Chemistry
Happy Holiday, everyone (although it's 26th Dec here)! This time I won't bring you rant. Instead, I shall post a fluffy original fic, inspired by mommy Rei's note on facebook, 'What It Wasn't'! Enjoy!
Title: Chemistry
Rating: G
Genre: romance, fluff, humor(?)
Chemistry
The strangest thing was that he’s actually a telepath. Ok, he’s not. He just kinds of read minds (or so he said to spook people. He’s actually a good body language reader) and liked to think that she could read his mind. She didn’t know how exactly he got the idea, but it was amusing, so she played along with it.
He was also a knight on a white steed and her heart skipped a beat when they met. She thought it’s kinda hard not to have your heart do that when you turned into a corner only to almost be trampled by a frustrated white horse and its terrified rider. She told him that her heart stopped when she saw him, but he didn’t get her sarcasm. He paid for her medical bill, so she let it slide. Still, it didn’t explain why she agreed to go on dates with him. Was she that desperate?
Well, yeah. She’s approaching her late twenties and her friends and family insisted that her biological clock was ticking. They shoved pictures of weddings and babies to her face, insisting that she wanted that, too, very soon. They advertised single handsome, rich, and totally perfect guys who somehow couldn’t get a girlfriend. And worst of all, they wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer from her. So, she said yes, and went on dates with faded makeup and clothes that stink of her sweat because some people have to work hard to pay the bills and still show up to dates her friends and family set up for her. They couldn’t say she didn’t try to make the relationships work.
But back to reality. Her current date, her knight on white steed, was telling her a story. He watched a lot of movies and TV shows (what the hell was his job anyway? She should remember to ask next time) and thought it’s funny that she preferred reading fanfictions before passing out on her bed to watching quality entertainment. He told her all about his favorite movies and shows and their characters and little trivia that no one cared about. She tried to keep up, she really did. But she was lost after the fifth story arc about a housewife who slept with anything that moved. She laughed when he laughed, out of politeness and confusion. He found it adorable, for some unfathomable reason, and told her another story that she couldn’t relate to.
He wasn’t the only one doing the talking. She told him stories, too. The things she was into, the gags that made her laugh, the stuff that pissed her off, and so on. He’d nod and smile and make inquiries, but she always had the feeling that he didn’t quite get what she’s talking about.
Oh, he tried to understand, though. It was obvious from his calls, emails, and online chats that he googled some topics she mentioned. Sometimes, she really thought he got it and they were finally on the same page. Most of the time, she knew they both tried too hard to keep up with each other.
But, he’s a nice guy, her friends said. He opened the door and pulled out the chair for you. He bought you little gifts. He listened to you when you talk about your stupid interests and boring job. He’d drive you to wherever when you feel like going somewhere. Best of all, he’s really into you. He’s, like, a perfect boyfriend!
Yeah, she guessed so. Except that, no, he’s not really the perfect boyfriend. And yes, she knew because she was actually dating him while her friends were busy stalking his facebook page.
She read manuals, took online tests, and asked her girlfriends to find out what was wrong. Was it her stubbornness? Her strange hesitance to commit to someone? Her obsession with internet? Her aversion to healthy food? Her fascination with tall, lean guys with rocking body who loved to dance and sing while flirting with girls through camera? Or, dammit, did it have to do with her strange compulsion to say ‘lol’ during real conversations?
She looked at her prince, exasperated. She had been mulling over it since they met. There was barely a time when she didn’t think of what she should change about her or what she wanted to change about him. She frustrated herself with her inability to just accept. What was wrong with her? And him? Didn’t those relationship experts said it always two person’s fault?
He was nice and she was okay. From the surface, they couldn’t be any more perfect. He’s tolerant and she’s open-minded. It should’ve worked. He’s decent-looking and she was, too. So what was the problem?
She stared at her cup of tea studiously, listening to some story about a group of super cop who managed to solve a murder with science. Then suddenly it occurred to her what the problem was and, no, she didn’t suddenly plan to kill him. She just suddenly realized what was lacking in their relationship.
She looked at him, feeling empowered by knowledge. “Let’s stop seeing each other.” She announced.
Later when she left the diner, she smiled widely without any reservation. It didn’t work out this time, but she was sure one day it would. After all, now she was armed with one more fact to find her Mr. Okay. Now she knew what to look for; chemistry. She sighed happily, a pop singer wailing in her head. She walked down the street, ready for new opportunity.
