Yeah...umm...hi. I'm here with a new story. This one just sorta forced itself to be written. I'm taking a lot of risks by uploading this so...I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Kaichou Wa Maid-sama is owned rightfully by Fujiwara Hiro. I'm just a crazy fangirl...

Chapter One: Reunions

Sometimes, Misaki loved Sakura to death. Maybe because both of them had been best friends since the very beginning. Seika's demonic student council president, the bubbly pink-haired girl, and the stoic bespectacled Shizuko had been inseparable ever since middle school.

However, in situations like these, Misaki wanted to strangle Sakura until her head exploded.

Her hands were gloved in silk, and they felt awkward holding the colorful bouquet of flowers. The atmosphere was cheery, filled with too many senseless emotions. The raven-haired woman could almost taste the romance swirling in the air, along with the good wishes, down-right impatience, and suggestive intentions. It was indeed the perfect atmosphere for a wedding. Something that fit wonderfully, sort of like a snug corset or gaudy, brilliantly crimson pumps. Because the six-inch heels of her shoes were digging into her feet painfully; she shifted her weight from leg to leg and all she wanted was for this damn reception to be over.

Impatience was seething within her corpse along with a brewing of malice in her eyes. They twitched, just like her lips trying to maintain a lopsided grin. To anyone else that grin would have looked like a murderous smile, just adding the heat to her glare. Like it helped, the hideously lavender dress she was forced to sport was itchy, too frilly and far, far too uncomfortable, not to mention it completely was not Misaki. It most certainly did not fit her demonic and superior image (she thought her image was superior, anyway). Unfortunately, the pink-haired girl she called "best friend" had a small obsession with cute, frilly things. Just perfect.

So, it was established that Misaki hated weddings. Sort of. She couldn't help but feel she stomach twinge with guilt because this was Sakura's wedding. She should have been happy for her, that cute little girl finally marrying her high school sweetheart. Of course, if that damn Kuuga didn't treat the pinkette correctly, he'd be lucky if he slipped out of Misaki's fingers alive. She loved her best friend, of course, but weddings? Not so much.

It also didn't help that a certain pair of jade green emeralds was piercing into her. The stare was almost suffocating. It was actually rather cool in the reception hall but Misaki could practically feel the thin sheet of perspiration covering her skin. That wasn't good.

"I do." It was almost sad to see that innocent little Sakura spurring such adult and life-sealing words. The twinkle of love in her eyes when Kuuga slid that ring on her finger was almost camera-worthy, a look that Misaki had to forever imprint onto her brain because she had a feeling she'd never have that sparkle in her eyes. No man would ever put a ring on her finger, or bend down on one knee and propose, or even tell her "I love you" because Ayuzawa Misaki didn't believe in love.

Yes, she was one of those. Irrational, hater of romance and men, and forever single. Misaki's life was devoted to work. Not men. Not love. Not marriage. Not certain blonde-haired aliens. Suzuna could give Minako grandchildren. Because she sure as hell was not going to.

Misaki should have been ecstatic to see her best friend so happy, so joyful, finally getting married to the man of her dreams. The ravenhead was happy, truly, but Usui Takumi was making everything so damn difficult and urgh she hated him so much.

Again, she sometimes hated Sakura for being an idiot.

Why in the fucking universe would she invite Usui fucking Takumi to her fucking wedding?

A sigh passed Misaki's lips, exasperated and a little disappointed. 'When did I become so selfish?'

Ayuzawa Misaki was not selfish, mind you. She was just irritated. Yes, she was an angry person.

She had to blink a few times and shake her head to realize the ceremony was over and the booze had been unleashed. Mind-splitting music, mind-numbing liquid, and mind-scarred-because-they-were-so-horrible dancers just summed up Misaki's annoyance into straight and seething frustration. She never did like to partake in such vulgar activities.

A voice crammed up inside her brain and she could feel the angry scream bubbling up in her throat. "It's your best friend's wedding. Loosen up a little, would ya?"

