So, I like to make lists, and I love Rimahiko, and that's basically how this came to be.

Enjoy!

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Ten Reasons to Hate Mashiro Rima

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i. Her Hair

Really, did she have to sit by the window? And did her hair really have to be that distracting shade of bright, brilliant gold that caught the sunlight so effortlessly?

If he weren't in the middle of a silent history class, Fujisaki Nagihiko would have slammed his fist on the desk.

Or even better, his head.

Seriously, if her hair was all it took to distract him, he really needed to check his priorities...

But he just couldn't... look away.

Almost as if Rima could sense his eyes on her, she passed a tiny pale hand through her hair, like she was taunting him. And he watched, fascinated, as the strands of wavy sunshine followed her touch and then gently fell back into place.

Okay, that was it. This was getting out of hand.

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ii. Her Eyes

It just wasn't fair that Rima's eyes appeared to be magnets for the gaze of his own. Especially when he was trying to listen to Amu.

Honestly, how could such a shade of warm, ethereal honey be possible? If he didn't know any better, he would've sworn that she wore colored contacts of some sort.

It was then he noticed that Amu had appeared to stop talking. In fact, she was looking at him patiently, seemingly waiting for something…

Had she asked him a question? Crap!

Nagihiko chewed on a piece of his lunch to buy time, then said, with conviction, "Yes, I completely agree."

Amu proceeded to go into hysterics, and Nagihiko knew immediately that he had given the wrong answer. Damn it.

After a few failed attempts of him trying to calm Amu down, a piercing yet soft voice penetrated the air, almost making him choke. "What did you say to Amu?"

Hesitantly, Naghiko turned to his side to find Rima looking – for lack of a better term – pissed off. Her charming facial features were hard and stony; those dazzling aurulent eyes of hers narrowed dangerously.

He took a moment to compose himself before he even attempted to speak. "Well you see, I… " Her frown turned into a scowl, making him visibly uneasy.

But the thing that made him mostly uneasy was the thought of how wonderfully beautiful those eyes of hers looked, even when they were blatantly glaring in his direction.

At that thought, he immediately felt like his words were insignificant. He sighed, feeling defeated. "It was nothing," he decided. He turned away, hoping to deter any argument she had ready for him.

"You know, just because I'm allowing you two to be friends doesn't mean…" And there it was. He didn't even need to hear the last part of her sentence to know that if he replied back, it would lead to an argument.

Despite his better judgment, he retorted anyhow.

And so it went.

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iii. Her Smile

Nagihiko didn't get to see it very often (he more often saw a sneer, due to their incessant arguing). But whenever he did, he always vowed never to make her frustrated again, just so he could always see that smile of hers.

Of course, his vow inevitably fell apart within minutes of talking to her... but the thing was, that never stopped him from making it.

Rima, even though he would never tell her, had a gorgeous smile.

She had a smile that sang of sunshine and happiness, of lazy summer afternoons spent in the park…

Her smile made his chest ache with the urge to kiss it.

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iv. The Way She Laughed

Nagihiko recently stumbled across the idea that maybe he'd been thinking too much about his short, firey-tempered friend. If she should even be considered a friend. Maybe she was more of a well-known acquaintance, what with the way they bickered back and forth every day. Needless to say, she was far from friendly.

He paused halfway through opening the door to his room and shook his head. That was it. He knew he shouldn't be thinking these things. No, not him, not about her, not about Rima. His master tormentor, Mashiro Rima.

For once, she had laughed at something he'd said. It was just so hard not to think about. The way the sound of her childlike laughter bounced around the walls of the empty classroom, the way the tiniest smile that graced her lips made her look unconditionally at peace, and the way her radiant eyes, for once, had shot up to meet his with kindness and not disgust.

...But enough was enough. He wasn't going to stand around and think of Rima like that. He would get his mind off of this little daydream that seemed to be growing in his head. For goodness sake, she only laughed at a joke he'd made. Nothing else monumental had happened that day, had it?

No, there would be no more thoughts about Rima. He was going to sit down and do his homework, which mostly consisted of health forms the school had to give out for an upcoming ski trip.

