They never found his body, and she quelled the hope in her heart that maybe, just maybe, he had survived.
She was a journalist now, an American journalist. And she was happy - or as happy as she can be when she's single.
It's a funny thing, how the gang always teased her and tried to set her up with dates, but they knew she would never settle down. They knew, because every single year, on a certain day, they gathered for a reunion. They called it a reunion, but deep down, they knew they were still celebrating hisbirthday.
It had been ten years now, and their spirit hasn't died. They've never stopped their reunions, and they still kept in contact. No matter how famous, how successful, how far they go, they always come back.
This time, it was at Mikan's place, a cute little apartment in Manhattan. Everyone was chattering happily, there was laughter, cheering, excitement. Mikan smiled at guests, but inside, she felt the same thing she did every year. She'd miss him, but a little more on this day.
The doorbell rang, and she furrowed her eyebrows. Scanning the room, she noted with confusion, everyone was here. Must be someone lost.
She opened the door with a smile, but it froze on her lips.
"Mikan?" Sumire asked from behind, "Who -" But she also froze in her step.
Hazel orbs met scarlet.
.
.
.
Because sometimes, tragedies need a happy ending.
I would've ended it there, but inspiration hit me.
.
.
.
"Did you forget to invite the birthday boy?" He smirked playfully.
.
.
.
She recovered quickly, "I had a good excuse," she smiled, "I thought he was dead."
Then she slapped him, wiping the smirk clean off his face.
.
.
.
"I might've deserved that." He muttered as he turned back to her.
But she slapped him again. Hard.
.
.
.
Sumire gasped, next to Mikan in a second, holding back her third slap.
Natsume blinked, "Don't know if I deserved that one."
.
.
.
"Ten years, Natsume!" Mikan yelled at him, "Ten!" Her hand struggled to be free of Sumire's hold, as she urged to hit him again. She opted to use her left hand instead. Before her left hand made contact with his other cheek, Natsume caught it. He nodded to Sumire to let her other hand go. And as she let it go, Natsume took hold of it.
"Mikan." He tried to calm her down, as she struggled against his grasp, "Mikan."
Finally, she relaxed, coughing out quiet sobs. Natsume pulled her into a hug.
There, they stayed for a while, and Sumire turned back to join the oblivious party.
.
.
.
When she pounded his chest, trying to attack him again, he let her go, stepping back a little bit.
"Why?" She started, rubbing tears from her eyes. "Why did you come back after ten years? What if I've already moved on? What if I'm not the same person anymore?" She paused, shining hazel eyes turned away, the last question she whispered, "What if I didn't want you back?"
Natsume tilted her chin so she could look at him, he stared at her meaningfully, "You don't mean that."
Her eyes answered him.
"You don't mean that," he repeated as he leaned in for a long awaited kiss.