wow... this is not as light-hearted as the first one, though i promise the real fluff will resume shortly!

natsume fights the heat creeping across his face. now, of all times, was not the time to be panicking. instead, he must remain cool like he always does.

but no – mikan just has to go ahead and curl her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, pressing her lips to his.

"mikan," he starts, pushing her shoulders gently.

"what?"

he pauses, feeling the blush rise to his cheeks once again. "i don't want to... i don't know, take advantage of you." he can't maintain eye contact for long when he's all flustered like this. his chest feels uncomfortably tight.

"you're not taking advantage of me, silly." she blinks, not understanding. "seeing you flustered is pretty cute, you know. aren't you supposed to be the 'great natsume hyuuga', or something?"

"or something," he mumbles. fuck, this definitely isn't cool.

she moves to lean against him, head on his shoulder and snuggling into his side. natsume strokes her hair absently with one hand. "do you ever... think about before?" her voice is unusually quiet, a tiredness in the back of her throat.

"what do you mean?"

mikan hesitates – almost like a nevermind, lets forget about it. instead she shifts against him, her voice distant, "dying. we always pretended we were okay with it, but i never really was. i'm still not – it hurts... it's scary."

he wraps his arms around her. "i know. i'm sorry you had to go through it, fuck, i really am. i'm so–"

"stop acting like it's your fault." her words are unintentionally cutting, added onto the fact that she grips his shirt so tightly she's practically clawing his sides. "because it's not."

his brows furrow, "calm down, mikan; it's okay."

"no it's not!"

"it's okay," he insists. "seriously – it doesn't matter, not anymore. we're both fine."

"i don't feel fine." mikan curls herself in closer to him, pressing her forehead to his collarbone. "i don't feel fine. i'm scared all the time, and i don't know why!"

he brings his hand to the curve of her neck, holding her close. "trust me, i know."

"i don't want to feel like this anymore." her voice is muffled against his skin and he closes his eyes. he knows she doesn't want to feel like this, because whether she knows it or not, he feels the same way.

"i don't want you to, either."

"i'm scared. really, really scared."

he draws in a shaky breath, "i'm here; i'll protect you."

it's a lie, he knows. how can he protect her when he fails every time he tries? her blood has been on his hands more time than he'd like to count. he isn't her hero. he is slipping just as much as she is, though unlike her, he has years of experience of pushing it down beneath his calm and collected exterior. how can he save her when he can't sort out his own fucking problems?

"mikan, i–"

but her lips are on his before he can get out the words and his mind goes blank – think, you idiot, think!

but he has forgotten how.