomi?"

The last thing I saw before two tiny hands covered my eyes were Dilandau and Amano smiling.

"Guess who, guess who!" a little girls' voice exclaimed wildly.

"I wonder," I said with a smile. "Who could it possibly be?"

The girl giggled.

"Could it be little Hana, whom I've been looking for? And perhaps Hitomi's with her?" I asked innocently. The hands lifted from my vision.

"Van, you're no fun," Hitomi pouted as she put Hana down on the floor, if only so she could run over to me instead.

"Yeah, Vanny boy, you're no fun," Dilandau chimed in.

For some reason, I didn't like being called "no fun" by my girlfriend and her bad ass friend. Even though I knew I was no fun, I still had to make a good impression, and Hitomi wasn't helping. So I decided I would play Dilandau's little game. If Hana played with me, that is.

"Want to play monkey-in-the-middle with Hitomi's friend, Dilly?" I asked.

"Okay!" Hana exclaimed. She seemed to be in a very good mood. And only I knew why.

"Dude, did you just call me Dilly?"

"Yeah, man," I replied, taking up my place in the middle, staring down my opponent. "You got a problem with that?"

oOo

After a half-hour of monkey-in-the-middle (in which I snagged the ball from Dilandau at least ten times) everyone settled down for story time. I'll admit, I loved story time. Hana always snuggled in my lap, making me feel protective and possessive, as if she were indeed my daughter. And then, to listen to Hitomi's voice, it made my heart leap; if I fell into a deep enough trance, making all the children in the room disappear, it felt like Hitomi was reading just to Hana. Like one happy family.

But instead, we sat on an orphanage floor, surrounded by twenty-some young children, with Dilandau, Amano, Yukari, and Merle looking somewhat bored.

That is, of course, until Hitomi finished reading, and Yukari came up with a bright idea.

"Hey Van, why don't you tell a story?" she quipped. "Hitomi tells me you're a writer."

Just the thought made me fidget. Tell a children's story? Off the top of my head? I gave Hitomi a how could you? glance, for I felt a bit betrayed. True, I told her I was a writer. True, I was going to start a part time journalism job. True, I'd changed my sad ways. But still. Hitomi'd never read a single thing I'd written. But could I really say no to Yukari's request? Looking back, I suppose I could have; and yet I didn't.

"Sure," I answered, hesitantly. "What sort of story do you want to hear . . . ?"

Most of the children shouted out, including Hana, and of course, all the ideas were fantasy ridden, cliched stories. I decided to tell a story with a princess, dragon, and prince, as corny as that sounds.

"Once upon a time," I began, in the way one must begin all children's fantasy stories, "there lived a prince. The prince's father, well, he was a great man, with a lovely wife and huge kingdom, and a skilled fighter. Yet the king only had one son, the prince. And the prince was nothing like his father; the prince, although handsome, was cowardly. Other princes' from faraway lands made fun of him. And so, his father sent him on a quest.

"The prince had to slay a dragon in order to fulfill his rite to become king. Like the coward that he was, the prince complained, tried to dodge out of his task. But the king would not allow such a thing. He would not let his son bring such dishonor to the royal blood line.

"And so, the king sent his son into the valley where dragons reigned. Clumsily, the prince walked along, clad in shining armor that made it difficult for him to move. He could barely lift his sword, much less take down a dragon with it. The heart inside him pounded in fear. What was he to do? He decided to pick the smallest dragon to fight and kill.

"For once in his life, the prince had a stroke of luck. Outside the dragons dark cave, a young dragon sat lazily, picking at a carcass. The dragon looked rather tired. An easy . . . well, not an easy, but an easier kill than the prince could have hoped for. Sneaking up behind the beast, the prince crouched, poised to strike. But suddenly, a voice stopped him.

"'Why do you desire to slay the dragon?'

"The prince turned to see a girl, no older than himself, wearing a lovely dress made of the richest silk. The sight of this girl, obviously a princess, made the prince freeze in his tracks. He gave her a hard, curious look, taking in her features-- shoulder length, light brown hair, with piercing green eyes, and a tender look about her," I glanced at Hitomi as I said this, only to see her looking away with red-tinted cheeks.

"Regardless, the prince replied, 'I must prove my worthiness.'

"'In what?' the princess asked curiously, looking amused.

"'Everyone says I am cowardly,' the prince confessed.

