I wrote this fic for the UsaMamo Fanwork Exchange 2k19 that Antigone2 organized on tumblr – and because my giftee was the wonderful Queen Risa, and she likes to hear them talk, and digs secret mutual pining, this is what I did. Also, I got them drunk beforehand, just for good measure, and put them in a canon divergence fic, cause, ya know. (I'll let you figure out where I diverged, what point in canon I changed ; ) )
So, on we go, AND QUEEN RISA I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! (My wonderful beta, Uglygreenjacket, said it was ok, you all, so don't hate on me xD)
Nocturne For A Queen
A Short Story written for the UsaMamo Fanwork Exchange
There really was no denying that Tsukino Usagi was the cutest, purest, most adorable drunk girl in the existence of drunk girls.
So far tonight he'd watched her mourn the loss of a handful of star-shaped sugar candy as if she'd lost a treasured childhood toy to a shredder, because she'd forgotten she cannot grasp a glass when something was already in her hand.
He'd watched her insist and enforce (with outstretched arms at the "cocktail bar," a.k.a. the sideboard in Reika's tiny open kitchen) at one point her sudden decision and new rule that everybody at this party may only get drinks in the color of their current clothing anymore.
He'd watched her dance with Rei with bouncing pigtails and gleeful shrieks, watched her brush Rei's fringe away from her forehead and drop a kiss there when Rei, later on, had to sit and take a break. (Surprisingly, Rei was even more of an alcoholic lightweight than Usagi.) Had watched her fuss and hover around her friend and press a bottle of water to her lips in a way that no person would have ever been able to take a sip with. Watched her whisper "drink, drink, drink," on repeat so long until Rei wrenched the thing out of her hand, all glare and hiss, yet unscrewing the lid clumsily and taking a sip anyway, and then watched Usagi brush her friend's hair with outstretched palms and a soft, kind, charming, precious, "Thank you," on her lips.
Watched her dance and twirl and cuddle her friend Naru in the middle of the makeshift dance floor (Reika's emptied out dining room, with the table and chairs currently residing in the empty garage of the old store house that Reika lived on top of – he'd come early tonight and helped Motoki carry them down. The only reason he was here, really.)
Watched her hop and howl along to the music with outstretched arms and glazed eyes and the biggest, warmed smile as she swayed to the music under the dim and twinkling fairy lights that Reika had strung all across the ceiling.
Watched her declare every girl on this silly dance floor the prettiest being on the planet as she stroked her fingers through their hair in distracted wonderment. Watched her be so adorable and sweet it hurt to look at.
Not that Tsukino Usagi wasn't already the cutest girl in existence as it was. Not a drop of alcohol needed for that. And let's not get started about the purity thing. She was the Senshi of purity after all, had saved the world nigh a dozen times just with the goodness of her heart.
But that was beside the point. It always was.
Mamoru sighed. He stood leaning against Reika's counter, nursing his third highball in a slow manner, gripping the glass as if it were a shield.
He, unlike Usagi, was a sensible drinker, of course. Alternating with water. Not drinking if he didn't have a solid, nutritious base. (And no, a family pack of Meiji chocolate almonds did not count as a solid base, how ever much Usagi had insisted.)
And then there was the fact that he would have left this party hours ago, had he not promised to keep an eye on Usagi.
"And you'll bring her home afterwards, ok?" Minako had said, shifting a pale and almost limp Rei against her shoulder as she used her other hand to make this weird movement with two fingers that alternated between pointing at her eyes and his face.
He'd sighed, focussed on Rei's drunk murmurings. Minako was right, someone definitely had to get that girl home.
"And you'll stay even when she says it's ok to leave. Understood?" Minako instructed with a glare.
"Of course," he'd said dutifully, and watched Minako deposit Rei on the couch for just the minute she'd needed to weave back to Usagi. She'd stopped Usagi in her gleeful dancing only long enough to coax both hers and Usagi's eyes onto him, and Minako's fingers too, for good measure, pointing at him.
Usagi's eyes on him had felt that shade of too intimate, and he'd averted his eyes quickly, but not quickly enough to see her roll her eyes at Minako.
Minako was right, of course. He hadn't seen Usagi drunk often, before. Only three times before, to be exact. And while Usagi may be the last person in the world to need protection going home…
And so he'd stayed. And for once, he'd allowed himself to look. Kept his eyes on her all night, telling himself he was simply following Minako's instructions, leader of the Senshi.
He chuckled when Usagi, hands in the air, stumbled over her own feet and then started giggling uncontrollably because of it.
Mamoru slipped his hands on the counter behind him, hefted himself up on top of it. It made him even taller than he already was. A nerdy beacon of a boring guy sitting to the side and watching others having fun.
"Can I get you anything?" Motoki called over the noise.
Mamoru broke out of his stare, a little startled, a little disoriented. He hadn't noticed Motoki arriving next to him.
He shook out of it, then shook the remains of his rather sad-looking but not-yet-empty highball at him – a quarter left, all ice melted.
Motoki lifted one eyebrow. Looked at him, then in the direction Mamoru had been looking at all night. Usagi.
Mamoru shrugged. Prayed his cheeks showed no signs of color.
"Everything ok with you?" he asked, voice laced with utter confusion.
Mamoru cleared his throat, nodded awkwardly.
When he turned back to the dance floor, he halted with a frown. Usagi was nowhere to be seen.
