Late Night Musings
By MimixIshidax
-x-
There was something about the way she looked in the firelight, magical; as the flames wisped about her illuminating parts and pieces of her silhouette. And here, where she believed no one could see her, she let the smile she had pasted on...fall. Worry etched across her delicate features, melancholy dripping from her eyes, uncertainty written all over her face.
They had been here, for what felt like years, grasping at shadows…chasing ghosts. Following leads that inevitably became dead ends and deciphering cryptic clues that brought them no closer to the end than the beginning.
And yet, in the time they had spent he had always felt detached from her. Not in a bad way, necessarily, just in a distant way. He hadn't seen her in seven years and it seemed as though she was an entirely different person. No longer whining about trivial things like not having a real bed to sleep in or the bug digimon roaming around.
No, instead, she was eternally optimistic, trying to infect everyone around her with her cheer. Assuring everyone they would survive, fix everything and save the world and it would be over sooner than they thought. And he had found it so odd, so incredibly strange that the one person he had always considered to be something akin to an obligation was the one trying to gather hope and support in them.
The way a leader would…
Of course, she wasn't that and nor would she ever claim to be. But there was a strength in her that he had never seen before, a courage he would have never guessed was possible. And while this new facet of her personality had intrigued him at first, mostly it just left him confused.
And confusion, for Yamato Ishida, was a particularly irritating emotion—so instead of letting it furl and unfurl in his mind over and over again, he cast it away.
He did, however, grudgingly allow a good deal of newfound respect for her to blossom. He trusted her, not to say he mistrusted her before. But now, it was different, he could actually trust her to accomplish things, be useful to the task at hand. She was no longer what he would've considered a liability of any sort.
The respect morphed into something more, as time went on. He wasn't sure when it happened or how it happened, but he found himself thinking about her even when she wasn't distinctly in his sight. A lot of times, when he was alone, keeping watch or keeping to himself, he allowed his mind to wander in the recesses of his subconscious and out she would emerge.
And he would work up conversations in his head, about how he would tell her he had misjudged her. How she hadn't deserved that from him. And she would tell him that she didn't begrudge him for it, because she was nothing if not gracious.
But seeing her this way, dissolved of any remnants of happiness, stripped of her spirit… he thought it would make the cynic in him think less of her. As if everything she had portrayed the past few months had just been an act, she wasn't actually that strong or brave or…hopeful. That under it all was the same ten year old girl, lost and scared.
Except he didn't, he didn't think any of those things, not even a little, not at all. Instead, he found a greater appreciation for her and how difficult it all must be for her as well. Because she tried, for the sake of everyone else, to be optimistic and encouraging, she knew if she wasn't they would all be much worse for the wear.
Perhaps even have given up by now.
And there was something so sincerely selfless about that, he could barely grasp it.
He wordlessly walked over to her, cursing the twig that snapped under his shoe that caused her to meet his eyes.
She wiped at her cheeks furiously, a pink blush rising from her neck as she averted her gaze.
He didn't say anything, he wasn't known for being particularly chatty anyway. So instead, he just sat beside her, back against a great brown log. He kept a few inches between them so he could be sure she wasn't uncomfortable by the sudden proximity.
"I can keep watch you know, you don't have to babysit me." She sounded a tiny bit…resentful.
Matt realized how it must look, she was not aware of his internal musings or his changing perspective. She had no idea at all what he really thought of her, only just what she perceived he thought of her.
And he didn't blame her for that.
"I know." He said simply. "It's not why I came out here."
She nodded, "I see." She untucked her hair from behind her ear, letting her loose waves cascade over her shoulder, shielding her face from his eyes.
He sighed, looking at his hands.
She rested her chin on her hand, "Why did you come out here, then?" She asked softly.
They had a very…barren friendship (if it could even be called that.) He didn't find her annoying the way he had before, but their interactions were limited entirely to plans and codes and figuring out how the hell they were going to get out of here.
But, boy, was she stunning.
Disarmingly so.
If there was something he had noticed from the second he had seen her, it was that. It was the first thing that had caught his attention. Everything else had, of course, come later. But there was no denying that she had grown into someone incredibly, unequivocally, aesthetically appealing.
