DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN MAID-SAMA! Although, I wish I did. D:

She feels his foot gently nudging hers as he turns over on his side, the bed creaking softly as he moves.

Misaki's lips twitch upward when she realizes that she is face to face with the most handsome man she has ever seen.

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Warmth

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Her heels click loudly against the floor. It's a snapping sound that makes an average working employee hunch over his computer and start typing up a storm. Her authoritarian glare sends shivers up her subordinates spines and has them racing back to their cubicles, abandoning all forms of idleness they were previously absorbed in.

The other employees make sure to steer clear away from her as she passes, careful not to even brush against the sleeve of her black blazer, not to make eye contact for more than two point five seconds and not to look as if they were not working, because that will make her shout and demean and scoff at their inability to function like the model, workaholic, automatons they were supposed to be.

The President is unpleasantly strict that way.

She sighs softly at her co-workers' antics, choosing not to mind how they always whisper gossip, or send text messages to each other about her and her dictatorial tendencies. She reaches for the door knob to her office slowly, almost hesitantly, because she wants to reproach them first. She wants to lecture them about good working habits and how they should treat their superiors.

But Misaki figures, smart as she is, that they already hate her enough, and she doesn't even want to think about how they could hate her even more.

"Oi, Pres!"

She turns her head sharply at the direction of the voice, and all she can see at that moment is a pair of viridian eyes, twinkling with mirth and amusement. It was something foreign to her. So different from all the cold looks she was receiving just minutes before. Misaki scowls when she realizes that it's that Usui kid again and she considers firing him for addressing her disrespectfully.

"What is it?" She says, eyeing him.

Usui Takumi attempts not to chuckle, but finds himself doing so anyway when he sees the serious woman's face scrunch up in thought. But the blonde establishes that he really likes the way her eyes widen when he says the next few words.

"You look beautiful today."

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He's a nuisance, that Usui. But Misaki tolerates him anyway because he is efficient and he does his office work properly. This is further emphasized when he hands her the stack of reports she had him organize only an hour before.

She stares at him as he explains how he filed this and that and how she is supposed to go through them without getting one file confused with the other. Misaki finds him too bright and too lively, and she wonders why he decided to work in such a dreary place like Igarashi Corp. He looks like someone who would qualify for any job (she says this because his academic achievements surpass even her own), and as much as Misaki hates to admit it, he's handsome enough to get himself into the modeling business.

Isn't that what everyone wants these days?

"Something wrong?"

Misaki blinks at the smiling face looking down on her and mentally berates herself for being caught staring. She looks away from Usui and starts typing mechanically on her laptop, dismissing him with an careless wave of her hand.

She glares hard when he starts to laugh.

"I knew it." The blonde chuckles, turning on his heel slowly. Deliberately. The dark-haired woman's hands are itching to reach for the stapler.

"Knew what?" She knows she's going to regret this later, but her curiosity is not something she can really suppress, so she gives in and attempts to prepare for any possible repercussions in the few short moments the blonde man pauses to answer.

His blonde head tilts to the side and a small, mischievous grin plays on his lips. "You're in love with me, aren't you?"

It is then decided that Usui Takumi is a stupid, perverted little alien from outer space.

"You really think that? I'm hurt, Pres."

She loses her dignity every time she thinks out loud, but that doesn't mean she can't throw the stapler at his face.

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Igarashi Tora is a powerful man, she thinks, when he pins her hands above her head and starts pressing his mouth hard on hers. His kisses aren't pleasant and the grip on her wrists are starting to hurt, but it isn't like she can do anything about it. She is his wife, after all. And married couples are supposed to have nights like this one. Nights of love and passion and se--

"How were things at work?" Tora asks in some vague attempt to make conversation. Misaki can feel his lips move against her neck and she finds herself cringing at the sensation. It's awkward, talking about work while they're in a position like this. Actually, it seems kind of funny.

"Fine." She says, simple and short because that how she wants their nights to be. A tears slides down her cheek when he only grunts a reply and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

This isn't love. This isn't passion. This isn't what she wants.

So Misaki finds herself imagining how it would be if it were someone else lying with her on the bed and not Igarashi Tora. Oddly enough, the first person she thinks of is Usui Takumi.

Her lips twitch when she realizes that she would rather spend evenings with a stupid, perverted alien from outer space than with the man she married.

