"There's a common misconception when it comes to love."
Lazy clouds float over head slowly, passing over the overbearing sun that's come to be a pain to Mamoka this summer. The air is warm, without breeze, but not so much so that it's unbearable. To her, it's the perfect atmosphere, especially seeing as she's protected by about ten feet of shade.
The Nara male quirks an eyebrow at the statement, fully aware that she can't see it as she is much too busy scribbling away in her writer's notebook, brows pinched to the center of her forehead in deep concentration. His eyes trail from the sides of the awning the two of them sit under, passed the wood of the bench that is large enough to comfortably place Mamoka, who sits with her legs spread out horizontally, and also him, who sits vertically, his head in her lap, and onto the leather of your notebook.
"And how's that?" the male lazily asks, more or less just to appease the woman. He knows she'll go on whether or not he asks, but he figures he'll just do it anyway.
She scribbles down a few more thoughts into the little book, that is always on her person, before she sets it aside in favor of staring down at him. Bright golden eyes hold that certain gleam in them, and Shikamaru knows there are a thousand and one ideas and epiphanies and conclusions running through that mind of hers.
He'll never understand a writer's mind, and he'll never ask to know; wish to know. There are so many things unsaid and so many things to do, so many inventions and so many storylines that run through her head that he's found her talking in her sleep of parallel worlds and the ghost boy that found his home.
She opens her mouth, and with distaste, he already knows there's a lecture in store for his ears.
"All their lives people, and I'll give you that they're mostly women, search for love, a bond with another human being. There's this deep desire to be needed and it drives them to the brink of madness if they do not come across it; some would rather die then live a life without it. Women, men, and certain species of animals search endlessly for a mate, someone to share in sexual pleasantries with."
Her vision is focused ahead of her now, and Shikamaru's positive that it's the clouds she's staring at, as she vents her epiphany. He can never say she is a normal girl, because by all means she is not, but he's never heard her quite so passionate about something before. And that's saying something, because he's around her nearly 24/7.
He keeps his mouth shut as she continues.
"They say it's love that they are feeling; the intense sexual urge to, well, fuck another senseless and to be 'intimate' with them, even though I detest that word with a burning passion, but that's not love. Love is supposed to be that fuzzy feeling you get when you want to be with someone every single second and every single moment of every single day and never let them go, because you'll fall apart if they're not in your life, but we hardly ever see it."
An air of silence passes between the two, and for a moment, there is no sound at all, the sounds of Mamoka's breathing even becoming distant. The single thought running through Shikamaru's mind holds no comparison to the thousands of thoughts running through hers.
"So…" he begins, and his vision falls away from your face and up to the awning above the two of you. "What exactly are you trying to say?" It's not that he exactly cares, but she's his friend, and he supposes he owes her at least an ear to listen to her story.
The next thing that happens is something he's not used to. She giggles, not a chuckle like he's so accustomed to her doing, but a girlish giggle. He's almost afraid to admit that he finds it cute, almost like it suits her. The action has his eyes falling back to her, slightly confused.
"I'm saying," He's never seen such a shy smile quirk her full, pink lips. "That even though we hardly ever see true love, I think I know the feeling; the feeling of butterflies in my stomach and my head in the clouds. It's such a foreign feeling but it's always there whenever I'm around you, Shika."
His reaction to her more or less confession of love to him is not one most people would expect. According to Mamoka and all her theories, the blush and the stutter that's supposed to appear is not there. Instead a passive face is held by the Nara boy and he grunts uncomfortably.
His eyes slide shut and he lets a 'tsk' fall from his lips, finding looking into her eyes suddenly too much. He readjusts himself on her lap, and before she has time to react, he's shoving her writer's notebook against her face.
"Shut up with all your sappy love talk, you're giving me an ulcer." She laughs at his indifferent statement and take the book from his hands. "Go back to writing your book."
And that's the end of the conversation, apparently, because Shikamaru then turns his head away from her and she can tell he's concentrating too hard to fall asleep. But really, she's sure he's just trying to fight away a blush he doesn't want her to see.
She picks up her pen and begins to scribble away again.
"Aha, okay Shika."
This was originally designed to be a reader insert, so if there's anything like 'you' in the place of 'her' or 'she', just ignore that. I hope you like it, and I'd appreciate a review or two to tell me how I did. :D