Note: I'm not yet done with editing my fanfics, so updates might be a little slow for now….
Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice and its characters.
.;"As Fragile as Glass";.
Mikan had always thought of Natsume as a hot-headed, arrogant bastard who made her life hard ever since she entered the prestigious Alice Academy.
She hated that boy! Never in her life had she been insulted as badly as when Natsume pulled her skirt off after she clambered off him in fear. He even gave her the name 'polka-dots'! Was she supposed to get used to feeling air rushing up her bare legs when he tripped her, or what?
Okay, maybe not all of her falls were connected to Natsume. Mikan simply loved to think of it that way; it gave her a reason to dislike Natsume more.
As time passed, Mikan found herself observing her partner more often. She would let her eyes roam around the classroom, but it would always land on him in the end, taking in every detail of his face, from the way his unruly black hair fell to the way his deep red eyes would soften when he thought no one was looking. His eyes had always fascinated her – she had never seen anyone with such eyes before.
Natsume was a nuisance and a troublemaker, she knew that. His rebellious streak often had her inner self screaming at him to be more polite. It was not until she found out more about the Dangerous Ability class teacher, Persona, that her heart warmed up to him a little.
One thing was certain – the fire alice had a soft spot for children, especially for Youichi. She had stumbled upon the pair more than once when she was walking at the fringe of the Northern Woods; Natsume had looked so content watching Youichi play – his eyes were like those of an older brother, warm and caring. Seeing him like that never failed to tease a smile out of Mikan, and she always left them feeling happy knowing that Natsume was happy as well.
There was also the episode of her hard-earned howalons. Sure, he refused to help her earn some rabbits to buy her candy when she asked him, yet she had a sneaking suspicion that he helped her all the same. This led her to believe that Natsume was not the cold, uncaring person he seemed to be, at least once in a while.
It wasn't long before she included Natsume in her nightly prayers to God. She really wanted him to be less mysterious and more open with his friends. Couldn't he? He had no reason to act so adult-like and aloof, had he?
But then she saw him suffering in silence, his hands trembling whenever he held his manga in front of his face. She heard him take jerky breaths of air, sometimes fast breaths, sometimes painful shudders. And other times, she would smell a faint odour coming from him that smelt suspiciously like blood.
Despite that, Natsume never uttered a word of complaint. Not even a whisper, no groans, nothing. Mikan admired his tolerance level, but that didn't stop her from worrying.
She felt compelled to continue trying to forge a friendship with him, without really knowing why. And so Mikan continued to dream, of blue skies and pink clouds, and of the cherry blossoms in spring.
It came as a shock when she found out, through a blustering Sumire, that Natsume was hospitalised again. Her dream bubble burst and her hands fell limp at her sides, eyes staring blankly at Sumire as though the latter's pale face could show her the denial she wanted to see. There was none.
Mikan bit her nails unconsciously as she waited, her mind thrown into turmoil. Was Natsume grievously hurt? Or would someone come up to her and tell her that it had all been a joke?
But Natsume's seat remained empty for the rest of the day, and a sense of dread continued to eat away at her.
That evening, she arranged to meet Ruka at the entrance to the hospital and begged him to bring her to Natsume. Though surprised, Ruka complied and promised to bring her there the next morning. The friends hugged each other anxiously as the sun set beyond the academy walls, a brunette and a blonde, two tiny ants against the huge hospital building.
They got past the reception area at noon, with the sun at the zenith. Mikan could feel her heart thumping against her ribcage as she and Ruka walked along the seemingly endless corridors, seeing nothing but white walls and solemn hospital staff.
She hesitated when they finally reached the room where Natsume was being warded, her hand resting on the cold metal doorknob. The cold of the metal seeped into her bones and added to her nervousness. She nearly turned back, but Ruka placed his hand on hers and turned the doorknob. The door gave way silently.
Like the entire hospital, the room was pure white – pristine white walls, white beds, white sheets…even the cupboards and the cabinets were white. She couldn't help covering her nose with her hand because the sickly smell of medicine was too overwhelming.
Ruka beckoned to her from the bedside. Natsume was there, looking at peace in his sleep. The snow-white blanket covered his body up to his shoulders, the edges of the blanket touching the fluffy pillow Natsume used. Mikan came quietly, her soft brown eyes fixed on her unconscious partner.
She and Ruka sat side by side on the chairs provided. Mikan was at a loss for words; she merely stared at the prone figure lying in the bed. Natsume looked so pale, surrounded by white like that. It worried her.
"He was warded for over-using his alice," Ruka murmured into her ear. Mikan bowed her head when she heard that.
She had suspected it already, ever since the Reo incident two years ago. What she didn't understand was why Natsume continued doing it anyway. Had he no care for his life?
Suddenly, Ruka touched her arm with a cry of alarm. Following his gaze, Mikan looked at Natsume and gasped when she saw that he was spasming, whimpering once in a while.
"Natsume!" she whispered, worried. Ruka left in a hurry to fetch a doctor, leaving Mikan alone with Natsume. Not knowing what to do, she reached out under the soft blanket and grasped Natsume's hand, squeezing it in what she hoped was a reassuring way.
She could only watch as tears squeezed their way out of the corners of Natsume's closed eyes. His hand gripped hers tightly, squeezing it so tight that it hurt. Mikan could only cry by his side, helpless. Natsume paled a bit more when coughs racked his frail body. He looked so pitiful, so harmless.
A moan of pain escaped him, and she cried even more. With her free hand, she caressed his cheek and stroked his hair, murmuring words of comfort. Dimly, her mind registered the sound of shoes against cement and the echoes of people talking.
At that moment, she was reminded of something, a piece of puzzle she had left out when putting together Natsume's personality in her mind. Whatever facade Natsume used, no matter how tough he seemed, he was just as breakable as anyone else – as fragile as glass.
--THE END--
I'll assume that Mikan doesn't know about Aoi just yet….
It's been so long since I actually posted/updated anything here, and boy, am I rusty! Please bear with me while I try to get used to this again.
Reviews and criticism are very much welcome, flames will be ignored unless there's some sense to be made of it. If you spot any mistakes, please point them out. Thanks.