A strangled groan, "Shut up, voice."

She settled with just standing in the corner, watching the idiots dance and drink their heads off, engulfed and shrouded safely in shadows so no one would notice her. But of course, of course, he had to notice her. He always noticed her.

One thing was for certain: she hated Usui Takumi with a burning passion.

She saw him stride up to her, all nonchalant and non-caring and with an air of coolness surrounding him amidst the heat and hustle of the drunken fools. His hair was still a platinum blonde, all shiny and tousled in the slightest, and he wore glasses now. His emeralds were still bright and reflecting off the thin-rimmed spectacles.

A lump constricted her throat; she swallowed painfully before twirling one strand of ebony hair; most of it was pinned by a butterfly clip, save a few tresses flying about and chewing the edges of her face. She wanted to forget. Solemn, unwanted memories filled her brain and her heart and she felt drowned within herself, in the decapitated memories of a past she wanted to forget. Unfortunately, she had wanted to melt those memories away, into an ocean of secrets and forgotten emotions, but that never happened. Because she wasn't in love with Usui Takumi.

He was still stalking towards her; the distance between them was dangerously decreasing. She didn't want that. He ran a terse hand through his luminous hair almost casually, so carefree, and a breeze of nostalgia washed over her. She felt unclean. So she cleansed herself with alcohol.

She ran away from the corner, away from him, and to a waiter. Quickly, she stole two large glasses of champagne and downed both in seconds. The liquid felt toxic, slipping passed her lips and gliding down her esophagus. She felt poisoned. But it felt good, bitter, but perfectly numbing. It was just what she needed.

She had been stupid, once. She had been in love with Usui Takumi once but never, ever again. That was behind her. She would never be so stupid and pathetic ever again. It was over. She grabbed another glass and gulped it all in one swig. This time, it stung her mouth even more but it still felt good. She felt cleansed, but not completely cleansed. She could still think clearly. She could still walk correctly. That wouldn't do. She needed more, way more, until she was heaving and wobbly and in a dream world, until she forgot the real world and painful memories even existed. She wanted to escape. She needed more, more, mo–

"Ayuzawa."

A hand clamped on her arm, and she still had all her senses. That wasn't good.

She hated reunions, because they were stupid and unnecessary.

It was cautious, but slowly and uncertainly, she turned around; her hand stopped midway trying to catch another glass. Emerald met amber and they almost made an electric yellow, sizzling and sparking until they caught on fire. He was much taller than she remembered, or maybe she was just short. His hand was stronger, bigger, and dare she admit, warmer.

Wide-eyed and almost shaking from the venomous alcohol, she gazed up at him. His pupils were focused on her and only her, eyebrows thinly knitted and mouth pressed in a tense line. His lips looked a lot smoother. Why wasn't she drunk yet?

"I think you've had a little too much alcohol." His voice was a lot smoother than she remembered. Smoother, deeper, and hoarser. Like a lullaby. She wanted to sneer "I'm not drunk yet, idiot" but she held back because he was holding her. When had she ever been afraid of him? Why wasn't she drunk yet?

Dumbly, her eyeballs jumped from his face to his hand pressing her arm. "…And you're holding me because…?" It escaped her lips as a sarcastic remark rather than an actual question. Damn it.

And there it was, that signature smirk, lips so beautifully tugged upwards on one side. Now she remembered why all the women swooned over him. "That's nice to say to someone you haven't seen in years."

'Maybe I don't want to see you.'

The words wanted to be voiced but she couldn't push them passed her lips.

The grip on her arm loosened and eventually, he let go. He just stood in front of her, amongst the booming crowd, one hand on his hip, the other hanging limply by his side. To him, probably, the crowd was reduced to only him and Misaki. To Misaki, he wasn't there, and it was only the crowd and the pumping music. She felt the ghostly throbbing of a headache coming along. She didn't want him in front of her.

