A/N: Scribbled this one down at work while I was slacking. Me, slacking? I know, it's unthinkable, considering I update so frequently! :) That aside, I hope you enjoy reading it. (Probably obvious, but this one, like ficlet number 9, is based during Monochrome.) Prompt word is number 3: Solitude.

Solitude

It was one of those beautiful afternoons, clear skies, bright sunshine pouring into the room, a gentle breeze weaving its way through the half open window to rustle the tags I still hadn't got around to taking off of the new clothes hanging on my wardrobe door. Outside, sunny, upbeat music was being carried on the wind, one of the neighbours had the radio on and their doors thrown wide open, welcoming the spring air inside.

I should have been outside somewhere, enjoying the afternoon with Miharu, but instead I was sitting on my bed, still wearing my school uniform, glaring down at the bedcovers and wishing a torrential downpour would start. If nothing else it would force the giggling, shrieking neighbourhood kids elsewhere, whoever was blasting their damned radio would have to shut their doors, and I'd finally be left to sulk in silence.

Needless to say, I'd had a terrible day. First off, I'd scored a lousy twenty-three out of a possible hundred on my maths test, and the teacher had oh-so-maturely seen fit to stand all of us who failed at the front of the classroom and bitch at us in front of everyone. Even worse, I was the one who'd scored the lowest, something said teacher had been sure make clear on several occasions. I'd only just managed the walk of shame back to my seat before the tears welled up in my eyes and refused to be blinked away, forcing me to try and discreetly rummage in my bag for a tissue and hope my brand new mascara was as waterproof as it claimed to be, and wasn't slowly transforming me into something out of a visual kei band.

Secondly, when I'd met up with my friends at lunchtime and regaled them with the whole sorry tale expecting sympathy, Miharu had responded by slamming her magazine shut with an angry exhale and turning to glare at me.

"Jeez, Xiao, just chill! Why is it that when you're in a mood, everyone has to know about it? I failed my Geography test, but you don't see me getting all mopey, do you?"

Of course, I hadn't been able to let the comment lie, which led to an argument, which culminated in Mi telling me to get over myself, which then led to an stupid temper tantrum on my part, and Hwoarang completely ignored us both in favour of reading his bike magazine while I sniped and whined at Mi and she rolled her eyes and told me to stop being such a baby. Of course, it was only later on that I found out that there was a rumour going around that Hikaru, the guy Miharu had been into for ages, had got together with Ayumi over the weekend. No wonder my maths related humiliation had seemed like such a silly thing to be upset about. I mean, Hikaru'd been giving mixed signals to Miharu for months now. They were supposed to get together in the end, I mean, that's how these things usually work, isn't it?

Thirdly, while I was waiting for Mi after school, desperate to apologise and offer chocolate and hugs, Jin Kazama had approached me hesitantly, looking like he was dying to say something but not quite sure how to word it. My stomach had flipped in excitement as he fumbled for the right words.

"Xiao, uh..."

He trailed off awkwardly and I flashed an encouraging smile, my overactive imagination filling in the blanks and drawing the ridiculous conclusion that he was trying to confess his feelings for me or ask me out or something.

"Your skirt... at the back, it's..." he tried again, and the encouraging smile dissolved into a look of mortification as I reached behind me to pat the back of my skirt and realised what he was trying to tell me. Somehow it had ended up tucked into my knickers, which meant that I'd been walking around for God only knew how long, flashing my panda print panties to the world. Sexy doesn't even begin to cover it.

So when my mobile phone's cheery melody started up, bouncing alongside the radio music from outside, I think I could be forgiven for completely ignoring it. As soon as it stopped, I snatched it up, the panda charm knocking against my knuckles as I checked who the caller had been. Hwoarang. I sighed, dropping it back onto the bed. He hadn't left a message. Knowing him, he was probably bored and figured he'd call me up to pick on me for a while. He did that on occasion, and freely admitted it was because he found it entertaining that I got so easily wound up. I so wasn't in the mood for it.

A few minutes later, he called again. I sat and stared down at the phone, the lit up numbers on the screen staring back at me.

"What is it, Hwo?" I answered curtly.

"You simmered down from dinnertime yet, kiddo?" He sounded amused, as he always did whenever he spoke to me on the phone when I was in a mood.

"Mm."

"I'll come pick you up then, we'll go somewhere on the bike."

I sighed. He always did this.

"I don't want to go anywhere, Hwo. I'm still sulking. Solitude is sort of a requirement for that."

"Whatever." he said easily, not even bothering to argue, and hung up. I looked at the phone in exasperation, then shook my head, the beginnings of a smile tugging at my mouth. He always did this, too. Fifteen minutes later, the purr of a motorbike engine mingled with the breezy music from next door, and my mood lightened considerably.