"'Everyone?' the princess asked. 'I do not believe killing a dragon makes you any less cowardly. I believe standing up to those who say you are cowardly is courageous.' The princess came closer to the prince. 'And I do not believe you to be a coward.'

"'I will never be wed and have children, for no one will respect me,' the prince said.

"'I am positive that is untrue.'

"The princess' words deeply touched the prince. He did not slay the dragon, and instead went back to his kingdom, where his father screamed and hollered. But the prince just stood quietly, and when his father finished, the prince simply said, 'I am not a coward. I simply do not have skills with a sword.'

"The king didn't care. He went on and on about how his son would never marry. A year went by, and the prince's life did not change. Everyone still believed him a coward. But he no longer cared what they said, and kept on insisting he was not a coward. He was no longer ashamed. And, after another year, someone came along and became his wife.'

"The prince from then on resided in the princess' kingdom as her husband, and together they ruled the lands in peace," I concluded.

Lonely kids stared at me duly, riffling through my meaning, when Yukari blurted out, "That was so cute for something off the top of your head. Hitomi, you're so lucky."

I felt myself sit up straighter, my pride swelling at her praise. Who says actions have to speak louder than words?

But my heart really leaped for joy when Hitomi said, with a small smile, "I know."

oOo

On our way home, Hitomi and I discussed the days' events. Overall, I thought I'd made a good impression. Hitomi still seemed distant, though, and it made me worry that I'd done something terribly wrong. But I didn't press her on it, for the overall mood seemed light and cheerful. And I felt light and cheerful, too. Actually, I felt happier than I had in a long, long time, with a tint of nervousness lurking around the corner.

Parking my old, red car, I got out and opened Hitomi's door, instantly clasping her hand in mine to walk her to the school gates. I did this everyday, like a sixteen year-old-expressing his puppy love. I certainly felt like a sixteen-year-old; except, somehow, a bit wiser.

We walked the short distance in silence, engrossed in our own thoughts, mine mostly on the new journalism career I'd be starting within a week and how nice Hitomi's thumb felt as it caressed my knuckles. She, however, was thinking something entirely different.

"Van, why did you tell that story today?" she asked when we reached the gate.

"What do you mean, why?" I asked, confused.

"Why did you tell it . . . like that?" Hitomi asked again, looking down at the ground.

I still wasn't really following her, but I tried to explain. "Well, Yukari asked me to . . . And you wanted me to make a good impression and all, so I said yes . . . I tried to keep it simple, so I picked a prince, dragon, and princess . . ."

"Why did you make me the princess?"

"What do you mean, why?" I asked again, smiling, kissing her cheek before pressing my lips lightly against her ear. "You are my princess, you silly girl," I whispered, "Won't you let me be your prince?"

oOo

The rest of the week went by in its usual sequence of events. Drive a bus for eight hours, chat with Hitomi, go to the orphanage, reluctantly kiss my love goodnight. Then I'd usually drive back to my apartment, shower, and either read or write. Over the past two weeks, reading or writing before going to bed had become a habit. I read random things, I wrote random things. It felt nice, invigorating even.

That weekend I was to start my journalism career with a local newspaper. Of course, being the rookie and part-timer, I was given the simple task of writing about a championship Little League baseball game. It sounded like fun. I'd never been to a baseball game. But, sadly, I'd have to go alone.

Every once in awhile, Hitomi actually had a lot of school work to do and couldn't see me on the weekends. This weekend was one of those weekends, but for some reason, I felt a bit weird about it. Ever since Monday, Hitomi looked at me strangely, as if I were almost alien. I usually just smiled and kissed her, which seemed to calm her. Maybe I was acting a bit weird, but did I really deserve the alien look?

I was thinking about what I'd read and write that Friday when Hitomi asked, "Can I come over?" while staring out the window. Her voice startled me; I'd been driving in silence, my mind on autopilot.

"Sure," I said instinctively. "But I thought you had a lot of school work?"

"Who does school work on a Friday night, Van?" she laughed.

Yes, Van, who does school work on a Friday night? I asked myself sarcastically.

"What? Don't want me to come over?" Hitomi asked, half-seriously.

I paused, which I knew wasn't a good thing. But I had to think about how messy my apartment was from my various writings and such. "No, it's just that my place is messy."

