Da Capo, a gakuen alice fanfic

De Capo

Summary: Don't you think it's ironic to begin and end with the same thing?

Author's note: Alternate Universe (No Alices, but they study in Gakuen Alice). Long one-shot. Confusing dialogue. Don't say you haven't been warned. This is for the TR post-Valentine's contest!

Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice. As much as I want to, I can't. I only own the plot.

I hate gravity.

I hate the way it makes leaves and branches fall on top of my head when I pass by the bookstore on a sunny day.

I hate the way it makes me hunch down when I climb flights of stairs.

I hate the way it pulls me back to the ground when I try to reach for my phone in your outstretched hand.

I hate the way I have to memorize its value to solve a problem in physics.

And I hate the way it yanks me face down on the ground when my foot slips and my body loses its balance.

That was until I met you.

I was sprawled on the ground right in front of the swing one summer day with my arms outstretched, fingers curled into tiny fists as pain shot through my knees and arms—I scraped myself and I knew because I was used to it. It was silly of me to think that with proper timing, proper force and light weight I would be able to fly—gravity was too helpful to point that out: the moment I spread my arms and a smile made its way to my lips I fell back to reality. The pain was unbearable: It felt like splinters digging into my skin without anyway of removing them. I wanted to cry but couldn't. I was alone. My mom was gone buying ice cream in a truck nearby. Hotaru was absent today and I was left alone in that playground with kids running around laughing, fingers pointing at a clumsy me face flat on the ground.

I've never felt so alone in my life.

But then you came with that scowl on your face, demanding me to get up because you couldn't use the swing, I looked at you with wide, amber eyes, dirt all over my face, caked where my tears streamed down my cheeks, and then continued to cry.

Get up, you said; impatience in your tone and your arms folded across your chest. You had a frown on your face, a deep crease forming between your brows. Get up, you repeated, your foot connecting with my arm as I yelped. I sniffed and glared at you. You're mean. I screamed and you rolled your eyes—crimson, very unusual—and crouched down in front of me with a sigh.

I really like to see stupid people fall down on their face but you're in my way. You offered your hand. Come on, get up. I don't have all day.

I peered at you curiously. You were mean and callous, you even kicked my arm yet you offered your hand to me.

No one did.

And I gazed at you with wonder, thinking about how you shift from being mean to being nice, and took your hand reluctantly. You pulled me up with such force I thought I'd fall again but you gripped my shoulders hard and huffed. You are a clumsy idiot aren't you?

I was about to retort but then I noticed my knees: full of dirt and caked with blood, and I felt my throat constrict and felt tears at the back of my eyes.

But before I could cry out you flicked my forehead and snapped. How old are you? Stop being such a cry baby! I sniffed and then you reached for something in your pocket and pulled it out.

I stared at it battered and bulgy, wondering what it could be.

Here.

I reached for it and opened.

It's Howalons. Like cotton candy. Eat that so you'd shut up.

I stared at you with a gaping mouth and aching knees.

Thank—

Just get out of the way. You shoved me roughly and I stumbled a few steps. However, you didn't ride the swing—you just walked away.

And at that time, as I watched you walk away, your raven hair whipping against the wind, my heartbeat fast and hard, and the butterflies in my stomach fluttered uncomfortably.

I gained three scars that day, and when I look at them I remember you with that silly battered pack containing pink, fluffy clouds inside, and remember it as the day I knew I loved you then.

I tripped during one of our P.E. classes. It wasn't my fault, okay? It was some dumb guy who suddenly thought it would be funny to charge at us girls just because he says so—I think his name is Mochu, bald and skinny and as arrogant as you. We girls had our backs on him as we chatted about the new single of 'Paradice' coming out on September and we didn't notice him. The next thing I know, there was a chorus of shrill squeals and sharp cries as I stumbled face first again on the ground.

Hissing pain erupted from my knee (again) and my legs. I whimpered and suddenly hot tears clouded my vision as I released a loud wail.

Noda-sensei was busy berating Mochu while Misaki-sensei, who was passing by, attended to the other girls. Realizing that no one would help me, I bawled out even louder.

Shut up.

I sniffled and wiped at my nose. It hurts!