He straightened himself up, looked around across the crowd, started forward to slip down the counter—
He felt a hand on his knee, barely a little tap, and his eyes flew down, half expecting Usagi there, but…
He frowned.
The girl blushed, shoulders hunched. He tried to wrack his brain if he knew her from somewhere, anywhere.
"Um, hi!" she said with a rather timid, rather sweet smile.
His eyebrows scrunched together. He couldn't help flicking his eyes back across the crowd. Where was she?
"I like your socks," she said, all blush, nodding her head towards his feet dangling ever so slightly off the counter.
He blinked, looking down. Black, with tons of tiny roses on them, peeking from between his black jeans and his leather shoes the way he sat. Not his style, of course, if very on-brand. Yet, they were his favorite.
They'd been a gag gift from Usagi when he'd finally slipped up and admitted to having a birthday, after all. Years in.
"Um," he frowned, "thanks…"
He slipped off the counter, moving to push through the crowds when he heard Usagi's laughter, and saw her stumble from the coat room (a.k.a. Reika's bedroom), Naru and Naru's jacket in tow, Umino after them.
He relaxed almost immediately, shoulders slumping, and finally turned back to the girl even as he saw Usagi find his eyes across the crowd. Usagi, he saw out the corner of his eyes, looked at him and the girl with wide eyes, stiffening up visibly.
He swallowed.
"I'm Mayu," the girl said with a small smile and a timid, friendly bow.
"Um, Chiba Mamoru," he replied.
She was sweet. Chestnut brown hair, big, black-rimmed glasses met by the silky strands of a fringe, pink cheeks, a mint green cardigan over a sweet dress.
He suddenly remembered where he knew her from. He didn't know her at all. He'd just watched Usagi pep-talk this stranger for about half an hour in that bubbly way of hers, telling her to be a little more confident, telling her how adorable and perfect a girl she was and that she should not be shy and just chat with the guy. That if he brushed her off, he must be clearly weird and not worth her time.
He didn't know how he felt about being the guy in question.
He watched the girl push her hair behind her ears and start to talk, saw her mouth form words but he couldn't really follow.
"Excuse me?" he said across the noise.
She blushed a little harder, raised her voice. "Are you friends with Reika or Motoki?" she repeated.
He frowned into his glass, setting it to his lips, emptying it in one motion, the little that was left, and regretted that he hadn't let Motoki get him another almost immediately, when he realised that he would need to let go of his shield now that it was empty.
"Motoki…" he mumbled. He flicked his eyes back across the crowd. Frowned, when, once again, Usagi wasn't where she was supposed to be. Naru and Umino were making the rounds saying goodbye, Usagi was not around them.
He turned a little. Saw Usagi walk into the kitchen behind him from the corner of his eye, straight towards the 'cocktail bar'.
"Um, excuse me," he said again, now with a different meaning, and before the girl could reply, he'd slipped around, and navigated the limited space filled with too many bodies right where his thrumming veins always wanted to take him when she was near.
Usagi was filling up her too tall glass with too much pink-colored liquor. Unicorn flavor, someone had called the milky pink mix that smelled too strong and way too sweet.
"May I remind you that you are still actually a minor, Usa," he said, stopping right behind her and leaning in to almost whisper in her ear.
She jumped, startled, but not missing a beat in her recovery, and stuck out her almost 19 year-old tongue at him.
"Mmmh," he said, nodding. "So mature."
He knew she wanted to glare, instead she giggled. But then her eyes flicked behind him and turned sad.
He frowned.
She started forward, turning to brush past him.
"I really don't need a babysitter, Mamoru," she said. And before he could reply she stumbled over nothing and some of the contents of her too full too tall too pink drink sloshed over the rim and onto his dark dress shirt.
She flinched immediately "Whoops—"
Then it turned into a giggle as he lifted his arms with a defeated sigh.
Apparently, he made a funny sight, because Usagi started giggling harder. And harder still, when the rag she attempted to grab was really someone's shirt and she whoops-ed again with even wider eyes, and he took the glass from her when it started sloshing in her hand again.
"Hey!" she said, sobering up immediately, reclaiming her glass, but also starting to wipe his chest with the sleeve of her cardigan.
He froze up immediately. He always did when she touched him, without fail.
When would he ever learn?
"Besides," she said, rubbing her little clothed fist across his chest. "I don't think my age counts," she said, continuing up where they'd left off.
"Oh?" he asked, leaning into her just a little. He told himself firmly it was only to let a short guy with a tower full of empty glasses through. Someone from Reika's study group, he thought. Maybe. He wasn't so good with faces.
"Yeah, I mean," she started loudly, babbling fast, "I get like at least 20 years for my past life, plus I mean, being Sai—
He clamped his hand across her mouth and felt her lips form the muffled sound as her eyebrows lowered into a frown made purely from blue, and currently maybe clouds.
And there it was, the actual reason he was supposed to stay and look after her.
Drunk Usagi tended to talk. And relativity pudding was one thing, but accidentally spilling all their Senshi secrets quite another.
Besides, Minako would kill him.
Usagi un-squished her little fist from his chest, flattened it against his shirt and pushed against him. He let go immediately.
"Chill," she said. "No one heard."
And then she grabbed his sleeve, and dragged him along.
Her smile had fallen when she stopped in front of a startled Mayu, gripping her drink much in the same way he had held onto his before.
"Mamoru, this is Mayu. She's very sweet and she likes chess and debating and reading smart-people books, and if she meant you back there, she thinks you're really cool," Usagi said.
