The fluffiness of the clouds stretched out for miles across the sky. If examined long enough, the steady movement of the aerial cotton candies formed into different shapes, objects, or anything the spectator’s imagination conjured it up to be. Watching cloud formations for over an hour could easily lull a person to sleep, but for Dearka Elsman, shapes that remind him of a certain brunette were utter torture.

Running a hand through his unruly locks for the umpteenth time, Dearka stretched from his position on the park bench and stopped mid-yawn. Brunette hair that he could single out from a mile away billowed against the wind and royal blue eyes staring deep in annoyance bore down on his head.

“Oh, you’re done shopping?” Dearka supplied lamely, standing up. He extended his arm to take the bags she was carrying, but she turned and started to walk away.

“I can carry them just fine,” his charge muttered stonily.

Left with no choice but to follow, Dearka started to walk behind his charge, sighing in defeat as she continued to ignore him. The only words she’d been willing to spare him were a “hello”, “bye”, and “thank you”, yet even those were said singularly in separate situations in the same icy tone she’d used to mutter her first phrase in three days. Sure she’d been a pain since the very beginning, but things have gradually…changed.

Three weeks ago, when he found out that he was to play bodyguard for the admiral’s daughter for a month, he didn’t think it would be so tedious and laborious. All he had to do was follow the girl around for four weeks, made sure she was safe from god-knows-what, and he was free. Of course, he wasn’t properly briefed on Miss Haw’s attitude and preferences and therefore didn’t have any expectations beyond a spoiled military brat with a lot of cash and credit cards.

He was dead wrong.

The first week was debacle. He and Miss Miriallia Haw played cat and mouse all over the city – she trying very successfully to lose him, and he, trying his best not to lose his elite position in the ZAFT military. The outrageous girl had also tricked him into thinking she’d been injured severely due to his lack of interest in the job and had him nearly screaming his head off in panic, only to discover a couple of hours later that Miss Haw was a former drama student and was perfectly capable of producing fake blood. On the seventh day, they had both gotten in trouble, scolded by the commander and the admiral, Miss Haw’s father.

He expected a more exciting adventure on the second week, but surprisingly Miss Haw kept her distance. Concerned – or rather dreadfully alert for a better fitting term – he approached her and found out that her father had intended to send her away to boarding school if she continued to cause turmoil. He didn’t expect the tear-stricken apology to lower his guard, or the sad smile she offered him to touch him, but he’d gotten both, and his defenses crumbled. Later, she told him about her family intricacies. Miriallia Haw wasn’t at all the spoiled brat he initially thought she would be. Because of his annoyance at the punishment he was given, he judged her immediately, but she turned out to be the sweetest and kindest of women.

That weekend, she invited him (not that he had a choice not to come because it was his job to watch her anyway) to hang out with her friends at a high-end club for socialites. They danced, laughed, chatted, and had a great time. That is, until he was unsuspectingly pulled aside by two gorgeous blondes who all but mauled him on the dance floor. The next thing he knew, Miriallia was glaring at him from across the vicinity and walking straight out the door.

Emotions swirled like fruits and milk on a blended smoothie. They had gotten really close that week and suddenly, there was a wall of ice between them again. He’d tried talking to her, bribing her and even purposely pushing her buttons to get her to rage, but none of his tactics were effective. She’d shut him out.

But being a persistent idiot, he was going to try again.

“Miriallia,” he tried calling her, but she kept her head straight ahead. Sighing, he quickened his pace to walk beside her. “Come on, Mir, talk to me. It’s been three days since you really said anything to me. You’ve made your point. It’s torture. So will you look at me and…hey, stop walking so fast!”

He grabbed her arm, spun her around. “What do you want!?” she snapped angrily.

Well, at least she’s actually looking at me, Dearka thought strangely giddy at his minuscule success in gaining a response from her.

“I want you to talk to me.”

Thoroughly pushed to the limit, Miriallia focused the intensity of her blue eyes to on his lavender ones, and felt them waver. “Well, we’re talking.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Not like this. Come on, we managed to be friends – or at least act like friends – last week.”

Miriallia gaped at him. “Oh so, me being friendly to you was an act? You pompous–”

“Well you’re so good at acting I wouldn’t be surprised if you being remotely nice was a farce!”

“How dare you! I am nice. You’re just a hormonal jerk who can’t control his urges–”

They were yelling at each other now, and so focused they were on outwitting the other that they failed to notice the head turning to stare at them in disbelief.

“I’m a perfectly healthy guy. Don’t insult my masculinity with your naïve, maiden accusations–”

“Oh, so you yank women on the dance floor and grind on them? That’s what you call normal? Well excuse me then, because when I was taught sex education, they failed to inform me of the animalistic metamorphosis in men when driven to high extents of pleasure.”

“Well, maybe you should take another year of that class since you’re so uninformed,” the biting retort came out before Dearka had a chance to consider it in his mind and by the time he realized that he’d offended her, he was too late.

