Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice. I've been writing this story since July, and it has drastically changed since then. It still feels a little incomplete in some places, but I do not want to write in any potential plotholes or contradictions. It can be a bit overdramatic at parts, and I'm not sure what I wanted to set as the overall tone, but I hope you enjoy and gain something from it!
No matter what universe they live in, Mikan will always wait for Natsume to come home.
"Mikan!"
Underneath the shade of a red-striped umbrella, Mikan Sakura sat up from her lounging position and lifted her oversized sunglasses to see a pair of twins approaching: Anna Umenomiya (wavy pink hair, renown baker who owned a small chain of bakeries around Japan, friend of Mikan) and Nonoko Ogasawara (straight hair so black it almost looked blue, researcher for a prominent innovative corporation, also a friend of Mikan).
"Finally! You're late," pouted the brunette as she stood to give both of them a hug.
"We're only late because we stopped to buy someone a gift," said Anna in a sing-song voice. Nonoko smiled slyly at her twin as she pulled out a small box from her purse.
Mikan's eyes lit up. "Really?" Anna and Nonoko laughed at her expression.
"Sorry, Mikan, it's not for you," started Anna. Nonoko finished, "It's for Kyou."
At the mention of his name, the two year-old looked up from his current task of attempting to eat his mother's necklace and reached his hands out for the box. Hotaru Imai (short black hair, businesswoman, best friend of Mikan and godmother of Kyou) frowned at the little boy as he dropped the wet, slobbery strand into her lap, where he was currently sitting.
"Gimme, gimme," chanted the little boy, pudgy fingers wriggling in the air. Nonoko teased the poor boy by holding it just out his reach.
"Ugh, control your son, Mikan," said Hotaru with disgust. She delicately picked up the wet necklace with two fingers, using as little skin as possible, and threw it onto the table.
Sumire Shouda (curly black hair highlighted with green, former Sono's waitress and somewhat successful model, also a friend of Mikan!) glared at both Hotaru and the necklace. "Don't throw it my way," she said snobbishly as she used the edge of her menu to scoot it toward Mikan.
Mikan simply laughed at her friends' squirmy nature and picked it up. As his mother, she was obviously used to touching things covered with Kyou's saliva. He never seemed able to stop putting things in his mouth.
"Don't tease the kid," scolded Anna as she took the present from Nonoko's hand and gave it to the boy.
The little boy cheered. "Thank you, auntie Anna and auntie Nono!" He immediately ripped it open. He squealed in delight, making all the women laugh, as he bit into a rubber penguin, his favorite animal at the moment.
"It's supposed to be a teething toy for babies," Nonoko explained, taking a seat next to Hotaru, and Anna sat next to Sumire, completing the circle. "But since Kyou loves penguins and biting things, we figured it'd be perfect."
"He loves it already," Mikan noted happily. "Thank you so much, Nonoko and Anna."
The girls smiled at her and her wonderful son before getting down to business and ordering food.
When Mikan became pregnant nearly three years ago, her friends were shocked, of course; they were so young. Even more shocking was their absolute lack of knowledge about Kyou's father. Hotaru had tried her best to drag the truth out of Mikan, but in the end, Hotaru had to admit defeat, confessing that she had barely an inkling on where Mikan would meet somebody. To her knowledge, Mikan had spent her time going to school, working at Sono's as a waitress, and taking care of the other kids in the group home where she lived. Mikan wouldn't tell any one of her friends, not even her beloved seniors, about who Kyou's father was, and the only clues they had were the parts of Kyou that weren't like Mikan: the black hair, the oddly shaded brown eyes that always seemed to be red, and the grumpy countenance whenever he didn't get what he wanted. Sumire forced herself to remember if any customers fit that description, and sometimes she swore she had a couple fading memories of a good-looking boy with red eyes, but there had been so many customers and she admittedly had been at a low point in her life that her memories of working were all a little blurred.
Reassured only by Mikan's rare, fleeting moments of reflection where she hinted that Kyou's father was only out of the picture temporarily, the girls loved Mikan regardless and loved Kyou and supported her through motherhood.
And so Mikan spent a wonderful lunch with her closest friends, surrounded by love.
Mikan Sakura was 16 years old and still in the foster care system. She knew her chances of ever being adopted were slim; it was simply a fact of life that most couples wanted a cute kid, a child they could watch grow up, not an almost independent, moody teenager.
She thought she had found her forever home nine years ago with a loving old man who treated her as though she were his granddaughter by blood. It wasn't the picturesque family with a mommy and a daddy she had imagined, but he cared for her with affection, and that had been enough for her to be happy. However, he had been quite elderly when he adopted her so it was only a matter of time when nature took him away from her.
That was two years ago.
Grandfather hadn't had any family to take her in so it was back into the system for her. She had good friends, even a best friend who wanted her to move in with her, but none of their families could fully support another person in the house; besides, she didn't want to be a burden, she couldn't ask her friends to do that.
Ever the optimist, she tried her best to make the most of it, tried her best to be happy. She took care of the younger children, she had friends at school, she participated in clubs and teams, she worked hard in school and at her job, and she smiled. If she continued to smile, she could convince herself she was happy. She could convince herself she had everything she needed.