Hitomi gave me a look before smiling slightly, joking, "Van, seriously, when is your place not messy?"

oOo

I went to my room to change, leaving Hitomi behind in my newly-arranged, paper-cluttered living room. Being a journalist, I had to get a computer, so naturally, I had to rearrange my furniture to fit one. At first, I'd considered getting a computer desk, too. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, so I went to the bank and withdrew fifteen hundred dollars. Walking around the office store I'd stopped at for about a half hour, asking a sales clerk various questions, I bought the cheapest computer there (three hundred dollars). Then, of course, I had to buy the necessary programs, which they no longer provided for free (another hundred dollars). Upon glancing at the desks, I decided I'd just use a table, pocketing the rest of the money (eleven hundred dollars).

I threw on a pair of khaki pants and a light, long-sleeved black shirt. When I entered the living room, I found Hitomi sitting on the couch, reading one of my various random writings. My heart started to race; I hadn't put much thought into anything I'd written so far. Quickly, I walked down the hall and plopped down next to her, leaning on her shoulder to see which randomness she was reading.

It was a poem, sloppily jotted down. I wondered if Hitomi could even read my hand writing, it was that messy. Since I hadn't titled anything, I quickly scanned the poem, wondering which specific depressing blah it was.

Everyone else claims life,

Is complicated.

Full of listlessness, liveliness,

Those solemnly seeking death.

Life,

The state of living,

Death,

Not,

Breathing,

Communicating,

Adapting,

Living.

Even dictionaries have typos

Sometimes.

All die during stages of life and

Continue

Living,

You might mistakenly be dead right

Now.

What's it like?

Gazing glassily at everything gliding

By,

Catch a careful glimpse.

I was you once,

Before discovering

Change, love, care.

Death, undeniable, unloving, uncaring.

Before my heart belonged,

To someone else.

Life is better when it's not yours

Alone.

Half of a whole isn't even worth

Half.

Seventeen years,

Slit,

Sadly,

Alone,

My state of death.

With my life,

A smile will always linger.

Okay, I'm not going to lie, it's a pretty bad poem. Okay, actually, it's a really bad poem. I'd definitely written better over the past couple of days. Embarrassed, I lightly kissed Hitomi's lips and removed the sheet from her grasp.

"Van," she said sharply. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" I asked innocently, stacking all the floating papers on the table, sure to put the poem Hitomi'd just read somewhere in the middle, and placed them in a folder. Hitomi rolled her eyes in exasperation as she reached for the folder.

"Why can't I read what you wrote?" she whimpered. I held the folder out of reach.

"Because I don't like anything I wrote," I growled, using my free hand to keep her away from the folder. I made sure the tips of my fingers brushed tenuously from her chin to her collar bone so that my touch tickled. Determinedly, she attempted to suppress her giggles and maintain a straight face, but she soon gave in and took my hand in hers.

"Why are you so frustrating?" she groaned, resting her head against my shoulder as she placed my fingertips against her lips and kissed them lightly. I knew the gesture was supposed to make me go on a guilt trip, and I fell right into her trap. I sensuously caressed her cheek, trying to fight myself, before handing her the folder.

"Why are you so stubbornly cute?" I murmured.

Hitomi pushed away from me, shuffling to the opposite end of the couch. Riffling through the folder for the poem she'd been reading, she gave me a sidelong smile that was rather alluring. I slid over to her and put an arm around her waist, waiting patiently for our discussion to begin.

"You still can't write something happy," she said bluntly, a bit of sadness in her voice. That wasn't what I'd expected to hear. And even if it was sad, I didn't expect it to affect her so deeply.

"I thought it was happy," I said indignantly.

Hitomi scrutinized the poem. "Your concept of happiness is twisted."

I snorted, then smirked, trying to erase that troubled look from her face. "Next time I write, I'll think of how I feel when I'm with you," I said, brushing stray hairs out of her face to reveal a deep blush.

"May I keep this?" Hitomi asked.

"Why would you want to do that?" I asked too quickly. What a horrible question.

"I want to remember the first thing of yours I ever read, so one day, when you're some big shot, I can make fun of you," Hitomi teased. My eyes narrowed, until she gave me the puppy look; all I could do was sigh.

"If you want it that badly, then I guess so," I conceded. Then, changing the subject, I asked, "You're free next weekend, right?"

