We're Falling; We'll be Okay
Disclaimer: Gakuen Alice and anything related to it do not belong to me, but Higuchi Tachibana.
Despite what people would think, Natsume does in fact enjoy the snow. He may be a Fire Alice user but that doesn't mean he boycotts water-related activities.
He's Top Five in the class for swimming.
He doesn't include the girl in his class with the Mermaid Alice.
Standing in a sea of white, Natsume is the black smudge marring the blanket of white that has wrapped the academy in its cold, crisp clutches. He breathes out slowly, watching the steam from his breath rise in the air.
The serenity of the falling snow is marred by his classmates on the other end of the court in the midst of a snowball fight. They attempted to ask him earlier, but that thought died quickly.
Every year, he takes off his mitten and opens his hand as the snow drifts down, watching wispy snowflakes fall within reach of his bare palm.
Except, the snowflakes don't even touch his bare skin before it turns into water.
Something as pure and delicate as snow doesn't last very long or at all in his presence.
He's cold, despite the warmth of his clothing and Alice.
He knows that again and again, every winter he'll try to catch a stray snowflake that dares to fall and that it's a futile measure, but despite the pang of hurt watching it melt in his palm, wants to believe that one day he'll be able to feel the exhilaration of holding a snowflake for that one amazing moment.
Natsume closes his eyes.
His sins follow him, even when he's surrounded by quiet stillness.
"Hyaaaa!"
Natsume heard Mikan the moment her boots took a step in the snow toward his direction.
He, however, does not expect to be bombarded with an armful of snow on top of his head.
"Polka-dots…"
Natsume growls as he grips her pigtail, yanking it for good measure.
It's only for show though since she insists on wearing pigtails on occasion.
Natsume never learned not to enjoy her enraged face, especially when it was directed at him.
Mikan's head follows the movement of the tug, disregarding the slight tug. His face distracts her attention.
She looks down, noticing that the snow that should be past her ankles is all but gone in a circle around Natsume and herself.
"The snow already melted…"
Natsume does not respond as he releases her hair, the water clinging to his hair and face create a pleasant stinging sensation from the cold in contrast to the unpleasant clench in his stomach as Mikan stares at him unabashedly.
She raises her pink mitten to touch the droplets of water clinging to his hair. He visibly flinches, causing her brow to furrow.
He takes a few steps away from her.
If she stays close to him…
Mikan is naïve.
Whimsical.
Flakey.
Delicate.
Like snow.
She won't last long if he stays close to him.
Mikan huffs as he backs away from her.
"Stop moving," she grumbles as every step away from her causes her to stubbornly take a step forward toward him, like moth to flame.
Natsume mentally grins self-deprecatingly at the analogy.
He really should have stayed inside away from everyone else.
"You're nosy," he mutters gruffly, sending her a lukewarm glare before fleeing back to his room. Her gaze burns against his retreating back all the way to his dorm.
He's considering hibernating during the winter. He'll blame it on his Fire Alice.
At least it'll finally be useful for something other than destruction.
Buried underneath his blankets, all Natsume wants to do is sleep and sleep some more until the snow dissipates and spring emerges. Blinking at the ceiling, he can feel the numbing grasp of the sleeping pills he took earlier fraying. Coherency is reemerging.
There are white pieces of paper hanging from his ceiling.
Sleep is the last thing in his mind as he bolts upright, the warmth of his Alice on his fingertips as he prepares himself to confront the intruder.
Who, who…
Tied glittery snowflake-like paper cut outs to his ceiling and is-
-quietly in the middle of his room, at his table, cutting out more snowflakes.
Mikan looks up from her paper craft, eying him curiously with a hint of mirth.
The warmth curdling in his belly from his Alice is replaced with a different type of heat.
He blushes as he realizes he slept without a shirt and only in boxers.
Dammit, a man's room is his sanctuary; he should not be embarrassed by his clothing choices or, in this case, lack thereof.
Although that does not stop his body from clutching the comforter to his chest like a scandalized 17th century lady disturbed from her slumber.
"You were sleeping like a log," Mikan states conversationally, breaking the silence, but makes a point of averting her eyes away from the bottles of medication, including his sleeping pills, that litter his nightstand next to his bed. He swipes the bottles of the table and dumps them into a drawer. The sound of plastic bottles as they tumble into the drawer is as subtle as an elephant in a pastry shop.
He ignores Mikan's pointed look as he hurriedly stuffs his legs into a pair of sweatpants he finds on the floor and flimsy, worn-out T-shirt laying across his chair.
He is well aware of the fact that Mikan can see the minute scars that litter his torso as he slips the shirt over his head.
The Healing Alice can only do so much.
Mikan does not even attempt to hide the fact that she is watching him. He could in fact say something along the lines that she's a pervert for watching him dress, but the intensity of those almond-colored eyes causes him to keep his mouth shut.
Instead, he walks over to her and takes a seat on the floor across from her. He places his elbows on the table and rests his head on them, watching as the sides of Mikan's lips twitch up as she resumes cutting out more snowflakes.
He is certainly a shmuck.
How else would Mikan be able to coerce him into hanging paper snowflakes while she busies herself making more snowflakes?
However, she's moved beyond cutout snowflakes and onto origami snowflakes.
It's quite impressive.
