DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING!

This is another one of those stories.

It involves a boy and a girl

The boy is smart, popular and well off financially

The girl is equally as smart, definitely not as popular, and no where near as financially secure.

And as with all good cliché romances, they are complete and utter opposites.

The boy is class president and has very few, very normal friends.

The girl likes Lolita fashion and has so many friends, so far from normal, she keeps a book with there names and hobbies just in case.

Their romance starts with a look, a wrongly spoken word and some misunderstandings that could take years of hard work –or therapy depending on your mood- to sort out. It gradually builds as nothing, has an epiphany and turns into something, has a seizure and a few dozen plot bunnies and somehow miraculously turns into that love thing. The boy gets married to the girl, they decide to repopulate the world in their own image, and somehow find a way to afford that white picket fence I know so many girls dream about.

But what ever happened to all those other less important then the life changing I-love- you conversations? What about them? I would pay good money to read a story about those.

And that's what this is

Another story dedicated to that love thing and all those conversations we missed.

Now your wondering why I bothered to even write this down

Because it's my story, well mine and my beautiful little wife's and I think it's important regardless of your thoughts on the matter.

So this another one of those cliché stories, with cliché endings, and a cliché cast.

Except it's not, because I hate clichés.

01.

Our first conversation was on her second day of school here. She sat behind me in her vividly beautiful array of lace, soft black material and painfully dark silky hair, and spent the better part of those 2 woefully, wonderfully peaceful days staring outside toward the blue, blue sky.

Then she decided to turn my world upside down.

Yes that is a horribly cliché thing to say, but I really cannot see a way around it. Don't get me wrong I loved my life I was popular, getting the girls I wanted was easy, I had a perfect grade average and my family loved me.

That was what made it so dull

Having any girl I wanted was good but what about the ones I didn't want –can anyone say fan club?-, my grade average was only because I studied so much and my family?

Yeah, they're dead

So despite my other wise uninterrupted perfection, I was extremely bored. It was during those nice boring peaceful days that I noticed her actions, and after some careful observation –I had been doing a project on animals in their natural habitat and decided that my fellow students were the best subjects- could predict her movements before she did anything. She was easy to read, every time before she asked a question she would bite her lip and look away, lift her hands to the table and twiddle and poke her fingers together, then when the question had become incredibly irrelevant, she would raise her hand and ask it. Now, don't get me wrong she has some scathingly brilliant ideas, she just never asks them right or at the appropriate time. I wasn't at all surprised at her grade point average –which puts her somewhere in the top 5 percent of the school- or when she turned her attention toward me, and started the painful process of question asking. I'd already thought up many answers to her question ranging from, 'not on your life, whore' to 'this is a difficult time for me, my goldfish died' all summarizing my need to not go out with her. Sure, she was pretty just not my type of pretty. There were always more fish in the sea. Yes, all my justifications were sound, efficient and in alphabetical order.

She spent an uncharacteristic amount of time staring at her hands and I found myself turning around and staring at her. She looked at me and I lazily raised an eyebrow.

"Well?"

"Do you think dreams are interconnected?"

Wrong question, WRONG QUESTION!

She wasn't supposed to ask that, what the hell kind of a question is that?

Which is how I found myself explaining REM stages and night terrors to a girl who unbeknownst to me, was about to kill me and my whole way of thinking with one word.

"Idiot."

02.

Afterwards I spent hours in the library looking it up, turns out she was talking about some crack pot theory about magic and the inner workings of the human mind. It was interesting so I read a little more about it then that was fascinating so I read a bit more, then that was so remarkable that I began to lose sleep over it. By the time we next spoke, I could have written a very long and detailed book about it. I was completely ready for anything she threw at me.

"Do you know what a necromancer does?"

Damn you

Luckily, I had read a little about that on my search for answers to the human subconscious.

"A necromancer is a person who uses death magic in spells and/or incantations."

She smiled and as she lifted one finger, she closed one of her eyes and gently tapped her lips. "Good, now what is a necromancer?"

I stared at her dumbly and with all the refined control I could muster, calmly asked her a simple completely justified question. "What the fuck kind of a question is that?!"

Okay maybe not so calm

Or justified

Dammit

So I wasted another night in the library reading on necromancers. I lost sleep, food and sanity over the goddamn mother fuckers and you know what?

She didn't come to school the next day.

03.

"What do you think a butterfly thinks about?"

I snapped my book closed and threw her an inscrutable look.

"Why do you ask such stupid questions? Why the hell does it matter? Why... why am I even bothering to answer such stupid, juvenile and uninspired questions?"

I hadn't noticed her actions if I had I probably would have noticed the mischief in her eyes dim, and her fist tighten over a fold of her black silk dress. Then as she will undoubtedly never let me forget, she bitch slapped me.

"I was only trying to help you," she sat down in a huff of lace and material puffed out her cheeks in a very childish manner and stared out the window "you always looked bored to tears, I couldn't stand it."