Nagihiko looked at the first question he was meant to fill out: Name. That was easy. He wrote his name, using his new black pen. He had actually borrowed that pen from Amu; he had used it in class to write down the algebra homework and completely forgotten to give it back to her. He made a mental note to return it to her the next day.

Nagihiko moved onto the next question: Age. Simple, he filled in his age, seventeen. And then something nearly expected happened. He thought about Rima's seventeenth birthday.

It had been a few weeks ago, on the sixth of February. Her seventeenth birthday party had actually been a surprise planned by himself and Amu. It had happened at Amu's house, because they both had a feeling that Rima's mother didn't have anything special planned for Rima's birthday. She never seemed to...

Anyhow, it had been small, just the Guardians, old and new, sitting around Amu's living room and drinking far more than their body weight in soda. And Amu had strategically planned it so that Rima would sit next to him on the small, fluffy green couch. What a nice night that was...

He would never forget how much Rima was laughing at that party, whether it was partially because of the sugar high or not, she was the happiest he'd seen her in a long time.

Nagihiko stopped writing. No more thoughts about Rima, he scolded himself. Maybe he just needed to relax for a few minutes. Yes, that was probably why he wasn't focusing.

He put his pen down and stood up out of this chair. His hands flew over his head in a stretch, and he walked across his room and plopped down on his bed with a low grunt of annoyance.

Nagihiko stared at the plain white ceiling, absentmindedly wondering if he should paint it some other color, to brighten up his room a bit. But seconds later his thoughts returned to his dear, sweet nemesis. He just couldn't stop thinking about Rima.

Rima, Rima, Rima...

She had such pretty eyes, and such a sweet laugh, he thought, a goofy smile spreading across his face.

Then he blinked, and the grin dropped right off his face, replaced with a frustrated scowl.

Okay, that was it. It was now very obvious that Nagihiko's not-so-brilliant plan to escape having thoughts about Rima was not working. He didn't know what to do, though. Trying to ignore it wasn't working. Should he call someone to talk about it? But what would he say? 'Oh, sorry to bother you, Kukai, I was just daydreaming about Rima and I thought I should inform you...'

He didn't even know for sure where he stood on this whole Rima issue.

But one thing was for sure: Just the memory of her laughter was enough to throw off his entire afternoon, and that was saying something.

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v. The Way She Walked

In those silly romance mangas that Amu occasionally liked to indulge in, the main character always bleated on about how she could just magically tell how her love interest was feeling all because of his eyes. 'They are a dark, stormy gray when he's angry,' she'd giggle frivolously. 'And when he's happy, they're the color of a cloudless, sun-lit sky... '

That was all nonsense, Nagihiko knew. However, one actually could tell how Rima was feeling by the way she walked. When she argued with him, her walk was cocky and arrogant. Her petite body filled to the brim with attitude, her slender hips swaying exaggeratedly, her steps confident…

It infuriated him.

Normally, her walk was smooth and carefree – she liked to have her hands by her sides or holding onto a book or something. When she was really happy, her walk became almost a skip, but never quite a skip. He always got the feeling that her feet had a hard time staying on the ground when she walked like that, and she had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling too much. Although her walk was lighthearted, she still managed to keep her calm, aloof outer character in tact when she deemed necessary.

When Mashiro Rima was sad, however, her walk became dejected. Her shoulders came forward and she slouched down, as if she would like nothing more than to curl right in on herself and disappear. It was the only time she didn't pay any attention to her pride, her feet dragging lethargically.

He hated that walk, because when she did it he got a terrible squeezing feeling in his chest, and he couldn't stop his mouth from asking her what was wrong.

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vi. The Way She Looked In The Rain

When he daydreamed, he often thought about the day he had seen Rima carrying bags of groceries home in the rain. She must have forgotten her umbrella, for she was soaked to the bone, that mane of splendid hair plastered all over her shoulders, back, and face.

She looked anything but miserable, though – her mouth was moving like she was singing; her features lit up like she was laughing.

There were a million things he wished he'd done that day, instead of just hanging back and watching her…

He could have gone up to her to see if she really was singing, offered her an umbrella to borrow, carried her shopping bags home for her, scolded her because she would most likely catch a cold…

Most of all, he had wanted to take her home with him, dry her in a big, fluffy towel in front of a roaring fire, and then… and then…

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vii. The Way She Missed What Was Actually Happening

Rima had cornered him after school one day a couple of months ago. He had been pretty panicked at the time. She had told Amu and Yaya, with all her characteristic firmness, that she needed to have a word with him. Alone.