Hitomi put the folder and poem down. "Yes," she replied quickly, wrapping her arms around my neck and shifting her position so that she sat in my lap. I knew then she wanted to cuddle with me, and I wasn't going to deny her. She was already caressing the nape of my neck, entangling her supple fingers in my coarse hair. The heat of her body against mine sent euphoria through my senses. But I had something to tell her. Unwillingly, I forced myself to break the silence and tell her what I'd arranged.

"I made reservations at the Escaflowne," I said hazily, allowing Hitomi to nibble on my ear.

She stopped abruptly. "You did what?" she cried, flabbergasted. I guess she had every right to be. After all, the Escaflowne was one of the most renowned, most expensive, and most ritzy restaurants in town, and Hitomi and I were . . . none of the above.

"I made reservations at the Escaflowne," I repeated. "For next Saturday."

"You're joking," Hitomi said, attempting to laugh. "What for? How will you pay for that?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head over it," I assured, flashing her a smile. I could tell she wasn't at all happy with me, simply because she probably felt it unnecessary to go to such a fancy place; after all, food is food, right?

"What for, Van?" she repeated sedately.

I shrugged my right shoulder, which she wasn't leaning on, lazily, as if this excursion would be no big deal. "No reason."

Hitomi gave me a troubled look, causing creases to line her forehead. There could have been a million things she was thinking. Like I already said, she more than likely thought it careless to pay so much for food. Perhaps she thought I was crazy. Perhaps she thought I was joking. Perhaps she thought I couldn't pay for it. Perhaps she pondered what to wear. I don't know, and I didn't really care, for I knew she absolutely wouldn't refuse outright.

"I don't understand you . . ." Her words were barely audible, even though her lips were right against my ear. I cupped her chin, forcing her to look at me.

"Now, where were we?" I enticed.

Hitomi ran her thumb gently over my lips, stroking my hair with her other hand. "I'm not sure where you were," she joked, centimeters away from my face. "But I think I was just about to French kiss you."

oOo

My weekend was so dull after that Friday night. But I did have fun at that baseball game. Interviewing little baseball players who'd just won a championship gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling. I think I wore a permanent smile that day. My smile lasted through the week, because Hitomi acted like a cute little kid herself.

She still couldn't believe that I'd made reservations at the Escaflowne. Hell, I could barely believe I'd done such a thing. Everyday, she asked 'Did you really?' I always replied with a simple 'Yes'. I received frequent hugs from her (even if she did keep telling me the reservation was unnecessary). The peculiar behavior she'd had towards me the week before melted away. I basked gleefully in all the affection she showered on me. I finally felt like I'd done something right all on my own.

Plus, when Hitomi told Millerna and Dryden about what I'd planned, even they praised me.

"Van, you've become quite the charmer," Millerna remarked one day, nudging me in the ribs. "You've got that girl wrapped around your finger. Way to go. Now, who've you got to thank for making you such a responsible man?"

With the goofiest look I could manage, I said, "Hm . . . I think I have Hitomi to thank for that."

"Van, why are you always so mean to me?" Millerna pouted. Dryden laughed, coming up from behind and enveloping his wife in a big hug. He smiled mischievously at me. I knew what was coming.

"See, didn't I tell you she'd be good for you? From day one, I told you that." All I could do was smile with softened eyes, a look that said I'm sorry I never listened to you, oh wise one.

My biggest wave of praise (and surprise), however, came on Thursday night. It was around eight o'clock, just after I'd taken a nice, warm shower. Rummaging around in the refrigerator, murmuring to myself, the phone rang suddenly. It startled me so badly I instinctively gasped and slammed the refrigerator door shut. I contemplated who could be calling me. Only Hitomi and my bosses knew my number; but when I looked at the caller id, I didn't recognize the number at all.

"Hello?" I asked tentatively.

"Hey Van!" a peppy female voice chimed over the phone. The connection was a bit fuzzy, leading me to believe the caller telephoned me via a cellular phone. Another female voice yelled 'HI!' in the background.

"Who is this . . ?" I asked, confused.

"It's Yukari and Merle!" Yukari, whose voice I remembered faintly from our meeting, exclaimed. "Do you remember us? Are you mad that we called you?" she asked hesitantly.

"Of course I remember you," I mumbled, pressing the phone against my shoulder so I could continue my quest for food. "And no, I'm not mad that you called me. I'm just wondering how you obtained my number."

