Some Days

By: Maeleene

A/N: Yep. How long has it been? Years? Yeah, that sounds right. But finally, I return with a new one-shot. It's not a romance, per say, but it's cute, anyway. I've been writing a lot of original things lately, and tonight I thought to myself... It's time to go back to my roots. Besides, I forgot how fun these are to write.

Anyway! I hope you enjoy! I had a great time writing it. I haven't played WA3 in... a very long time, but hopefully, I still have the characters right. I'd love a review or two! That'd just make my day. Or night. - Read on!

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Some days I think you'll never learn to listen to me.

Other days, I think you're the only one who ever will. Today is not one of those days.

"No, Virginia," I sigh, lowering my head into my hands and closing my eyes. "I will not go look around, I don't want to go shopping, I don't want to join Clive and Gallows, I don't want to go for a walk outside of town, and I really don't want to talk right now. Has that covered everything?"

There's a moment of silence. Maybe you're thinking, maybe your fuming, maybe you're hurting. But a minute later, you're walking over and sitting on the desk I'm leaning on. You don't say a word. You just sit, running your fingers through your hair idly. I can't tell if I'm irritated or annoyed by this.

"I thought you wanted to go outside," I say hesitantly after a moment.

You look down at me, your hand paused midway in its trail through your hair. "I thought you didn't want to talk right now."

Touche.

I turn and walk away from the desk, sitting on my bed near the window. The sun's bright, almost too bright, and I can hear a bird chirping nearby. I'm sure if I looked out at the sky, I'd see puffy white clouds wafting past slowly. A perfect day. A day I'm sure you'd love to enjoy. So why are you sitting there on the desk, inside, and half-ignoring me?

I won't ask you, I tell myself. Curiosity will not get the better of me.

Your eyes scan the woodwork of the ceiling.

I don't care why you're here.

You begin twirling that chestnut hair around your fingers, oblivious to me watching you.

It's your room, too, after all.

You cross your legs at the knees.

"Why are you still here?"

Your eyes travel from the ceiling to my face, a venomously sweet smile dancing on your lips. "Why are you still here?"

I grit my teeth. You can be so frustrating some days. Most days. Almost every day. I can never seem to figure you out. "Because I feel like it," I say at last, knowing all too well how pathetic a response it is.

"Well. There you have it," you reply, sitting up a little straighter. "I feel like it, too."

"No you don't! Or you wouldn't have asked me to come with you." I cross my arms and lean back against the headboard, feeling disgruntled.

"Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I just wanted to spend some time with you?"

No.

But I wouldn't say that out loud.

"Did you ever stop to consider that maybe I don't want you around me today?"

You uncross your legs, a frown on your face appearing before you can cover it up, and you stand. "Fine," is all you say, and in long strides, you walk to the door, grabbing your jacket before you leave. I expect the door to slam. It shuts so quietly that I wince.

Dammit!

I close my eyes and sigh in frustration. Why do I always do this? I didn't wake up feeling bad, didn't feel antisocial at all until you bounded up to me in excitement, took my hand, and started coaxing me to the door. I was flustered. I was scared. I liked it too much. And so I snapped.

It's not like this is the first time I've done this. In fact, I'm sure you'll stop asking me to go places with you soon. You think I'm just being mean. Then again, you don't feel this guilt that I do. I hate it when your eyes lose their sparkle and your smile falls because of me. I don't know why I react this way, why I break when you only ask me to bend a little. I'm sure you're sick of it, though.

Grudgingly, I open my eyes and look out the window. Up in the sky are puffy white clouds. Typical. Down below, I can see you walking slowly, shoulders slumped as you hug yourself, feet practically dragging. I hate seeing you hurt. Soon, you're out of sight, and I sigh. The urge to scream into my pillow and kick my legs like a three-year-old is almost overwhelming.

I want to make it up to you. How can I, though? I look around, waiting for an idea to come. What would make you happy? What makes your eyes glow and your smile brighten? I think back over all the times I've seen you happy. I remember them each with perfect clarity. After all, those times are some of the best in my life.