“Mir, I didn’t mean it like that–”

Tears were burning at the back of her eyes, but she’d be damned if she let him see her cry. “Go to hell, Dearka!”

Helpless, Dearka watched Miriallia sprint away. He wanted to follow her but thought better of it. She needed to be alone and she couldn’t have told him better if she came up and yelled at his face. But without a doubt there were tears shining on her eyes and the pang of guilt struck hard in his gut leveled with another emotion in his chest.

There was something else there.

He was a jerk. A testosterone manifested jerk, who enjoyed nothing but parties and pretty women. For that, she hated him; hated his antics, his friendliness, his jokes and leers, his skills in flirtation and whatever else, and his dangerous smile.

Most of all, she hated that she loved all those things about him.

She had tried her hardest to push him away when he came into her life, playing the preposterous role of her bodyguard. But when crisis came into her life, he insisted on talking to her and she ended up telling her life story to a guy she met only a week prior. She even began to think that they were friends and could possibly be something more, but when she saw him with those two girls last weekend, laughing, enjoying himself in their glamour, something shattered inside of her.

The fool she was! Never should she have trusted him, expected him to be interested or to even faintly like her. That was a girlish dream that should have been outgrown when she turned fifteen and adapted to the role of an admiral’s daughter. But he managed to bring it all back: the recklessness, deviousness and the openness in a matter of two weeks. Was she that simple, a mere stranger could unlock the key to her life after a few conversations? So gullible was she that a few smiles could lower her defenses and banish away protocol as if it was a distant thing forgotten?

He had a way about his jokes and easy-going laughter that vanquished her worries and made her forget that she was even upset. Just thinking about him now, nearly made her forget that she was supposed to be mad at him.

Somewhat pacified, she closed the glass doors of the store behind her and looked up. Lavender eyes that once tickled her pink, now revolted her because she responded that way.

She wasn’t going to run away this time. Her pride wouldn’t allow her. In fact, she’ll walk right beside him.

“You always buy stuff when you’re mad?”

Remembering to breathe, Miriallia was able to muster enough patience to withstand his probably unintended insult. “I can do as I damn please, just as you do,” she replied sweetly.

“Like hell–” He wanted to say ‘Like hell you do,’ but caught himself before he had another word vomit. “Listen, if you’re mad that I disappeared last weekend, I–”

She held up a hand. “Why would I be mad about that?”

Confusion flickered in Dearka’s lavender eyes. “Weren’t you just screaming at me earlier for dancing with those two blonds?”

Miriallia shrugged and continued her stroll. “I was wrong and I apologize. You shouldn’t be withheld from any entertainment even though you’re guarding me. And besides, you always do as you damn please, so I don’t see the problem.”

Dearka groaned and even without looking, Miriallia knew he was running his hand through his luscious blond hair. He always did when he was perturbed.

“Let me explain to you what really happened that night. Are you listening, Mir? Never mind, don’t answer that. You’re going to listen to me and we’re going to straighten things out once and for all. I was talking to your friend Kira on our table. We were just having drinks when these two blondes came up to us – or me, depending on the point of view.

“So I turn, and the taller blond tell me, ‘Hey my name is Saris and this is my friend Loretta. And we were just wondering if you wanted to dance.’” In the most girlish voice he can muster, he re-enacted the conversation between the girls and himself and he and Miriallia walked down the park way.

“I thought they were good looking, but I didn’t want to dance with them so I told them, ‘Sorry, I’m on duty right now,” and they get all giggly and say, ‘Ooh, that sounds dangerous!’ and ‘Are you a ZAFT soldier?’

“Kira was laughing at the background and replied for me, ‘Yeah, he’s a ZAFT soldier alright.’ I wanted to nudge him but before I could move my arm, the shorter blond grabbed it. She was like, ‘Ooh, what kind of uniform do you wear? Is it the red one?’ and the taller one said, ‘Doesn’t matter what color it is. I like a guy in uniform.’ After that, they ended up dragging me to the dance floor.”

Despite herself, Miriallia found herself amused by his re-enactment and voice impersonation. She wanted to laugh out loud, but bit her lip instead, thanking the heavens that she was walking in front of him so he couldn’t see her face.

“If Kira had kept his mouth shut those girls wouldn’t have hauled me off. But anyway, while on the dance floor, they kept talking to me. But one of the girls, I think it was the shorter one, ripped the side of her skirt. The other girl and I started to laugh at that, but the girl was beginning to cry, so her friend was calming her down and ushering her to the nearest restroom to change. That’s when I started to make my way back to the table, thinking to myself, ‘Man, what was that all about?’ then I look up and see you glaring daggers at my head.”

“What was the point of telling me that?” She kept her tone cool, but inside Miriallia was on the verge of laughter.