Mamoru stiffened up, Mayu blushed.
"Mayu, this is Mamoru. He can be a douche but he's also really the best person I know and also almost got into Harvard. He's as cool as you thought."
Only then, Usagi let go of his sleeve. His arm dropped to his side in a way he barely felt it.
This was wrong.
Usagi nodded, took a big chug of her sweet beverage, and waved at them with the saddest smile he'd ever seen on her. "You'll get along," she said, and took a few unsteady steps backwards. "And be nice to her!" she added with a pointed finger at him and lowered eyebrows.
He swallowed and watched her lace her arms through Unazuki's before she disappeared into the crowd once more.
He wrapped his hands around his newly refilled glass tightly, looking back across the living room from his reclaimed perch on the counter.
Usagi was sitting amongst a group of people he didn't know anyone of besides Unazuki, saw her making them laugh, saw her smile and beam and stumble over her too loud words, her glass empty, a new one at her side.
"—'d love to apply to Keio, too. Do you have any tips?"
He barely heard the question enough to answer, only reacted when she sighed, feet dangling on the counter beside him, searching his line of sight for what had him so distracted.
"Why don't you tell her?" Mayu asked.
He froze, looked at her. He was about to feign innocence, ask her what she meant, deny it all, when…
Mayu sighed, shoulders slumping. Her eyes turned back to Usagi. She'd just fallen off the couch, and was giggling too hard to be able to get back up. Unazuki and a douche whose hands he spontaneously wanted to pin to the wall by a dozen roses were helping her up.
"Since when do you like her, then?" she asked instead.
Since I found her sneaking through the rose gardens in my past life and then died for her. Since I met her again as this loud, innocent, happy, carefree, and utterly crazy girl in the streets of Juuban. Since this same carefree girl transformed into someone with the weight of the world on her shoulders in an elevator right in front of me, turning out to be the bravest person I know. Since I died for her again, even when I didn't know I'd done that before, since—
He sighed. He blamed the fourth highball in his hand that he was answering at all. "Ever since I've known her," he whispered into his glass.
She nodded, kicked the counter a little with the back of her heel.
"Why won't you tell her?" she asked again.
Because she doesn't remember me. Because it was her own wish to not remember me. Because the last time we were together the world ended. Because she's better off without me. Because—
His sigh this time was deeper than the one before, and he tipped his head back and let the alcohol burn across his throat in distraction.
Reika's ornate golden clock across the room ticked once, aligning both hands to the dropping sensation in his stomach. 2 am.
"Because she really never liked me all that much," he answered truthfully when the glass settled back against his thigh, tightly held by rigid fingers.
Mayu's head turned towards him, turning a little sideways in surprise and maybe bewilderment, and he shrugged.
"It's complicated," he said, awkwardly, and settled his empty glass where he'd just sat.
"Excuse me," he said the third time this evening, avoiding her eyes, and weaved through the thinning crowd towards Reika's bathroom.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he closed the door behind him and the world quieted down. He slipped his feet into the bathroom slippers and pressed his forehead into the cold, wooden door, exhaling.
Maybe he'd drunk too much tonight, too.
He moved, turned the faucet and allowed ice cold water to flow into his hands that he splashed onto his face, eyes closed, breathing in and out, in and out.
He grabbed a towel, yellow and fluffy, rubbed it across his face.
The eyes of a dead prince that looked back at him through the mirror felt almost accusing. Always.
Nothing he wasn't used to.
When he finally emerged, having spent a little while too long in there, he almost got a heart attack.
Motoki stood amused to the side, Reika was giggling into her hand, and between amused shouts of 'You were WHAT, now?!' Unazuki stood declaring if Usagi had a past life, she's gonna have one, too.
"So wait, if this moon race was like living hundreds of years, why'd you die at 17?" the douche from before asked bemusedly, raising his glass.
"Maybe Cleopatra?" Unazuki mused, not listening.
"Well, I don't remember it at all, so who knows how old I really was. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe I was 170 when I died. Who knows?" Usagi said, hanging upside down from the couch.
"You're practically a baby!" someone else called.
"I know, right?!" Usagi yelped, banging her head against the coffee table.
"Right," Mamoru said, swooping in. He grabbed Usagi's hands, pulled her up despite her giggling protests. "Time to go."
"Noooo—" Usagi wailed, "it's fine, they're cool, we can tell them—"
Mamoru yanked her up. "NOW," he said. "We're going."
"No, wait!" Reika said, nose red and eyes twinkling bemusedly. "I need to hear this. Usagi-chan, how can you be so sure you had this past life if you can't remember it?"
Motoki frowned, talking at the same time, looking between him and Usagi. "You're going? Like, together? Since when— What—"
"OR MARIE CURIE!" Unazuki shouted victoriously. "THAT'S WHO I WAS!"
Mamoru dragged her up, pulse rising. They're drunk. She's drunk. You're fine. They think she's talking nonsense. She won't—
"Ask him, he remembers it!" Usagi said, wriggling her elbow at Mamoru.
Reika giggled again. "Mamoru-san remembers your past life? Well, that's convenient."
"Right?!" Usagi said, glad someone finally took her seriously.
"Usagi!" Mamoru barked, dragging her behind him. It took him barely a second to fish her bright yellow coat from beneath the pile.
"Chill dude, she's just having fun!" douche from before said.
"Night, princess!" a group from across the room called after her, chuckling.
