Dedication: brilliantliex3- More info on that later, I guess. ;) This is thanks for the inspiration and being nice in general, ha ha! XD

Inspiration: 'At the Bus Stop,'

Extra Notes: Meh, they're like 12-15 years old in this. I really don't know how old, actually... D:

Disclaimer: Psh, I wish. But no. I don't own Shugo Chara! Boo me.

First Meeting;

She grumbled as she took the bright yellow thing and raked up the leaves. They were dry, old, and crunchy leaves and she shifted them into a pile. Forced to do this for money, the small blond girl messed with her jacket zipper, shivering lightly in the cold. She was pretty sure that this was against the law. What was it called? Child labor laws, right?

Her father just broke that law, somebody call 911. The petite girl paused, a light wind ruffling her hair, making her blond curls tumble and wave in the breeze. Her bright doe-like eyes blinked twice. She dropped the rake and walked over to the porch steps, settling down onto it lazily, taking a short break…Even though she started about ten minutes ago.

She glanced up at the old house, a light and pleasant yellow with white shudders and well-tended flower beds. If you can call dead roses and tulips well-tended, that is. The short girl was in fact, visiting her grandmother, and due to the fact of lack of money, her wonderful parents (note the sarcasm) decided to use this terrific opportunity to use her for their own personal gain.

A.K.A: Make her do chores that her grandmother wanted them to do, since she was a slave-driver. She fiddled with the edge of her skirt, irritated. She didn't feel like raking; heck, it was only eight-thirty. She looked at the other houses, most of them identical to her grandmother's. She snorted in disgust. A very original neighborhood, wasn't it?

She got back up, stretching her tiny arms as she walked back to the thing, i.e. her rake. Picking it up daintily, she huffed as she raked the leaves, and they crackled as she shoved them into (messy) piles.

"Stupid parents," the girl mumbled as she furrowed her eyebrows, her voice small and delicate. That's when she heard a light chuckle, and she whipped her head around, regarding the person coldly.

"Having fun?" He had long, elegant hair, and kind eyes, and he watched her with an amused smile. She narrowed her eyes. Although she met him about three seconds ago, she didn't like him. At. All.

"I don't talk to strangers," she told him as she continued her (horrible) raking.

"Well, if you talked to me, we wouldn't be strangers anymore," he pointed out, his amber eyes twinkling cheerfully.

"No," she said disdainfully as she turned around, her eyes boring into his. He raised an eyebrow. She was quite the snappy girl. "I don't like you."

Blunt too. Wonderful combination in a girl, don't you think? "You haven't even met me," he said, crossing his arms. She paused, turning back around to face him.

"Maybe that's why." She looked at him. In truth, he was…Weird. Bothering a random girl on the street, talking to her, and he wasn't leaving, which was starting to become important in this situation.

He leaned onto the fence, watching the girl with a slight tilt of his head. Her blond hair was long and curly, tumbling around her shoulders. She wore a red jacket and a denim skirt with white leggings.

Noticing his (obvious) stares, she stared back. "Do you want something?"

He blinked. "No, not really. It's just… You're really short," he told her bluntly. She raised an eyebrow, putting a hand on her hip.

"You know, these comments really turn girls on," she said sarcastically. "You must be such a chick magnet at school."

He rolled his eyes. "I was just stating an observation," he corrected her. In actuality, he was quite the hit at school. Popular, tons of fangirls, perfect grades, and things like that made him very much loved in his school. Too bad… that that was going to happen soon.

"And I'm sure that you're a hit at school too," he said with a grin. "What with how wonderfully blunt and short you are." The girl shrugged, shooting him a dirty look. She was very popular too, since she looked like a beautiful and lovable doll. But she wasn't going to tell a random person that much about her.

"And you're very girly, what with your pretty hair and everything," she replied, hardly noticing what she had let slip out. The boy's smile faltered at the girly part, but he arched an eyebrow at her in surprise.

"You think my hair is pretty?" She stiffened, but continued to ignore him. The boy shifted from foot to foot, feeling awkward by the now tense silence. So, to break the (obvious) tension, he said, "I think your hair is pretty too."

The girl glanced at him slightly. "Liar."

"I am anything but a liar, thank you very much," he said defensively. She nodded her head.