That was, at that time, extremely funny

Why? I still don't know if you figure it out tell me and then you can hopefully tell her. What was that? Why don't I? Well you dipshit I like my internal organs. So I sat laughing hysterically for all intents and purpose, with no proper reason while she sat baffled and gently examined my face with a facade full of embarrassment.

"You h-have got to be the stu-stupidest person I-I've ever m-met" I gave her a quick smile and returned to quaking with laughter.

Her pretty pearl eyes opened then she shut them rather quickly, and trembling she gave me a rather rude gesture involving her middle finger.

"I-I think I could hate you."

04.

From that day to the following Friday, she asked me different seemingly random questions. All of which ended with me in the library, at some ridiculous hour hyped up on coffee and the need to learn. On that Friday that will be now known as the day I gave up dreaming, I had my first conversation with her intimidating maniacal cousin whom for years I could barely speak to with out wanting to rip my eyes out.

Why?

Because he is possibly the rudest asswipe I have ever the misfortune to be legally related to, -and I had a lot of relatives-.

Pushing my hate aside, the first thing he ever said to me just happened to be-

"You, asshole stay away from my cousin." Yep things like that really endear you to a person.

We where standing outside my locker and deciding that an answer was appropriate, I slammed it shut and faced him. I stoically raised an eyebrow and give him my patent pending, no.7, Uchiha Do-I-give-a-fuck glare.

"Well pretty boy, I don't think your opinion matters and, by the way, I don't even know your cousin."

He raised an eyebrow and snappishly said, "Well if you don't know her then why do you always speak to her in class?"

Who the fuck was he talking about?

I twisted around and walked away down the corridor, when –thoroughly engrossed in my plans to destroy Neji- I hit a wall. This wall squeaked backed up and hit me with a lace covered hand.

"Pervert!"

Ah, another one of those words she uses against me. I lifted my hand to my face and moved away, appreciating the new bruise on my face. Neji forced me aside and moved toward her.

"Hinata are you okay?"

Well hot damn I didn't see that one coming.

"Sasuke, why are you talking to my cousin?" she looked up at me from the ground and opened her eyes mock-innocently.

Hmm, it seems she did.

I stared at her and racked my brain for useful excuses, I left my dog in the oven and he was...helping...me locate...him.

That makes sense right?

Maybe not

So instead of doing the polite thing and apologizing, I went with my gut feeling, you know the one that says that the last piece of three week old pizza with crawling things and a fuzz mountain, is a good thing to eat.

I sneered and walked away.

In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best idea.

05.

I didn't go to school for about 3 days after that, I was taking some well earned time away from illogical thinking and was rebooting my mind with Freud. I slunk into advanced calculus and made my way to my desk at the back of the room. Unthinkingly I swung myself backward and opened my mouth. "Hey have you ever-?"

You know those movies with the creepy kid who never goes outside and lives in his room till one day the pretty social worker/fitness freak comes along and he suddenly wants to go outside because it will make the social worker happy, then upon getting outside he screams and yells 'I SEE DEAD PEOPLE!'

This is not one of those movies

Because quite frankly I don't see dead people –that's plain ridiculous only an idiot would believe such pure nonsense-, infact I see nothing.

Which is the problem

Because something pretty and lace covered should be sitting there and asking everyone, -me- stupid meaningfully insignificant questions and generally pissing everyone, -me- off with her stupidly sensible ideas and suggestions and optimism. Realising how stupid I looked I moved my attention back to the front and paid attention to the boring, yet informative lecture. Class really was boring without one of her questions to think about.

At lunch I commandeered Neji's services in the search for his cousin.

Meaning I stood outside his locker and intimidating-ly demanded the knowledge of her whereabouts. Neji slammed his locker shut and at length turned to face me.

"So, you claim to know her now? After she left?"

I stared at him and gaped like a hypothetical fish out of water, "Left? Why would she leave?" I casually leant against the lockers and ruffled my bangs a little trying –and failing- to look unaffected.

Neji gave me a silent pitiful look, "Because someone refused to acknowledge her existence."

I stood there for a good long while and thought, not about my grades, not about friends, not ever about my long deceased family but about if dreams were interconnected, what a necromancer is and what a butterfly dreams about.

06.

Life was systematically boring from then on.

My grades shot up, my social life shot down, and I got into my first choice uni in America. I finished my business degree at 23, took over my dads company at 24, saved it from going bankrupt at 24 and a half, and at 27 was settling into a nice life of bachelorhood and takeout Chinese. Nothing was wrong with my life and nothing was right with it, it just continued monotonously until I was so bored I could scream; it was that day I considered taking my life.

Then I had The Dream

Yes, The Dream deserves capitalization, because without it I never would have gotten out of my 8 year funk.

And then where would we be

The dream happened -without trying to sound to cliché- on a dark and stormy night. It started normally, in a depressing black abyss whose depth and sadness knew no bounds, it was filled with never ending rage, hate and a loathsome passion I had never experienced but supposed was some thing akin to unrequited love. Dark hulking matter formed at the edges in fleeting shapes and forms a never ending cycle of dark passion and the bitter tang of rejection. It was dark, morbid and depressing- just the way I liked it.