But all she wanted was a place to belong, a forever home.
In the meanwhile, she supposed she would do her best to make the group home feel a bit more like a "home," especially for the kids. She had read a quote somewhere along the lines of, "Be the person you needed when you were younger."
Mikan's life was fueled by motivational quotes and personal reminders like "Never give up!"
She set the example of how to be a good person, she was a role model, and to some kids, she was a hero. She kissed boo-boos, hugged them when they were scared, read them stories, and showed them how to be happy.
She showed them how to be kind, how to be strong, and how to be brave, too.
And that was why when little eight year-old Youichi wanted a glass of milk late at night and looked outside to discover a scarily still body lying in the sandbox, he decided to be kind, strong, and brave. With little hands, he flicked on the outside lights, unlocked the back door. and cautiously approached.
It was a boy around Mikan's age, Youichi guessed, a grown-up, lying face down in the sand. All he could see was the boy's black hair and that face that he was barely breathing. Youichi knew something was wrong, even though he couldn't see the blood seeping through the boy's shirt or the gun carefully tucked away.
Youichi scrambled back inside and up the stairs. Not bothering to knock, he burst into Mikan's room. She looked up from her work at the desk.
"Mikan, there's someone really hurt outside," said Youichi, breathless and wide-eyed.
Without hesitation, she left her homework and dashed downstairs, Youichi following behind her. When Mikan looked outside, she nearly screamed before remembering that there were other kids in the house, other happily sleeping kids who did not need to see what she and poor traumatized Youichi saw.
Mikan rolled the body over, which let out a low groan and a squish as she did. A black cat mask covered the boy's face so she couldn't see who it was, and immediately Mikan's mind ran through every kid's name and face who currently lived in the group home, wondering who had sneaked out and gotten himself into trouble.
"Oh my God," she said shrilly, realizing that her hands were covered in a sticky liquid. She held them up to the light to see that they were really red. Mikan kicked into an adrenaline-fueled overdrive. She ripped the boy's shirt apart to find blood just covering the boy's torso from a still leaking gash. She took off her own sweater, flinging away the useless pieces that used to be his shirt, and tried her best to tie it tightly. With strength that only came in an emergency, she managed to lift him off the ground and start a slow, grueling hobble into the house.
Youichi rushed forward.
"Youichi," she hissed, "you don't need to see this. Go to your room."
He shook his head stubbornly, slinging one of the boy's arms around him. "He's hurt. I can help."
Mikan nodded, not about to argue and waste time. "Be very quiet. We don't want anyone else to wake up."
Together, they dragged him into the bathroom on the ground floor and deposited him into the bathtub, limbs dangling over the edge. Mikan turned on the water, letting it soak the boy's body.
"Youichi, get me a couple of towels," she ordered.
Youichi nodded obediently and left.
Mikan reached to take off the mask (to let him breathe), but the boy showed his first sign of life as his hand sprung forward to grab her wrist tightly. His touch was unfamiliar.
He shook his head.
"As long as you can breathe," Mikan muttered, and the boy let go of her wrist. Her hand went to work untying her sweater, which she then pressed heavily against where she guessed the wound was.
The boy didn't even flinch.
Keeping her hands firmly over the wound, she mentally prepared herself for what she was sure was a gruesome sight.
1, 2, 3…
She felt the boy's breathing underneath her hands, lifting and falling ever so slightly. Mikan squinted at the unforgiving cat mask. "Is that you, Ryuu? I swear to God if it is you, if you're still alive after this, I will literally whoop your ass." Red swirled down the drain.
...18, 19, 20!
She peeled away the sopping clump of fabric and tossed it to the side.
"Oh thank God," she sighed in relief. It wasn't as bad as the amount of blood had made it seem. It was a singular, almost completely straight line about six inches across. It didn't seem too deep, there was no loose, flapping flesh, and it seemed the bleeding had stemmed. She scanned the rest of his body (which she still couldn't identify because she was sure nobody looked like that in the group home) and noticed only a few other minor injuries. "You're going to live."
Then she scowled and nearly hit him. "What the hell? You gave us such a scare. Poor Youichi." The cat mask remained emotionless.
"Mikan, the towels." He shoved the towels right into her face. "Oh, that doesn't look too bad."
Mikan turned the water off, her upper body already soaked. Grabbing one towel to start cleaning the blood away, Mikan snuck a look at Youichi's face. While he was a looked a little pale, he seemed steady and not panicked.
In fact, her own energy seemed to be draining, but she still had to be alert. The boy had lost a whole lot of blood.
"You probably need to replace the fluids you just lost," said Mikan under her breath, noting that the wound most likely wouldn't warrant stitches. "And get some rest."
"I'll call for a doctor," Youichi announced, tearing his eyes away from Mikan's work and turning around.
As soon as Youichi was outside the bathroom, Mikan suddenly found herself with a gun pressed to her chest, right above her heart. She froze.
"Do not call anyone," the boy hissed. He cocked the gun. "Do you understand?"
Mikan stared at the unmoving cat eyes. "You're not Ryuu, are you?" she said softly.