"Uh-huh." She noncommittally began raking the leaves again, resuming her previous grumblings about her parents. She was betting that the boy was smiling, and she heard a light laugh.

The boy looked at his watch, and then his eyes widened in alarm. Oh crap, he was going to be late. He muttered a quick bye to the strange girl and ran.

The girl turned around, and was surprised to see the boy was gone. She watched the spot where he was for a moment, her eyes lingering there. And then she softly murmured with a roll of her eyes, "What a freak."

Second Meeting;

She splayed her legs out on the lawn, the dry grass tickling her legs. Here she was, again, in the front yard, about to rake the leaves. She was supposed to do this two Saturdays ago, but that boy had started talking to her, and she stopped raking the leaves without even noticing. Stupid boy.

She watched the sky lazily, the clouds drifting by in a bright, blue sky. She was taking another 'break'. That boy had been on her mind since two weeks ago, when she met him, and involuntarily started talking to him. It was annoying how his face popped into her mind. It seems that he had passed an evil disease somehow, without even touching her. Evil boy.

"Slacking off on the job? Tsk, tsk." She sat up quickly, glaring at him. The same grin was on his face, and his eyes were playful and teasing. Screw him.

"What do you want?" she mumbled as she brushed some dust off of her clothes. "Are you stalking me or something?" she asked cautiously.

"I don't really need to, seeing as how whenever I'm walking, you're outside," he said, gesturing to their surroundings.

"Do you annoy all girls or something?" the tiny girl asked, tying her hair up into a high ponytail. He, who had been looking at the sky (looking like an idiot in the girl's opinion), eventually turned his gaze back onto the girl.

"No, not really," he said thoughtfully. And for some strange reason, she liked that fact. And then she mentally slapped herself. She had only met the boy once before. Once.

Her eyes met his, and she regarded him coldly. Simply dressed, the boy was wearing a brown coat and jeans. She directed her look at his face, and told him, "You're still a stranger, so could you please stop talking to me?"

He pouted and feigned hurt. "But you talk back." She grimaced and whirled around, planning on engulfing herself in the wonderful world of raking leaves. Yes, because sorting old, crappy, once living things into piles was the absolute best way to spend a Saturday.

The boy smiled, but he too was wondering why he kept coming back to this house. Even when she wasn't here, he would just drop by (which, now that he thinks about it, is very stalker-like behavior). He stuffed his hands into his pockets, frowning at the sky as if waiting for the answer to drop out of it and hit him on the head. First off, he didn't even know the girl's name, which is pretty much needed as of the first meeting (he didn't ask in the fear she would chuck her bright yellow rake at him). It was definitely annoying him.

The girl continued to rake furiously, although she wasn't really raking leaves. She was dragging the yellow tool across the dirt repeatedly, creating scores in the ground. She sneaked a glance at the boy, who was leaning against their fence, looking at the sky as if waiting for somebody to deliver a package, and then slap him upside the face.

What was irritating her, however, to no end, was that he wasn't leaving. If he had the sheer stupid nerve to stand in front of her yard (technically, her grandmother's, but you get the point), and to just stare at the stupid blue sky, then he could go do the same dumb thing at his own stupid house.

The boy looked down from the sky and came back to the human world again. He watched the girl rake the ground, destroying the grass and everything around it. He shook his head, amused.

"You're doing it wrong," he said helpfully, only to have his caring advice be met by her icy look.

"You're wrong altogether," she retorted.

"Somebody's moody today," he said under his breath. She ignored the comment, only giving him another dirty look.

"Those looks are starting to look endearing to me," he said innocently. He moved out of the way as the girl chucked her yellow rake at him, chuckling.

"I knew that would happen eventually," he told himself, and with a bright grin, he ran off, waving at the girl. The girl fumed, watching his retreating figure as he disappeared.

"The least he could've done was at least give me back the rake," she complained to herself as she opened the gate to go retrieve her beloved neon yellow tool.

Third Meeting;

She crossed her arms as she sat down in the front lawn, toying with a blade of grass. She had her rake beside her, along with (what seemed to her) thousands of leaves scattered around her.

Another day spent outside raking leaves. She furrowed her eyebrows. What seemed weird, though, was that she didn't really care that much anymore. She blamed the atmosphere of this neighborhood; it was deluding her mind from proper judgment.