He had her out the door just a few moments later.
"But I want to dance," Usagi said, pouting.
Mamoru hit the back of his head and his way too glossy hair against the door, exhaling into the sudden calm outside of the noisy apartment.
Usagi crossed her arms, feeling slightly mothered – like Luna would so often. But somehow it was worth it when Mamoru did it. Even when her mind currently was a little fuzzy, and now that she was standing here, maybe she really shouldn't have drunk that much…
She saw his shoulders droop, and with them, he let both their shoes drop to the floor, set her pair right in front of her and slipped into his own.
He was always, always, forever, avoiding looking at her. And right now, it was making her a little mad.
But he did, of course, look delicious, leaning down like that, hair falling into his face.
Ugh.
"Nobody was dancing anymore anyway, Usagi," he said.
She let out a little sound that was supposed to be a growl but turned into more of a squeak – like a scared guinea pig, or maybe a snort. She really didn't have that much control over her vocal cords just now. So, she wobbled a bit when she lifted one leg to slip into her shoes. Her cute flowery wedges, the ones with a little clasp.
She suddenly didn't know anymore why she'd thought they were so cute. Were they always this high? And always this hard to get into?
She stumbled a little, let out another of these weird squeaks when she almost fell, wanted to both growl and fall into his arms when she felt his hands on her skin, steadying her.
And then she wanted to growl again, or maybe moan, when he proceeded to kneel in front of her, held her shoe up for her to slip into.
"Let's get you home," he whispered.
His hand shook a little when he fastened the little clasp around her ankles. Or maybe it was her skin, she wasn't sure.
"Ok," she whispered, eyes a little wide.
Why couldn't she forget that she wanted this man so bad even when she'd like, drank her weight in sweet cocktails? The world was so unfair sometimes.
He got up then, sighing, and held her coat up. Usagi swayed, biting her lip, but she dutifully turned around and let him slip her coat on her. But her brain worked so slowly, so foggy, lost in this moment that was so uncomfortable and still kinda what she always sought out, and it must have been a few moments that she stood there dumbly, because he grabbed her hand again, nudged her to follow him down the single staircase and through the door of the remote storage house turned apartment building.
The street lamp flickered. A taxi drove slowly by. Muffled, faint noises emerged from the house and dwindling down party they'd left behind.
She still pouted, now calmly following.
He didn't drop her hand.
He'd noticed, of course. But it took a few moments of listening to their echoing steps along the narrow concrete of night time Tokyo's silent, faintly glowing roads for him to squeeze it, and then drop it reluctantly.
Her voice sounded a little steadier when she spoke, a block or so later.
"Aren't we gonna drive?" she asked, a step behind him.
He slowed down, synched his steps with hers with a sigh.
They synched up so easily…
"I drank too, Usagi…" he said, looking straight ahead. The road they were walking on was starting to turn more residential, less remote than Reika's converted living space. Cars parked in narrow spots, yellow street lamps shone down on them. Up ahead, he could see a cat cross the narrow street.
"You're just gonna leave your car here?" she asked, looking up. He felt her eyes on his profile, but stubbornly looked straight ahead.
He suddenly realised he was in one of those situations he liked to avoid very adently and always had. He was alone with her.
Instead, he shrugged rather uncomfortably. "I came on my bike, anyway."
"Oh." He didn't look. And yet he could hear the blush. It made him more than uncomfortable.
"I love that bike," she whispered.
He blushed. He didn't even really know why that sentence felt so intimate, paired with her blush.
He swallowed.
"So, we'll walk?" she asked.
His voice was clipped. "Yes."
"But that'll take, like, DAYS," Usagi whined.
Mamoru couldn't help the snort, the smirk that always came to his lips when she was being so dramatic, drunk or not.
"We're in Meguro," Mamoru said, "not Australia. We'll have you home in about 50 minutes."
"Oh…" she said.
Up ahead, the streets were getting brighter, more colorful. Neon-lit. A 24 hour Pachinko hall was clearly to be heard.
"Can't we just… transform? Get home by rooftop express?" Usagi suggested, still looking at him.
He pursed his lips. "I'd rather not be the cause of Drunk Sailor Moon Spotted headlines."
Usagi huffed. "I'm not that drunk."
As if on cue, she lost her footing and fell forward. The way his hand reached out and grabbed her arm was automatic, reactive, no thinking involved, as he kept her from falling face first into the lamp post just in front of her – the one she would have walked straight into either way.
"You were saying?" he smirked, and for once, looking right at her.
She blushed, glared at him. "That's not the alcohol, that's just me."
He chuckled, despite himself.
And then noticed he was holding her gaze a little too long, and cleared his throat, briskly walking along.
They turned a corner and ended up on a much wider, much brighter, much livelier street, lined with pedestrian bridges and the odd izakaya that still seemed to be open. It was deserted, obviously, but you could still feel the life humming beneath, even at 2:30 am.
A little to their left, one block away, the Meguro river flowed. Lined with Sakura trees this time of year, illuminated by the pink lanterns of the spring festivals. Even at this time of night.
He kept to the right.
"Can we at least get something to eat?" Usagi whined behind him. Her heels clicked against the asphalt.
"You snacked all night, Usagi."
She rolled her eyes in that really theatrical way as she wobbled along. "But that's not real food," she said.
He snorted, his eyebrows flying to his hairline in amusement as he whirled around to her. "Oh, now, it's not real food?"
She hrmped, crossed her arms. "You know what I mean," she growled.