Of course it does, dummy. Now stop crying, your cries are irritating me!

I stuck my tongue at you. You just say that because you aren't in pain!

I've been in pain. You retorted indignantly. But I never cry like—

I continued my stunt.

Jeez! I heard you sigh. Here.

It wasn't a handkerchief like in those cliché movies or in shojou mangas available in bookstores that you expected.

Nor was it that hand that would appear in line with your sight as his figure blocks the light.

It was a pack of Howalons—I knew because I remembered, and you repeated what you told me that fateful day

Eat that so you'd shut up.

I did and I relished its sweet taste in my mouth, the tingle it gives to my tongue as it melts and the delighted sigh I exhale once I am finished.

I folded it meticulously. I even brought it to my nose to inhale its heavenly scent.

I hid it under my bed with a giddy smile on my face together with the first pack you gave me (inside a girly box, with the word 'Secret' on top of the lid). You may not know but whenever you hand me another one—they follow as well.

My first rejection was when I was ten years old. I blurted out to you under your Sakura tree how I felt for you, head bowed down, hands clammy, ears ringing, and heart racing. You just stared at me with emotionless crimson eyes and laughed. Sardonically.

You didn't thank me, you didn't apologize. You just laughed and shook your head. What's funny, I asked.

You, you answered still shaking your head.

Why?

Why? Do you even know what love is? We're only ten. And besides, you're too ugly for me, too stupid, too loud. I don't and would never like you. If you come up with a definition of love that I can accept, if ever you do, confess to me again and let's see.

And then you walked away again leaving me with three scars and a wounded heart. At that time I promised that I would throw my feelings for you away and never to love you, never look at you, never care for you and hate you for rejecting and humiliating me.

You left me three scars from our first meeting and a wounded heart today. I promised not to love you. I promised to hate you because of everything you did—but I couldn't take it.

I broke that promise.

Over and over again.

I was thirteen when you started speaking to me again. You asked me what my schedule was and I just stared.

You ignored me for years, mocked me in class, you pulled at my pigtails, you stick your foot out when I'm not looking, you stare at my panties, call me polka and tell me I'm childish. I fumed, I got angry and I cried at your cruelty. I wanted to hate you more but couldn't—because you touched me, talked to me, paid attention to me and that was enough to make butterflies flutter in my stomach, to make my heart race and to make my head spin.

I hate the way you could do something so dumb, so cruel, so mean and so you, and end up falling for you anyways over and over again.

Now you're leaning against the locker beside mine with your hands in your pockets and a smug smile on your face. I slam my locker door shut and sped off not caring if I was rude and cowardly. Your voice has gone deeper and you are now a foot taller than me. Funny how I only noticed these things when I've been watching you for three years. I sped off because the feelings I have buried deep inside threatened to come out and I couldn't bear it.

I just couldn't.

I was halfway past the hallway when I felt your hand, like fire kindled in a home: warm, comforting and safe, on my wrist. I jerked away, felt the bracelet of your fingers tighten on my skin, and spun wildly. Don't—

Let's be friends.

I blinked and processed what you said. Friends? I asked indignantly, mouth agape and disbelief on my face. After all you've done to me you want us to be friends?

No.

No. I said more firmly. No. I repeated again for good measure, I don't know who I'm trying to convince more: you or me.

You raised your eyebrows in response. No? I'll lend you my notes and let you sit next to me during lunch.

Tempting, but—no.

You shrugged your shoulders and pushed yourself off the locker. Suit yourself.

And then you walked away again leaving me with a scarred, confused heart and a sense of wonder. Though I didn't admit it, we became friends then.

The first test of friendship you passed was when I dropped my books (unintentionally, of course) and you picked them up, handed them to me, and casually asked about my day. I didn't answer your question, instead I asked, isn't this awkward for you? I liked you before, aren't you—I faltered.

Like you said, liked. You glanced at me skeptically and I fought to keep my heartbeat normal, tried calming the blood rushing to my face and the urge to look away. I have no reason to feel awkward around you. You said. So… is it true that geometry is taught by a sashimi?

I nodded dumbly even before I could process your question and shut my eyes. Later when I am seated in my desk and the geometry teacher gets in, I would realize that indeed a sashimi teaches geometry and laugh.