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"I like you."

His face is blank when he says this and she can't help but choke on her soda. Usui reaches out to her and starts rubbing circles on her back while she lets out a 'what?' in between harsh coughs. He can only hope that once she recovers, he can talk to her properly. He was never really good with confessions…

Come to think of it, this is actually as his first one.

Usui didn't really think things over when he walked up to her that day in the park. His decision was a spur-of-the-moment-thing, to be honest. But then again, when did he even try to mull over the important things? Being impulsive is only typical. For him, at least.

That afternoon, he had seen her sitting quietly on a stone bench, looking at the kids playing amongst fallen maple leaves. Misaki was wearing a rather pensive expression on her face, the one Usui always saw when she was in deep thought. He loved that look. Actually, he loved all of her despite everyone else feeling the exact opposite.

He secretly wants to shove their freaking billing reports up their asses because they don't understand. They don't see. They don't know that she's just a fragile little thing behind that tough iron mask she's trying so hard to put up.

"U-Usui," Misaki coughs because her throat feels like it's closed up and she knows it isn't because of the soda. She swats Usui's hand away and gives him a very weird look. He only smiles at this. "Stop saying stupid things like--"

"Well, it's true."

"It isn't."

"It is," Usui says, his blonde head tilting to the side. "so you'll just have to deal with it."

He is being incredulous. Misaki stands up, her knees shaky and her cheeks flushed. She glares at the man like she's never glared at him before, but he only sits there looking at the far distance, eyes a sea of calm and expression nonchalant. Like he hasn't said anything remotely life-changing a few minutes ago.

"I'm married."

At least I think I am. I have a gold band around my finger, don't I?

"So?"

I know. I don't care.

"You are being stupid. And ridiculous."

I'm the stupid one. I don't love him. I don't even want to look at him.

"I'm only being honest."

You should be too. I know you're not happy.

Misaki shakes her head weakly, lashes lowering to cover her eyes. She doesn't say anything for a while. She just stands there, legs barely able to hold her up, thoughts jumbled and irritably incoherent.

It's almost sad that she can't decide what to say. That she can't give him a flat-out refusal. That she can't be entirely faithful to her unfaithful husband. And to think, she has always deemed herself a model wife. Ever loyal and enduring and caring despite the bruises and suspected adultery.

She wants to stay by his side despite the fact that love plays a very small part in their little game of charade. That's what loyal wives do, right?

Misaki looks up at the slate gray sky, sighs and walks away from the man sitting on the stone bench. She resolves to fire Usui as soon as she can.

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But when he walks in the following day, bright like the sun, Misaki is blinded. She feels a knot, an uncomfortable feeling , settling down at the pit of her stomach. Like she's picked up that cursed red fruit that's fallen down from the apple tree.

But she knows she hasn't done anything wrong. She knows she's spent the previous night alone in their room. On their bed, while his side had been cold and empty. In spite of knowing that his supposed business trip is just a guise to cover up his rendezvous with some woman Misaki decidedly named Kaoru.

So why is she the guilty one? Why does she feel so wrong?

The blonde boy -she refuses to even think his name- flashes her one quick smile as they pass each other before heading for his office cubicle. There is not a single word from him for the rest of the day and she feels the odd quiet and the lack of warmth unsettling.

She doesn't fire him, and Misaki can already feel the guilt seeping into her paper-thin barriers.

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The previous weeks had been tiring. It remains a mystery to Misaki how she's managed to hold up for so long.

She's always been strong. And smart. And resourceful. She's known that since she was in the fifth grade. Her teachers had never failed to point it out to her parents whenever they would pick up her report card from school. She's one of those people who's got lives ahead of them. The kind that ends up becoming rich, happy and contented in the future.

But recently, she wonders how she can even go through a whole day with all the guilt and anger and desolation that's been clawing mercilessly at her chest. Guilt at her wavering loyalty, anger at Tora's infidelity and desolation with her own miserable existence.

Misaki gives herself a pat on the back for bearing so much because that is what really needs at the moment.

"You're pale." he points out, tone worried. Maybe a little panicked. Misaki fails to notice anyway.

She raises her dark head a little, peering through her lashes and snorting at the quizzical expression on his face.

"Why are you even here?"

"I was telling you that Iwamoto-san is taking a leave tomorrow. And apparently, you weren't listening."