She had obviously missed the encouraging, hopeful look from Amu, who, for some reason, suspected that Nagihiko had a crush on Rima.

The blonde had proceeded to drag Nagihiko back to an empty classroom and say, with her usual delicacy as she stubbornly crossed her arms, "Look, Nagihiko, I know you love her. I'm sorry, you can't have her."

Nagihiko blinked, incredibly confused at that point.

"What?" he asked oh-so-intelligently.

"Amu," Rima clarified with a roll of her lovely eyes.

At that, Nagihiko remained silent. He decided that it was easier to let Rima pace around the room and talk about his supposed love for Amu. But it probably would have been better – braver, even – to tell her the truth:

Amu doesn't make me feel the way you do.

(Speaking of which…)

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viii. The Way She Makes Him Feel

To Fujisaki Nagihiko, Mashiro Rima was stress-relief.

It was odd to think about, but when they fought, he could feel his tension and problems float away as he focused only on the next moment with her. And when he wasn't focusing on that, he was focusing on the ironically weird connection they shared.

"Why can't you just stop being so stubborn for five seconds?"

"You first, you cross-dressing freak!" I can tell you don't mean it. Something bad happened to you today, didn't it? Did your mom get drunk again? It's okay, I can be your punching bag. Just let it all out.

"Ughh… you make me so... God, I don't even know..." I want to ask you what's wrong, but the words won't come. They're getting lost on the way to my mouth.

"Oh yeah? Well you make me angry! Plain and simple!" Would you tell me what's wrong, if I asked? Did she… did she hit you? Is there a bruise growing slowly somewhere? I know I'm not showing it, but I truly am worried.

An groan of frustration from him, and then, "Sometimes, being with you is like banging my head off of a brick wall, you know that?" And the funny thing is, you really don't even know the half of it.

"So why don't you stop?"

You stand there, chest heaving and throat probably raw from yelling. There's something in your golden eyes like blood surging along veins too hard, and the heat of exhilaration is written plainly across your face, and…

"I can't stop any more than you can."

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ix. The Way Amu Knows About The Way She Makes Him Feel

"I'd like Rima to be happy," Amu said decisively, planting her feet down in front of his desk in a way that indicated she meant business, and she meant it now. Nagihiko looked up from his book grudgingly, slowly, and cocked an eyebrow at her.

"That's… nice of… you?" he said uncertainly, and Amu got a look on her face that was the closest to frustrated that he'd ever seen on her. She wasn't, he thought with an internal snicker, very intimidating. Not nearly as intimidating as...

"Nagihiko, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Amu said, with rather uncharacteristic confidence, as she placed her pile of textbooks on her desk.

When he didn't answer, she sighed in frustration at his silence. She was technically talking down to him too, because he was sitting and she was not. The realization made him uneasy about her sudden confrontation.

"But I honestly don't know what you're talking about, Amu-chan," he objected politely, having the strange feeling he was about to be blamed for something that wasn't his fault.

"Nagihiko," she began gently, "what I mean is that I'd like Rima to be happy—"

"—I know, you mentioned that, but I still don't—"

"—and I think she'd be happy with you."

That stopped Nagihiko's thought process completely. He looked up at Amu with the horrible feeling that his mouth was stupidly hanging open, but that somehow didn't seem important.

After what seemed like an eternity of that funny look in Amu's topaz-yellow eyes, he finally said, "What are you talking about? Rima-chan and I… all we ever do is fight."

Amu smiled her beatific smile, and the last remains of a crush he'd once had made something twang in his heart. Old reflexes; a part of him that wasn't there anymore.

"There's a difference," she said thoughtfully, smiling in that way she had all the while, that way that made him feel everything would always, absolutely be all right.

"Amu-chan, what do you— "

"You fight with Kirishima-kun a lot, don't you?" she prompted, interrupting him.

He was confused by her sudden subject change, but proceeded to answer. "Uh… yeah, we do argue a lot. I mean, we just don't see eye-to-eye, I guess."

