Little Tomato

A fanfic from the slightly disturbed mind of the Californian who hates California.

Author's Note: So I'm in Yearbook with nothing to do, because the yearbook is finally finished. I should study, but instead I whip out my mp3 player. I was listening to one of my favorite bands, Pink Martini, and while listening to one of my favorite songs, Hang on Little Tomato, I had an idea to write this… so I did. Obviously, it is a lot different than anything else I've ever written and extremely short, but I love this song and I love this pairing, so there! If you want to listen to the song that inspired me, you can stream it on pinkmartini dot com.

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He called me his little tomato. I guess it was because of my red hair. Or perhaps it was because of the color my cheeks turned when he ever so gently and tenderly pressed his lips against mine. Or maybe it was because it was the color of the sunset- the red light which served as a reminder that it was time for him to come to me. He would only come to me when the sun was abandoning the sky, leaving the little town of South Park in darkness. He would come to love me- his little tomato.

Why was he still with her? He says he loves me, and then turns around and tells Wendy the same. Why does he have to do this? Why must he make me cry every night? Why would he treat me like this? Me- his little tomato.

But then again, I am his little tomato. Wendy is just Wendy. When he kisses her, he says, "I love you, Wendy." But when it is dark and he is with me, he tells me, "I love you, my little tomato," and then he kisses me. But it is not just a kiss, it is love. He loves me- his little tomato.

So I am sitting here in the dark and the sun has just set. He will come soon. He will come and hold, hug, and kiss his little tomato. He comes in through my window and sits next to me on my bed. He smiles at me and holds my face close to his. Our noses touch and I close my eyes.

"I love you, my little tomato," he says softly and I feel his moist lips touch mine and my face goes red.

I feel his hands massage through my hair as our lips meet, part, and meet again, only to be parted indefinitely for the rest of the cold night when his cell phone rings. It is Wendy. He caresses my face one last time and leaves me in the dark. He leaves me alone with just my tears for company.

But he will return. He will come again. But alas, it will only be at night when he dares to love me- his little tomato.

The End.