“Well I thought that if I explained to you what happened, you’d realize that it wasn’t my fault.” Miriallia could’ve sworn subtle traces of dejection laced with his voice.

Dearka’s head was swimming. Was there anything that would make this girl relent? He tried apology, degrading himself in public by mimicking girlish voices in hopes of amusing her out of her anger and neither had a successful outcome.

“Look, I know you hate me, but can’t you at least forgive me for something I didn’t do?”

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out: “I don’t hate you!”

Rolling his eyes, Dearka sarcastically retorted, “Okay, fine, if you want to be technical, extremely dislike me.”

“I never said I disliked you.”

“So you like me?” When the words sunk in, Dearka’s senses went alert. “You didn’t say that to me, either, did you?”

Miriallia could feel heat seeping through every pore of her body and thanked the heavens a second time that he couldn’t see her flushed face. “N-no! I didn’t say I liked you. I-I never said anything! You’re crazy.”

“Fine. I’m crazy.” He changed the subject, but he was still curious about the issue. “Exactly why were you mad at me for dancing with those girls?”

She was flushing immensely now. “I told you I wasn’t mad. You’re free do to whatever you–”

“Yeah, I heard that already.” But Dearka was determined to test his theory. He had to know if what his mind had concluded during the hour that she left him alone to vent was on the dot. And god, he prayed that he was right.

In the most coaxing tone his vocal chords allowed him to project, Dearka pleaded, “Give me a break, honey. I’m leaving in a week and the last memory I’d have of you if ignoring me cold.”

Miriallia was just about ready to retort after being candidly referred to with an endearment, when his words sunk in, and she forgot everything else.

“You’re leaving by the end of next week, aren’t you?”

Too cautious to step forward, yet too needy to step back, Dearka tested the waters and reiterated his earlier statement. “Yeah. The month’s almost up, so I’m gonna have to go back to the PLANTs after this.”

His voice was smooth, husky and low and it’d have soothed her had it not been for the meaning of his words. By the end of next week she’ll no longer hear that voice in its teasing banters, the humorous cajolery that was almost as pitiful as it was amusing.

And he would no longer be there in case she woke up from a nightmare in the middle of the night.

Lowering her head, she watched her hands ball into fists as they mercilessly gripped the handles of the shopping bags, watched droplets of salty tears splatter on her skin.

“I’ll miss you,” her voice was dying on her, so it came out as a half-whisper, half-mutter.

“What? Did you say something?”

Miriallia shook her head and began to walk forward. She’d have to anyway when he leaves. “It’s nothing. Why don’t we go back? The sun’s setting and we wouldn’t want to get in trouble again and oh!”

In a swift move, he caught her arm, spun her around and clasped her so close to him their lips were only within centimeters of each other’s. Miriallia’s eyes darted to Dearka’s sensual mouth, before it made a slow journey to his intense gaze.

“Say it. I want you to say it,” his whisper sent tingles up her spine and a flutter in her heart. But when he wiped the tears from her eyes, felt her body temperature increase a tenfold.

“Say what?”

“That you like me.”

Her senses were becoming aware of his closeness, her traitorous body responding to his. “Why don’t you say it,” she supplied dumbly and breathlessly.

“You know I like me very much. You made that pretty clear when we first met.” That earned him a swat on the arm. He caught her hand and touched his forehead with hers. “Miriallia, I wouldn’t be in this position if I didn’t like you in the least.”

Giddy and flushed, Miriallia rested her hands against his chest, felt the rippling of muscle beneath her touch. “So, you like me?”

In response, Dearka caught her mouth with his and rendered them both mindless. It felt like an eternity before they finally broke away, senses reeling and out of breath. A kid nearby saw the two embracing and moaned an “eew” before scurrying away, making them both laugh.

But Miriallia’s mirth quickly died down. “I’ll miss you when you leave.”

He stroke her cheek once, twice, unconsciously memorizing every line on her face as they stood gazing into each other’s eyes, as the sun set in the background.

An idea struck him.

“Wanna make memories?”

Startled, Miriallia shot him a bewildered look. “In a week?”

“Oh, I'm sure we can think of something.” And with a devilish glint in his hypnotic lavender eyes, they made their first memory: a kiss by the sunset.

Author's Note: After a long absence, I am now basking in the joys of summer vacation. At least for two weeks before summer school starts. One-shots are foreign language to me, so I'm practicing on it (I'm not that good with short stories). I know one-shots are supposed to be like a chapter taken out of a story, but it's something I'm not quite used to. So, here's a chance at another one-shot. There was actually another version of the same plot, and I might consider writing it in place of this (or make it a two-shot...is that even possible?) one. But it'll have to come after x-mas gig chapter 5. It's currently on the works, so it should come this week. FWNW is also on the works, but I won't continue it until x-mas gig is done (by the end of july or early august).

Please let me know what you think of this one-shot. And thanks to those who're patient with me!