And he was a musician, an artist, it was in his nature to be inherently moved by beauty and grace. He could imagine many ballads being inspired by such a striking muse.
As if he were Homer and she were Calliope.
He would find himself humming wordless melodies as his eyes fell upon pink tinged cheeks. He could hear lyrics about flawless alabaster skin and strawberry champagne lips and honeydew eyes.
He snapped himself out of his reverie.
"I was actually just…um." He had to take a leak, but there probably wasn't a very eloquent way of putting that. "Just using the men's room." He cleared his throat.
That earned a small giggle out of her and for some reason the sound made him smile, "You mean that makeshift pile of leaves." She said in amusement.
"Not the best accommodations." He agreed.
She raised a shoulder, "Better than nothing, I suppose." She said, as her smile faded.
"Still, an adjustment for a princess."
He saw her shift, "I'm not…" She went a little rigid.
"Relax." He said lightly. "I was only kidding." He wanted her to know that.
"I'm not so high maintenance, you know." She defended anyway.
He fought off a grin, "Of course not." He said, in a silky drawl that sent a shiver down her spine.
She allowed herself to look at him, through the gaps in her hair, his profile slightly distorted and divided in her peripheral vision.
He had always been handsome.
Cool and aloof and distant but handsome nonetheless.
Hard to read and mysterious beyond measure, but handsome still.
Angst-ridden and broody and fatalistic but…handsome through it all.
"You could've gone back to the tents." She noticed.
Matt ran a hand through his wild blonde hair, "I know." He acknowledged. "But I didn't." He said as if it weren't entirely obvious he was still sitting there.
"Why?"
He shrugged, "You seemed lonely." He admitted. "And I couldn't really sleep anyway."
Mimi turned her face to look at him, "I—I wasn't lonely." She told him quickly. "I was fine, I am fine."
He dragged his eyes up from the crackling wood, "So maybe I was lonely." He told her, locking his turbulent blue gaze with hers.
Her eyes widened, as she ripped them away from his hold. "And you sought out my company?" She asked, sarcasm and surprise equally evident in her voice.
"Is that just so hard to believe?"
She let out a hollow laugh. "I don't imagine to be your first choice." She said honestly, once again allowing her hair to separate the two of them.
"You presume to know how I feel towards you." He frowned.
Mimi shook her head, "No presumption, Yamato. I do know." She corrected. "But it's alright, I understand why we wouldn't necessarily spend too much time together." And the implication was clear, what she really meant was she understood why he wouldn't want to make an effort with her.
They were too different.
She had tried, at the beginning at least. Mostly because she really wanted to know him, there were parts of him that he kept so closed off from everyone else, haunted pieces of his past he wouldn't let anyone see. And it made her want to figure him out, get passed those walls and underneath his skin.
Find out how and where and when he got his scars—those invisible ones that kept him so incredibly scared of getting close to someone.
She had wanted to help him.
No one should have to go through pain alone.
But she learned quickly her attempts were in vain, he didn't want her help and he certainly didn't care to get to know her.
And it stung, but after a while she had learned to be okay with it.
Not everyone was going to gravitate towards her.
But that was before, that had been the last time, she reminded herself.
This time around—he was different. Not detrimentally, just incrementally. The change so marginal, so subtle that she was sure only she would have noticed.
Perhaps the others had too once in a while, but she was sure they attributed it to maturity and time.
They were kids before, surely they had grown up in the time that had passed between then and now.
He was more patient, and there were times she found him sneaking looks at her—sometimes looking impressed, other times looking surprised. But there were other times, when she was sure she had been imagining things, where he would just be looking at her. No rhyme or reason, just careful glances.
"Enlighten me, then. What do I think of you, Mimi?"
She wasn't going to fall for this one, "I'm not the type to be self-deprecating." She answered.
"I wouldn't expect you to be." Matt chuckled. "I find you…" He paused for a moment, rummaging around for the right word. "Interesting." He decided.
"Interesting?"
Cautiously, he reached out a hand towards her. "Yes." He brushed the soft tendrils of auburn silk behind her ear.
She almost flinched at the contact, not because it was unpleasant but because it had been so unexpected.
