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Hotaru was not worried. She had indeed noted the absence of one moron at breakfast this morning, and the housekeeping robot carry what looked like medicine in the direction of said moron's room, but that did not cause her worry.
She was not distracted. She did not glance at her watch often to check the time and figure out when the idiot would burst through the door, apologizing for being late. She did not consider breaking her perfect attendance record to go check on the girl. (The handwriting on the board declared in pink and curvy letters that it was a self-study day, so the teacher hadn't come in.)
She did not listen intently to the murmurs and rumors being spread throughout the classroom, sifting through them to find a hint at what was wrong with the moron. She was still able to concentrate completely on her invention, because unlike said moron, it was a profitable time investment.
She was not worried at all about the girl. She just wanted to work on her invention, finish class and go back to her lab. That was all. She wasn't concerned, worried, or troubled when she thought about the idiot.
Even if she wasn't any of those things, she still had a duty as class president to check up on all absent students who don't come in after the first two hours of class. (Hyuuga was the exception to that rule, she respected her life above something like attendance.) So she had a reason to be here, in front of the moron's door, a perfectly acceptable one that would not raise eyebrows and earn glances.
Her heart was not thumping in her chest loudly, her hands were not shaking slightly when she thought about what could be wrong with the moron. She was perfectly calm, perfectly poised.
When she did enter the room, her eyes were instantly drawn to the bed, where she found the idiot. Dressed in a white cotton nightgown, the girl lay in her bed, unmoving, as she slept. Her face was a combination of pale, pale white, and dark red. (How that was possible she wasn't quite sure, but it was.)
Hotaru sat on the bed softly, gazing intently at the sleeping girl. (Her eyes were shut tightly, in pain, her hands clenched, her bangs pasted to her head from her sweat, Hotaru noted.) She gently brushed the hair off of her forehead, stamping on it a sticker to help ease the fever. Then she rummaged in her bag, and pulled out a small bottle of medicine. (She had not invented it today for the idiot.) Her hand dropped some of her medicine tablets into a glass of water, and she held it up to her eyes to make sure it dissolved.
Once she confirmed that it indeed had, Hotaru called out to her. "Mikan, Mikan. Wake up." Mikan slowly opened her eyes, rubbing them to help her wake up. She looked around, dazed and unfocused, until they landed on Hotaru. Her eyes lit up, and she smiled. "Hotaru!" She rasped out, but winced and grasped her throat.
Hotaru watched her (non)worriedly. "Does it hurt?" Mikan nodded, keeping her hands on her throat. She tried to talk again. "It feels like a stake is in my throat." Hotaru handed her the glass of medicine. "Drink."
Mikan took it with one hand, keeping a hand wrapped around her neck. She tipped the glass towards her lips, and let some of it pour down her throat. She winced, and grasped her throat even tighter. "It hurts." She croaked out. Hotaru (her heart had not wrenched at the sound of her plea) held the baka gun up to her head. "Drink." (Because she knew that although it might hurt, it was good for her, and it was more trouble if she didn't get better now.)
Mikan nodded, and drank a little bit more. Her eyes were screwed shut, teeth gritted, but she managed to finish the glass. She lay back on her pillows, exhaling tiredly. She reached out and grasped Hotaru's hand, squeezing it lightly. (It was cold and clammy and generally unpleasant.)
Suddenly Hotaru could not find any other use for the hand except to have it be held and squeezed and reassured by a girl who she should really be reassuring. She couldn't find any use for her time except to watch over the girl and smile a half-smile (not to make Mikan happy) for no reason. Eventually Mikan took her hand out of the other girl's, (Hotaru did not miss the feel of it) and used it to pull up the covers around her shoulders.
Hotaru put the fliers from class on her night table. "Do you need anything else?" (She was not searching the girl's eyes with her own, looking for anything that might suggest what she really wanted, to give reason for her to stay here.)
Mikan shook her head. "No, I'm ok."
"I see." She stood up, and Mikan watched her sadly. "Are you leaving?"
But instead she pulled up a chair, and plunked down, pulling out an invention to tinker on. Even if Mikan was ok now, there was no guarantee that would be the same in the next three hours. "Sleep."
Mikan's features lit up, and she nodded. "Ok!" She snuggled down into the covers, eyes already fluttering shut. She murmured quietly before falling asleep, "I love you, Hotaru.."
Hotaru watched her a bit, eyes softening. And because Mikan was asleep and couldn't hear her, and because no one was there, and because she felt that she had to be honest about her feelings at some point, she squeezed the girl's hand and smiled. "I love you too."
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AN: This took three classes to write. Although I love not paying attention in class to write things like this, I was really sleepy and had to actually work on some school before I could just slack off. Other than that, you can read into this story anyway you want. I wrote it thinking of platonic possibly on the verge of romantic feelings, but you can decide for yourselves. -shrugs-
The idea of Hotaru not being honest and slightly tsundere towards Mikan came to me when I realized how much of a tsundere my little brother is. He's quite like Hotaru in a way, so you might say I based it off of him.
Savvy?
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