God Put a Smile on Your Face

A FLCL Fanfiction

By Doughnuts of Miroku

Summary: An unsent love letter is finally sent. From a boy who loved only one woman his entire life to a girl with a smile so sweet he knew God had given it to her. [Naota x Mamimi]

A/N: I've always wanted to write a FLCL fanfic. I love this series, albeit it's short and most of the time, doesn't make much sense. Please enjoy.

You're beautiful, yet you see nothing of yourself. To you and everyone else in this miserable world, you are white trailer trash, the poor slut with the alcoholic father, the one with no aspirations. Sometimes, I seem to agree with everyone else.

I was young when you tormented me. I wasn't my brother, neither debonair nor ambitious. I had no goals to be someone greater than I am now. I'm glad, though. I'm happy I'm not my brother because he left you for another country, another woman, another life.

You, my dear Mamimi, are still waiting for him, underneath that isolated, old bridge like a battered, old dog abandoned by its owner. I never left you, not for another woman because there is no other woman besides you, not for another country because this is where I belong, not for another life because the brief hours with you, under that useless bridge, is what I consider my life.

I was so very young, and all I wanted then was for you to enjoy my company, not me as a distraction from the loneliness that consumes you, or me as a substitute for my careless, superficial brother. You were my boyhood sexual fantasy and even now, when I am a man, you still remain as the one I could not attain. I am bitter about all this, but you are out of my reach.

Years ago, my bastard brother came home. He brought with him souvenirs, pictures, a fallen career, and a busty foreign woman. We conversed underneath the dark of night, outside that familiar patio, about our lives, our pasts, our futures, and somehow . . . your name came out.

"Mamimi. What are you going to do about the girl you left behind?" He coldly responded with a "She hadn't moved on yet?," and I couldn't prevented myself from throwing my brother against a wall. I felt only pain for you, of all the sins he has committed.

"She loves you. For all your stupidity and shallowness, her heart belongs to you. You deserve nothing from her, but instead, you take and take, and all she has left is her name and her camera. You've taken everything good and left me with nothing." How foolish of me to let my guard down. He stared down upon me, almost pitying, and gave a smug grin.

"Take her then. Make her yours. I dare you to."

He left the next day, leaving behind the souvenirs, the pictures, even his fallen career. The American woman he took – but then again, that is his wife.

That same morning, I ran to your bridge. There you were, the only constant factor in my life. After the Haruko incident, even then, you are still here, taunting me with your cherry lips.

All I want to do is pluck them in to my mouth and savor the sweetness.

It was then I knew that God put a smile on your face.

The radio I gave you last Christmas was blaring some cheesy J-Pop hit about love, and you were dancing, sensually, arms wound lazily above your head as your hips moved to an unstoppable tune. Slowly, you turned, counting the steps in your head. You were humming as well, and I just watched, enraptured in the beauty of you.

"Are you thirsty, Ta-kun? I'll buy you those sour drinks you love so much." You said.

Those words still bring me pain, sometimes more than the fact that I can never be anything more to you than the shadow of my brother. I hated those sour drinks, but I drank them anyway, partly to spite you, but mostly because I hated to see you pained.

I left you that morning without a word. I almost cried, a very unmanly thing to do, but the pain wouldn't stop bleeding and seeping through my clothes, through my skin, and reached my heart.

Even now, I can still remember the way you danced, underneath that damned old bridge, and how much I wanted to take you, just as my brother dared.

I was a coward, so now I write you a letter.

For recollection's sake or for my own, I write you this cursed letter, in hopes that I might hear your voice say my name. Naota.

Don't forget it because now I dare to.

I dare to make you mine.

- Naota

I've reread his letter so many times that the edges are dog-eared and the paper worn. The first time, I cried; the second time, my heart collapsed. The third time, I had no power to speak.

Even after so many years of distance, he still loves me, and I have never once looked back, even as I moved to Osaka, even as I found myself with a progressing career, even as I purchased my first house with money I've worked for. I have become the woman I admired for their strength and independence, for the dignity and the will to be better than the slut with the alcoholic father.

Now, I can become the woman he deserves.

Yet, even now, I can't look at him in the eye to find that foolish obsession had melted away and become bitter indifference.

It's early morning in Osaka with the sky still darkened with a fading blue color.

Tap!

Tap!

Someone was pelting my window with stones, and angrily, I stormed to whoever was causing me so much trouble. I opened the window and shot my head outside.

He stood there, tall, demeaning, attractive, yet I can still see the 12-year-old boy-man whom I teased endlessly. He shot me a heated stare, and I felt naked even with my wool pajamas. Heat traveled through my body, and I was flushed all of a sudden.

This was not the 12-year-old adolescent I unwillingly bared my soul to.

No, this is the man he became.

"What are you doing here?"

Courage was not dead to me.

"To claim what rightfully belongs to me." His voice settled into a rich baritone, and I could no longer recognize the boy I once knew.

"You wouldn't want me. I'm not good for you. You deserve much better than me." I yelled from the second story. I felt silly, conversing through loud shouts and letting the neighbors hear our intimate words.

"Look, woman, I've spent years loving you unconditionally. I have every right to make you mine. I will marry you, Mamimi, though you don't love me. I will spend the rest of my life, aiming for your love and hoping that you will return it someday. I'm not asking for much, just give me enough time to make you love me, so you won't look at another man again."

He was so loud that some of my neighbors came out of the house, pondering who was the Romeo romancing his reluctant Juliet. I came to him, cold in my sleepwear, frustrated at his stupidity.

"You, you—"

He yanked my arm and covered my mouth with his hand, stopping any unsaid words.

"I don't want to hear anything from you, except my name." I mumbled an incoherent "Your name?," and he nodded a "yes."

He freed my mouth, and I couldn't think of anything to say.

I didn't deserve him; I shouldn't have allowed him to soften me with his words, with his endless affection. Yet I did because I felt, for once, at peace with my identity. I stifled a cry and gave him an endearing look.

"Naota."

His face broke out in a content grin, and I could not help myself from smiling in return.

"Say it again."

"Naota."

"Louder." I gave him a contemptuous look, but obeyed anyways. I inhaled deeply and let out a loud "Naota!" which could be heard throughout Osaka. His arms pulled me in a secure embrace, and as I buried myself in the crook of his shoulder, he murmured something incoherent. I asked him what he said, but Naota dismissed it.

Though, a whispered "I love you" could be heard in Osaka if you remained quiet, stilled your heartbeat for a moment, and listened.

Followed by "Naota!" in a voice belonging to a girl with a smile so sweet that he knew God put a smile on her face.

A/N: Whether you hate it or you think it's adorable [which I doubt], please leave a review because I know it's not the writer that writes the fanfics, it's the reviewers.