Wearing jeans and a black jacket, she breathed silently, watching her breath turn white in the cold. She shivered. She really hated it when it was this cold outside, and yet, here she was, outside about to do yard work.

With a few quiet curses, she got up from her position and grabbed her rake on the ground.

"Hello." Now, why wasn't she surprised anymore when she heard his voice?

"Ew, go away," she said as she wrinkled her nose in disgust. The boy frowned.

"That's a rude way to greet people," he said playfully, his eyes shining merrily. She crossed her arms stubbornly, giving him an evil look.

"I'm not going to be polite to a stalker," she retorted as she leaned onto her rake.

"I'm not a stalker!" he said defensively. "That's offending!"

"Don't deny the truth," she scolded sarcastically. He grinned, and she turned furious that she liked his smile. There was definitely something wrong with her.

The boy hung back, but he too was getting ticked. He didn't like the fact that he was getting so… addicted, he supposed, to these conversations. They were meaningless. They were petty.

But, he had to admit, they were pretty fun (in a stupid way).

That's when the girl spoke up. "I don't like you."

"I believe that that has already been established," he said dryly. "And besides, why not?"

"Uh, because you're creepy?" she suggested.

"And you're short," he countered, raising an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling. "Are we done now?"

"Do you want me to throw this rake at you again?" she threatened.

"Violence isn't very pretty when it comes from girls, y'know," he told her. "If you get angry too much, then you'll get more wrinkles when you're older."

"You sound like my mother."

"And your voice sounds like a seven-year old," he said with fake happiness. She pouted. He paused, and then continued, saying, "Fine, you sound like a very pretty seven-year old. Happy?"

"Not really, because you're still here," she sniffed disdainfully as she swept a couple more leaves (three, actually) into her already tiny pile. When she turned around, there he was, in all of his annoying (and now that she thinks about it, girly) glory, leaning on the fence.

What she didn't know was that he was leaning on the fence in all of his annoying (and girly) glory thinking about her. He frowned thoughtfully, crossing his arms across his chest. What he hated, absolutely hated was that whenever they had these… these 'talks', he would always feel better. He thought it was stupid that his brain worked that way.

He had never really liked girls all that much. They fawned over him, swooning whenever he even smiled (and let's face it, that happens a lot). But she was different, for sure. Heck, she threw a rake at him. He chuckled humorlessly at the memory.

She stared at his back. He was creepy. She didn't like him. She didn't like the way he smiled, the way he talked, and she despised his eyes. How they were always happy and how he always made fun of her. How they were so pretty and expressive.

She didn't even know his flippin' name! She groaned in frustration and he turned around looking at her questioningly.

"What?" she asked with a fierce glare.

"You just groaned," he pointed out. "I thought you were…" he trailed off. She motioned for him to go on, and when he didn't, she sighed.

"You thought I was what, giving birth?" she snorted. He gave her a look, nodding his head.

"Yeah, that's definitely what I thought you were doing," he said, his tone mocking. "It would definitely explain the mood swings, that's for sure," he mumbled to himself. She grimaced.

"Just shut up," she muttered as she used her rake more harshly. He smirked, but then he glanced at his watch and nearly cursed from his irritation.

"I got to go," he told her as he started jogging off in the opposite direction. She just looked in the other direction until she heard his fading footsteps. Once he left, she said two words:

"Good riddance."

Fourth Meeting;

She walked outside in her red jacket, sipping a glass of lemonade her grandmother made. Twirling her hair she walked outside and lightly breathed in the cool, crisp autumn air. And she nearly had a heart attack when she saw the shadow at her fence.

"What. The. Crap," she said to herself as she walked closer to the person. "Aren't you here a bit early?"

He turned his head a fraction and looked her straight in the eye. "Dunno," he replied. "When do I usually come?"

"You definitely don't usually come at seven-thirty in the freaking morning, that's for sure," she whispered to him.

"Why are you whispering?" he asked, his voice lower than usual, and he thought it would be wiser to just ignore her original comment, which the girl found extremely rude.

"My parents are still asleep," she said ruefully. "A cat inside," she said, jabbing her thumb towards the pretty yellow house, "shrieked in my ear this morning, and I couldn't get back to sleep."

"I bet that was fun."