She glares at him, livid. But she can't make her face look as angry as it's supposed to. She's just too tired to make her muscles contort into such a taxing expression. And honestly, she wasn't about to waste what's left of her energy on someone as insignificant as the man in front of her.

"Are you okay?"

A snort. She looks down at the paperwork laid out before her. It 's a stupid question, really. And she 's secretly disappointed at Usui for asking such a thing. She knows that he's smarter than that.

Or maybe he isn't.

Misaki blinks when he tries to touch her cheek, but his hand stops just as his fingers brush gently on her skin. The warmth spreads through her like a field fire. Comforting. Soothing. Calming. And oddly enough, Misaki thinks that this man's touch -barely even a touch- has placated her more than a hundred of her husband's empty kisses.

She sighs into Usui's hand and she can almost hear her walls crashing down.

This is how they start their affair.

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He obviously doesn't think of it as a big thing.

Then again, for someone like Usui, it is probably the most normal reaction. Misaki won't pretend that she's not flattered at his nonchalance, but if they want going to make things work, she has to be the understanding one. So she tells him exactly how she feels, albeit in a more careful manner.

The blonde man stares at her for a moment, as if slowly processing her words and letting them sink in. For a moment, Misaki considers the possibility of him thinking that she's too needy. Too clingy. Too demanding for his affection. Inwardly, the dark-haired woman cringes, because affection is exactly what she wants to gain in their supposed relationship.

Selfish, she thinks to herself and bows her head in shame.

A sad smile plays on Usui's lips for a moment when he sees her glassy eyes and her clenched jaw. He knows she's ashamed of herself. Ashamed of demanding so much from him But he doesn't blame her for wanting attention. He can never blame her for anything. And perhaps, despite only one of them really wanting, really needing, they actually can start something beautiful.

He moves to tilt Misaki's lowered head with gentle fingers and kisses her softly -carefully-as he murmurs a soft apology against her mouth. But he doesn't tell her that she's wrong. He doesn't tell her that he doesn't take her for granted. He doesn't tell her that his time with her is one of the two things he cherishes most in his life, the other, being Misaki herself.

Some people say ignorance is bliss. Usui thinks so too.

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He's gentle.

He isn't like Tora. He doesn't push her down, he lays her carefully on the bed. He doesn't force himself on her. He asks. Tentatively. Kindly. And Misaki likes this about him. He's one of the few men that has enough respect for women to even ask for permission to undress her.

Misaki notices, for the first time, how clumsy he is. It doesn't take ten minutes to finish undoing five -seven- buttons, after all.

"You are an idiot." She says, chuckling when Usui gives up on unbuttoning her shirt and gently pushes her on her back instead. He laughs, and Misaki revels at the deep, throaty chuckle she's managed to get out of him. It's pleasant. Something that she has never heard from her husband.

And he kisses her, pressing his mouth against hers with passion, and need, and everything in between. They can both taste the pizza and spaghetti, and a tang of mint, probably the blonde's bubblegum, as they deepen the kiss, Misaki uncharacteristically taking the lead.

But soon enough, the sudden hyperawareness of their closer than close proximity sends Misaki in a state of confusion and inner debate. She stops responding suddenly, and Usui senses that maybe he has gone too far.

"What is it…?" He breathes, face flushed and mouth turned upwards into a small smile. It's a mask to hide his concern and his worry, but the dark-haired woman can see right through it without so much effort.

She sighs, world-weary and tired of her nagging conscience. She hates being so wrapped up in guilt. It almost feels as if she's being choked to death by a leash Tora has clasped around her neck. And perhaps, it is wrong for her to use this boy. This boy that has shown her nothing but kindness and understanding, just so she can get the affection that her husband failed to give to her.

"Tell me."

Her head snaps up to look at green -green- orbs and a slightly frowning face now. It's frightening how much of an effect his eyes make on her… So Misaki sighs again, places a hand on Usui's chest and pushes him away.

"Alright," She says, sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest.

That night, they talk about all the things that matter. Or at least, Misaki does. She tells him the hurt, the heartbreak and the suffocating guilt that has been trying to overwhelm her ever since they had started their little affair. She tells him that she is sorry that she is so selfish. That she might not be capable of giving him as much as he has given her… And she cries because Usui tells her that it's alright to, but she buries her face in her hands because she doesn't want him to see.

