Disclaimer: I don't own.
Author's Note: I always felt like there was something between Mikako and Arashi just at the start of the scene in the second book when they talk on the stairs. I haven't read the series preceding the Paradise Kiss series so I'll probably make Mikako OOC. Sorry! This will start at that particular scene when they sit down to talk and just move beyond what happened in the book. One shot.
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-Just-
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Arashi shifted his heavy shoulder bag, slightly glad that he didn't have to go to class. He wasn't ready for the loud crowds in the lecture halls. They made him nervous. The only time he enjoyed large amounts of people was when he was performing. But he would be on a stage then, with the rest of his band, not in the twisting, writhing waves of people. It made his stomach sick.
It was beginning to warm up, after the long frigid spell, and Arashi enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his face. He walked by the stairs and by chance his eyes snagged on a familiar pink wig. For a split second, he thought it was Miwako but chastised himself. He knew Miwako better than that. He knew that she wouldn't skip class, especially if it's that Kisagari's, that make-up poof that she was so blindly in love with. And she thinks that he doesn't know.
He knew by the weary slope of the shoulders and the hunch in the back that it was her older sister Mikako. He cocked his head, battling with an inner dilemma. Arashi wondered if she would mind the company. Shrugging, he settled down the steps, next to her.
"Hi." She looked up. Arashi was right; it was Mikako.
"What are you doing? Class started ages ago."
"Nice to see you too," he muttered. Mikako gave him a wry smile.
"I never said it wasn't nice to see you. I'm just saying you shouldn't skip class."
"And you shouldn't come back here to drown in memories of your youth." Mikako leaned back, obviously enjoying the sun also.
"Maybe I shouldn't," she said, softly. "But honestly, you'll find yourself doing the same, Arashi. It just gets harder when you get older. There are just too many things to think about and too many things to do. I don't know where the time goes."
"Maybe if you didn't waste the time sitting here, wishing time would turn back around," said Arashi, dryly.
"You always were the charmer."
"I don't want to get any older either. Nothing to look forward to, quite honestly."
"Not happy, Arashi?"
"It's just...yeah, not happy." They settled into silence. It was true; Arashi wasn't happy and he didn't know why. He had a firm group of friends, he played in a band that he really felt passionate about, and he had his sweet girlfriend who, despite the fact that she was harboring crushes on two other guys, still loved him too.
"I just feel kind of empty. Makes me wonder if this is really it, if this is really all there is to life." Mikako gave him a sideways glance.
"We're a lot a like, you and me."
"You don't say."
"No, I'm serious. We just understand each other."
"You're not happy either? The designer of the Happy Berry clothesline married to a very good-looking husband with a sweet child. Some would kill to be you."
"You know as well as I do that none of these things makes you feel alive. It's like living through someone else."
"My band used to make me feel...alive. It's just...suddenly it wore off, you know? Well maybe not suddenly, but it wore off eventually."
"Same with designing. It just doesn't hold the same appeal anymore."
"So I guess we're just a bunch of washed-up cynics huh," said Arashi, with a sardonic, lopsided grin. "What should we do?"
"Is there anything you want that you can't have?" Something immediately popped into Arashi's mind but he said, "No."
"No lying." Arashi made sure to train his eyes ahead of him and not stray back to the pink-haired, apathetic sprite next to him.
"Yes," he admitted.
"Me too," she said, sighing slightly. Her lips weren't cotton-candy sweet like her hair but was dark red. Arashi wondered if they would taste like blood.
"What is it?" Arashi asked, knowing fully well Mikako would probably not tell him.
"It's something that's just out of my reach. It's just enough to tempt me and just far away enough so that I can't get it," she said, with an ironic smile. "So there's that for the successful designer who everyone thinks can get anything she wants."
"You're not that successful," said Arashi. Mikako slightly pushed him.
"Don't be rude. What is it that you want?"
"The same thing. It's there, just right there and just out of my reach."
"Maybe it's justice stopping us, huh?" said Mikako.
"Maybe." They grew silent again.
"Maybe it doesn't have to stop us," Arashi said. Mikako glanced at him, her blood lips curving up into a smile. The sun was getting quite warm now and Mikako had her billowing, polka dotted sleeves pulled up, revealing bruises and scars. They mirrored what was hidden beneath Arashi's own long sleeves. They were things that Miwako would never understand.
"Do they still hurt you?" Arashi asked, pointing to her arms.
"They never hurt me. They keep me sane and alive," she said. "You of all people should know." Arashi shrugged.
"People do the same things for different reasons."
"But not us." Arashi glanced at Mikako and knew what she meant about being similar. She did remind him of him, especially when her eyes were dark, even with her color contacts, and her smile crooked and slightly sad. Arashi leaned in as she did and softly brushed his lips against his. He smiled that same twisted smile that was on Mikako's lips, the same smile that Miwako complained looked creepy. Arashi was right and when he had pulled back, he tasted the coppery tang of blood in his mouth.
The bell rang, breaking the spell that was around them, the spell that had prevented time from moving forward, at least for a little bit.
"Looks like I have to go to class."
"I'm the guest speaker for today," Mikako said, shrugging. "But you go ahead first."
"Just for a moment there, we had something," Arashi said. Miwako still held that same sad smile.