My classmates would give me the looks but I would wave them off. I would remember this day: the day I became real friends with you, Hyuuga Natsume.

Two weeks from that you asked me to accompany you to Central Town. I felt my cheeks flush when you asked me and swallowed hard. Date? Is that a date? Are you asking me out?

You snorted. I need a new manga. Ruka's unavailable and well—He mused to himself and shrugged. We're friends, right?

I felt my hopes take a nosedive and my body tense up. Oh, right. Why did I even expect?

Well?

I'll think about it, I said, trying to save my dignity.

You don't have to think about it. A simple yes or no would suffice. You grumbled impatiently.

Well, I retorted back. My anger simmering. If you're so impatient in finding someone who'll accompany you to Central Town, go find someone else!

I don't have to please you! Not at all!

In the end I still accompanied you. I even cancelled my date with Hotaru then.

Later that evening I realized that I was trying to please you.

And I vowed never to.

But I did it again.

And again.

Until I stopped counting them.

Algebra. Geometry. Chemistry.

How I wish they never existed.

I halfheartedly glanced at Jinno who scrawled a jumble of letters and numbers on the board while droning on and on about rules, and threatening that he'd send to detention those who he'll call and wouldn't be able to answer.

I snorted.

Jinno and I have been chummies ever since.

In detention.

And Sakura you aren't excused in this!

I groaned as all of you laughed at me. I stuck my tongue at Jinno's back and it seems like he has an eye at the back of his head.

Detention.

I groaned again.

Really? That's not just fair you just said that those who'll get detention—

I know what I said. Jinno snapped never turning to face me. I growled. But you disrespected me. I think that's in the handbook too.

I—

Imai Hotaru gave me a waning stare. I kept my mouth shut and gazed at the clouds in the sky, deciphering their shapes.

Mikan.

I turned my head to the right and saw Shouda Sumire's cat-like eyes narrowed at me. Frowning, since I've done nothing wrong, I mouthed What.

She rolled her eyes and chucked a piece of paper towards me. I raised my eyebrows at her in question. She pointed at you and I craned my neck to look at you. You were five seats away a nonchalant look on your face as you read your newly bought manga behind our geometry book. Sometimes I wonder why you can always get away with everything while I never get away with just something.

You raised your eyes and motioned me to open the crumpled paper.

Jinno likes you. Or you're just too stupid for your own good.

I made a face and gave you a rude hand gesture. Really? A small smile made to your face before turning your attention back to your manga.

I kept that note in the box too.

I was fuming when I entered that café two blocks from our school. I wonder deeply why you chose this as a place for a date. This certain place isn't like you: Pink, sweet music, couples all over the place. It was something I never associated with you and yet you are here. Sitting across a blonde who is laughing exaggeratedly at whatever you are saying. My fists clenched, and no I'm not jealous. I am just annoyed by the way she pathetically tries to get your attention. And you're sitting there, slouching, a slight smirk gracing your face that I only see when you are amused.

I stood by your table with my arms folded across my chest and a glare on my face. You didn't look up. Neither did she. And I feel like I'm the dumbest person alive with all their eyes on me. Who could she be? They might ask. What gall she has! Can't she leave those two at peace?

Miss—

I bared by teeth at the waiter who tried to grasp my arm. My business is not with him, it was with you.

Finally you looked up, that mask of indifference back in place or is it always like that just because it is me?

You promised. I gritted out, impatience and anger lacing my words.

Promised what? You scoffed.

You promised that you would accompany me today in the opening of—of—I glanced at your companion who was looking at me like a predator. I swallowed. You promised me you'd accompany me. I finished off lamely

I didn't say that.

Are you calling me a liar?

I'm calling you an assumer.

My jaw tightened. Assumer. That's—That's a fucking offensive word. My nails dug into my palm as I evened out my breath. Assumer? I called out. You are telling me that I assumed that you promised me that you would accompany me today?

Yes, you answered slowly. I didn't promise you anything. I only told you I'll go if I don't have any plans. You nodded your head towards the blonde who was surreptitiously trying to hide her giggles. She's the plan.

Well I don't appreciate it when friends ditch their friends. When you say something I expect you to keep your word.