The gun pressed harder against her, a thin tank top preventing the metal from touching her skin. "What do you think, Polka Dots?"
She flushed and gritted her teeth. She knew what pattern her bra was, and now he knew, too.
"Youichi!" she called as quietly as she could. "Get off the phone."
"What?"
"Did you call the doctor?"
"No, not yet, but - "
"Don't."
The gun stayed pointed at her. She heard Youichi's footsteps. She was afraid to make sudden movements, but she didn't want to scare Youichi. Gaze locked on that stupid cat mask, she shifted as quickly as she could so her back faced the door and pulled the shower curtain around them a little bit.
Her eyes were fixed to those beady cat eyes. Were they mocking her? Did they understand?
She heard Youichi in the doorway. "You don't want to call the doctor? Mikan, he's hurt!"
"He's not too badly hurt. We could patch him up."
"Mikan - "
"Stay where you are, Youichi!"
Mikan could feel Youichi's curious stare burn into her back. She felt a drop of sweat make its way from her hair down her neck. The gun insistently reminded her to act natural.
"He's scared of hospitals, Youichi," said Mikan softly. "He doesn't want to go."
Fear was something Youichi could understand. Fear deterred him from visiting his parents' graves. Fear made him triple-check the doors and windows every night with Mikan. Fear made him tremble, made him ashamed, and made him understand.
"What can we do then?" He accepted the excuse. The cat-boy lowered the gun.
"Can you get me the first-aid kit from the kitchen?"
In the few seconds it took Youichi to bring her what she needed, Mikan took the time to assess the person who most definitely was not Ryuu, this stranger with a gun in a house full of little kids. Mikan imagined that behind the mask, the boy was looking back at her, too, and she wondered what he saw. She watched as he carefully tucked the gun back into its hiding place.
"Here it is." She took the box from Youichi.
With deft hands, she used an antibacterial wipe to more thoroughly cleanse the wound, slathered it in ointment, and wrapped gauze around the boy's torso. It didn't take too much effort from the boy, simply lifting his back every now and again, but Mikan could see that his skin was paler than it should have been.
"Come on, let's have you lie down in a more comfortable bed," said Mikan, wrapping the boy's arm around her, Youichi rushing forward to help again. Even though him being conscious definitely made the task much easier than earlier, he was unsteady on his feet, and she could hear his labored breathing through the mask.
By the time they had reached Mikan's bedroom, the boy in the cat mask collapsed on the bed.
"Youichi, go clean up the bathroom and anything else we might have knocked over," she ordered. "I'll take care of him."
The young boy nodded, grateful for the older girl whom he admired immensely to somehow always know what to do.
When she heard Youichi go down the stairs, she went closer to the boy in the cat mask and looked at him critically.
"Look," she whispered fiercely, not knowing he was still awake behind the mask. "There are 36 kids living here, and most of them are little. I can't endanger their lives by letting you keep this gun. You were ready to pull it on me, and if you want to stay here, you'll have to give it to me because I don't know if you're going to pull it on any one of them. I promise I won't use it on you. I just need to know the kids will be safe. From you."
There was a silent pause that lasted several seconds, causing Mikan to wonder if he had really fainted or if he had heard at all, before he nodded in understanding and relinquished the gun.
Mikan held it delicately as if just by touching it, it would go off. She tucked it away somewhere the boy couldn't see.
"Good night," she said as she turned off the lights and shut the door, leaving him in darkness.
The boy woke up to a needle being pricked into his arm. He would have panicked and jumped if hands weren't holding him down. It was that girl from before. She wasn't that strong compared to him, but then again, he had just lost blood and already, just by being awake, he could see the edges of his vision blurring and turning black. He was relieved to find the mask still on his face.
He instinctively reached for his gun before fuzzily remembering him handing it to her. Damn.
"Good job holding him, Mikan," complimented the dark-haired man who looked like a doctor. "I might have poked something I didn't need to if he had flinched."
"I thought I told you not to call a doctor," he growled hoarsely to the brown-haired idiot still pinning him down.
"He's not a doctor," clarified Mikan, "he's a friend." She paused thoughtfully. "And a medical student."
The man grunted in affirmation.
"You lost a lot of blood, and I understand you don't want to go to the hospital. Reckless decision," he commented indifferently as he set up what appeared to be a homemade IV. Sure he would not struggle, Mikan let go of his arms. "But I understand. Most kids don't want to encounter the system for whatever reason. You're lucky Mikan found you in that alley. The streets are dangerous, and many terrors lurk in the night."
The boy automatically looked at Mikan, who nodded emphatically, trying to convey something with her eyes. "Yes, you are lucky. Reckless, but lucky I found you after you were mugged in that dark alleyway," she said slowly.
The boy nearly scoffed, almost blowing their cover, at the thought of someone mugging him, but he knew she hadn't told the medical student about how she found him, which was good. She was smart.
"Mikan did a pretty good job patching up that wound, and it'll probably scar, but you'll be all right if you just rest and eat something," he said as he stood up and packed up his things. He turned to Mikan and looked at her with soft eyes. "You don't need to take care of everyone, you know?"