"I want to." He says, small smile back in place. Usui holds her close and kisses her hair, and rubs her back just the way she likes it.

The next morning, she feels his foot gently nudging hers as he turns over on his side, the bed creaking softly as he moves.

Misaki's lips twitch upward when she realizes that she is face to face with the most handsome man she has ever seen.

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They spend their free days in the park, just sitting on wooden benches with the hands stuffed in their coat pockets and ears covered by mufflers. It doesn't take much to please Usui and Misaki is content with him just being there, so they mostly just spend the whole day on that bench. She, sleeping on his lap and he, watching over her while reading a novel they'd purchased just hours before.

It's a pleasing sight, and God knows how many people had stopped to admire at how adorable they looked, unaware of sad marriages and lonely nights they had spent before they had gotten together. And perhaps they needn't know. That would only complicate things further and shatter pretty romances they had cooked up in those minds of theirs.

Usui shoulders slump and he sighs audibly. He takes off his reading glasses and tucks them away in his chest pocket.

So few people understand... but he is glad that, for now, they think happily of him and his Sleeping Beauty.

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In every tragic love story, there is a crescendo, the climax, the part where everything gets horribly complicated. It sends the characters in a tangled mess of words and hurt and countless other things that make it even harder for them to be together no matter how much they WANT to. But they try. Oh, yes they do. They try and try and try until there are no more tears to cry and no more hearts to break and the waves of distress finally stop coming… and somehow… somehow…

.... love always finds a way.

It wasn't like that for them.

"I'm leaving. My flight is the day after tomorrow and… I just wanted you to know."

"You're not coming back?"

A casual shrug. A rising and falling of shoulders that sends her stomach into a series of somersaults and vomit-inducing back flips. She can't hear the rest of his explanation or his apologies. She only hears static in her ears and she wishes that, even for a minute, everything would just stop.

Misaki tries to keep a neutral face, but the pang in her chest is too great that she even feels the need to recoil in pain. She looks at him with wide eyes, more questioning than accusing, and struggles to keep strings and strings of words from spilling from her mouth. She does not want to be the stubborn one. She does not want to be the one who clings onto something that hasn't even begun.

It's a sad thing to happen, but in some odd way, perhaps they both knew that this was inevitable. Perhaps they both knew that it wouldn't last as long as they, or at least she, wanted it to.

And then he moves, as if to get something from his coat pocket, but his hand just sort of does an awkward flinch and brushes off the snow that's managed to get on his sleeve instead.

"Come with me. To America. We'll be together and... and I'll take care of you." Usui doesn't pause to contemplate his words. They come out clumsily, just like how a small boy would tell his mother that he has broken her favorite ceramic vase. He prepares himself for her response, because he has heard them before she can even open her mouth.

"I… can't."

Misaki sighs and closes her eyes, wishing that the next second she opens them, Usui will be long gone.

But he doesn't go. He only moves closer, takes her up in his arms and holds her tighter than he has ever held her before. Usui decides that it is better to end it here… spare her more of the heartbreak. No. Spare the both of them the heartbreak because he can't bear to show her the pictures of them together that Tora had so smugly slapped at his face only a day before.

He doesn't want Tora to hurt her... so Usui has to be the one that goes.

And so there are no words, just ragged breathing and the sound of glass shattering into a million pieces.

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Her breath comes out in hot bursts as she looks up to see what might have been his plane moving, far, far away into the distance… to a place where she can never reach.

She whispers three words meant for Usui that day and she hopes -she hopes, she hopes and she hopes- that the wind will take them to him.

The bench is one less an occupant today, and although it feels cold, Misaki can take comfort in the fact that once upon a time, it had been warmer.

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End

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A/N: Oh. OH MY GOD. IT IS DONE!

I am so sorry. So terribly sorry that I have been missing for the past few months. I was buried in college work and plagued mercilessly by writer's block, so I haven't been able to come up with anything proper. Even this fanfiction was quite a struggle to complete. You wouldn't even believe how many time I banged my head on a table because of this.

Er… this is my first Maid-sama work, and as you can see it's quite heavy on drama (which I am not so good on). I apologize if it turned out to have a very sad ending, but don't worry! My next work (which will hopefully be finished by the end of the week) will have a lighter mood (and a happier ending).

Please review? Please, please, please?