And in case you weren't listening because you were busy fantasizing about our supposed to be date today, which will never happen, mind you. I said I'll only accompany you if I don't have plans—hence the last resort if I want to die out or boredom.

A knife drove deep inside my heart and twisted. It's different now. I don't like you anymore. I don't. And I proceeded to tell you so. I don't. I said firmly. I don't fantasize about those what-if's and most especially what-if's with you. In case you didn't notice that—that silly crush I've had with you has disappeared. It's already nonexistent. You are the one who is assuming things! Don't think that just because I am here you think that I am already following you around like some kind of an obsessed—

Well you're acting like one. And a damn well good act, that is. You narrowed your eyes at me and sprung to your feet, pushing my shoulder and making me stumble a few steps back at the force. I stare at you gob-smacked and annoyed. Now, if you have nothing else to say, I'll be taking my leave.

I watched you walk away again, another set of hurtful words thrown at my direction as I grovel at your feet. I never expected you to feel the same. I never expected you to acknowledge it. I just wanted to be your friend. Why can't you at least give me that? Why leave always with a painful parting that would break me again and then start gluing me back on until you decide to smash me against some invisible wall between the two of us? Why?

Did he just leave me? Came your date—oh, ex-date's incredulous voice. She was pointing at the door and the now empty seat in front of her. Did he just walk out on me?

Unless you've gone temporary blind… I muttered darkly.

She rolled her eyes at me, don't act so high and mighty there, you date-wrecker. It's your fault he's gone! If you didn't interfere—

I rolled my eyes at her. Get over it.

How can I? I spent three hours curling my hair for nothing? For being ditched!

It's just fair. I got ditched and you also did.

I can find another guy in two minutes. Can you?

I sniffed and stuck my chin in deference. I don't need a guy. I'm not looking for one.

It's because you have your sights on Natsume.

I don't. I replied too quickly.

An amused smile on her lips formed. Suit yourself. How long have you known him?

I counted from the day I met you in the playground. Almost eleven years. I answer proudly.

And you still don't know him that much? She jeered, waving her hand dismissively.

I stared at her blankly.

The girl skeptically raised one of her perfect eyebrows at me before she calmly set her teacup down, she looked at me with pitiful eyes that made my stomach clench and knew.

He never promises.

I walked away feeling foolish and dejected. Yes, she is right. I should've known you better.

The next day when I open my door a box of Howalons sat on the porch, without a note. But I knew it was you then. This is closest you can get in apologizing and I know. I accepted. And the cycle began again.

Move. You ordered.

I kept glaring alternately at you and the broken lock on my window. Rapping on the window until I woke up is something I could forgive, but breaking in? Seriously.

Move.

Why don't you move? I snapped. You're hardly in any position to demand me since you're in my room—my territory.

You snorted and shucked off your jacket. My eye twitched. Couldn't you get a hint?

Mum locked me out.

Don't you have a key?

You gave me a stink-eye. Do I look like I have one? I wouldn't be here if I had one.

So you repeatedly leave it at home whenever you go out?

No. just now.

I distinctly remember you saying that a dozen times already! Can't you stay at Ruka's—

Will you stop making noise? You plopped down on my bed and pulled your shirt above your head. My breath didn't hitch anymore. I was too used to this. You're mum might wake up and come in here.

She wouldn't come here if you aren't here to rile me up!

You're the one who's making a fuss out of this!

Am not!

Yeah, you are. Now just shut up and just sleep with me!

I froze. You froze too.

And then I started giggling unceremoniously. The thought of us sleeping together was just impossible.

Stop. Hey, I—

My giggles turned into full laughs as I watched your ears turn into a shade of pink under the moonlight.

I didn't—

I waved my hand and settled myself in bed, dropping my voice into a sultry tone (I hope), you could've just asked me, Na-tsu-me.

I reached for your hand and you flinched, jerking your hand away. Momentarily I was hurt and shocked. But then I knew the boundaries and I was just horsing around. So I said, I know you idiot. I was just fooling around. I groped for one of my pillows and hugged it to my chest. I know.

Stop being dramatic. Your voice hollow and annoyed. What you just did gave me the creeps.