"Just."
-End-
Author's Note: I always felt like there was something between Mikako and Arashi just at the start of the scene in the second book when they talk on the stairs. I haven't read the series preceding the Paradise Kiss series so I'll probably make Mikako OOC. Sorry! This will start at that particular scene when they sit down to talk and just move beyond what happened in the book. One shot.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
-Just-
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Arashi shifted his heavy shoulder bag, slightly glad that he didn't have to go to class. He wasn't ready for the loud crowds in the lecture halls. They made him nervous. The only time he enjoyed large amounts of people was when he was performing. But he would be on a stage then, with the rest of his band, not in the twisting, writhing waves of people. It made his stomach sick.
It was beginning to warm up, after the long frigid spell, and Arashi enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his face. He walked by the stairs and by chance his eyes snagged on a familiar pink wig. For a split second, he thought it was Miwako but chastised himself. He knew Miwako better than that. He knew that she wouldn't skip class, especially if it's that Kisagari's, that make-up poof that she was so blindly in love with. And she thinks that he doesn't know.
He knew by the weary slope of the shoulders and the hunch in the back that it was her older sister Mikako. He cocked his head, battling with an inner dilemma. Arashi wondered if she would mind the company. Shrugging, he settled down the steps, next to her.
"Hi." She looked up. Arashi was right; it was Mikako.
"What are you doing? Class started ages ago."
"Nice to see you too," he muttered. Mikako gave him a wry smile.
"I never said it wasn't nice to see you. I'm just saying you shouldn't skip class."
"And you shouldn't come back here to drown in memories of your youth." Mikako leaned back, obviously enjoying the sun also.
"Maybe I shouldn't," she said, softly. "But honestly, you'll find yourself doing the same, Arashi. It just gets harder when you get older. There are just too many things to think about and too many things to do. I don't know where the time goes."
"Maybe if you didn't waste the time sitting here, wishing time would turn back around," said Arashi, dryly.
"You always were the charmer."
"I don't want to get any older either. Nothing to look forward to, quite honestly."
"Not happy, Arashi?"
"It's just...yeah, not happy." They settled into silence. It was true; Arashi wasn't happy and he didn't know why. He had a firm group of friends, he played in a band that he really felt passionate about, and he had his sweet girlfriend who, despite the fact that she was harboring crushes on two other guys, still loved him too.
"I just feel kind of empty. Makes me wonder if this is really it, if this is really all there is to life." Mikako gave him a sideways glance.
"We're a lot a like, you and me."
"You don't say."
"No, I'm serious. We just understand each other."
"You're not happy either? The designer of the Happy Berry clothesline married to a very good-looking husband with a sweet child. Some would kill to be you."
"You know as well as I do that none of these things makes you feel alive. It's like living through someone else."
"My band used to make me feel...alive. It's just...suddenly it wore off, you know? Well maybe not suddenly, but it wore off eventually."
"Same with designing. It just doesn't hold the same appeal anymore."
"So I guess we're just a bunch of washed-up cynics huh," said Arashi, with a sardonic, lopsided grin. "What should we do?"
"Is there anything you want that you can't have?" Something immediately popped into Arashi's mind but he said, "No."
"No lying." Arashi made sure to train his eyes ahead of him and not stray back to the pink-haired, apathetic sprite next to him.
"Yes," he admitted.
"Me too," she said, sighing slightly. Her lips weren't cotton-candy sweet like her hair but was dark red. Arashi wondered if they would taste like blood.
"What is it?" Arashi asked, knowing fully well Mikako would probably not tell him.
"It's something that's just out of my reach. It's just enough to tempt me and just far away enough so that I can't get it," she said, with an ironic smile. "So there's that for the successful designer who everyone thinks can get anything she wants."
"You're not that successful," said Arashi. Mikako slightly pushed him.
"Don't be rude. What is it that you want?"
"The same thing. It's there, just right there and just out of my reach."
"Maybe it's justice stopping us, huh?" said Mikako.
"Maybe." They grew silent again.
"Maybe it doesn't have to stop us," Arashi said. Mikako glanced at him, her blood lips curving up into a smile. The sun was getting quite warm now and Mikako had her billowing, polka dotted sleeves pulled up, revealing bruises and scars. They mirrored what was hidden beneath Arashi's own long sleeves. They were things that Miwako would never understand.
"Do they still hurt you?" Arashi asked, pointing to her arms.
"They never hurt me. They keep me sane and alive," she said. "You of all people should know." Arashi shrugged.
"People do the same things for different reasons."
"But not us." Arashi glanced at Mikako and knew what she meant about being similar. She did remind him of him, especially when her eyes were dark, even with her color contacts, and her smile crooked and slightly sad. Arashi leaned in as she did and softly brushed his lips against his. He smiled that same twisted smile that was on Mikako's lips, the same smile that Miwako complained looked creepy. Arashi was right and when he had pulled back, he tasted the coppery tang of blood in his mouth.
The bell rang, breaking the spell that was around them, the spell that had prevented time from moving forward, at least for a little bit.
"Looks like I have to go to class."
"I'm the guest speaker for today," Mikako said, shrugging. "But you go ahead first."
"Just for a moment there, we had something," Arashi said. Miwako still held that same sad smile.
"Just."
-End-