"But you know..." She smiled wider. "There's a difference in the way you and Rima fight, and the way you fight with Kirishima-kun. It's not the same."

Nagihiko sat there for a minute, slowly absorbing the implications of that sentence. Amu picked up her books again, balancing them against the smooth curve of her hip.

"B-but," he said finally, "she calls me a 'cross-dresser'! That doesn't..."

And he knew that he was grasping at straws. To him, Amu suddenly looked so much older and wiser than he would ever be when she said, "Nagihiko… it's not the same as when Kirishima-kun calls you names, is it?"

No...

No, it wasn't.

And now that he realized, it was a little disconcerting.

There must have been something in his eyes that satisfied Amu, for she simply nodded and walked away. And Nagihiko was left alone to think about this strange, unidentified feeling of his that he's terrified might be love.

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x. The Way He Completely Loses His Nerve Around Her

"Did you want something?" Rima asked in a clipped tone, one of her eyebrows arched delicately in a way that must have taken her years to perfect. "Or are you just going to stand around all day, staring at me?"

Nagihiko sighed tiredly. "Don't beat around the bush or anything…" he mumbled sarcastically, pulling out a chair from the table she was sitting at. He had to do this now. Amu and the others wouldn't be gone for much longer...

"I didn't ask you to sit," she said, fully abandoning her gag manga in favor of him, something that – he would realize later – she hardly did for anyone. Her voice was more amused than accusatory, the way it always was these days. She looked up at him through her bangs that (he noticed) she needed to trim a bit, chin resting on one of her tiny clenched fists.

Nagihiko shrugged, taking a seat anyhow. "I figured you weren't going to, so… I took the initiative."

Rima grinned, and it was that grin he'd seen her wear so many times. It was a grin that said, 'I think I'll just keep pushing your buttons until we have a full-blown argument. Won't that be fun?'

"Initiative?" she said, her look of false surprise completely mastered. "Wow, you're not so wishy-washy anymore. I'm impressed." The words rolled off her tongue, her voice a self-indulgent tease.

Normally he'd be just as prepared for an argument with her. School had been so uninteresting to him lately and, if he were to be honest, sometimes he wondered if he even came for a reason other than to see Rima and have those de-stressing, odd little fight-moments with her.

But that wasn't what he wanted today.

"Listen, Rima-chan. I..."

She looked surprised, and he could understand why. 'You're not arguing back… why?' she was asking him silently.

"I wanted to… I came over here to tell you that…" He stopped and started and stalled, every few syllables mentally rephrasing what he was going to say next.

"I'm listening, Nagihiko… once you finally manage to spit out whatever it is you're trying to say," she said, looking like she was fighting a laugh.

Clearly, she had no idea how much this truly bothered him.

"Why is this so hard!" he groaned, and Rima looked startled at his abrupt change in tone.

"Why is what so hard?" she asked him quietly, now completely concerned.

He looked at her for what felt like forever, and he thought it was almost funny how he used to tell himself he hated those golden eyes and that blonde hair and that endearing smile.

"Explaining to you," he said, forcing each word out like gravity was preventing him from talking, "why I want to do this..."

And he gathered together every single fiber of daring and recklessness he had in his being, reached forward and seized her shoulders in his hands before lowering his mouth to hers in one swift motion.

It wasn't the perfect kiss: his nose bumped hers and they were at funny angles to each other. To Nagihiko, it felt almost like he was giving her a warning – do you mind if I'm not perfect?

She didn't punch him, or resist, or struggle, or break away and call him a pervert, and to him, that was as good as an acceptance – you don't have to be perfect for me.

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Yup.

This isn't the first story I've ever written, but it is the first that I'm publishing on this website. So I would love to hear honest opinions and constructive criticism and yadda yadda yadda.

Overall, what did you think? How did I do with writing from Nagihiko's point of view? I think I might have made them a little OOC, but they are in high school and I think that if Rima and Nagihiko never really got past the "fake hate" thing, then they would be like this. Oh, and I realize I didn't include their Shugo Chara's, but... again, they're in high school, so I think they'd have gone back into their hearts by then, right? Just making that point now, in case people were wondering...

So please click that link next to that little yellow speech bubble down there and review! Tell me what you liked and disliked about this story! :]

Mucho Thanks! :D