I didn't say anything more. The knife in my heart twisting right and left with every word. But I kept silent and told you to move. Later when I was curled up beside you as I greedily took in your warmth and your arm finally drapes across my shoulders, I cry.

Silent and pathetic.

I really want to stop this all. I really do. But I can't. No matter how hurtful, no matter how cruel, no matter how bruising, you end up doing something that will make everything dissolve and make me forget.

Thanks, Polka. You murmured against my hair with a brush of your lips against my temple as I fell asleep.

Just like how I fell for you.

I finally snapped five days before your birthday in a deserted street we only walk on when we don't want to go home yet. The streetlamp across the street flickered on and off irregularly as you dragged me by the wrist, your strides too long for me to keep up I ended up tripping every three steps.

Really! Stop, stop! Dammit! Natsume!

You ignored me.

Don't you ever listen. What the—shit! Ouch! Damn! Natsume!

You slowed down and I breathed a sigh of relief as I rubbed my toes. Damn, If this bleeds I swear to God I'll—

You'll what? you said lowly. I rolled my eyes.

Don't start. I'm not in the mood right now after what you've done.

You mean punching that date of yours while you let him feel you up.

He wasn't feeling me up! I retorted hotly, snatching my wrist from your hold. You just needed an excuse to displace you anger just because your new girlfriend didn't show up. And I told you a hundred times she was up to no good! Pathetic.

That is none of your business.

Well if my date is feeling up my leg then it isn't any of yours to.

So you'd rather—

Look. He wasn't. Get that to your head. Listen. Kai was a gentleman and I would've been happier if this night ended up better without a bruised face of him on Monday, and probably another date next week but you just have to be an ass and whack his face with your fist! He wasn't doing anything wrong!

He was, you're just too naïve thinking he was concerned and all when there was lust in his eyes!

Well, if that happened then I'm going to hate you more since you just wrecked the time for me to lose my fucking virginity then!

Your eyes narrowed and you snatched my arm. I yelped. You are planning to lose your virginity to the likes of him?

I snorted. Well who would I lose my virginity to? To the likes of you? Man-slags? I'd rather not. And it isn't any of your business. Not my dad.

You don't have a dad.

Rude. How bad is it really to have no one to instill values?

Shut up.

You started this. I hissed.

You did.

I did not! I was busy enjoying the day with a guy and then you have to barge in like you own me, punch him on the face, possibly cracked his nose and drag me allthe way here in my high heels without any concern if I was cold or whatever—really. If you plan doing things like this again, at least plan ahead.

I have no intention of doing this again.

Oh really, then may I know the reason why you did this today so that I can avoid certain situations like this the next time?

I was bored.

I wanted to hit you. I really did, but I controlled myself and just walked away. I don't understand you. I don't understand you at all. I felt tears behind my eyes and I blinked them away. I am too tired. Too tired of this game you are playing with me. What do you really feel about me, Natsume? I wanted to ask but I didn't, I was too much of a coward. Too afraid of the answer that will leave your lips.

Then, I managed to croak out finally, I'll make sure not to get you bored the next time. I'll personally make sure of that. Now if there is nothing else, I have to leave you and walk to my place alone now.

As I crossed the street I hear you calling out my name. No, it isn't polka. It was Mikan and my heart lurched as I walked faster, it was the second time you called me that and even though you don't know, calling me by my name is a low blow. Straight to my heart. Like I am special. I wanted to know why you called out my name. Were you going to apologize—because you never had. Not when you spilt milk on my new jeans, not when you ate the last chocolate bar in my fridge, not when you broke my window's lock because it won't budge. Never. Would you finally confess your love and tell me you only did it out of jealousy? Pathetic, I say to myself as a bitter laugh bubbled in my mouth. How pathetic can I be? It can never happen and I know that. I heard my name again, was it my imagination? I wanted to know but I willed myself not to turn around.

Mikan, you said.

Over and over.

But I never turned back and you never ran after me.

I'm confused.

I've never been so confused in my life.