Then the bunny came.

Well okay, not a bunny, rather a bunny girl clothed in dark material and lace and was that painfully silky hair? I felt my jaw drop and my body lose its composure. My god dreams really are interconnected! The bunny girl -who looked far too much like the girl from high school- blinked at me. She smiled and her pretty pearl eyes lit up. "So… been awhile hasn't it?"

I closed my mouth, reset my body and threw her a scathing look, "Just ask the goddamn question." I studied her movements and noticed her eyes darken. She carefully lowered her eyes and uncertainly opened her mouth to speak. "Do you believe in truly unrequited love?" she looked away from me and started fixing a non existent knot in her hair.

I smiled uncharacteristically large and offered my hand. "Where the hell where you 5 minutes ago."

07.

So I spent six months like that.

Her asking questions, me telling her how stupid they were and then answering them at length. My stocks were doing well and I decided that a trip home was needed. So I hoped on a plane and headed back to my country of origin. Upon arrival I discovered that my appointments for that evening –sleep, rest, drugs- had been rearranged and I was now attending a stuck up, black tie, gala event.

Oh joy

I walked into the event with a certain amount of foreboding; you know either the kind that says you're going to meet a beautiful girl fall in love or the boogie monster will jump out and eat you.

Yes one of those feelings

As I casually slunk over to my best friend and his heavily pregnant wife, I considered my recent conundrum.

I hadn't talked to the bunny girl in weeks.

I was so bored.

I quickly grabbed a glass off a nearby waiter and drained it. Somewhere along the way Naruto slunk up behind me and surprised me, grabbing my arm and rabbiting on about a recently acquainted friend of his. Apparently, she was pretty, had a too vivid imagination, liked lace and apparently was my equal opposite so of course I should marry her. I wasted my breath trying to tell him that not everyone met and magically fell in love with their wife on a singles cruise, and that most of us like to take our time with that love thing. Unfortunately, my tirade was lost on him as he found his target.

Naruto gleefully threw his hands in the air and yelled, "Hey Ino look who I found!"

Ino turned around in her far too long far too designer-chic baby blue dress, and leisurely raised an eyebrow when fully turned she gracefully turned and walked by me grabbing Naruto, who in turn grabbed me and dragged as off to the table we would undoubtedly be enjoying over priced and over cooked slop.

She threw us in our seats and ordered for us when a woman swathed in black and pearls sat down across from me.

Ino looked at her and turned toward me, "This is a friend of mine, be nice or I'll tell your fan club your gay and like Jesus Juice."

Her friends eyes widened when she looked at me and she burst out laughing, "My god! Is fate trying to tell us something?" I gave her a long suffering look and said. "Fate is always trying to tell me something."

She smiled

I smiled

We both laughed

As we regained our composure, Naruto scratched his head and asked, "So you 2, Hinata, Sasuke know each other then?"

I smirked and replied, "Well she's like the annoying scratch I can't get rid of."

She swatted my leg and turned to Ino, "Hey did you order?"

"Yes"

She turned back to me, "So, this looks pretty boring doesn't it?"

I lent back, "Yep." It was probably then that I acknowledged it, I was falling had fallen in love with this woman and nothing –despite its obvious cliché- would stop me now.

Her eyes lit up.

"So then do you think walls have memories?"

08.

This is another one of those stories.

It involves a boy and a girl

The boy is smart, popular and well off financially

The girl is equally as smart, definitely not as popular, and no where near as financially secure.

And as with all good cliché romances, they are complete and utter opposites.

The boy is class president and has very few, very normal friends.

The girl likes Lolita fashion and has so many friends so far from normal, she keeps a book with there names and hobbies just in case.

Their romance starts with a look, a wrongly spoken word and some misunderstandings that could take years of hard work –or therapy depending on your mood- to sort out. It gradually builds as nothing, has an epiphany and turns into something, has a seizure and a few dozen plot bunnies and somehow miraculously turns into that love thing. The boy gets married to the girl, they decide to repopulate the world in their own image, and somehow find a way to afford that white picket fence I know so many girls dream about.

But what ever happened to all those other less important then the life changing I-love- you conversations? What about them? I would pay good money to read a story about those.

And that's what this is

Another story dedicated to that love thing and all those conversations we missed.

Now your wondering why I bothered to even write this down

Because it's my story, well mine and my beautiful little wife's, and I think it's important regardless of your thoughts on the matter.

So this another one of those cliché stories, with cliché endings and a cliché cast.

Except it's not, because I hate clichés.

THE END!

AUTHOR RANT

I'm so sorry about taking down the chaptered stories, but it was a necessary sacrifice so I don't get banned altogether. Luckily though I have a lot of half written one-shots and plot bunnies so something should happen.

REVIEWS plot bunniesobsessionMORE STORIES!

So yeah REVIEW