He chuckled.
But then she quickened her steps, passed him by and began jogging.
"Usagi!" he called after her.
"FOOD!" she yelled, too loudly, and he flinched, and then groaned, when she neared a 24 hour conbini straight ahead.
"I'm trying to get you home, Usagi!" he called after her, too loud as well for this time of night, but it was too late, she'd already disappeared behind the automatic sliding doors, brightly wishing everyone a good evening as she entered with a little sway and a little wave.
Mamoru cursed and fell into a light jog, and stepping into the bright shop with its friendly staff that both greeted him, and the bubbly radio music playing, felt like stepping into a different world – not the quiet, sleeping, urban hush outside.
When he caught up with her, Usagi was leaning over the ice cream section, one golden pigtail hanging into the open freezer, a basket next to her already half full.
"Usagi…" he half groaned, bringing his hand to his forehead and running it slowly through his hair in frustration.
"What?!" she said, and attempted to drop both a little container of Häagen-Dazs and a strawberry Crunky ice cream bar into her basket, except she missed, and they landed on his feet.
"Whoops," she said, as he bent down with a sigh and dropped them reluctantly back into her basket.
He was about to mumble something atrocious, but then she beamed that smile at him that she never graced him with when sober, only ever the others, and it died in his throat.
Instead, he just buried his hands in his pockets and followed her around as she proceeded to pack tons of sandwiches and onigiri into her basket.
"Are we done?" he asked after a little while.
"Almost!" she beamed, and he once again had to avert his eyes.
Only then the song changed to a brighter, happier tune and Usagi jumped in glee, almost dropping her basket, had he not caught it in reflex.
"That's my favorite song!" she called, smile bright and so damn Usagi and he kind of forgot to be embarrassed when the salaryman in the isle next to them started glaring as Usagi started to hop and bop her head and sing along to the music so very off-key right in front of the onigiri shelf.
Mamoru laughed, shook his head in wonderment.
She was the most adorable drunk girl in the existence of drunk girls.
It took him two more songs to coax her to the counter, where she gushed over the cashier's (objectively really normal looking) hair before she got anywhere close to paying. And while she ordered two more nikuman even when he insisted he didn't want one, and he was sent to fetch more almond crush pocky because she needed more, the two very bemused young people who worked the night shift at this particular Lawson packed her purchases into two very full bags.
They handed the bags to him, not her, when she rummaged in her coat pockets and dug out crumpled bills one by one.
A wise choice, or so he found.
It was almost 3 o'clock when they stepped back into the night, one milky clear plastic bag hanging from each of his hands.
He shook his head.
But then she jumped against his side and laced her arm around his elbow and he froze a little at the proximity but let himself be dragged along by her.
"C'mon." She giggled, and dragged him through a narrow street to their left.
Obviously, Usagi had had a very clear idea where they currently were, too.
They turned a corner, and were greeted by the kind of breathtaking sight he'd really wanted to avoid.
Meguro river was the kind of place he usually beelined around during Hanami season. It was among the most popular cherry blossom viewing spots, and packed with crowds so thick you were pushed along on a normal day.
But at 3 am, it was stunning.
And practically deserted, a young couple here and there, giggling to themselves and taking selfies with the cherry blossoms.
He inhaled sharply, as Usagi hopped in glee and tugged on his arm to get him to move.
He did, let himself be pushed along to the nearest bridge, watched her sit and dangle her feet down through the metal bars and towards the river, watched her wriggle her hands at him to come join her.
It was a spectacular view.
The whole river was lined with outrageously tall and gorgeous cherry trees, its blooms thick and lush and falling in the light breeze, down into the rushing river covered in pink petals that it carried off into the illuminated distance. The lanterns, pink and swaying and emitting soft light, made the whole scene look as if it belonged in a movie, or maybe someone's dream.
"Wow," he whispered.
"Right?" she beamed, and patted the spot on the ground right next to her.
He blinked. She looked gorgeous. Golden and bright in her yellow coat, the pink light illuminating her, framed by the low branches of the cherry blossoms.
He cleared his throat, stood stupidly next to her seated form. "This isn't getting you home, Usagi."
She shrugged, and wordlessly patted the ground a little harder.
He blamed the alcohol coursing through his system for the fact that he ended up sitting down next to her.
She giggled, grabbed her Crunky ice cream bar out of one of the bags, deposited it in her lap, and opened a pink can that he had not seen her buy.
His eyes went wide. "You bought more alcohol?!"
She rolled her eyes. "Not for me," she said, and handed him the open can.
"Excuse me?"
She rolled her eyes again, a tad more dramatically. "You're not nearly drunk enough yet."
He snorted, looked into the … he swallowed – seriously stunning and romantic distance. "I'm quite drunk enough, thank you."
"Nuh-uh," she sing-songed, shaking the open can at him. Droplets spilled over, and she doused him in alcohol for the second time today. He grabbed it just to not be showered in it, he told himself.
Though it didn't quite explain why he took a large sip. And then grimaced.
"Ughhh," he made, and looked at the can. It was one of those limited edition flavored Suntory Chu-his. Cherry.
"What?!" She poked him with her elbow. "It's the best!"
He chuckled despite himself. "If you say so."
"Well, see if you like this one—"
Before he could react –
"Wait!" he called.
—she'd pulled another can out of her bag, and opened it up, too.
"—better?"
He sighed. Put the can down, and accepted his now second opened drink.