I was changing for the night when I heard the doorbell ring. Mum is asleep in her room and I know that she needs not to be disturbed anymore. Lately I've been sleeping on the couch most of the days and I don't know why. Perhaps it is because of your lingering scent on one of the throw pillows, or that imaginary warmth you shared with me that night, sometimes I wake up to the sound of your rumbling laughter or the ghost of your fingers as you leave but when I open my eyes mum would be standing there with a warm smile on her face as she holds the hem of the blanket lightly and asks, did I wake you?

No.

It wasn't even a dream anyways. It was nothing: a figment of my imagination—one of my fantasies buried deeply that has no intention of coming true.

And what is that fantasy? Of being with you? Yes, probably. Being your girlfriend? Well, a girl could keep dreaming right? Sometimes I picture out the day when you and I finally become a couple—only to be broght back down to the ground by gravity, by reality.

You are like a puzzle with pieces that don't fit at all. One moment you're Natsume, the next moment you're that kid when we were ten, and then the next—I don't know anymore. I laugh bitterly, I don't know who you are anymore. You keep on sending those signals—one moment we're friends, the next you hate me. One moment you're kind, the next you're callous to me. I sometimes ask myself why you? Why a man who continues breaking and un-breaking my heart? Why you who is so cruel and so vile? Why you when there are other men out there—kinder, sweeter, nicer everything that you aren't.

I would love to find someone like that but then, when I picture it out, when I see it in my mind's eye during nights when I feel so alone and frustrated at you I would realize,

I can't.

Because he isn't you.

Lightning flashed and thunder clapped outside my window as I hear the doorbell again. I snapped out of my thoughts and made my way downstairs. The couch was ready for me, the fireplace lit up and the lights off. I really want to sleep, I want it to take me away to places—

The doorbell rang again. Annoyed, I made my way towards the hall muttering If this is a prank I ought to… I twisted the knob and snarled,

What is it?

I almost laughed when I saw you out my door holding out a lumpy package reminiscent of the first pack of Howalons you gave me, drenched and pale as rain from your clothes dripped on my porch.

What's that?

It's Howalons. What else could it be? You answered back with annoyance.You let yourself in but I blocked you. I don't want you in my house.

It's cold out here. You pointed out. I'll end up freezing.

You're going home now. I said firmly, eyes dead serious.

I walked all the way here—

You live two doors down.

Still. Let me in.

No. I don't want you in my house. I want you out.

I already apologized.

You think that by handing me that—I pointed at the pack with disgust—it is already an apology?

It's not a big deal. He was pertaining to what happened.

I gritted my teeth. It is, and that thing won't do any good, now please just go home. I don't want to deal with you.

Why are you acting so fucking emotional? You're even playing even hard to get, it doesn't suit you.

I don't care. I hissed. Mum is already asleep, I don't want to cause a scene—

Then don't and just let me in. You tried to side step me but I stomped on your foot. You snarled and glared at me. The fuck?

I told you, you aren't going in.

Well am I supposed to stay out here? Polka it's raining cats and—lighting struck—your crimson eyes turned purple as the lightning struck. Just take it.

I don't want it. I don't like it.

Don't be silly.

I hate it.

Just—

Listen to me, I don't like it. I stressed out even more. You insisted.

Take it.

No. Why don't you listen?

Take it, I said.

I said, no!

Don't be stubborn and just take it so we can get a move on, Polka—just—you tried shoving into my hand the wet, lumpy package of Howalons as I firmly clenched my fist shut. No. if I accept it I will give in, and if I give in this would continue on and on: like a circle with no beginning and end. You exerted force, I exerted some back. You hissed, you threatened, you did what that Natsume would do.

Why can't you just say I'm sorry? Why can't you just open up to me? Why can't you at the very least app—

Fine. Then don't!.

And then I realized that you've been taking me for granted. With that single snarl. With that fire in your eyes, with your tightened lips. You expect me to cave to you easily, you expect me to just let everything pass so long as you offer me that silly pack of pink clouds.

How ironic that that sweet treat is nothing but bitter to me.

How ironic that this is how we will end. With a pack of Howalons in your outstretched hand. You gave up. You gave up on me—on us—if not us, our friendship. You never bow down to anyone. You believe that you will be our loss and never us.

How pathetic.

You will need me. I swear to you.

If not me those you threw away callously like me. I swear to you.

