Story 1: Bewildered
Disclaimer: I do not own this series. I'm just a fanatic (ehem) a fan, I mean.
x x x x x
He picked up his trousers from the floor and wondered how it got there. Ah, well, it's her after all. He couldn't get angry just now because he is tipsy happy bordering on drunkenly giddy. And he was the one who had failed to keep his promise.
Throwing the ruddy trousers aside, he sat almost too daintily at the side of the bed, glancing at the lump under the stale covers.
She must have been disappointed. She must have cried. But he hoped against all hope that she didn't act weird and had played as superbly as always with her unwavering fervor.
He never used to care. She is, at most times, annoying. Until now, he can't figure out what made him help her out of that dismal garbage-filled room of hers. Oh yes, the stink was unbearable and her goo was actually leaking into his apartment. But he could have easily brushed it off and let someone else be troubled by it. Once he entered that torture place, she had caught him and never let go. And from then on, his life had been a series of strange (and wondrous) events, one after the other.
What should he say just now?
Sorry?
He doesn't owe anything to this girl, this creature (a self-delusion, of course or just plain pride). And she does not owe anything from him either. She had worked hard to get to where she is now. She learned a foreign language, she learned how to aspire for better things (if this is what you'd think of performing on the same stage with her Chiaki-sempai), and even changed her routine from every three days washing of hair to every other day.
Ahhh… what he is feeling is so troublesome.
One.
Two.
Three.
He jumped over her, and the bed creaked violently.
"Mukyaaaaaa!!"
"I'm sorry, Megumi-chan".
That night, on her bed (formerly his), their roles were somehow reversed. She listened as he talked like an absorbed child about meeting Viera-sensei, about him being asked to Italy, and all those brilliant memories. Nothing can be more wonderful, except perhaps, the fact that she wasn't angry. Astonishingly, she did not cry because he wasn't there on her first salon performance. And despite his shortcoming, she had listened to his every word, until he fell asleep, smiling and smelling her not-so-bad scent on the sheets.
He was so happy in his sleep that he forgot about his dream of being a gigolo and Nodame being his "madame".
x x x x x
"Riiiinnngg – riiiinnnnggg", her cellphone sounded off, which was odd so early in the morning.
"Allo? Oh, Robert-san! Merci beucoup, I'm perfectly fine.."
Robert?!
"If Nodame knew you would see her bra, I would have worn something nicer…"
Bra?! What the --?!
He was about to knock her head with a baguette, when she stood up.
"Anou, Chiaki-sempai, I'm running late for school".
"I'll see you later!", she said, walking hastily with a carelessly wrapped / covered / dumped natto in her hands.
That girl --?!
When did she have the nerve to run away from him like that?!; that girl: as unpredictable as ever, quietly forcing him to care, wordlessly asking him to stay by her side. Of course, she never failed to annoy, horrify, amaze, and astound him, but more than these, was his surprise over his own reaction.
And the thoughts came nagging:
Chiaki, you have kissed her after all…
You have asked her to come to Paris with you…
You two are almost like living together – like that husband and wife thing you so hate.
He had acknowledged that such and such had happened and some things are inevitable (since he is already inside the Weirdo Forest). Still, he can't help but feel rather –
-- bewildered.
x x x x x
not sure whether it's Robert or Roger; and please excuse my French