Never Again
So...yeah. First story ever. Hope ya like.
Am I supposed to put the summary here? ...Well, it's in the future (futurefic?) and Mikan is a fashion designer (I know, creative right?) and Natsume... visits. And... well... romance.
...right. Disclaimer, I guess. ...I don't own Gakuen Alice?
A brunette looked up from her work. A moment ago, she had been busily drawing her latest designs. It helped take her mind off of HIM. Whenever she thought about HIM, she would hurt. She had already mainly locked off all her emotions after THAT EVENT, but part of the pain remained. Anyways, she was rather annoyed at being disturbed. She mentally waved away all the caps.
"Sakura-sama, a man is here to see you," her secretary said rather shyly. Although her boss, Mikan Sakura, was very kind to all the employees, she was still cold, and didn't exactly give off that friendly feel.
Mikan sighed. Another man, trying to court her. She wasn't as naïve as before anymore; she knew that her beauty attracted many male visitors, hoping to date the amazing, rich, and pretty young woman. "Tell him to go away." She turned her attention back to her drawings.
"Hai." The secretary left.
Less than a minute later, the secretary came back. "He said that he won't leave, and that he has information about a girl named Imai Hotaru."
Mikan bolted upright. "Have him come in immediately," she demanded, eyes flashing.
"H-hai," the secretary stammered, alarmed at her boss's sudden change of attitude. She made her way back out. Mikan stood up and paced in front of the huge window/wall looking out onto downtown Tokyo. She had an enormous office, with large, simple bookcases covering the walls, a modern chandelier, a long, curved desk in front of the window, and a round table in a corner. The walls were a soft gray, and the floor a pale blue.
"Hotaru-chan…" she murmured unconsciously, biting her bottom lip anxiously.
"Hello, Polka dots," a cold voice said behind her.
She froze. No way, she thought frantically, I must have imagined that voice!
"Oi, Polka dots," the voice repeated, sounding rather irritated now. "Polka dots!"
Mikan slowly turned around to face a raven-haired, red-eyed, handsome young man. She blinked a few times. "N—Natsume?"
"Pleased to see me, Polka dots?"
Mikan quickly regained her composure. "Not particularly. And please stop calling me that rude nickname and start calling me by my real name." She sat down at her desk. "What do you know about Hotaru, Hyuuga-san?"
"Why aren't you calling me Natsume?" he asked, slightly stunned.
Mikan sighed. "Hyuuga-san, I don't know you very well, so it would be improper and impolite. Now will you please tell me what you know about Hotaru?"
"…She's in Europe."
"I know that," Mikan said rather impatiently. "Why?"
"I don't know—"
"Then why did you come here?!" Mikan stood, slamming her hands on her desk.
"—but I think it was partly because of Ruka," Natsume continued as if nothing had happened.
Mikan took a deep breath and sat down again. "What did Ruka-pyon do?"
"No idea."
"…Hyuuga-san, can you bring Ruka-pyon here?" Mikan asked thoughtfully.
"He's in America."
"What?!"
"You heard me," Natsume muttered.
Mikan put her hand on her forehead and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. "Fine then. Hyuuga-san" –she pressed a button on her desk, and her secretary came in—"Reika-san will show you to the door."
"Hai, Sakura-sama," the woman bowed politely.
"I refuse to leave."
Mikan looked up. "Excuse me?"
"I refuse to leave," Natsume repeated.
Mikan gritted her teeth. "Yes, well, this isn't something you decide. I demand you leave, or I will have the security kick you out."
"Um, Sakura-sama?" the secretary asked uncertainly.
"Yes?"
"There's another visitor," she said. "Should I let him in?"
"Sure, whatever," Mikan said impatiently, not really paying attention.
"Hai," the secretary repeated for the 500th time or so. She back out, wondering who this man was that had caused such an attitude change in her unfeeling boss.
..
Natsume knew how Mikan had made her fortune. Hell, nearly everyone knew. She was a phenomenon. He wanted to tell himself that he was one of the first to notice that, but seeing the Mikan before him, that thought evaporated.