I knocked the package off your hands and shook my head. It landed in front of you, sweet, pink clouds on the drenched porch. I didn't stare at it for long. I finally opened my mouth to speak. No, I don't like it. I never liked it. I said. I hate sweets, I abhor them: I get hyper, I become incoherent, I ramble, I embarrass myself, I lose myself whenever I take some in. I never liked Howalons. I hate the way it makes my tongue tingle and my throat dry after finishing the whole box. I hate the way it sticks to my fingers after I accidentally put them in my mouth. I hate its color: too girly and too immature. I hate how bulky it is inside my bag. I hate that it melts when you place it under the sun for five minutes. I hate it. I never wanted it but you handed me a battered pack of Howalons that day telling me to stop crying because I look like shit or something like that.

I have fifty-six boxes of Howalons stowed under my bed since the day you offered me one. I don't want it anymore. There are too many of them under my bed: out of my sight but still in my mind. I eat them with gusto only because you gave them to me, because they were from you. I wasn't obsessed with that, I laughed humorlessly. I was obsessed with you. I cry so that you would hand me one, I cry so that you would talk to me, I cry because I want you to notice me, to offer me your hand like before.

I am pathetic and I hate it. I hate the way I anticipate our interactions ever since that day. I hate the way I smile giddily and stay awake in my bed when your fingers brushed mine briefly that afternoon. I hate the way I get excited when you pass by my class and scoff at me. I hate the way I look at you through the corner of my eye and avert it quickly when you catch me. I hate the way I write in my journal all those silly things you do that I still notice: the way you like your coffee: black with two sugar cubes; the way you chew your food: three times on the right side, twice on the left before swallowing; that you are a blanket hog during chilly nights; that you never finished reading Lord of the Ringsbecause you got bored, and the way the corner of your lips lift up when someone does something amusing.

I hate the way you do something so silly, so stupid, so dumb, so characteristically like you and yet I end up falling for you over and over again. I hate the way I have to remind myself to stop loving you because I have no hope; because I will forever be your friend.

I hate the way I look at you with those girls without any power to stop you from dating them. I hate the way you would stand for them when I am telling you the truth. I hate the way you hold my hand and draw circles with your thumb when I fall asleep inside the bus. I hate the way you ask me out and tell me it's not a date and then kiss me goodnight. I hate when you text me the most inconsequential things at night. I hate when you call me at two o' clock in the morning to ask if you can sleep at my place instead. I hate the way you wreck my date and tell me you were bored. I hate the way you keep referring me as your friend when your actions don't say the same and I am left confused, not knowing what's happening.

But you know what I hate the most? Gravity.

I hate the way it makes leaves and branches fall on top of my head when I pass by the bookstore on a sunny day.

I hate the way it makes me hunch down when I climb flights of stairs.

I hate the way it pulls me back to the ground when I try to reach for my phone in your outstretched hand.

I hate the way I have to memorize its value to solve a problem in physics.

I hate the way it pulled me face down on the ground the day I met you.

I hate the way it pulled me towards you.

And most especially,

I hate the way it made me fall for you: flying and hurting at the same time. My heart, mind and soul succumbing to your advances, my mind suspended in limbo, my heart numb, my tears drying as I fall deeper and deeper into this abyss with nothing to hold on to, no guarantees, no expectations, no reciprocity; just an endless feeling of falling down. Without you to catch me as I fall.

FIN

About the contest:

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love." -Neil Gaiman

1. Interpret the quote in your own way. It could have any subgenre (comedy, fluff, angst, horror, whatever you want!) as long as it's still a romance fanfic. The story could be in an Alternate Universe (AU) or canon. Do not cite the quote in your story in any way, be it in dialogues or narrations.

2. It should be a one-shot. Word count will be a minimum of 1500 words.

3. Any character pairing is allowed. Yaoi and femme slash pairings are also welcome. M rated fics are allowed, as long as it follows FFN's guidelines (meaning, no explicit mature content).

4. The story should include one character's obsession for a favorite food or drink (or whatever treat).

5. The story should involve a character ending up in an embarrassing situation due to clumsiness.

6. Participants are expected to write responsibly. (Correct grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc. are expected of them). Please proofread and edit your stories before submitting them.

Author's note: Thank you for reading! See you soon (I hope).