My mind races and then stumbles to a screeching halt as I remember you crouching on the ground, your body quivering with bridled excitement. You turned back to me and beckoned me over. Clive and Gallows came, too, of course. All three of us looked down at the ground, to where you pointed. There, in the smallest patch of grass, was a tiny blue flower. It wasn't in full bloom yet, but it was growing, living. I hadn't noticed much about the flower, though. I returned my gaze to your face and drank in the happiness I saw, like it was the rain the flower needed. Maybe that's why I fought with you for Filgaia, because I wanted to see more of the happiness you showed then.

You like flowers.

Slowly, I stand, wrapping my scarves around my neck and shrugging on my jacket. Flowers. They aren't as scarce and delicate as that tiny blue flower had been, but maybe a flower will still make you happy. As I exit the town through the main gate and skirt around the buildings, my eyes are wide open for flowers. It isn't long before I find a small patch of some red flowers. I stoop down and pick two. I can't bear to pick more. They still seem like such a miracle to me. But they're the prettiest two out of the patch, and a tear a little of my scarf to tie them together in a clumsy bow. As I admire my handiwork, which I admit is not much to look at, I make my way back to town, determined to find you. This time, you'll see that I am not just being mean.

I find you at the market place, pacing slowly along the various stalls. You smile politely at the venders and listen to their little speeches, but that polite smile is hardly a smile at all. You pause at one booth, your head tilted, and then your shoulders slump again. The man behind booth says something, and you quickly shake your head, that polite smile coming back. A little quicker, you turn away and walk. Walk towards me.

Before I can rethink my actions, I meet you halfway and thrust the flowers at you. I lower my head into my scarves to hide the blush I feel forming on my cheeks. You seem bewildered, and then you look up at me. You face is so confusing. That look... I can't tell what you're feeling. Slowly, you take the flowers in your hand and gently touch the petals, affection seeping out in all your features. Then you look at me.

"Jet Enduro, do you honestly believe that a few flowers is going make me forgive you?"

I wince. Yes, I think, but instead, I say nothing, crossing my arms and looking intently at the ground.

You link arms with me, and I blink in surprise. "What...?" But before I can finish, you place a finger on my lips.

"Ah, ah," you say almost playfully. "I think you deserve a little punishment. A nice trip around the market place would do you some good," you finish with a grin and malicious twinkle in your eyes. I stare at you, bewildered. And then I smile a secret smile, because I see the way you stare with adoration at those red flowers. With all the care in the world, you tuck them into your pocket, leaving only the two blossoms visible.

I feign boredom. "How long do you intend to wander about for?"

You tilt your head, your attention returning to me. "As long as I like. After all, the days just begun, and it's lovely out."

Outwardly, I groan, but inwardly, I laugh. It's just like you. "So why do I have to come?"

You pat my arm and say with all the seriousness you can muster, "Because, a little fresh air might do you some good. And cheer you up a little. It's not healthy to stay inside all day. Plus, you start to smell bad if you stay inside too long."

I blink, taken aback. You laugh. "Oh, Jet, I'm only teasing. Now come on, I promise you'll have fun."

I let you tug me forward, happy with your renewed enthusiasm.

Some days, I think you never listen to me. But that's not always a bad thing.

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And that's the end.

For an update on those old stories I have but haven't updated, for those of you who are still waiting by some odd fluke... I actually have Bloody ARMs finished. But I lost chapters 17 and 18. The story disappeared from and the only copy of those two chapters are on a disk that won't open without being formatted (or erased, to put it simply). Hopefully, my friend's genius father will be able to extract the desired information and I will at last be able to finish that fanfic.

A Quest is on hold, but I'm actually getting excited about it again. I mean, I kind of lost where I was going with it, but I read over it again and found I like it. So hopefully, I'll get a new chapter going on that. I still have some of the old ideas.

And expect a few more one-shots when I get bored. If not in WA3, then in some other genre. I missed fanfics.

Thanks for reading! I appreciate it. Review if you still have time!