Yukari laughed on the other end. "Well, I easily obtained your number from Hitomi," she said, emphasizing 'obtained' as if I'd said something drastically wrong. "Not that she knows I'm calling you. She can't hide things very well; I don't even think she would be able to hide a needle in a haystack."

I chuckled a bit, uneasy. "Okay. So why are you calling?"

"To chat with you! Is that so wrong?" Yukari asked.

"As long as you don't make advances, I suppose not." I replied, half-seriously. I don't know, do people usually call their best friends' boyfriends/girlfriends to chat?

"I would never do that!" Yukari laughed. I could hear Merle laughing in the background. "Besides, Hitomi's too hopelessly in love with you. She might kill me if I so much as touched you."

After turning on the stove to boil some water to make instant soup, I sat down on the couch, amused. "Somehow, I just can't see Hitomi killing someone else. She's too kind, gentle, and sensitive for that."

"Too true," Yukari said simply before jumping right along. "Hitomi tells us you're taking her to the Escaflowne."

"Yes. Why? Is there a problem?" I asked, concerned suddenly that perhaps Hitomi's friends didn't like me after all.

"A problem? Hardly! I think this is one of the greatest things that's ever happened to Hitomi. I've never seen her so into a guy before. Well, actually, I've never seen her into guys period, but . . . whatever."

"What about Allen?" I asked lightly, flipping through a random sports magazine I'd picked up. I'd never spoken of Allen after the day Hitomi'd forgiven me, but the image of his pompous ass still burned in my mind. I wish the damage I'd inflicted in our little scuffle would be permanent.

"I pushed her with Allen," Yukari conceded. "Even though I knew she wanted you. But you were just and bus driver and all, so . . . I don't know. I just felt she deserved better. But I was totally wrong about you, Van."

"Uh . . . thanks?" I guess it was supposed to be a compliment. Not that I blamed her for thinking such things. I mean, hey, all those months ago (they seemed more like years), I felt the same way about myself. Thinking about how much I'd changed made my both happy and sad. Something within me had died, and something new had been born; I was stuck in the middle, trying to figure out what to do with the change.

"Well, I basically just wanted to call and tell you I'm happy my best friend has finally fallen in love and that I really had fun going with her to pick out a new skirt." I heard a "me, too!" from Merle.

"She bought a new outfit?" I asked, alarmed.

"Oh yeah, when she told her mom about this, she insisted Hitomi get some nice, new clothes," Yukari said lightly. "Mrs. Kanzaki likes having an excuse to make her daughter wear something nice, you know?"

I smiled, getting up to turn down the boiling water. "I can't wait, then."

"You'll love it!" Yukari exclaimed. "Well, I guess I should leave you alone now, Van. We should all get together again soon."

"Yeah," I agreed, "We should."

"I look forward to it. Bye bye, Van!"

"Bye . . ." I said, smiling softly, as the phone clicked, indicating that she'd hung up.

oOo

You'd think with all the preparation I'd put into Saturday night, I'd be, well, prepared. But to be frank, I wasn't. I mean, when you think about it, I was a poor, twenty-five-year-old bus driver who'd never had anything in the world trying to impress one of the sweetest girls on the planet. Yeah, because that's not nerve-wracking, right?

I ran a brush through my hair. It must've been my millionth time; if I had kept it up, I might not have had any hair left. Fixing the collar of my maroon dress shirt, I gazed at myself in the mirror. Someone else seemed to be staring back at me. Perhaps my clothes weren't good enough? I'd originally thought of getting a tuxedo, but thought that would be too fancy. At the clothes store, I decided a maroon shirt would do well because . . . I dunno, it would bring out the color of my eyes? (It was either maroon or navy blue, because I felt awkward in light colors.) To match, I'd picked out a nice pair of black dress pants and a light, black jacket.

Can you tell I'm no clothes master?

It was six o'clock on Saturday night. I'd made our reservations for seven. I told Hitomi I'd pick her up at six twenty. I knew it wouldn't take twenty minutes to drive to her dorm, but if I waited, pacing to and fro in my new dress shoes, I think I would've died.

Checking to make sure I had everything, I made my way out to the car.

oOo

With a few minutes to spare, I sat in the car, thinking about God-knows-what. About anything and everything at the same time. My nerves were completely shot. What was I going to say when I saw her? I knew she liked it when I said she was beautiful, like all girls do. But lots of girls were beautiful, and lots of guys used horribly cliched lines to tell girls such. I wanted Hitomi to know she possessed something . . . special.