"Yeah, I know," she said, dismissing his concern. "Don't tell Hotaru, though, please?"
The man sighed but nodded his agreement.
"Let me walk you out." The girl turned back toward the boy in the cat mask. "I'll go get you some soup and some water. Oh, and we have fish, too!"
"That's not funny," he muttered, his first words in hours, but he had seen the small grin appear on her face before they walked out.
It was a long while before she came back up, and he could hear the two having an extended, hushed conversation downstairs. He knew the man would ask questions like why he was wearing that mask, why did she bring him in, what was she thinking, etc.
Then she appeared in the doorway, holding a steaming bowl carefully with two hands. The small boy from before shyly peeked his head out from behind her, carrying a glass of water and a plate with (she was serious) pieces of fish and rice.
"He wanted to see how you were doing," she explained as she set the bowl on the nightstand next to the bed. The little boy peered at him with wide, innocent eyes. She kept one hand firmly on Youichi's shoulder. Just in case.
"Does it hurt?" he asked in a hushed tone.
The boy in the cat mask shook his head, and the two males stared at each other. "Thank you," he said finally with a quiet, rough voice, "for helping me. And for being brave."
Youichi lightly blushed and smiled shyly at his compliment.
"Now you've seen him so off to bed you go," said Mikan, shooing the boy away. Obediently, Youichi placed the glass and the plate on the nightstand and whispered, "Good night," before scurrying to his room.
"If that's all you need…" she trailed off softly as she watched the boy gently sit himself up, trying not to mess with the needle in his arm. He looked so heartbreakingly weak as his arms shook and his breathing became audibly labored.
She sat down on the bed, careful not to sit on him, and picked up the glass of water to hold out to him. "You're going to have to take that mask off."
"Not with you in the room."
"You need food, and you need to rest," she said firmly. "You need someone to help you eat. And for me to do that, you need to take off the mask."
He paused longer than he had that night, and Mikan knew he was fighting internally with himself.
"You can trust me. I won't tell anyone," she reassured him softly, placing one hand gently over his.
"Nobody," he emphasized. She nodded obediently. After another second of hesitation, he reached up and took off his mask, revealing a pale face and bright eyes.
Sono's wasn't a high-end restaurant, but it was certainly more classy than other joints in the area. Mikan considered herself lucky enough to work there, especially for being so young.
Sure, there were a few degenerates who came in and harassed her every now and then, but most of the unwanted attention was drawn to the slightly older, very buxom Sumire, who knew how to handle those creeps. She was fierce and didn't hesitate to set someone in their place. Mikan admired her strength and her courage.
Sumire loved being admired, even if it was from an airhead like Mikan who wouldn't stop calling her "Permy." That's also why she kept changing which tables they waitressed for so Sumire could get all the customers with good looks, the customers she thought she could charm into giving a better tip, and especially the customers she liked to get extra friendly with. Mikan wasn't bothered by the arrangement; it left her quite a variety of customers that she liked. Especially the elderly. Sumire had some weird thing against serving the older customers, probably because she couldn't ogle them and if they wanted to ogle her, then it was creepy. But Mikan liked them, she liked talking to them, especially the grandparents. Besides, Sumire was her good friend, even if the other girl didn't like to show it.
Their manager, Misaki, didn't seem to mind the serving arrangements that differed every night; as long as it was fair to both of them, as long as Mikan didn't care, and as long as Sumire kept receiving the big tips that kept her happy to work here, sure.
That's why Mikan was a little surprised when Misaki asked her to serve a table Sumire had already staked her claim on.
She could tell Sumire was upset and unhappy with her manager's interference, glossy lips in a scowl, arms crossed to unintentionally push her breasts up.
"She can't cater to them as well as I can," Sumire said with scorn, looking up and down Mikan's body. Mikan scowled a little and smacked her fellow server playfully on the arm with a menu. "Why can't I keep the table?"
"Because table seven told me they don't like you as their server," said Misaki critically. "Not everyone wants to be flirted with."
As Mikan approached the table, she knew why Sumire was so disappointed. There were two boys and while one of them his face buried in a menu, the other was the real-life epitome of Prince Charming.
"Good evening," she greeted with her bright smile. The blonde boy looked up, and Mikan thought he was the absolutely the cutest boy she had ever seen. He smiled back at her, but Mikan remembered what Misaki had said earlier. It wasn't her job to get too friendly with them. She looked at the other customer, but he was still hidden by the menu. "My name is Mikan, and I'll be your server this evening. Can I get you started with some drinks?"
"Sure. I'm also ready to order if that's okay." She nodded as she wrote down his order, which was oddly specific. "Allergies," he explained.
"Got it. Is your friend ready to order, too?" Mikan looked pointedly at the other customer at the table, who still had his face covered. Was he shy?
"Excuse him, please. He's a little skittish around strangers." The blonde prince charming nudged his friend with his foot under the table. "Natsume, I can't read your mind. You're gonna have to order yourself."
The other boy, "Natsume," reluctantly lowered his menu. "Just water, and I'll have a number three special," he said quickly in a very familiar voice. He refused to meet her eyes, though she stared intently.