A hasty, quick but demanding statement, "I want to talk to you." She was a bit caught off guard, just a bit.

Why wasn't she drunk yet?

She evaded his eyes, looked at anything but him. He wasn't there. She still didn't understand how stupid she had been before. It was so unbelievable. There was Sakura, smile wide and eyes jumping as she danced with her husband. There was Shizuko, dressed in the same ridiculously lavender dress Misaki had on, all glaring eyes behind dark-rimmed glasses and mouth delicately bowed. There were many others, so many others, except him. Usui Takumi wasn't there, he wasn't in front of her, and he wasn't peering down at her because she was not in love with him.

There wasn't a way for her to respond; the ability to speak escaped her choked throat and she settled with just being silent, with a twitching jaw and tapping foot.

He seemed confused, or perhaps expecting, "Well...?"

She eyed him incredulously, tongue still burning with champagne, but she still wanted more.

"What's there to talk about?" The rough question of truth shoved passed her lips before she had a chance to stop it. Something akin to malice was dripping in her tone, even though she had never intended it to be so rudely worded.

He didn't seem to mind. It was almost like he was rather used to her acidic behavior. It didn't seem that she had changed over years. Just maybe, she wished she had matured. She wished she had been able to forget. She wished she could have changed. But no. The only thing that changed was her reflection in the mirror, because she didn't seem to recognize herself anymore. Who was that girl in the mirror?

Why wasn't she drunk yet? Her thoughts were overwhelming. It was too much; the puddle in her skull was overflowing and spewing out tears that she didn't dare let shed. It was turning into a sea; she was in too deep to ever come back up. She was drowning.

It seemed Hinata noticed the little meeting between the blonde and ravenhead. Big brown eyes were wide and staring; Misaki felt the weight of it and her shoulders were slumping. It seemed the weight was driving her crazy because before she knew what she was doing, before she knew who she was or what was going on, she grabbed Usui Takumi's wrist and led him away from the bustling and succumbing crowd. She felt succumbed. She felt compressed. She wasn't drunk; she had her senses so where was she leading him? Why was she doing this?

He wasn't the least bit startled, as if he knew she would do this. Apparently, he knew her better than herself. He knew her every move, before she even made it, emeralds wide and staring like a predator to prey and she felt he'd successfully catch his prey soon, without trouble or worry. Because she, unknowingly, had already fallen in his clutches and she was stuck there forever. She could never get out.

Before she knew it, before she knew anything, she had already led him to her destination. The women's bathroom. She was foolish.

"You do realize I'm a guy, don't you?" It was witty and teasing and grated on her nerves.

"I know." It was straight and stone. 'If you weren't a guy, I'd have a lot of explaining to do to my mother...' she added mentally and refrained from smacking herself.

He eyed her from his height, jades shielded by the thin glasses and they reflected the dim light of the restroom.

"What did you..." Her voice was gone. "What did you want to talk about?" Her voice was failing her and she hated it. Pretty soon she wished she hadn't said anything at all because she was afraid of what was to come. Wasn't she supposed to hate him? She wouldn't go back to being so stupid but here she was. More foolish than ever.

A nonchalant shrug of the shoulder, a slight head jerk, and then, "How long has it been?" There was a tinge of exasperation and dare she admit sadness in that smooth voice. Shrilly.

She didn't respond straight away, bathing in deafening silence because she herself didn't know how long it had been. How long for what, she thought. How long ago he had left? How long ago she had been so dumb? How long ago she started hating herself and him? She didn't know.

She settled with something she didn't want to ask but it was killing her and strangling her. She needed to know. "How is...How is Elena?" Longing, quiet, murderous because she was disintegrating inside. Tears stung but she wouldn't dare let them shed. The question sucked the air out of her lungs.

A solemn chuckle, almost solemn. "It's not Elena; it's Angelica." It was a fact of certainty that she knew that woman's name, very well, in fact, but she had let herself be mistaken just this once. Because she did not want to remember that name. She did not want it to seem like she cried at night thinking of the name that would never be hers. "She's doing alright."