Needless to say, I was surprised when the passenger-side door opened and Hitomi sat down next to me, giving me a funny look. I went from scared that a gunman was going to kill me to silent gawker. For once, she wore her back, and although it's rather simple, my mind reeled at how much it altered her appearance. She wore a dressy light-blue shirt that fit her figure nicely, matched with a cream color skirt with flower patterns that reached just below her knees. In the moonlight, her eyes shimmered, shying away from my scrutinizing stare.

"You're here early," Hitomi observed. "Did I scare you?"

"Yes," I replied, starting the car. "But it was my own fault."

"What were you thinking about?"

"What I would say to you first."

Hitomi cocked her head to the side as she smiled slightly. "And what were you going to say?"

I sighed. "Well, I didn't want to be typical and say something cheesy like 'you're so beautiful', even though, of course, you are. But then, you know, I thought you're more than just beautiful, because you're always beautiful." I shrugged, looking at her as she tried to suppress her blush. "So yeah, I don't know, I wanted to say something that would make you feel really special . . . because you are special . . . I just wanted to say it in so many more words, you know?"

"Well, you just made me feel really special anyway, even if you couldn't say it in so many words," Hitomi whispered.

I smiled, taking her hand and delicately kissing her knuckles. "The night belongs to you, princess."

oOo

At the Escaflowne, we had to be the most under-dressed people there. And the lowest class. And the most unrefined. But we also had to be one of the most happy. Everyone else there appeared to be on business, or like they always ate this fancy, or as if they were better than those around them. Hitomi and I . . . well, I mostly tried to make Hitomi loosen up and have fun.

"Everything is really expensive," Hitomi observed uneasily, glancing up at me in the dimly-lit room.

"Uh huh," I replied, smiling at her sweetly. "And apparently really tasty, too."

After a minute, she told me what she wanted, and out of pure curiosity, I glanced at the price and compared it to all the others. It was one of the least expensive things on the menu. I know price shouldn't matter and all, but I sighed despite myself. It kind of hurt, too, to think that Hitomi thought so lowly of me.

"You can pick whatever you want, you know," I said, exasperated.

Hitomi hid behind her menu, grumbling an, "I hate you" before choosing something else.

"I love you, too," I said sincerely, watching as the faintest of smiles graced her lips.

oOo

After our fancy dinner (which Hitomi conceded was the best tasting dinner she'd ever had), we did what we normally did: we went for a walk in the park. But we didn't walk just anywhere; I made sure we went to the same spot where we first 'hung out' together.

"It seems like so long ago," Hitomi whispered, leaning against my shoulder on the very hill where we went stargazing.

"If it feels like long ago for you, it feels like ages to me . . . I feel like a totally different person."

"Don't kid yourself." She laughed. "You're still dark and mysterious around others, and even sometimes around me. But that's okay, because I fell in love with the dark and mysterious Van in the first place," Hitomi said as we began to walk down the path again.

"When did you first start to like me?" I asked, out of pure curiosity.

Hitomi thought about that a bit before answering. "I remember thinking on the first day that I took the bus that you were way too young and good-looking to be a bus driver, even if you were a total jerk to me. Then, the more I pestered you, the more I saw that you were a kind person, deep down. And, oh, I don't know, I guess from there . . . I decided I wanted to bring out the kind, gentle side of you. And I wanted you, kind side or no, to like me . . ." she trailed off, looking up at me with a distant stare.

"Guess you got what you wanted and then some," I said lightly, glancing over at the pond. "Let's sit down for a little while."

"Why? It's cold . . ." Hitomi said, giving me one of those funny looks. At the mention of cold, I took off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

"Please, I don't want this night to end. Not yet."

She sighed. "If that's what you want."

I led her over to the edge of the pond, where we sat on the smoothened stone. The water looked pitch black, despite the moonlight shimmering off it. Hitomi bravely ran her hand through the murky-looking water. Dark water always gave me the creeps, and watching her caress it so gently sent a chill down my spine. But I sucked it up. I only wanted to stay for a few minutes. Hopefully, I'd find enough courage by then to say what I so desperately wanted to.

But after a minute or so, it was Hitomi who broke the silence, shattering my thoughts. "Van, what do you want?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, only half-listening to her.

"These days, you do so much for me, you say so much for my sake, you try so hard to make me happy. But I feel I . . . don't do much for you, so why do you do so much for me? What is it that you want?"