Lemon flavored. This one did taste better…
And then nearly spit it all out, because Usagi had grabbed the cherry can, and took a swig from it.
"Hey! You said you didn't want to drink any more!" he yelped.
"But you don't like it! And it's the best!" she said.
He froze a little. The way she held the can to her lips where his own had just been…
"Fine," she said, and set it down next to him. "But don't let it go to waste."
And then she quieted down, except for her little moans into her ice cream that he tried to block out. Instead, he felt the breeze rustle both his hair and the sakura blossoms, and watched them both tumble into the river beneath her swinging feet and into her hair…
"Mamo-chan…"
His heart gave a little pang. It wasn't the first time she called him that. But usually, it was reserved for situations in which he'd almost died or been kidnapped and she had to rescue him.
"Mh," he made, trying the hardest to smooth his face over, void of any emotion.
"Can I ask you a question?" she said, and crumbled the paper of the Crunky in her fist, before exchanging it for something else in her bag.
"Sure…" he said.
He was looking straight ahead, taking an irresponsible sip from the lemon flavored alcohol in his hand, but saw her frown in the corner of his eye, eyebrows in adorable little wrinkles.
She shook her head, and ripped her nikuman in half.
"I said I didn't want one," he murmured.
She rolled her eyes once more and shook her fist harder.
He accepted with the same type of gesture. But when he bit into it, it was still steaming and warm and frigging delicious and he moaned into it.
Why did food always taste so much better after you drank?
She giggled, and bit into her own.
"What did you want to ask me?" he mumbled into the dough, his mouth very uncharacteristically full.
"Mhh," she made this time, and lowered her half of her nikuman down into her lap.
The breeze rustled her hair. One cherry blossom landed on her fringe and he realised at the same time that a) he had a hard time refraining from reaching out and brushing it away and b) that he was staring.
Somehow, he was kind of sure that the question that left her mouth was not quite the one she had actually intended to ask.
"What's your type?" she ended up asking, and lifted her nikuman back up, quickly taking a huge bite out of it and chewing quickly.
He blinked. "Type?" he asked stupidly.
She nodded, mouth full, face buried in steaming dough.
"Of what? Girls?" he asked equally stupidly.
She blushed, but nodded.
You. Dummy.
He cleared his throat. "I don't have one," he said instead.
She pursed her lips, clearly dissatisfied with his answer.
"How'd you like her?" she asked, kind of glaring into her food, and taking another bite.
His eyebrows rose. "Who?" he asked, confused.
She threw him a look. "Mawuu," she said, chewing.
He blinked, trying to understand. "Ma-who?"
She swallowed dramatically. "Mayu," she corrected.
"Oh," he leaned back a little, surprised, "the girl from before?"
She nodded into her food.
He shrugged, looking back towards the blossoms fluttering down into the river. "She's ok."
Usagi huffed. Her tone turned sad, and he protested, but she took another swig of his former drink, before she said. "You looked good together. Sitting on that counter like that."
He shrugged. This conversation was pretty pointless, really. He wasn't gonna fall in love with anyone who wasn't her, after all. And she—
He swallowed. "If you think so," he said after a while, his tone entirely too gloomy, and took a large swig of his own.
She leaned a little into him, searching his face, no doubt confused by the sudden mood change, and he shook it off.
"Shall I take you home, then?" he said, trying to sound some version of cheerful, or at least kind.
Her face twisted into appallment, and she shook her bag. "But it's so nice!" she said, gesturing towards the view. "And we still have food!"
"Right," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's," he dug for his phone, glanced at it, "3:20. I promised you I'd have you home by now, and we're barely 10 minutes away from Reika's."
She shrugged in that cheeky way, lifted both her shoulders in mock drama.
He leaned back, defeated, when she handed him another half of her second nikuman.
"What's something you've always wanted to do, Mamo-chan?" she asked.
He bit into his nikuman. This one was considerably colder, but still delicious. She had a way of picking out quite remarkably delicious junk food.
"Why do you ask?" he said, chewing.
She shrugged, picked at her half. "Just answer the question?"
He threw her a look, frowning. "I don't know… see the cherry blossoms at night?"
She rolled her eyes, but he could see she couldn't keep from smiling, and it looked adorable, and he couldn't help himself from flashing a smile right back.
"Answer the question for real, Mamo-chan," she said, that twinkle in her eye still there.
He put the rest of his nikuman down, on top of her bag, and leaned forward, curling a hand around the metal bars of the bridge, cocking his head.
The breeze pushed a few single, tiny strands of her golden hair against the metal bars and through, and her face looked so soft, so warm, and the cherry blossoms seemed to swirl around her in the air as she kept his gaze.
A gaze too long, too intense.
Wrong, Chiba, his mind chastised.
"What's something you totally desperately wanna do?" she repeated her question, slowly, quietly, holding his gaze.
Kiss you. Dummy.
But he settled for something at least a little bit safer to say, instead.
"Cut off your boyfriend's ponytail," he said with a shrug, and finally averted his eyes.
She furrowed her brow in confusion. It took her a moment to realize who he was talking about, or so it seemed.
"He's NOT my boyfriend," she said with a frown. "He never was."
Mamoru shrugged rather uncomfortably. That one wasn't his nicest year… He really should have just gone to Harvard when he had the chance. But he never was good at self-preservation.
"Your turn," he said instead, and took a large gulp of his drink. He was kind of surprised to find it suddenly empty.
