R Amythest: okay, this is to enter Brood Mayran's 'Weird Couple' contest. I'll be calling Duke Deviln Ryouji, since it sounds a hell lot better than DUKE. But everyone is called by their American names. What else. . . Oh, I know I have two other stories to do. . . But what can I say?

Yami Amythest: you can definitely say 'get on with the fic.'

R Amythest: . . . right, what she said.

Key:

Italics show what someone is reading and/or emphasis

'thoughts'

*~*~* = a lapse of time, or change of setting

~~~~~~~

Dear Ryouji,

When you first challenged my boyfriend, Yugi, I thought you were nothing more than another one of those cruel, dishonest, obsessive people, like Pegasus. But one look into those jade eyes changed my opinion.

I see. You're hurt on the inside. Stripped of the ones you love. How do I know, you ask? I just know. The way you act. . . it's just a mask, isn't it? I know you're really gentle on the inside. So tell me. . . Why don't you show it?

I love you, Ryouji, more than you can imagine. But I can't bear to show my love to you. I already promised Yugi my heart, and I don't want to hurt his feelings. But still. . . I love you so. I just wish it were possible to love you both. But I've tried that before. It just doesn't work out. One way or another, one of you gets killed.

I'm sending you this letter to tell you this; I couldn't keep this inside me forever, as a secret. I love you, and I say it with passion.

Your (Until Now) Secret Admirer,

Tea Gardener

My aqua eyes scanned over the letter. Was this some sort of joke? You don't get love letters from the friend of a past enemy every day. And definitely not from a future ballerina. My mind told me this was all a joke. Just one big mess of a prank. Joey or Tristen must've tried to trick me, or something. Yeah right, like I, Ryouji Otogi, inventor of Dungeon Dice Monsters, owner of the hottest game shop of town, would fall for a trick like that? Rolling the letter into a ball and absent-mindedly tossing it into the trashcan, I stepped out of my office.

But I regretted it. It felt like leaving my heart behind. Casting a small glance behind me, I reached for the pen on the table in the hall. . .

***Tea's POV***

Dear Tea (if it's you),

Okay, so maybe some of what you said was true.

But what do you mean, 'stripped of the ones you love?' I've got plenty of fangirls already. But then again. . . I've never been known to disappoint them, and since you're one of them. . . I guess I'll give you a shot. Meet me at my office tomorrow after school.

Sincerely,

Ryouji Otogi

P.S. If this is Joey's idea of a prank, it isn't funny.

My hands dropped the letter in disappointment. Only a fangirl?! I guess he didn't understand. I loved him more then that, so much more. Joey's idea of a prank?! I gave me my whole heart, and he's saying it's a joke? Furiously, I threw my can of pencils on the floor. The glass cup broke, and the pencils and pens flew everywhere. I dropped to my knees and sobbed. Only a fangirl. ONLY a fangirl. I love him. . . but he doesn't seem to understand. Or maybe he's just not taking it in. . . Hoping that was the case, I grabbed a pen off the floor and started to write, ignoring the cut on my finger from the glass cup.

***3rd Person***

Ryouji stared at the letter, especially the signature, which had traces of red by it. 'Did she murder someone? Or was that just some fruit juice? Or maybe. . .' He sniffed the mark, and instantly dropped the letter. 'What the heck? It's blood! Either she murdered someone or she. . .' Attempting to push any lovey-dovey thoughts away, he dismissed it as a paper cut. What interested him more was the time she set for their talk, which he planned to be short, and the location. Scowling at the inconvenience of walking in and out of a café, not to mention getting mobbed on the way, he messily scribbled a reply. Different than the others or not, he was sure it wasn't worth the time slowly sipping some cheap coffee and listening to an annoying female voice drone on about his hair, or eyes, or anything else particularly boring.

Not that he hated attention. He was used to it, and liked it to a certain degree. But risk getting mobbed in pubic while being caught dating (sort of) with a nobody-type girl? Just to hear some words of praise that were said every day to him? Out of the question.