She blinked. She instantly recognized his face, no longer hidden by a flimsy menu. Or a cat mask.
Her eyes instinctively fluttered down to his torso, to the last place she had seen him hurt.
"My eyes are up here," he snapped, scowling at her as her gaze guiltily returned to his face. He turned to his friend with the same glare he gave her. "I thought we told the manager not send a bimbo as a waitress."
Mikan and the blonde customer both gasped in outrage at the same time.
"Excuse you?" she demanded as his friend threw a napkin at his face and hissed, "Natsume!"
He ignored both of them. "We can find dinner somewhere else. Let's go, Ruka. I don't like it here."
"But I like it here," his friend insisted. "You're being rude to our waitress." He turned to Mikan. "I'm sorry about my friend's behavior. Natsume can be such an asshole sometimes."
"He sure can," she said drily, eying the boy with a newfound animosity. Shouldn't he be grateful and thank her profusely for helping him? Or had he forgotten?
Natsume met her insulting agreement with a fierce glare, but Mikan had seen him at a pretty bad time in his life with a gun pressed to her chest so at the moment, he looked more like a hissing kitty who had been dropped unceremoniously into water.
"A number three special," he repeated stiffly. "Now go away."
Rolling her eyes a bit, she swooped up the menus, keenly aware of how close she had to get to take them. "Your food will be out soon."
She turned and walked away, noticing the secret smile on the blonde customer's lips and two red eyes tracking her movement across the room.
Mikan gave the orders to the kitchen and took a moment to catch her breath in the dark, secluded hallway to the break room.
What was he doing here? Did he recognize her? Surely he must have if she recognized him. She hadn't exactly concealed her identity from him.
Suddenly she felt a hand cover her mouth as a tall body pressed her against the wall. She yelped, but to say she hadn't been expecting an ambush would have been a lie.
"Hello there again," whispered a familiar voice, "Polka dots."
Mikan was sure he could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as she remembered how she earned that nickname. She nearly stomped on one of his feet in outrage, but she decided that probably wasn't a good idea.
"Did you ever tell anyone about us?"
She shook her head as she wiggled in his grasp. He definitely did not need his hand creeping underneath her skirt.
"Are you going to tell anyone?"
"I'm going to tell my manager about your molestation," she muttered heatedly against his hand over her mouth, her own hands futilely trying to shove his hand off of her thigh. Surprisingly, he complied and slipped his hand out of her skirt.
"Are you going to tell anyone about what happened then or about what's happening now?" He pressed himself closer against her, squeezing her breath out. She felt something hard at the small of her back, and she nearly screamed again, mainly out of disbelief at the frequency and casualness he pulled his gun out to bully her.
"I won't tell anyone anything about you," she agreed.
"That's a good girl," he praised before he lightly pressed a kiss right underneath her earlobe. Whether it was a sign of gratitude or a method of intimidation, she didn't know.
"Now, listen carefully," he said, his perverted hand meandering its way down to grope her ass. "This is one of my best friend's new favorite restaurants, and I can't change that so I'm not going to stop him from going here just 'cause some nosy goody-two-shoes works here. He likes it a lot so I'll be coming here often. You do not tell anyone you see me, not your manager, not your friends, not your little medical student friend. Do you understand?"
She nodded vigorously, but for some reason, her answer didn't please him.
"Do you understand?" he demanded again, his other hand falling so he could firmly squeeze both of her buttcheeks, fingers trailing her thighs.
"Oh my God," she furiously whispered, turning to glare at him. "I said yes!"
"Mikan?"
Mikan turned to see the outline of Sumire's haughty grin and bitchy stance, one hand on her hip, her hip cocked to one side. No wonder she dreamed about being a model; she had the looks and the attitude to do it.
"Well, well, well," she said smugly, lips curled, punctuating each word with a high-heeled step, "what will Misaki say about you getting frisky with the customers?"
Obviously not the one caught in a compromising position, Sumire allowed her eyes to scour every inch of Natsume, undeterred by his deep scowl, not knowing it was because he was rudely interrupted. She wasn't sure what view she enjoyed more: the handsome adolescent or the oh-so-innocent Mikan finally in trouble. Obviously in her eyes and in her ears, Mikan's flushed and disheveled appearance and her exclamations of "Oh my God!" and "Yes!" meant Sumire finally had some dirt on her prissy coworker.
"I wasn't getting frisky - "
Natsume smoothly cut in as he stepped away, finally giving Mikan space to breathe. "Nobody has to say anything. I will obviously excuse and forgive Miss Sakura's blatant molestation of me and will not report this to the manager." He gave Mikan one final look of disdainful contempt and a hidden smirk. "Poor me, falling prey to such a lecherous old woman."
Mikan's jaw dropped.
She watched in disbelief as that disgusting pervert (who definitely wasn't her) walked away nonchalantly and Sumire trail after him with more flirtatious remarks, completely forgetting what she just saw.
There were days where she would just sit on Natsume's lap, listening to his steady heartbeat. At first, everyone teased her about it, even Natsume, but after a few low warnings from her boyfriend, his friends had learned to accept her place in his arms.