Apparently, he must have made a rather funny face, because Usagi started to giggle, and then produced another lemony can.
He blinked. "How many of those did you buy?!"
She simply shrugged. And this time, he accepted the can, and opened it himself.
"So, what is it you've always wanted to do?" he asked quietly.
She blushed, and lifted the cherry can – he didn't even try to protest this time – and it, too, emptied in one large gulp.
Her face was still red, as was her cute, drunk nose, and she untangled her legs from the metal bars and scooted closer to him.
He inhaled even before she did it.
"This," she whispered.
His heart thrummed to life, thumping hard against his chest when she leaned in—
And then she snuggled her head into the crook of his neck and leaned against him.
"Oh," he said, so utterly, helplessly stupid. And for whatever reason – or, well, he knew the reason – his heart didn't calm down, even when it wasn't what he'd expected.
"Ok…" he said, feeling utterly dense, and weird, and…
Silence settled between them, and his heart seemed so loud, she must be hearing it, and once more, he noticed that the few people that strolled along the river at this time of night were couples, and… and they must have looked like one, too.
"This is nice," she said after a little while, and snug her arms around his elbow, and her hair against his neck.
He should stop this. Now. But his head swam in alcohol, and shit yes, this was nice, this was kind of all he'd ever wanted, but he shouldn't…
Instead he chuckled at the absurdity of it all.
But then she moved her head against his neck again and her hair felt so fucking soft and he had to ball his hands into fists to not to brush them into it and he could smell it and…
The chuckle lodged in his throat. Turned into a cough that rustled her a little too hard, and he felt like a pervert and so very ashamed for the taut, and immediate, pull in his pants, and even when he willed himself down right away, with all the shame that flooded his system his face flushed like a beacon of light.
Friend. You're supposed to be her friend or something like that. Friends don't feel this.
And then his heart stopped, because she talked.
Quiet, so quiet, and beet red, just as him.
"What if I wanted to kiss you?"
He wrenched himself free momentarily, jumped up. The Lemon Suntory clanked onto the ground and spilled onto the asphalt in foam and liquid.
Her eyes looked incredibly hurt, looking up at him like that.
"You're drunk, Usagi. You don't know what you're saying."
He'd averted his eyes, picked up her bags, stuffed the remains of the one into the other, and started picking up the litter into the now empty one with trembling, shaking hands.
She moved onto her knees in that too slow, unbalanced way.
"I do know what I'm—"
He steeled his voice, interrupted her.
"I don't kiss drunk girls, Usagi," he boomed.
She snapped her mouth shut, glared at him.
"Get up," he said, face blank. All mask. "Let's get you home."
Usagi stomped her feet, trying to catch up with him. He did walk a brisk pace, passing by the beautiful, swaying lanterns along the shore, and through soft puddles of pink petals with barely a glance at them.
"Are you this revolted by me?" she shouted after him.
He rounded back, glaring at her. "Are you even listening to yourself?!—"
She poked him in the chest. "That's it, right?"
He shook his head, deflating, but kept walking.
Her voice was calmer too, but started to shake.
"Or is it because you met me when I was 14? Was I too young?" she asked in a much smaller voice.
"I'm only two years older than you, Usagi," he pressed out, shaking his head, pushing ahead.
And then she stopped.
He turned around reluctantly.
Her chest heaved, her eyes a glare, or a pout, or something in the middle, and he deflated completely, all the fight leaving him.
"Why, then?" she whispered.
He dropped the bags to the ground, pushed his fists into his eyes. They pricked, hard, but he didn't want to cry, not again, not over this, and so instead he groaned into his hands, ripped them away, and got into her face.
Alcohol. He really, really, really should never drink alcohol around her.
"BECAUSE I'M EXTREMELY FUCKING ATTRACTED TO YOU, OK?! BUT I SHOULDN'T, AND YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA AND—"
She backed away, eyes wide, and he didn't know what got into him (except he did, it was the alcohol.)
"and, and…" he stuttered, wild "… and you don't even LIKE me and…"
He swallowed. Her eyes were so, so wide. "...and YOU will wake up and be completely embarrassed about what the alcohol made you do and feel, but for me this is real, ok?!"
He deflated, eyes wide. Oh no. Oh NO. What did you do, you fucking idiot, you—
She frowned, completely still. "You think I don't like you?!"
He pretty much growled at him, turned away, grabbed the bags he'd dropped.
He was Mamoru-baka, wasn't he?
"Mamo-chan!" she called after him.
He turned around again. Mortified. Embarrassed. How would he ever undo those words.
"Listen—" he started.
She was swaying, eyes wide.
His shoulders dropped, all the fight leaving him. "Let's just get you home, ok?" he whispered.
But she was still blinking up at him, confusion written in the crease between her eyebrows…
…And then she keeled over, and threw up right into the never-ending puddle of fallen, pink cherry blossoms.
His hands flew into her hair, doing his best not to hit her with the bags as he held back her hair.
Afterwards, she was mortified, and after he moved her to a bench along the shore, he calmly handed her a tiny, miniature bottle of water.
She eyed it dumbfoundedly. "I didn't buy this."
He shook his head. "No, you didn't."
She looked at it as if it was the biggest puzzle in the world.
"I took it from the party. Figured you might need it at one point…"
She frowned harder at it, and he unscrewed the top for her, and held it up to her mouth, not unlike she had done with Rei earlier in the evening, except he did it in a way she could actually take it.