A slow but certain nod, "Is she here?" She craned her neck backwards to search but she knew that woman wouldn't be there.

"No." His hair swiveled with a slight shake of the head. "She came with me to Japan, but she wasn't feeling well enough to come to the wedding with me." Eyes glued to the wall. "She was telling me how upset she was, and how she wanted to meet everyone."

Misaki nodded in an affirmative way. "I...I would have liked to meet her as well."

She tried not to think. She drained the ocean of thoughts in her head because suddenly, she felt exhausted of thinking. No more thinking, no more feelings, no more tears.

"You seemed angry at the ceremony." He broke the daunting silence and she wished he hadn't. "Weddings aren't your thing, are they?" A somewhat of a demonic glare from her lemony eyes.

"It's Sakura's wedding and I am the Maid of Honor," she stated in a deadpan manner. "I had to be here." As if for emphasis, she ruffled the skirt of her dress in an annoyed way. She noticed he couldn't contain the slight twinkle and chuckle.

"You haven't changed." It was a statement rather than a question. It was voiced as if he had been the first one to acknowledge it. But no, he wasn't. He wasn't.

"I know." With a huff, she crossed her arms and felt the need to add, "Idiot Usui." Funny, she felt the need to scream at delinquents because she wished she could go back to those days, where everything was easy, to a time before she became so stupid. Before it all happened.

Silence fell over them, but there was a sickening ringing in her ears and a sickening feeling in her gut. She didn't know what was going on, how it happened, what she was doing or what was going on. She wasn't drunk; she knew that for a fact. She had her senses, and she was thinking. She was well aware of what she was doing. She wasn't in love with him. She wasn't in love with him. She couldn't be in love with him.

He wasn't hers.

The silence became too much, eventually, after the fleeting passing moments. She felt overwhelmed; his scent (sharp and sweet and what brand was that cologne?) was engulfing her and suppressing her and she almost watched to retch. Her stomach twinged inside her abdomen and she felt like fainting. She hadn't missed him at all. She didn't want to see him again. She didn't want to see him again. She wasn't drunk. But his eyes shimmered and she was pretty sure hers were swimming in lust. Suddenly she turned into the predator, mouth watering and demanding. His tie was loosened and she wanted to rip that silly suit off him. What happened to hating romance? She wasn't drunk.

Reunions were foolish. And unnecessary.

"I missed you, Ayuzawa."

She was aware, too aware of what she was doing.

It was blurry, like her mind had shut down and just became a haze of colors before her. Cloudy, black and white, and dreary, but like a camera her mind was snapping photos of what was happening and what should've happened and what could have happened.

She should have turned around when they stopped talking. Instead, she cupped his cheeks with her hands, feeling the skin. He was warm beneath her fingers, but his eyes widened just a fraction.

She should have left the bathroom, gone back to the drinking and never looked him in the eye again that night. Instead, she got on her tip toes and brushed her lips over his.

Perhaps it was the expected response from being separated for so long. She wanted him, like a man wanted money. She craved him. It was disgusting. Repulsing, maybe.

She kissed him fully, passionately, angrily, and she couldn't pull away.

She then heard a soft "Ayuzawa, stop," between kisses. But then everything shut down. It all disappeared.

The next thing she knew, she woke up, bathed in sunlight, legs sore, naked, and in Usui's arms.

There was no throbbing headache. There was nothing but sadness.

Why hadn't she been drunk?

...I'm done here. How was it? In case anyone is confused, Misaki is NOT drunk. This is a little vague and weird but everything will be explained later on.

To my Shameful readers: Shameful has not been abandoned. I will update it soon. This is just a little gift for being absent for so long. :P

Was it good? Bad? Awesome? Terrible? Was anyone OOC? Any mistakes? I'm so nervous about this so...review and tell me how I did. :)