"I had always thought you were a bit…transparent. Shallow, even." He confessed openly. "And I want to attribute that to my own naiveté as an eleven year old boy with no real life experience and to the fact that I hadn't taken the chance to actually get to know you, then in a flash you were gone." He moved his hand from her hair.
She raised her eyebrows, but for once keeping her mouth shut.
"I know I wasn't very forthcoming last time, but I thought I had changed that now." He realized he hadn't done such a good job in hindsight.
She wasn't psychic, after all, how would she know how much his perspective had changed just by the sheer allowance of letting himself be wrong about her.
Instead of holding steadfast to the preconceived notion he had of her for all these years.
"You did." She said, feeling an overwhelming need to compensate him for his vulnerability. "I just thought it was because… never mind."
"What?"
"I just thought it was because you had just you know gotten more mature. Like any of the rest of us."
He shook his head, "No, it's because I see you differently." He hadn't come here to profess anything, but now that he had come this far, he knew the words were going to come out of their own accord. "Or rather, maybe I just finally see you for who you are." He amended.
Because he knew, somewhere deep down, that this was probably the person she had always been, he had just always been too pigheaded to realize it.
Her eyes snapped up, "You, you do?" She asked.
"You're selfless and kind." His eyes softened as he looked at her. "You're stubborn and emotional. A little dramatic." He added with a wink.
A small smile touched the corners of her lips.
"But it's only because you care so much about everything and everyone." He had glimpsed this, that day she had insisted they give their fallen comrades a proper burial. But that brief display had barely been the surface of her compassion. "And you're generous and forgiving almost to a fault, but I know it'll never change." He said resolutely.
Mimi dropped her eyes to the ground, feeling her heart stammering against her ribcage. "I… Matt. I didn't." She was at a loss for words, probably for the first time ever.
He put a hand under her chin, mesmerized once again by the way the firelight danced in her eyes, brightening shades of rust and fawn while simultaneously extracting hues of fern and pine. "And, you should know." He prompted her to look at him, trying to maintain the nerve to say what he had been thinking for the last however long months. "You're beautiful."
The word sent an assortment of what Mimi imagined to be brightly colored butterflies soaring through her internal organs, fluttering around her stomach, knocking the air out of her lungs.
"Matt…" His name came out breathy and soft.
Did he know how even the slightest compliment from him had such a profound effect on her?
Determination flowed through him like the very blood running in his veins, as he moved his hand behind her neck. Her eyes widened, mouth slightly parted at his swift motion.
And she didn't respond to him at first, her brain hadn't quite caught up to the sensation of his lips on hers. But it was only a few seconds before her eyes flickered shut and her mouth moved delicately against his.
There had been an explosion of colors behind her eyelids, as her skin hummed to life beneath his featherlike touch.
Matt gently pulled away, "Some prior warning would have been proper, I suppose." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I imagine you're a bit… puzzled." Emotions were certainly not his forte, talking about them was even more abstract.
But he knew that particular trait left the people around him rather unfulfilled, in a constant state of confusion about what he was feeling.
"A bit, sure." She said slowly coming out of her daze. "I honestly just didn't think there was ever a chance you would want to…well, do that." She blushed adorably.
"Was it… was it alright?" It struck him then, that perhaps she didn't have the same sentiments towards him.
Had he grossly overstepped his bounds?
A soft wind-chime chuckle left her, "It was." She promised.
If she was honest with herself, she had wanted to kiss him the moment they'd locked eyes.
"I was just taken aback, is all." She assured him.
Matt moved a little closer to her, "I meant it though, all of it." He inched his hand closer to hers, until he could brush his pinky against hers.
She didn't move her hand, "Really?" She murmured, prompting his hand closer still.
He allowed his fingers to overlap her tiny, slender ones. "Wasn't it sincere?" He asked, she was the expert after all.
She thought on it, in the meanwhile allowing herself to enjoy the warmth of his hand over her own, in all its simplistic innocence and intimacy.
"How do you feel about me, Yamato?" She asked him, fiery resolution burning behind her bright eyes.
Instinctually, he wanted to reclaim his hand back. But he fought the urge to run, "I'm not so sure." He said in an entirely non-committal fashion.
"But you said you felt differently now than you had before, you must have some sort of explanation for how or why." She wasn't letting him off that easy.