Hanging out with the boys, she would put her palm flat on his chest, listening to the conversations around her, feeling the small rumbles against her cheek and against her hand when he found something funny, the smell of beer soaking into both of their clothes, though he was always careful not to spill a drop, not wanting to dissuade her from sitting on him.
After a long shift at Sono's, he would be waiting on their bed for her, watching her shed her work uniform, hearing her tell him sometimes tiredly about her day, holding her close after she climbed in with him, running his fingers through her hair as she curled up on top of him, though there was plenty of room for both of them, like her bed was an endless ocean and he was her life raft.
When night was the only time they could be together, they cuddled in the same chair, watching the stars or the fireworks if Koko got his hands on them or sometimes even going to see a movie and squishing into one seat, just to be close.
She didn't care that nobody else in her life knew he was there; she trusted him when he told her he had his reasons.
She thought she was falling in love; she thought she had found her forever home.
She had been sleeping quite contently when someone's presence pricked her instincts. Her first thought was Kyou, and she slid silently off her bed and scurried across the floor to the bedroom door. She listened intently to the small sounds that betrayed someone's attempted entrance into her home.
Someone was making a mess in her living room, fumbling with one of her windows. Quickly, she grabbed the gun hidden in her underwear drawer and, taking a quick peek down the hallway, darted across to Kyou's room. Thankfully, he was asleep and still alive in his bed.
She sighed with relief, then listened more carefully to the little scrapes and thuds. Two people.
Within a few minutes, she had one of them knocked out and tied up and the other cowering on her couch, a gun pointed determinedly at him. Natsume had taught her well. She had turned on the lights, startling them, so she could see the obvious fear in his eyes. It also didn't help that she had fired a warning shot into his right leg. Thank goodness she had the sense to pick the gun with the silencer and Kyou slept heavily.
"So," she drawled coolly, "why don't you start with why you're here."
The man groaned in agony but gritted his teeth against the pain. "For you and the kid."
She nodded enthusiastically. "Good, good. See, it goes so much easier when you answer the first time."
He stared at her, dumbfounded and with hatred. What kind of sick bitch was she?
"Why now?" she demanded to know. "I haven't been disturbed for months, and you're the first to know about Kyou."
When he didn't answer immediately, she tapped the gun lightly against her knee.
"We were thorough in research. Persona had months to prepare. Your husband isn't exactly subtle about the path of vengeance he's carving with the Black Cat's former associates. Persona's desperate for any leverage against him ever since he was sure he would be the last, and now he is."
"The last?" Mikan confirmed, eyes glazing over as she worked out what that meant.
"According to our sources, yes. Anyone who's ever hired a Hyuuga in the last 30 years has been silenced."
Never mind the details; Mikan didn't care as her mind was stuck only on one thing.
Natsume was finally coming home.
Natsume refused the next beer Koko handed him.
"What, you afraid you gonna get caught now?" the sandy-haired boy joked, taking the bottle for himself. "Of all the crimes you've ever committed."
He kicked the leg of Koko's chair. "Mikan doesn't like it when I drink too much. Ruins the mood."
Koko kicked back with a wolfish grin. "Oooh, so Mikan doesn't like it. What next? Mikan doesn't want you out with the boys?"
"Koko, shut up," Ruka snapped in his best friend's defense. He glanced at the brooding Natsume. "She makes him happy."
Koko made a face at Ruka, which he answered with a glare, taking over Natsume's job since the usual gruff was a bit distracted that night.
Suddenly, Natsume spoke, "Do you ever wonder when we'll stop?"
An uneasy hush fell upon them, and Natsume looked up to see four very tense males looking back at him; even Koko the clown who had just been joking around and teasing him had lost the carefree demeanor.
This wasn't the first time Natsume had brought it up. A year ago, he had brought the ray of sunshine known as Mikan Sakura to their hideout for the first time and introduced her to them. Ever since, Natsume had been...different. Even when he was young, he had accepted his fate as the next Hyuuga mafia leader, immune and emotionless to the gory nature of the job. Now he was talking about having a future, one different than the one given to him.
Each of them were involved in some level of crime because of their families, but none had to do what Natsume did. None of them dared to defy their destinies.
None of them had a Mikan waiting for him every night.
"I'm serious," Natsume said to the silent void of the room. "One day we'll have to stop doing what we do. It all has to end eventually. We could do it. We could do it now."
He ignored the furtive looks exchanged among the others. He could do it, he really could, a plan forming in his head. With or without anyone by his side, he could do it.
"I'll do it with you." That one strong statement quieted everyone else in the room, and it came from the only person to ever willingly dive into the darkness and stand by his side.
He gave Ruka. his unwavering best friend, a grateful smile.
Together, they would fight themselves out of the darkness.
He was the head of a criminal organization, one run by his family, and it involved a lot of killing and a lot of bad people.
"And that's all you need to know," he told her curtly, his mood about the subject made obvious by his clipped tone. He kissed her lightly on the forehead in an effort to lighten the atmosphere and to end the topic, but she was persistent.
"I want to know more about you, Natsume," she begged with her big puppy-dog eyes, her hands grabbing onto his forearms. "You know everything about me and where I'm from and who I am. I don't know anything about you!"