"Do you have to be irritating this early in the morning?" she asked him, tapping her foot. "Or are you like this everyday?"

"No, only to you," he said with a wide grin. "'Cause you're special."

She didn't get why she liked it when he said that to her. She continued drinking her lemonade and he looked at the glass.

"Is that… homemade?" he wondered aloud. She glanced at him as she continued slurping loudly (on purpose).

"No. My grandmother is…" she paused, and then shook her head. "Meh, well, anyways, no, it isn't. It's called 'Crystal Light', and people use it when they're too lazy to actually make it. Ever heard of it?"

"Obviously," he grunted. "Who hasn't heard of 'Crystal Light'?"

She watched him as he toyed with his brass buttons on the sleeve of his jacket. Now that she thought about it, he would always leave, saying something like 'Gotta go!' or something. She turned towards him. "Where do you go whenever you leave?" she asked him.

"Are you worried or something?" He turned towards her, arching an eyebrow. Her face was impassive.

"Just curious."

"It's not that important or anything," he said doubtfully. "I'd be killed if I missed it though. I have dance practice in the morning, in the afternoon, and at night, and I have to attend. These walks are just… breaks, I guess."

"Hm," she answered. So he danced? That explains his (originally) unexplained elegance for a boy. Sometimes she was jealous of his elegance. But she didn't need to tell him that.

An awkward silence engulfed them, only interrupted by slurps and obnoxious sucking noises. To fill in the quiet, he started whistling familiar Christmas songs, and she shot him a dirty look.

"Can you stop that?"

"Nope," he answered as he continued whistling. She groaned. Whistling was annoying. It was loud. It was infuriating.

"I bet you're just jealous of my extreme whistling skills," he said while grinning. She rolled her eyes.

"Because whistling is a real source of jealousy for me," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

He continued his cheerful whistling and she glared at him. When he didn't stop, she walked over to him, pulled down his collar so that they were face to face. Her eyes locked onto his.

Amber met mesmerizing ocher. They stared each other down until…

She flicked him on the forehead with all of her might, putting all of her strength into that one movement.

"Ow," he whined, rubbing the sore spot. "Why'd you do that?"

"It's the penalty for being annoying while being close to me," she answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You really are violent," he muttered. He was pink, and she raised an eyebrow in a silent question. The reason was that when she pulled down his collar, well… Obviously, there was something else he thought she was going to do when she did that. And when she realized the second meaning to what she had done, she turned red, and turned around so he wouldn't see.

He did anyways.

He chuckled, shrugging the thought off. He only met her a few times, so it was obvious that that wouldn't happen. Even so, it was surprising.

"Aren't you pushy with first attempts?" he asked teasingly, trying to break the awkward silence. She scowled.

"Do you have an off button?" she asked, frustrated. He shrugged.

"What you just did works fine," he joked with a wicked grin. After a hard glare, he put his hands up in defense. "Just kidding. Don't you know how to take a joke?"

"Not if the jokes are bad," she huffed. "You're not even funny."

"Now that is offending," he said as he feigned hurt. "I'm hilarious!"

"Uh-huh," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You're just in denial," he said, locking eyes with her, a teasing grin plastered on his face. She made a face at him.

"I'm in anything but denial," she retorted. By now, they were nose-to-nose, eye-to-eye, and they were only inches apart (again). Neither really noticed though, since they were too caught up in their petty argument.

They jumped as her cell-phone trilled, and their heads collided. "And here comes my second bruise," he muttered to himself as the girl flipped her phone open. It was a text from her friend, and her fingers flew agilely.

"How do you do that?" he asked incredulously. The girl glanced up through her eyelashes.

"Text?" she asked with a frown. "It's easy; it takes like five seconds," she said with a scoff.

"How do you do it that fast though?" he continued impatiently. She shrugged.

"I'm a teenage girl, so it's what happens when you get a cell-phone," she said wryly.

He nodded understandingly, holding back a slight smile. This girl was definitely… amusing, to say the least. And that's when his phone trilled. He slid it open and it blared '8:00' in red. With a soft sigh escaping his lips, he turned towards the girl.