He's only taped four paper snowflakes onto his ceiling before he turns around, she's already created six or seven snowflakes of various sizes, all sitting neatly in a row beside her on top of the table.
For all he knows, she may have the Origami or Papercraft Alice along with the Nullification and Stealing Alice.
The girl is an overachiever with the amount of weird Alices/hobbies/food options she surrounds herself with.
"Tell me again why you're in my room," he mutters darkly as he fumbles with a paper snowflake while standing precariously on a chair as he attempts to pull a piece of tape from the dispenser.
Mikan does not respond, but concentrates on the project at hand. She bites her bottom lip, creasing the paper to her direct specifications. Origami is a serious matter after all.
She holds it up to the late-afternoon light proudly.
"I'm bringing you snow," is all she says as she grabs glue and a jar of glitter.
Nothing screams winter more than glitter and break-ins.
Lying on his carpeted floor, Natsume idly wonders if she'll break into his room again and help him clean up the winter wonderland that has followed him into his room. He does begrudgingly admit it's a sight to behold.
Dangling from his ceiling are at least three dozen cutout and origami snowflakes and there are even some cutout snowflakes taped to his walls. The snowflakes on his ceiling sway lightly as Mikan walks by him to place more snowflakes onto his walls, the movement disrupting the glitter haphazardly glued to the snowflakes to become loose and float slowly down.
Like falling snow.
He shifts his eyes to the window and notes that the snow if falling more heavily than this earlier this morning. He'll have to melt the snow with his Alice if Mikan has any hope of making it back to her room.
Huh.
Mikan takes a seat beside him before she drops to the floor completely, her shoulder lightly bumping into his as she makes herself comfortable on the floor.
They stare at one another before she disturbs the staring (more like glaring contest on Natsume's part) to hold a small origami snowflake close to eye-level.
"For you."
"Aren't all the other snowflakes in my room for me," he questions wryly, but that does not stop his hand from reaching up and gently picking up the small snowflake with his fingers.
"Yup."
He glares at her harder, but it's still a lukewarm glare that has the same effect as a spitting kitten. He is not amused nor does he understand Mikan's brain patterns.
"It won't melt."
Automatically, his hand tightens and crushes the origami snowflake. The paper sizzles and burns in his hand as he disintegrates it, leaving only ash to fall onto the carpet.
Mikan watches him, her face neutral as Natsume turns his head away.
Her shoulder moves away from his. The place where she touched him feels numb.
She doesn't leave.
Instead, she moves away only to roll on top of him like some sort of rolling panda bear.
Mikan ignores his yelp as she squirms against him, her fidgeting to get comfortable on top of him no doubt leaving bruises on his ribs in the future. Natsume expects internal bleeding later.
After a few seconds of fidgeting she settles against him, her head resting on the crook of his neck, her soft breath against his bare skin sends shivers throughout his body. His arms are listening to his brain and stay tucked against his side as she lounges on top of him.
Her fingers lightly trace patterns on his bare arm and stillness permeates the room once more.
She's soft and warm against him and he knows better than to want more.
He knows he should push her away and order her back to her room and the motions will start anew. She'll run runs to Hotaru and sulk for days. Hotaru will pat her head, and offer her little outward sympathy.
Natsume will be on guard the days Mikan sulks because a sad Mikan is an enraged Hotaru.
Mentally, he scoffs. He's gotten soft.
He knew that in elementary school when he held Mikan's hand and he knows it now as she slips her fingers with his. The ash from the origami snowflake still covering his palm makes him cringe as she interlaces their sooty fingers together.
"I saw you standing in the courtyard," Mikan states lightly. "You were watching the snow fall."
He stays silent, patiently listening to her recount.
"The snow was falling heavily and when I looked up, it looked like you were about to disappear," her grip tightens, a tinge of desperation behind the movement.
Natsume finally lifts his arm and wraps it around Mikan's back. He holds her tightly against his body, pressing her closer, if possible, against his.
He thought she was delicate and ephemeral, someone who would disappear if he turned his back on her.
How ironic that she would perceive the same of him.
Mikan moves again toward the table, but stubbornly doesn't let go of their intertwined hands. In the midst of her squirming, she accidently elbows him in the stomach, but resumes her former position on top of him after grabbing something off the tabletop.
Natsume contemplates complaining and sending empty threats about throwing her out in the blizzard, just as she places something into his free hand.
It's another snowflake.
She tentatively looks up at him, her chin resting on his chest. Her eyes are hopeful as she smiles up at him, giving his hand a squeeze.
The snowflake doesn't melt in his hand nor does it combust into flames.
In the morning, when the sunlight is glaring off the snow and into his eyes, he notices Mikan curled against him at his side, drooling into his shirt. Their hands unfurled into the middle of the night, but the backs of their palms are still touching.
In his other hand, the snowflake remains. It's a little crinkled and it's a little worse for wear, but it still sparkles in the morning sun.
Mikan snuffles against his shirt, awake but drowsy. She hums happily as she notices the slightly wrinkled origami snowflake still in his hand.
"See, it's okay."
SS: Hello, my amazing and beautiful readers! I hope you liked this fic. It's been a while since my last NxM fic, so I hope I haven't gotten rusty! haha Reviews would totally rock! ;) Happy New Years, by the way! I hope 2011 for all of you is fantastic! This is a new year, but rather than taking the year as a lump sum, treat every day as a day for renewal and new opportunities!