"You know that I love you." Those words fell easily from his mouth. Never in the nineteen years he had lived without her, in the ten months he had known her as an annoying stranger and as a mere waitress, did he ever think he would be saying those words to another person. In the one month they had been together, she had so thoroughly permeated his life that he wondered how he survived so long without the sun, without her presence.
Not dissuaded by his attempt to distract her but also acknowledging his comfort zone, Mikan settled for hugging him tightly and looking expectantly up at him, her chin poking his chest.
Natsume looked back at her in contemplation.
Finally, he spoke, with a dry throat and a heavy tongue: "I don't want you in the darkness I'm in."
Her eyes searched his, scoured his soul."Natsume," she began slowly, reaching up to cup his cheeks. "I'm with you, no matter what."
Without thinking, he found himself nodding along with her. He closed his eyes and let himself relish in the feeling of her.
"We'll always be together."
"Take me with you," she pleaded again. She pressed her body so ardently against his, it felt like she was trying to melt them together, as though she could simply dissolve into his body and be with him always.
"You know I can't. It's too dangerous." He kissed both of her eyelids as though he could will them to close and will her to fall asleep. "When you wake up, I'll be gone," promised Natsume, kissing her over and over, trying to stock up on his fill of her to last him through the upcoming ordeal.
Mikan shook her head fervently. "No, no, wake me up when you go. I don't want you to leave without saying goodbye."
"Idiot," he said, an affectionate smile curling his lips. "What do you think I'm trying to do now?"
"I think you're being a jerk," she pouted. Natsume would have laughed and teased her back, but he knew she was on the verge of shedding real tears.
Once upon a time, he had promised her she would never have to cry again, and it tore his heart asunder to watch his promise be broken.
He would kiss her tears away, kiss her to sleep, lie with her one last time, and bask in her warmth, which he wouldn't feel for a long time.
When they woke up, him naturally with the sunrise and her from his absence in their bed, they prepared quietly: made the bed, showered, dressed, and ate breakfast. At precisely six in the morning, a knock at the door announced Ruka's arrival.
Mikan wouldn't let him leave without several more kisses and whispered assurances of her love.
"Wait for me," he breathed with one last kiss before he tore himself away from her.
And the image of Natsume, her forever home, walking away nearly made her collapse.
He had visited only once, cloaked by the shadow of night. It was his home, too, so he knew how to get in, stealthly, without disturbing her. There was no moonlight that night, but he knew his way around, hoping she hadn't rearranged the furniture.
He had trained her well how to detect unwelcome intruders, made her alert even during sleep, but something must been off with her senses that night (his heart thudded at the possibility of something being wrong) or maybe he wasn't an unfriendly presence because he was able to slip right under the covers and crawl right into bed with her. She was breathing, that was sure, even snoring a little bit.
Being next to her, enveloped by her scent, and being able to just about see her outline in the dark, he felt himself relax for the first time in months. He hoped she wouldn't be too freaked out and start screaming as he pulled himself closer, nuzzling into her neck, kissing it just a little, feeling her soft hair against his cheek, both hands exploring the body he had missed and yearned for, the slender arms, the swollen breasts, the - Goddamn, she had gotten so fat - bugle of her belly. Whatever, he didn't care. He loved her so much.
He kept his touches light as he felt her start to stir, little moans escaping with her breath. He pressed his mouth a bit harder against her neck, trailing it up to her jaw, to her cheek, to her lips. She accepted him, tongue and all, as she turned toward him.
"Natsume," she sighed happily, and he felt a ridiculous swell of happy pride as his name tumbled from her lips. She dreamt of him and only him when being touched like that. She hadn't found someone else.
"Yeah?" he teased, his voice husky.
She sleepily touched her lips to his. "I miss you."
The pure longing in her voice made his heart cramp; he had missed her so much. How could he ever leave her side again?
Without a second thought, he swooped in to give her the mind-blowing kiss she deserved, swinging his leg over her to straddle her, his hands reaching up to hold her face in place.
Mikan squealed into his mouth as her hand scrambled to find the switch to her lamp. He simply devoured her lips, not at all paying attention to her momentary panic or the bright light that suddenly illuminated the room.
He felt her freeze underneath his touch, his lips still working their magic on her, then he felt her respond back to him with passion, moaning and writhing.
At last, he pulled away from her so he could finally look into her eyes and see her delighted smile.
Which immediately was smeared by an onslaught of tears.
"I'm sorry, Natsume," she sobbed, rubbing her face on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to cry so much when you came back. It's just with the baby and the mood swings and all the hormones, I have trouble." She continued to blubber, hands unable to stop caressing his stupefied face.
Oh God, that wasn't fat. Oh God.
"The baby?" he asked dumbly. His hands went down to her belly. It was so round.
A baby. She had a baby, right now, in her tummy. His baby?!
It took all the long hours of the night for them to properly reunite and catch up on their lives, which seemed to Natsume less than enough to even begin to recover from the shock of discovering her pregnancy.