"Gotta go," he said. Her face was indifferent, and she watched him carefully as he walked lazily down the sidewalk, his whistle piercing the air. She listened carefully to the tune as it filled the silence that he had left behind. As it gradually faded, she turned around and hid her small smile as she grabbed her rake and set off to work.

And then she gave up about five minutes later.

Fifth Meeting;

Another week had gone by, and here she was, again, outside, (trying) to rake the leaves. What she was wondering though, was why they were still at her grandmother's old house, and it's not like she didn't love her grandmother or anything. Who wouldn't love a senile old lady who has three cats? Anyways, supposedly, today was her last day here, and she almost felt… sad.

Her parents had virtually begged her to rake the leaves (again, has she mentioned that?), since they had to go into town to go buy her grandmother her medicine for her senility. If there was even such a thing (her guess is that no, there is no such thing, and they were just going into town to escape from kindly grandmother who bakes cookies everyday).

She stopped working for a second, already expecting that annoying voice to just pop out of nowhere. Not that she was waiting for him or anything, since that would be creepy.

She fiddled with the sleeves of her jacket, frowning at the (small) pile of leaves she had created. She really hated him. Because of him, she's spent four days alone on doing yard work. Screw him, and screw her fate, since they made her meet him in the first place. After a few more dark mutters and curses, the same bright voice burst in.

"A lady really shouldn't say such naughty words," he scolded. He contemplated her dark aura, watching her every move. "And it really isn't very nice to throw rakes at people either."

"Good thing you're not a person," she said sweetly, her voice syrupy. "You're a thing." He nodded his head sarcastically.

"Very original." The girl twirled her rake in her hands and watched him as he looked over the house curiously.

"Which room is yours?" he asked. She turned towards him. They didn't even know each other's names, and yet he wants to know where she's (temporarily) living? Heck no. That's just… weird.

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

He noticed her tone and then he grew serious. Leaning onto the fence that separated them, he said, "So I can be Romeo and throw rocks at your window."

"And what if I don't want to be Juliet?" she asked, growing serious as well, even though they both knew the other was joking. His eyes turned thoughtful again, but then he turned back towards her.

"Why wouldn't you want to be Juliet?" he wondered. She looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Because they both die in the end," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. He shrugged.

"It was out of love," he said as he played with the sleeve of his jacket carelessly. "Besides, I thought girls liked that stuff?"

"That's stereotypical," she said indignantly. "Not all girls like that crap."

"Alright, alright, sorry," he said breezily, a grin alighting his face. She shook her head; she really didn't understand this kid.

She stared at her mini pile of leaves in disgust. She had been raking for days, and that's how big it would get? And that's when she realized something. It was obviously his fault that the leaves weren't raked. I mean for goodness sake, he has the idea that he can get away with distracting her? Heck no.

She marched over and handed him a yellow rake, and he observed it. Then, meeting the girl's large amber eyes, he said slowly, "That's a very pretty yellow rake you tried to kill me with a few days ago."

She shook her head. "You keep visiting this stupid house, and I've had to waste four days raking these stupid leaves because of you," she hissed, pushing the rake onto him. "So you better rake these leaves, and you better do it fast."

"That's a threat," he told her, but he took the rake and opened the gate. He noticed the score marks from last Saturday and pointed at it. "Look at how much you've damaged the earth!"

"Boo hoo for it," she said lazily. He smiled as he started raking the leaves. She observed his movements. Smooth and graceful, he managed to make raking leaves look like the most beautiful thing in the world. Disturbing, right? She supposed it was because he was a dancer…

"Er, something wrong?" the boy asked awkwardly under the girl's eyes. He had noticed about three seconds ago that she was watching him. She snapped out of her reverie.

"Nothing," she said, a stoic look on her face. He nodded. He wondered if she ever smiled. He wondered why he kept coming back here. He wondered if she ever wondered these things.

"So, why'd you keep coming back here?" the girl asked casually. Oh sure, ask him a question he doesn't know how to answer. "I always insult you or ignore you, so why?"

He thought hard for a second, his eyebrows furrowing. "I figured I'd just keep coming back until you'd talk to me."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're lying," she scoffed. Now what he wanted to know was how she knew that.

"Am not," he said as innocently as possible as he half-heartedly raked the leaves. "So why am I doing this again?"

"Compensation," was her quick reply. He raised an eyebrow.