I kissed her lips softly, the answer coming easily to me. "I want you to be happy. Seeing you happy makes me happy. And I want Hana to be happy for the same reason. So I guess I just want to be happy, but I gain my happiness through you; I've lived a selfish, lonely life for too long," I said quietly. "If you're sad, I'm sad."

She didn't say anything; I took it as my chance.

"So, what am I to you? Do you call me your boyfriend, like some teenage infatuation?"

Hitomi laughed. "What a random question."

Argh.

I laughed with her. "Because you're not random," I said sarcastically. She bit her lip to hide the laugh.

"Yes, I call you my boyfriend. But only because I don't know what else to call you. Unless you have a term in mind?" she asked playfully.

My breath caught in my throat. I swallowed hard, only seemingly causing my heart to speed up. I hesitated. Was I doing the right thing? Was it too soon? Did I have enough courage? I picked up her hand and held it in mine, holding her bewildered gaze in my concentrated one, until the faintest hint of realization dawned on her.

"I think I do have a term in mind," I said, almost inaudibly, a bit hoarsely. "You never answered my question from before, so I'll ask it again." I got down on one knee, my eyes pleading with hers, which suddenly filled with tears. Pulling out and displaying the ring, I squeezed her hand. "Princess, won't you let me be your prince?"

Hitomi sobbed in response, covering her mouth with her free hand.

"Will you marry me?" I asked softly.

She shut her eyes, the tears glinting in the moonlight. "Van . . ." she said meekly.

I waited for her to continue, barely hearing her; the pounding of my own heart drowned out her voice. Again, I squeezed her hand, a look of worry etched on my face.

"How could you . . ?" she asked as she practically fell into my arms. I caught her as I knelt, trembling, holding her close and feeling her warm tears against my neck. "Yes . . ." she whispered into my ear, letting out another sob. I held her closer, nuzzling her wet cheek. I didn't even notice that my cheeks were wet with warm tears, too.

"I love you," I said fiercely, and that night, as we held each other, I thought my life was normal, that we were a normal couple, that our love would last forever, that I finally belonged somewhere.

You'd think I'd have learned the hard way that there's no such thing as normalcy.

AN: So, it's 12:12 AM on Thursday (oh wait . . . that makes it Friday . . . yeesh) and I've finally finished this chapter. Go me. Aren't you all happy? But I'm sad . . . THERE WAS NO ANGST! The tragedy! I actually wrote an almost purely happy chapter!

Funny, because I haven't felt very happy lately. But yeah, my lovely readers, you should enjoy the happiness while it lasts (watch, when it's time to write all the sad stuff, I'll be happy). I'm going back to fluff-gone-angst next chapter . . . and the chapter after that . . . and the chapter after that . . . and there are no more chapters after that, haha.

Oh yes, and some of you have been wondering where the hell this story is/has been going. Well, I guess I should explain stuff, then (even though that means I'm not making myself clear . . . bah). In this chapter, I tried to weave together Van as a writer; I also tried to keep the fairytale theme throughout. When I started writing this story, I guess I wrote it for this reason: I wanted to show how quickly we humans can change when something (whether it be good or bad) happens. This story, while it is, indeed, a love story, is more about character development than anything. If you read all the chapters consecutively, you'll find that Van's views have changed drastically. And, as the chapters have progressed, I've tried to reveal more about Hitomi. Next chapter will be more on Hitomi's character than Van's. So, you see, the conflict of this story is just . . . well, life, in its internal and external conflicts, I suppose. Our thoughts. Our feelings. How we want so desperately to fit in. How to get over a lasting sadness. Finding love and happiness.

Yeah, all that good mushy stuff we all fantasize about. And lots of the bad stuff we fantasize about, too.

When you think about it, anyone's life could be a story. I could easily write a story about myself and make it sound so terribly interesting. I could probably just as well write a story about any of you and make it sound just as interesting, if not more. Sure, we have our fairy tale's and our fantasy stories, but I believe there's more satisfaction in writing about something that could actually happen and that we can all relate to than something unreal.

Wow, my spiel of the month o.O (It's because it's so late (early), heh.)

Well, I love all my reviewers, and to those who don't review . . . I guess I love you, too. (Just not as much, haha.) I encourage constructive criticism! (Or criticism in general.) REVIEW!

-Spirit0