Eudemonia

Let's be honest, I never would've imagined being in this painfully awkward situation.

Heading home a few miles away from my college seemed like a good idea at first, but then again the idea of him arriving at Mellowbrook like a superstar was in the vague point of my mind. I would have hoped to avoid him during the few days I'm staying here then I'm back to Yale. After all, I have grades to keep up.

"So, how long has it been?" He asked me in his deep(er) and more sultry voice. I still had a hard time believing that this was the daredevil I used to know.

I didn't answer him; instead I hung my head down lowly.

"The silent treatment, huh?" He chuckled and tilted my head up a few inches. "I thought that the moment I arrived home, your adorable voice would be the first I would hear."

What? Is he serious? "Did I hear you right, Buttowski?"

He smirked mischievously, "Well it came from my mouth didn't it, Perkins?"

His ego certainly rose as high as his height, definitely. I stood up, a little bit wobbly from the running and from my high heeled shoes.

"Since when was Buttowski so suave?" I mumbled silently; the words not reaching his ears. But then again, that was sort of his thing. His polished and deep voice at a young age made me a bit infatuated when I first met him.

When I was about to leave, his calloused hand grabbed my scanty wrist to stop me. "H-Hey!"

He stood up, ignoring my pulls and rants. I was amazed at this person before me. What, is he like six-foot-three or something? "W-Wow," I said breathlessly, "You've grown."

The daredevil laughed almost as heartily as Jackie, only in lower baritone. "Thanks I guess, you've grown too." He said, secretly eying my body inappropriately.

Men. I swatted his face away from leering my body even more just like that unlucky teen who almost graze his hand over my front. "Perverse ass."

He chuckled, as if it was all a joke. "I'm just kidding. Jeez Kendall, lighten up a little."

A rather awkward silence rained over us, but the difference between us both is that he was comfortable with this type of silence.

"Well anyways, uhm—" I figured the only way to end this silent conversation, is to start it. "—How are you?"

Let's be honest again, I seriously did not know where my voice went. Since when did I stammer like an idiot? This was Kick Buttowski, for Christ's sake! But then again, there was this issue wherein I used to be enamored with him, just a little.

"Uh, okay I guess?" He answered uncomfortably, shifting his head. "But really you shouldn't be asking that. I mean, you've been gone for like what, six years? And being here six years later, how does that make you feel?"

"Actually it's seven years," he snorted at my snappy correction, "And being here seven years later makes me feel fine. A bit reminiscent, honestly."

He smiled, "Yeah, me too. So much have changed," the boy I once knew looked around for a dramatic show, "And so much have matured, like the way we're talking right now."

In a sense, he was right. I laughed and said, "I guess, I mean normally we'd be arguing and yelling like six year olds."

There was another silence until he bravely declared, "You've changed so much; I was surprised."

"I think I've heard that a lot enough, Kick." I grumbled, irritated. I really do not know whether I should be flattered or insulted when everyone kept saying that.

"But it's true!" The mid-youngest Buttowksi exclaimed, "I mean, I heard you study at one of the most brightest schools, and—and… You've gotten so—so…"

"So what, Kick?" I teasingly pressed him. Man, I used to miss doing this.

He mumbled incoherently, "Ugh Lord, kill me for saying this." He sighed a deep breath and finally talked. "I think… I think you look, well… beautiful."

I scoffed, surprised but at the same time in disbelief. "Really? I am not beautiful."

His face looked disbelieving, "Then what word would you want? Lovely? Gorgeous? Statuesque?"

"Since when did you learn the meaning of statuesque?" I looked at him in spurn. What the hell has happened when I left anyway? I deeply sighed, "I don't want any of those words."

The taller boy bent is head back in confusion, "Hm, really? I thought girls would like those words." He paused for a moment then resumed, "I thought you would like those words... Since, you—well, since you liked me before or at least, that's what I heard."

"Liked is a far deep word," I told him monotonously, "and I wouldn't want to talk about it."

"And how deep is the word then, Kendall?" I could tell he was trying his best to understand me, "Just how complicated is it?"

"Very complicated," When I was younger, I didn't like the fact that Kick loved his stunts more than—well, more than anything. "And very deep." It hurt me, but I hid it. Contrary to popular belief, I actually did love him. But his stunts were face-first. I accepted that, and I waited.

