Since I wrote two really depressing stories in the past few months, I kind of promised in one of those threads to write ten chapters of pointless fluff to keep readers from totally hating me.
So... here are ten chapters of pointless, plotless, dumb, fluffy fluff. Read at your own risk, and please feel free to post your honest, death threat-like comments. In this case, I will understand and fully and accept them.
Remember that all stories ("chapters") are unrelated to each other unless I state otherwise. These chapters can be read in any order and follow no order other than the order I post them in, which is completely random.
(For those of you who know the timeline of events in the
Love X 2 series well, you might be able to pick out some sneaky references that I might make, but these stories will not require any knowledge of anything I've written before. I'll make a special note if any chapter here is related to anything I've written before.)
Enough talk. One of these days, I have to stop taking myself to seriously! Let's begin.
Time: Some time after Aya and Miki have graduated from Hello! Project.
Chapter One:
Welcome Home, Aya!"I ask you to do one thing and you can't even get it right. God, Miki, I don't even know why I bother to ask," I spit out, throwing my hands up in the air in an irritated fashion.
At first, she doesn't react outwardly in any way, which I can tell means she's really affected by what I've just said. She looks at me with a hard expression. It turns into a hurt one, and then quietly, she backs up, slips on her shoes, and walks out of the door, closing it noiselessly behind her.
I'm left standing in my living room, a dead potted plant on the table before me, the sound of raindrops hitting my balcony, and my heart feeling not just a little guilty.
She doesn't call or e-mail me, and I'm too ashamed of what I've said and done to contact her, even though I know I should. How can it be that I come home from a tour of concerts in the south, and the first thing I do is yell at her for a simple mistake? Have I lost my ability to be nice to this girl? Am I turning into a disgruntled old hag?
I go to bed without dinner that night. I feel terribly lonely as thunder rumbles above my head and the rain continues to fall steadily. I close my eyes and see her wounded face. I try to push it out of my mind because it makes me feel upset. But at least I still have a conscience ...
The next morning I wake up to a sun shining brightly into my room through the cracks in my curtains. I get up and look outside. It's a beautiful day. The storm has blown over, and all that remains are fluffy white clouds in the distance and an otherwise clear and uniformly blue sky.
I still feel glum, though. How could I have been so awful to Miki? I didn't even get a chance to thank her for taking care of the rest of my place for two weeks, collecting my mail and dusting the furniture.
I feel even glummer because it's Saturday and I don't have any plans. On the plus side, I don't have to go to work. On the minus side, Miki's upset and she won't want to do anything with me.
That's why I'm surprised when my doorbell rings a short time later. I unlock the door, wondering who's there.
It's Miki. I blink and take a step back when we make eye contact.
"Come in," I say, wondering what she's doing here.
She walks in and takes off her shoes, stepping up and past the entrance.
"Here," she says abruptly.
She hands me a potted purple flower that I haven't realised she's holding until now. I'm not entirely sure, but I think it's an African Violet.
"What's this?" I ask, holding the pot in my hands as she backs up a bit and turns her body to face me, but avoiding eye contact.
"That's to make up for killing your plant. I'm sorry."
My guilt tears me up, and I'm actually relieved because of it. There's no way that I've turned into a horrible monster if I feel this bad over something I did. Or at least I haven't turned into a monster completely. Not yet.
I put the flower down on the counter in the kitchen.
"No, I'm sorry," I say solidly.
She looks up at me, still wearing her sad, guilty expression.
"I didn't mean to yell at you. A dead plant isn't a big deal at all."
"No," she says, shaking her head. "You were right to tell me that yesterday. I should be less selfish and more responsible. You asked me for a small favour and I didn't care enough to do it."
I laugh.
"Well, maybe you forgot, but you also did me a whole bunch of other favours these past two weeks."
I remember seeing my mail piled nicely on my table, and not a speck of dust anywhere.
She cracks a smile.
"I guess I did get those other things done well," she says, getting back her joking, overconfident tone back. "But I'm still sorry."
"No, I'm sorry."
"No, I'm the one who's sorry."
"Miki..." I say in a warning tone to her.
She grins and stops. She skips over to the couch and lies down on it, making herself feel at home.
"What are you doing today, Aya?" she calls out as I pick up my new African Violet and try to find an appropriate place for it.
"No plans," I reply.
"Yet," she tags on for me.
"Right. None yet," I laugh, opening the door to the balcony and putting my flower there.
"Okay. What do you want to do?" asks Miki's voice from right behind me.
I jump in fright, my heart racing.
"I, um," I say as I try to collect myself. "Whatever you want to do."
She grabs my shoulders and pulls me back inside, giving the sliding glass door a hearty slam and pushing me onto the couch, letting herself hover on top of me.
"You've been gone for two weeks," she says quietly.
"Yes," I agree.
"We have a lot to catch up with."
"We certainly do," I say.
She grins.
"Okay. Let's start catching up with two week's worth of..." she trails off and smirks at me.
"Two week's worth of..." I echo her expectantly.
"Two week's worth of... tickle torture!!" she squeals suddenly.
Before I realise what's going on, she's attacking me, tickling my sides with those cruel hands of hers. I start to screech and laugh, and I try to push her off me, but she's too good at this. Plus she's on top.
"Welcome back home, Aya!" she cheers over my gasps for breath.
Oh, what a welcoming.