A Perfect Night to Fall in Love
Summary: It was funny how they met--it was ridiculous actually. But it was a beginning of something far better than a simple retching over Hikaru's favorite shirt given by Haruhi on his eighteenth birthday.
Disclaimer: I've learned how to cook and I'll be willing to cook for Hikaru.
A/N: Been listening to A New Found Glory while typing this up—not that they have something to do with the plot of this one-shot, ne? But anyway...
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The alleyway right outside the fire exit of the club was dark. The tall post lamps were extinguished and Hikaru cursed as he pulled his coat tighter around his body and walked briskly through the night. He was pissed--no, he was furious. He didn't know why but when his patience snapped into two, he threw the glass decanter against the wall and watched as it shattered into tiny pieces and walked his way out. Maybe because Tamaki was clinging exceptionally close to Haruhi tonight. Again. He couldn't tell. All he knew right then was he's angry and he had to get out and have some fresh air to calm himself.
It was Tamaki's twentieth birthday and as usual for a commoner-obsessed idiot, he requested the whole club, including Haruhi, for a night's out in a particular bar around town. Of course, alcohol got into them and they weren't themselves anymore. Kyouya even got up to the stage and made a strip-tease, for goodness sake. And then, Tamaki was on his usual self--flirting and flashing his customary host club's antics--this time, to Haruhi. And because alcohol clouded her mind, she was damn compelling. That was when Hikaru lost it.
Kicking an empty can of soda away; he gritted his teeth and marched on. Kaoru wasn't even following and he's probably slumped against a toilet bowl filled with God-knows-what, barfing the contents of his stomach out. "Dammit!"
"Urk--!"
The ash-haired guy froze on his tracks as he looked around. Sure enough, a small shadow formed around a corner, hunched over, leaning against the wall for support. Hikaru winced when he heard her retch once again. "Curse it."
"Hey! Are you okay?" Hikaru took over when she fell down to her knees, sobbing.
"You're all the same, you bastards!" she yelled angrily, aiming it tono one in particular, while furiously wiping the tears away with the back of her hand.
He didn't know what drove him, but he bent down beside her, joining her on the asphalt. "What are you talking about?"
"What do you want! You wanna play with me jerk?" She was hysterical. "You saw a girl drunk in the middle of the street, thinking you're gonna score, you punk!"
"That's not what--"
Forget it. She's raggedly foul-mouthed. He didn't want to mess with some drunkard slumped in the middle of the alleyway, vulnerable and fragile--curse it. Guilt would kill him if he left her, knowing she wasn't on the right mind to bring herself home, and what if someone picked her up and--there are many criminals around, you know.
Cursing mentally, he poked her by the cheek to get her attention, as she was yelling accusations to the innocent lamp post in front of her. "Where do you live?"
"Why do you care, jerk!"
Okay, breathe in. Breathe out. He's a girl, Hikaru. You can't lose your patience, pin her against the wall and strangle her to death. She's a girl.
Hikaru swore once again as he swooped her off the pavement and carried her on his back. She trashed around mercilessly, yelling, "LET GO OFF ME, YOU RAPIST!" as several onlookers shot their heads to their direction. Hikaru merely tightened his grip on her so she wouldn't fall.
"Shut up or I'll--what the--?" He stopped. The drunkard was fisting his hair painfully. Nobody ever fisted his hair before. Nor does anybody even dared touch it. It was a grave sin, punishable by law.
"Let go of my hair." Or else. It wasn't an order. It was a threat.
"Let go of--URK!"
Triple shit.
That was his favorite shirt, a gift from Haruhi on his eighteenth birthday.
And then, Hikaru was fuming, struggling to get his breath back as he tried to compose himself. 'Get a grip, Hikaru. She's only a girl. SHE'S ONLY A BLOODY GIRL RETCHING ON YOUR FAVORITE SHIRT!!!'
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The chestnut haired girl opened her eyes just slightly as she adjusted her eyes against the light. She blinked once, as she tried to make up where she was and what had happened. She sat upright and looked around.
The whole room was adorned with Victorian furniture. Her eyes feasted on the paintings that decorated the wall for a while and jerked her head down when she noticed she wasn't wearing her skirt. Instead, a dark-blue boxer shorts clung loosely around her waist. A baggy, hooded sweatshirt barely hugged her small frame and--
Hikaru cleared his throat when she started to fuss and banged her head against the pillow. She was cursing words he couldn't tell what when she turned to look at him, shock crossing over her features.