According to the stories, Mikan had worked her way to the top with her incredible, innovative, and above all, chic designs, and then used her famous stubbornness—which she called perseverance as soon as she learned that word—to start a world famous brand of clothes, at the head of a company known for finding and producing new generation prodigies. All by the age of twenty.
For two years, everyone thought she was going to crash and burn, and she would be forgotten. But, as Natsume knew well, she proved everyone wrong. At first, people suspected she was sleeping with CEOs. As soon as that appeared in the newspaper…well, Natsume had to go buy a lot of new cups, and another newspaper. But upon meeting her, the idea died in the reporters' brains. She was reported to be stoic, icy, but politely courteous all the same. She seemed harsh and strict, an unreachable beauty, and subordinates claimed she demanded the best, but everyone agreed that she was fair.
She was amazing, at twenty three.
And she didn't want anything to do with him.
"Natsume?" A voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. "Natsume Hyuuga?"
Wait, that voice—
"Do you remember me?" a young man, grinning charmingly. "Tsubasa Andou? From Gakuen Alice?"
Natsume glared at him.
"I'll take that as a yes," Tsubasa laughed. "Same old Natsume."
"Tsubasa, what are you doing here?" Mikan asked. Natsume noticed the lack of honorific.
Tsubasa grinned wider. "What, can't I visit my favorite kouhai?"
"I'm not your kouhai anymore."
"So?"
"…Misaki got mad at you again."
Tsubasa winced. "How'd you know?"
"The fact that you're here." Mikan sighed, completely ignoring an irritated Natsume. "That, and the bruise on your face."
Tsubasa sighed.
"What did you do this time?" Mikan said, a little bit of sympathy leaking into her voice.
Tsubasa muttered, "I forgot our two month anniversary."
Mikan was silent for a bit. Then, "Watch out."
Tsubasa grabbed a pillow from who knows where and held it in front of his face as Mikan hurled a stapler at him at lightning speed. Natsume watched wide-eyed (and still growing), utterly shocked, as Mikan narrowed her eyes and glared at the stapler, which had somehow managed to open and embed itself in the pillow.
Tsubasa cautiously peeked out, before setting the pillow down and continuing. "So you know what I'm here for."
Mikan sat down with a huff. "Okay, I've said this a million times. Misaki likes romantic stuff; most girls do. You just hurt her really badly by forgetting the date you two got together, so she covered it up by punching you." She stopped at the look on both guys' faces. "What? …Boys," she scoffed. "Anyway Tsubasa, all you have to do is—"
"I'm still here." Natsume interrupted her, earning a glare and dark aura near to Persona's from the brunette.
She continued, "Well, you just have to—"
"Still here."
"—make it—"
"Stilllll here."
"—up to her—"
"Still. Here."
"OH, SHUT UP!" Mikan roared. Thank you, soundproof walls.
Natsume and Tsubasa watched her with huge eyes.
She sighed. "Hyuuga-san, wait two minutes. I'll be done soon." She continued, "Just give her roses, an apology, and take her out to dinner. NOT ramen," she added dryly.
Tsubasa nodded, still rather frightened, and scampered out, to the confusion of the secretary.
"Now, Hyuuga-san," Mikan turned back to Natsume. "How may I help you?"
Natsume wasn't really sure himself. "There's a party next Friday. I need to bring a date," he improvised.
"And…?" Mikan said skeptically.
Natsume just looked at her.
"No."
Natsume kept looking at her.
"I said, no!"
Natsume stared.
"Ugh! Fine, but don't expect me to stay long!"
Natsume nodded, satisfied. "I'll pick you up at seven." He walked out the door.
"And don't you dare be late, Hyuuga!"
He raised a hand, not bothering to look back as the door clicked shut.
Mikan banged her head on the desk. He still had the same effect on her, able to bend her to his will. She wasn't supposed to bend, dammit! That was why she left!
But he still could coerce her into anything. And she hated herself for it.