Using Ronaldo as my distraction, that rapture towards him decreased, but it was still there. Ronaldo was definitely not helping at that time. As I've said before, he sucked at showing compassion towards me. His silly love-crush against me was not translating to that. He was not awesome; in simple words, there was no excitement in our love life.

My adulation towards Kick increased back up again, but every time he grew older he was more and more obsessed with his stunts and the lesser chance I had with him. I was greatly saddened. So, being young and foolish, I decided to leave Mellowbrook like a coward, partly because of my heartbreak. No one could understand this, ever.

"How complicated?"

"Very!" I almost yelled, "It's very complicated, Kick. Stop pressing me in to it, I won't answer otherwise."

"And why not?" I don't understand why he's trying to scoop the answers out of me. He quietly spoke back, though I heard it. "What if I liked you back, Kendall?"

For a moment, I wish I hadn't heard it. "Tch, no you do not. You don't have a reason to."

"But why not? I mean I drove here fifty frickin miles away from my home to finalize all of this!" He seemed determined, and I didn't like the sound of it. "I mean, I even skipped my stunts for this!"

"No, no, no, no, shut up!" I closed my eyes and fisted my hair in anger, "Don't even, Clarence! I don't want to go back there."

I don't want to get hurt again.

"But why not, Kendall?" He removed my hands from my messy and frizzed up hair and held them tightly in his own hands. "Let's try this relationship."

I removed my hands from his and pulled them back roughly, "What the hell are you smoking, Buttowski? That's why I left! To get over you. J-Just go—Just go back to your frickin' stunts and leave! "

He seemed too shell-shocked to answer—or to leave. "No."

"No? NO? I'm not giving you an option, Buttowksi! Just leave!"

"I'm not going to leave Kendall until you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you." He remained motionless, "Why are you so scared of me liking me back?"

"No, don't say it please! Just don't go there!" My composure was lessening and I knew I was going to break down any second.

"No I will go there Kendall, I didn't drive for six frickin' hours just to come here and get a no!" The daredevil grabbed my shoulders and made me face him, "You liked me—"

"No, I didn't just like you Buttowski." He slid his hands off of my shoulders and dropped them down to my arms; his grip was tight and warm. Almost like my father's. "I loved you, but that was the past and I've put you way behind it."

He scoffed, "I refuse to believe that you're over me! Jackie told me—"

"Jackie wasn't with me for these past seven years, Kick."

"Don't fuck with me Kendall," he bitterly cursed, "A seven year difference or not everyone can see how dense you are. You still love me."

"Shut up! Shut up! You don't know me, nobody knows me! No one understands me and you can't tell me otherwise!"

Angry and of course, almost in tears, I slapped him right across his left cheek. He cradled it in one hand but still looked at me with a smirk. "You know, in some cultures, slapping someone on the left cheek is a declaration of love."

"No! I don't love you anymore!"

"Admit it and stop lying to yourself," he pressed on further, "you still love me, after all these years."

I silenced, my eyes found the ground and stayed there. I refuse to love him again, I refuse. I hate him, and that will stay as that. Nothing and no one shall say otherwise. "I'm leaving, goodbye Kick."

I don't know how long until I broke down in to tears. But from the moment I left him standing there on the sidewalk, my tears fell. I hated that, I hated being weak because of him.

I sat on one of the benches in the Mellowbrook Park, the isolated bench at the very end with vines and leaves decorating it. I wept hopelessly. My cries did not stop until sundown.

"I'm sorry Kick," I apologized to no one, "I don't want to get hurt again."

-x-

Disclaimer: I don't own Kick Buttowski.

I apologize for Kendall's craziness and uhm, well trauma. There's a story behind the "I love Kick, but there's more to that" shit. And I also apologize for Kick being out of character. For all those people asking me why I named the fic Eudemonia, it's because I saw as the word of the day so I decided to make it as the title. That's just how I roll.

IMPORTANT! If you want to get the next chapter early, read this.

About the left cheek slap, I got that from an Anime. If anyone could answer which Anime is that, I will update the next day and make it longer. Hint: The left cheek slap is actually a engagement proposal, not a love declaration, but it's sorta like the same thing.

Oh, and the Anime starts with a K in Japanese translation and G in English.

By the way, the next chapter will be dark. Something a bit... uncalled for. I hope you don't abandon my story for that. It's extremely angsty and dark. I am warning you. It's a big conflict for the story.

Review~