The End
Title: Chemistry
Rating: G
Genre: romance, fluff, humor(?)
Chemistry
The strangest thing was that he’s actually a telepath. Ok, he’s not. He just kinds of read minds (or so he said to spook people. He’s actually a good body language reader) and liked to think that she could read his mind. She didn’t know how exactly he got the idea, but it was amusing, so she played along with it.
He was also a knight on a white steed and her heart skipped a beat when they met. She thought it’s kinda hard not to have your heart do that when you turned into a corner only to almost be trampled by a frustrated white horse and its terrified rider. She told him that her heart stopped when she saw him, but he didn’t get her sarcasm. He paid for her medical bill, so she let it slide. Still, it didn’t explain why she agreed to go on dates with him. Was she that desperate?
Well, yeah. She’s approaching her late twenties and her friends and family insisted that her biological clock was ticking. They shoved pictures of weddings and babies to her face, insisting that she wanted that, too, very soon. They advertised single handsome, rich, and totally perfect guys who somehow couldn’t get a girlfriend. And worst of all, they wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer from her. So, she said yes, and went on dates with faded makeup and clothes that stink of her sweat because some people have to work hard to pay the bills and still show up to dates her friends and family set up for her. They couldn’t say she didn’t try to make the relationships work.
But back to reality. Her current date, her knight on white steed, was telling her a story. He watched a lot of movies and TV shows (what the hell was his job anyway? She should remember to ask next time) and thought it’s funny that she preferred reading fanfictions before passing out on her bed to watching quality entertainment. He told her all about his favorite movies and shows and their characters and little trivia that no one cared about. She tried to keep up, she really did. But she was lost after the fifth story arc about a housewife who slept with anything that moved. She laughed when he laughed, out of politeness and confusion. He found it adorable, for some unfathomable reason, and told her another story that she couldn’t relate to.
He wasn’t the only one doing the talking. She told him stories, too. The things she was into, the gags that made her laugh, the stuff that pissed her off, and so on. He’d nod and smile and make inquiries, but she always had the feeling that he didn’t quite get what she’s talking about.
Oh, he tried to understand, though. It was obvious from his calls, emails, and online chats that he googled some topics she mentioned. Sometimes, she really thought he got it and they were finally on the same page. Most of the time, she knew they both tried too hard to keep up with each other.
But, he’s a nice guy, her friends said. He opened the door and pulled out the chair for you. He bought you little gifts. He listened to you when you talk about your stupid interests and boring job. He’d drive you to wherever when you feel like going somewhere. Best of all, he’s really into you. He’s, like, a perfect boyfriend!
Yeah, she guessed so. Except that, no, he’s not really the perfect boyfriend. And yes, she knew because she was actually dating him while her friends were busy stalking his facebook page.
She read manuals, took online tests, and asked her girlfriends to find out what was wrong. Was it her stubbornness? Her strange hesitance to commit to someone? Her obsession with internet? Her aversion to healthy food? Her fascination with tall, lean guys with rocking body who loved to dance and sing while flirting with girls through camera? Or, dammit, did it have to do with her strange compulsion to say ‘lol’ during real conversations?
She looked at her prince, exasperated. She had been mulling over it since they met. There was barely a time when she didn’t think of what she should change about her or what she wanted to change about him. She frustrated herself with her inability to just accept. What was wrong with her? And him? Didn’t those relationship experts said it always two person’s fault?
He was nice and she was okay. From the surface, they couldn’t be any more perfect. He’s tolerant and she’s open-minded. It should’ve worked. He’s decent-looking and she was, too. So what was the problem?
She stared at her cup of tea studiously, listening to some story about a group of super cop who managed to solve a murder with science. Then suddenly it occurred to her what the problem was and, no, she didn’t suddenly plan to kill him. She just suddenly realized what was lacking in their relationship.
She looked at him, feeling empowered by knowledge. “Let’s stop seeing each other.” She announced.
Later when she left the diner, she smiled widely without any reservation. It didn’t work out this time, but she was sure one day it would. After all, now she was armed with one more fact to find her Mr. Okay. Now she knew what to look for; chemistry. She sighed happily, a pop singer wailing in her head. She walked down the street, ready for new opportunity.
The End