And she did.
She drank half of it in one swig, then grimaced and became quiet.
"You're a very thoughtful and sweet guy, Mamo-chan…"
He swallowed.
"At least when you want to be, baka."
This time he smirked. He couldn't help it, she always brought the asshole out in him.
She took a second swig from the bottle with flaming cheeks, got up, walked over to the reiling, and spit into the river, a look of utter disgust on her face.
Then she settled back on the bench, took another sip and swallowed.
When she brought up her sleeved wrist to wipe her mouth, Mamoru whipped out his handkerchief before she did.
She blinked, but took it, and rubbed it awkwardly across her mouth, meeting his eyes.
It was only when she awkwardly wrinkled it between her hands afterwards, her fingers rubbing across the embroidery and her eyes flying down to it, that he recognized his mistake in horror.
She blinked heavily. Smoothing the fabric over. "This is mine..." she whispered.
He started, blushed furiously. Oh god.
It WAS hers, obviously.
"I haven't seen this in…" she frowned at it, as if it wasn't real. "Like, years years."
Tsukino Usagi, 2nd Year, Class 1.
Yeah. You haven't seen it since friggin Middle School, Usagi. How could he be such a friggin drunk mess tonight, what else was he gonna—
They talked at the same time
"How did you—"
"Is it? I didn't notice. You must have forgotten it at my place at a meeting or something—"
He was rambling. Beet red. Fist in his hair.
Her eyes flew up at him, wide. Turning wider, almost smiling, blushing—
He grabbed the empty bottle from her and stuffed it in with the other trash.
"C'mon," he said. "Let's at least get you home before sunrise."
She nodded mutely and got up on unsteady feet and he turned his back to her.
"You said you're attracted to me…" she whispered.
He sighed.
No. I'm not. I'm in love with you.
He didn't answer.
Four years. Four years and he'd kept it all in. No one ever suspected, not even Motoki, and now, tonight, he'd slipped thrice.
He tipped his head back, groaned into the sky.
But he did turn back to her, saw her catch her forehead, sway on her feet.
And with widening eyes, he was back where she was in two long strides, and knelt in front of her.
"What—"
"C'mon," he said, back turned to her. "Get on up."
She realised what he wanted, then, obviously, because she started protesting.
"I can walk, baka."
He rolled his eyes. "Sure you can. But what if you didn't need to."
It was a few turns of back and forth that clearly left her exhausted that he was finally carrying her piggy-back through night time Tokyo.
And after a while, and long, long after they'd left the Meguro river behind them, she started to slump against him fully, and her breathing became deeper, and her chin rested heavily against his shoulder.
He was so sure she was fast asleep that he almost dropped her when she spoke, almost half an hour later, just when they crossed the invisible border that divided Juuban and Azabu.
"Can I ask you something?" she whispered against his neck. Voice tired, croaky.
He fought the urge to bite his lip. "…Sure."
"It's a little loaded, though," she said. He felt her chin move against his shoulder, her lips against his neck.
"…ok," he breathed.
"You know, back when it all started? For me, I mean?"
He nodded.
"Why didn't you want Luna to wake me? Why did you guys wait so long?"
He sighed. He didn't speak for a little while. Tried to collect his thoughts.
Above them, the sky was turning a somewhat lighter shade of dark blue.
"You'd died wanting to be a normal girl. I wanted you to have the chance to be a normal girl…" he said. It was the truth, anyway.
"Right," she said. Her voice sounded so… defeated. Sad.
"Why do you ask?"
He felt her head move. Slip against his neck a little.
Her voice was barely even a whisper, when she spoke. He wouldn't have heard it, had her mouth not currently been directly at his ear.
"Sometimes it feels like you don't want me here. Or as in, in the team."
He frowned. "…That's really not true, Usagi."
He felt her shrug. "Like if… if you really did not want to be around me."
"…That's not true, Usagi?" he whispered.
"Isn't it?" she breathed.
He shook his head.
But he didn't speak, and her form got a little heavier again on his back.
"I wish I could remember our past life, Mamo-chan… Or even just that year," she said, just before she finally fell asleep.
He nodded, shifting her a little. His heart felt heavier than it had in a long while.
I wish so, too.
It was a task, getting her sleeping form up onto her balcony and into her room without waking the Tsukino household. But he wasn't Tuxedo Mask for nothing, and so he managed.
"Good night, princess," he whispered, as he tucked her in and dropped the softest, barest kiss onto her forehead, slightly cursing himself that he was breaking his rule. He didn't kiss drunk girls, my ass.
When he walked home, the sky was starting to turn purple on the horizon.
Later, when he lay awake in bed, heart hammering as he went through all his mistakes that night, it was bright and blue.
His heart wouldn't still. And he didn't want to call it hope.
It was day when his phone blinked up next to him.
Usako, 11:13 am.
OMG, I'm so sorry. I don't really remember anything after that last cherry drink.. but I THINK I barfed on you?! I'M SORRY? What did I miss? R U MAD?
He breathed out a shaky breath, let the phone drop onto the bed. Really, he should be happy. Really, he should be relieved.
Why would the tears not stop, then?
AN: So, I had this whole long AN prepared explaining where canon diverged and what the key element in this particular alternativ universe was that changed, but, I figured, it doesn't need explanation. It can stand alone. And if you're curious, I trust you to figure it out on your own, and welcome your theories in the reviews ;)
ALSO PLEASE DON'T HATE ME, OK?!