Flicking some hair out of the way, (that cutely bounced back, I might add) Ryouji continued to work on his latest version of Dungeon Dice Monsters. He planned to add a few special effects that allowed the player feel like he/she was in the game. He planned to do something like Kaiba's, but that was WAY too costly. 'Hmm. . . What about personalized dice?' Ryouji smiled. He knew exactly who to challenge with his new system, and who to make sure was watching, too.

*~*~*

"So, what blabber did you have to say that was important enough to say in private?" Ryouji scowled, making sure the numbers were still lit. Tea and Ryouji finally decided the most private and soundproof way to talk was to stay in an elevator, which I might add, was moving and infuriating quite a few customers. That way, no one could burst in on their conversation. "A meeting after school was already inconvenient enough, but seriously, this is crazy."

"Crazy, but effective," Tea replied smartly. She had already prepared herself for how rude he was probably going to be. She'd just have to show how much she loved him. Of course, in whatever way he accepted most. A written love letter sure didn't work.

"I STILL think the Japan police are going to override these controls and make us stop and then arrest us or something. So hurry up and get it over with," Ryouji replied. He fingered a die, obviously bored. He didn't want to admit it, but the elevator going up and down was starting to make him sick to his stomach. And being sick to his stomach did a lot to shorten his attention span, which was quite small already.

Tea hesitated. She'd been planning this for days and now, after confronting him in person, she forgot what she was going to say. A swarm of thoughts invaded her mind. "I. . . um. . ."

Ryouji arched an eyebrow. "Well?" he said, twirling the die. "I didn't come here to listen to someone stutter 'I love you.'"

Tea blushed and looked down at the elevator floor and observed every detail. Fluffy, red with specks of purple, dusty. . .

"Well?" A rude voice interrupted her train of thoughts. Actually, the truth was, while Tea was gazing down at the carpet, Ryouji wasn't looking at the die. He was looking at her. She wasn't too bad. After all, he WAS in need of a professional cheerleader. It would make her less annoying, too. "What about being my cheerleader? Whatever it is, hurry up, the police are going to arrive soon."

Tea's hopes remained at whatever depth she put them. "You already have three."

Ryouji already prepared himself for this remark. "Fine then," he said, pretending to be annoyed. "My official professional cheerleader. Happy?"

Tea glanced up. "Very," she muttered and inched closer.

He knew what was coming next. And to his relief, all the buttons were unlit and the elevator stopped. Ryouji ducked Tea's face and strolled out like nothing happened, Tea slightly disappointed that there wasn't much change in his feeling towards her. Okay, so Tea knew this was one guy that was just plain hard to get. But she didn't expect him to downright arrogant. It was getting on her nerves. 'Remember, Tea, he's faking it, this is all just a hoax,' she reminded herself, sticking to her old theory. She casually walked out of the elevator, mind swarming with ideas.

**********

R Amythest: Whew. The first chapter and it SEEMS that we've already covered a lot of material.

Yami Amythest: but if I know you well enough, which I do, that was just the beginning of a very complex mystery.

R Amythest: *sweatdrop* yes, I guess you could say that. If you comb the scene with just Ryouji in third person, you can get a few clues on what I intend to do.

Ryouji: You. . . are making. . . me sound. . .  desperate. . .

Tea: you're making me sound annoying!

R Amythest: but you are!

Tea: -_-*

R Amythest: I hope Brood Mayran likes this. This is basically going to be a typical R Amythest-type love story. And if you know my style of writing well enough, you'd know that that means betrayal, suspense, hidden feelings, love triangles, and the rest of the stuff is bound to appear.

Yami Amythest: right now, I think I know what's coming. . .

R Amythest: shut it, Yami. You'll have your just desserts whenever I get around to posting/writing 'From a Hieroglyphic.' Then you'll disappear. Hooray. But for now. . . I want to get this done.