In all honesty, he had hoped for one night of passionate loving, a little bit of Mikan to carry him through the next half of his mission, but the night was centered around daily life and logistics with some smooching every now and then.
Of course, she missed him. Of course, she had seen poorly disguised Koko sneaking about, keeping tabs on her. Of course, she hadn't thought of any names for the baby yet, not without him and his opinion. Of course, she was taking care of herself. Of course, she was not stressing herself or the baby.
He was so glad he had came back to her, but his heart plummeted at the thought of the second goodbye.
He promised her once more that he wouldn't be long, that he had accomplished about half of what he hoped, but he still had to go.
Once more, she promised him she would wait - they would wait.
"He wants you to kiss him good night," said Hotaru softly. She stood in the doorframe of the hallway, watching her best friend pore diligently over her books. Mikan looked up, tired eyes and messy hair. She nodded silently, closing her books and standing up on sleepy legs.
As soon as her best friend came closer, Hotaru put a hand on her back and rubbed soothing circles as they both made their way to Kyou's room.
"Thanks for being here for me," Mikan whispered to her best friend. Hotaru had adapted to the role of godmother in so many ways, Mikan felt forever grateful to her. Ever since she had sprung the unexpected news to her best friend when Hotaru had returned from university for a vacation break, Hotaru had been Mikan's confidante, rock, nanny, and so much more - all while juggling her own responsibilities. She was Mikan's hero.
"You helped me through some rough times," Hotaru quietly reminded her, hinting at those late night calls and meltdowns during college. The so-called Ice Queen was only human, after all. "Besides, you're my idiot best friend. How could I not?"
Mikan rolled her eyes at her barb and gave her a quick hug. "Thank you so much, Hotaru."
Hotaru nodded. "Take care of yourself, Mikan." She looked around her best friend and at her godson waiting patiently in his bed. "Good night, Kyou."
"Good night, auntie Hotaru!" he called cheerily, totally not sleepy.
With another farewell to Mikan, Hotaru took her leave, wrapping her coat around her tightly as she left Mikan's apartment complex.
As her best friend, she had the one most frustrated and worried when Mikan announced she was pregnant to all of their friends. She had been six months along, and Hotaru's first instinct was to berate her for not telling them earlier and not asking for help before. Then she remembered that wasn't the one reaction Mikan needed at the moment.
Still, Hotaru couldn't resist going on a witch-hunt for the identity of Kyou's father. Mikan's silence made it worse, but Hotaru was eventually placated by the small hints of his support, whoever or wherever he was. No way could Mikan afford a somewhat spacious apartment on the better side of town on a waitress's wages; all of her doctor appointments, all of Kyou's necessities and toys, her classes at the local community college, her dreams of becoming a social worker or a lawyer to help the children in the foster system.
Somewhere, Kyou's father was out there.
"Will you tell Daddy I miss him?" the little boy asked sleepily after three stories and a lot of laughing.
Mikan kissed him on his forehead, obsessively smoothing out his blankets, making sure he was cozy. "Of course, sweetie. He says he can't wait to see you."
"Did he really say that?"
Mikan nodded with a smile. "He did. He also says you need to eat your green peppers and listen to Mommy."
Kyou pouted with a huff. "Tell him I don't want to!"
"Will do," she conceded with a chuckle. Turning off his lamp and turning on his nightlight, she watched as her baby closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep peacefully as he always did.
Retiring to her own room and to her own devices, she decided it was better to sleep than push herself to study more.
With a child begging for her attention every second and her friends protectively watching over her constantly, night was the only time Mikan could finally relax. It had a little over two months since one of Persona's agents had infiltrated her home, and every day for about two months, she woke up with the hope of finding Natsume back home in their bed like the time he had surprised her two and a half years ago.
Two and a half years ago was the last time she had contact with him. Koko knew little more than she did, and he was directed to lie low and not talk to Mikan so he wasn't exactly a good, reliable source of information. She felt a little guilty telling Kyou about his daddy and lying about what Natsume would say to him, but sometimes she couldn't help but imagine his voice in her head, randomly commenting on little moments during her day, giving her a little bit of encouragement or making her laugh.
She missed him. A lot. But she was determined to manage herself and their child and their home in the meanwhile despite the struggles and the workload and the stress.
She would wait for him.
And, later that night, hearing a soft noise coming from Kyou's room, she would find out she had to wait no more.
Armed with an iron crowbar (she will not take the risk of shooting a gun in her own child's room), she crept silently back into her baby's room and peeked through the cracked doorway into the dimly lit bedroom.
She lowered her weapon and pushed open the door, but even that didn't make him raise his head.
"Is this him?" he asked quietly as he stood beside Kyou's bed, wide eyes looking for the first time at his son.
She nodded and managed to whimper out a, "Yes," tears threatening to spill as she watched the love of her life, her forever home, fondly brush the hair away from the face of their son, their lovely, lovely child.
Without wasting another second, she jumped into his arms, smelling his familiar scent mixed in with the remnants of his travels, unable to stop herself from kissing everywhere on his face she could reach.
"Natsume!"
The End.
"Okay, in the morning, though, when he starts eating breakfast, you need to tell him he has to eat his green peppers."