She looked rather cute whe she's confused, Hikaru thought. And he cleared his throat once again, shrugging the idea off his mind. He must be out of his mind for thinking things like that. Remember Hikaru, she owes you your favorite shirt Haruhi had give on your eighteenth birthday.
She broke the silence with a loud cough and asked, "Did we--?"
"No."
She gulped in relief. Honestly, knowing she wasn't violated with this guy was good enough for her.
"If you're hungry, go downstairs. I've had my servants prepare food."
Servants? What the hell is he? A royalty? Duh.
She scrambled up to her feet when she heard her stomach growl angrily and followed him suit.
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"I'm Kaoru," she said after swallowing a large piece of breath worth for three people to share. "You?"
Wow, holy coincidence. Kaoru was a girl's name after all.
"Hn."
"Well Hn, thanks for saving me, ne?"
Twitch.
Why the sudden change of personality?
"It's Hikaru."
"Hikaru then! Thank you!"
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They settled on Hikaru's living room as she announced herself staying overnight because she reasoned, 'there were bad people lurking around in the middle of the night.' Of course, he couldn't say no. Heck, he could have just asked his driver to get her out of his sight and bring her home but the problem is--he couldn't. There was something tugging at the back of his mind saying he shouldn't and she could stay for a bit longer. He mentally argued with it but he ended up losing when his body wouldn't budge when he ordered it to push her away.
She got up from the couch and made herself at home by pulling the albums off the large bookshelf, a couple of other small books falling in the process. "Oops." She decided on the beanbag without making her way to pick the fallen books that lay useless on the carpet.
Hikaru just sighed and turned the television on.
"Do you love this girl?" she suddenly brought up and Hikaru's ears perked up, hastily snatching the album out of her grasp in pure instinct. "Will you shut up and try not to move around? You're pissing me off."
She pouted her lips childishly and for a moment, just for a moment, Hikaru thought on pushing everything away, pull her in his arms and land his own lips on hers. No, she retched on his favorite shirt given by Haruhi. He wouldn't forgive her for that.
Darn it.
"H-How about you?" he stammered while looking away, trying to hide the blush forming on his cheeks. "Why were you alone? Wasn't your boyfriend supposed to be there with you?" Instead of me?
She scoffed lightly while crossing her arms under her chest. "He wouldn't give a damn. He even dumped me in front of all those people inside that wretched bar and screwed the nearest bitch he could grab."
He was enveloped with silence. He didn't know what to say as her tears resurfaced once more. She pulled the hood of his sweatshirt on and buried her face against the fabric as she broke down. Honestly, he'd never seen a girl cry before him and it was out of his knowledge to even comfort someone who was just dumped by her boyfriend. Screw those guys.
Moments after, her face, which turned pinkish now, reemerged from the cloth material as she wiped the snot off her face with the back of her hand. "I'm not gonna fall for a bastard ever again."
Hikaru's mind was clouded. He wasn't hearing. The desire of pushing everything away and planting a soft kiss on her lips rematerialized and unconsciously, he dropped the remote on the floor and pulled her close, his lips hovering above hers, barely even touching.
Her breath hitched, as her mind went haywire and she couldn't tell what was happening anymore. Her heart was running wild as his hands snaked up to the back of her head and pushed her up to meet his kiss. And then, everything went completely blank.
When Hikaru pulled away, he pressed his forehead against hers while brushing the stray lock of her chestnut hair away from her face. Her sea-green eyes blinked once, trying to process what was happening.
"Hikaru?"
The ash-haired guy jumped out of his trance and suddenly pushed her away, rather rashly, and she fell back on the couch, dumbfounded. He was fussing, fumbling for words to try and explain why he did what he had just done.
"I-it was...What I mean is--t-that was..."
"You're not making any sense."
"Forgive me," he finally said as he swooped her for the second time that night and pulled her yet again into another kiss. He liked the sensation she was giving her. He liked her effect on him. There was nothing violating about the kiss; it was chaste and he liked it. It was sending him into an overriding emotion that he wouldn't tell what and he didn't want it to end.
Kaoru was flushing when he pulled away. He smiled gently and pecked he on the forehead.
Forget about his favorite shirt given by Haruhi on his eighteenth birthday. "We'll drive that guy to hell tomorrow, okay? I'll make him suffer for what he did."
She flashed him a kind smile. "I guess it would be fun to torture a guy like him somehow."
It was funny how they met--it was ridiculous actually. But it was a beginning of something far better than a simple retching over Hikaru's favorite shirt given by Haruhi on his eighteenth birthday.
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mylife'sboat: I know, crappy ending. Please tell me if it was worth your time.