"What for?" he complained. "I didn't do anything but talk."

"Which was distracting," she retorted. "So shut up and stop complaining." What amazed him was that she seemed to have an endless torrent of insults and comebacks up her sleeves.

What amazed her, on the other hand, was the tolerance he had for her endless torrent of insults and comebacks.

They'd met only a few times. Neither knew the other's name. And neither really wanted to ask, even though they were curious, which they would deny viciously if ever asked. They, in truth, knew nothing about the other, which irritated them even more.

They were complete strangers, only linked by small conversations made every other day. They would say it was because they had nothing better to do. They would say because it was just a coincidence.

They were all lies anyways.

They eventually both stopped raking. It was dark outside now, and both glanced up at the sky. His phone went off and he answered it quickly. He sighed and ruffled his hair, and the smaller figure just watched his movements with a slight frown.

"I have to go," he said. She nodded. That's when the door slammed open (accompanied by a loud screech by a cat), and a figure appeared in the doorway.

"Sweetie, time to go!" the figure crooned. The girl turned around, her curls bouncing behind her.

"Okay, I'll be in soon," she shouted back. The person shuffled back inside, letting the door shut close behind her.

"Well… bye," he said with another cheerful grin on his face, and the girl almost rolled her eyes in the darkness. How he managed to always be like this, she'll never know.

"Yeah, bye stranger," she answered as she walked up to her porch. He walked out of their yard, and ran off, waving his hand as he disappeared. She lightly rolled her eyes as she looked at the path where he had walked off. What a strange kid.

As he walked off, the street lights finally flickering on, casting a soft yellow glow on the sidewalk, a small, earnest grin appeared on his face. What a weird girl.

In the end, neither found out the other's name.

Sixth Meeting;

A familiar blond-haired girl with messy curls walked into the classroom, holding a bright yellow rake in obvious disgust. She had been assigned to rake the leaves with some new transfer student. She had already raked leaves for days; personally, she thought this was just cruel punishment from Fate.

With a few more low grumbles and curses, she heard footsteps enter the room. The boy, who wasn't looking where he was going, bumped into the girl, who dropped her rake in the process. In a whirl and mess of dark and bright, they both ended up on the ground, and the girl winced from the impact.

"Darn it, watch where you're going," she groaned as she rubbed her head, already prepared to give the person a death glare.

"Sorry," the boy said back, but what he was wondering was why that voice sounded familiar.

Both looked up, right into the face of whoever they had just bumped into. They both blinked. Neither would admit the fact that they had been thinking about the person they were staring at for awhile.

The boy and his long, dark hair and his ocher eyes stared at the girl in surprise, his mouth agape (now, what in the world happened to his elegance?).

The girl with her blonde, messy curls and her large doe-like eyes were wide as she looked at the boy in shock.

"Ah, you've finally met the transfer student?" a pink-haired girl asked as she passed by them. "If you had been paying attention in class, you would've known who he was," she teased as she kept walking, laughing lightly at her best friend.

They both got up slowly, and none of the classmates even noticed the fact that they were acting so weirdly around the other.

The new boy and the beautiful idol of the school knowing each other definitely would start a riot.

The boy broke the silence. With a warm smile, he stuck out his hand and said with a wink, "I'm Fujisaki Nagihiko."

The girl smiled wryly, rolled her pretty amber eyes, and grasped his hand delicately. "I'm Mashiro Rima."

And as the fallen leaves floated gently to the ground outside, they both said at the exact same time, "Nice to meet you."

I fail at writing these types of stories. D: Ha ha, this isn't even a romance, it's like... a messed up friendship. Ha ha. :) Even so, you guys should still read brilliantliex3's story 'At the Bus Stop,' since that's where my original inspiration for this fic came from. It's brilliant (And yes, that is meant to be a clever pun). ;D


Well yes. That is it, I suppose. Not much else to say. I'm not quite so rambly today, am I? I am proud of that fact now... XD

Right. I'm going to shut up now...

Yeah. So thanks for reading guys! You peoples rox my sox(es) off. :)

(Review?) :3

~forever blue skies~

Edit (1/10/11): Ahahaha, I finally fixed that mistake. Hooray. :P Yeah. So all I did was fix my double-negative (thanks brilliantliex3), so yeah. :) Thanks for reading~