He didn't get to kiss her and then shut her out. If she was going to be left with intrusive thoughts about him and everything he had awoken in her, she would be damned if she let him walk away doubtless and content.
She wasn't anyone's experiment.
So if he truly did mean what he said as he claimed, he would prove that right now.
Otherwise, they were just words—heavy but meaningless, the kiss as well. And she would leave it all there, in the cold night air and in the burning fire and in the deafening darkness.
"I find myself watching you, without even meaning to do so." He started. "But, but not in a stalker way or anything." He added quickly.
She fought the smile that threatened to encompass her features.
"But just kind of looking at you, doing things. And interacting with people and digimon, alike. I was always pleasantly surprised time and time again by your empathy and your loyalty…" He took a deep breath in. "And just when I thought I had a handle on who you were, you would peel away another layer of yourself and reveal someone even more enigmatic and fascinating." He was uncomfortable, she could tell.
His hand twisting into a fist absently, curling and uncurling it with every syllable.
And she felt bad, but she needed him to push a little further—give her just a little more.
So she waited.
"But we had been estranged for so long—for forever, really. And I had never any idea how to approach you after cementing such a detached relationship, I was at a loss for how to reverse it."
She nodded, because it was all the things she had been feeling lately.
As if they were both so close to saying something more but somehow always falling short.
"Then tonight, I saw you here and you'd been crying." He made no effort to hide the fact that he'd seen her. "And I couldn't just leave you like that. When we started talking, it kind of just felt like everything had snapped into place. All of a sudden it didn't feel like there were oceans between us anymore, as if we were finally in the same place at the same time." He had no idea if he was making any sense at all anymore.
But when he looked at her, he could tell whatever he was saying must have been right because she was smiling.
The breath left his lungs quite quickly when he noticed that.
She was radiant.
"I know there's probably a lot more I should say." He shifted his weight in the dark. "But I don't know…" he went to withdraw his hand.
She caught it, "No, don't." She practically pleaded.
A soft smile touched his lips, as he threaded her fingers between his own.
She moved a little closer to him now, looking at him demurely through dark lashes. "Thank you." She said gratefully.
"For?"
"Just that, all of it." She tentatively laid her head on his shoulder.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, allowing her to bury her face into his chest, pulling her as close to him as he could.
And when Sora came to relieve Mimi an hour later, she was momentarily alarmed to find not one but two figures slumped against the great oak log.
But the panic was quickly replaced with elation, when she registered the familiar glint of Yamato's unruly blonde hair.
"Well, would you look at that." Tai came up beside her, arms crossed over his chest. "About time, too." He smirked, "I was beginning to wonder if Matt would ever find his ball—
"Taichi." Sora reprimanded quietly, elbowing him in the stomach. "Should we wake them up?" She whispered.
Tai stared at the pair thoughtfully, "Nah, let's give them a few more minutes." He said decidedly.
Sora looked at him. "My, my. How is it possible that our fearless leader, rule with an iron fist, take no prisoners—Taichi Yagami, is actually promoting sleeping on the job?" She kinked an eyebrow.
"Love, darling." He kissed the top of her head affectionately. "It does crazy things to a guy."
-x-
A/N: So this was supposed to be a holiday fluff piece…
Originally I had this idea of how Mimi would realize it was Christmas Eve back in the real world and that's why she was sad and the kiss was going to be a mistletoe-y one.
Yeah, don't ask me how I got here because I have no explanation for it.
Though if you really want, blame the song Oceans by Seafret. (Atlantis by them too, if we're being totally honest)
Also I never think ages are important enough to explicitly mention (especially in one shots) but I know some people just like knowing so:
Yamato, Sora, Taichi—18; Mimi—17 (Koushiro—17, Jyou—21; Takeru, Hikari—14)
Yes, I should definitely work on the next update for ASB and I am, I swear. It's coming along (as in to say, I have the end and the beginning—the middle is tricky though.)
Anyway, read, review, enjoy. You know the drill.
-Chris.
P.S—Thinking about expanding this concept into a full length story (not any time soon, but it's definitely an idea) anyone interested?
Oh and if anyone was wondering, in greek mythology Calliope was of one of the nine muses and she had been responsible for epic poetry. Homer attributed his inspiration for the Iliad and the Odyssey to Calliope.