"It's instant, but it's good," he'd said after offering me a plate of curry rice.
I'd been watching Milk-chan, trying to ignore the chill in my bones and the sweat on my brow, when he'd stuck the plate under my nose. I stared at it for a second wondering if my stomach could take it. Hesitantly, I lifted a hand out from under his throw feeling it wouldn't be nice of me to not accept it or to let it go to waste. Food was food after all. In front of me, on his coffee table, Mamoru set a glass of water which I practically jumped at and finished in one movement. My breath hadn't tasted as foul that time, letting me relish the liquid flowing through my mouth and down my throat. I snaked my tongue out to lick the few remaining drops from the corner of my lips, feeling the best I'd felt since I'd woken-up, but as I opened my eyes I was met with the amused expression on Mamoru's face and the contentment faded.
"What?" I asked defensively, feeling a little embarrassed from my display.
His mocking smirk grew slightly. "Would you like some more?"
I dipped my head a little. "No," I stressed, "I'm fine."
He stared at me for a second longer before turning and heading back into the kitchen. I glared at him as he went, wishing he hadn't been such a snob; another glass would have been nice. I set my cup on the glass coffee table and turn my attention back to the steaming plate on my lap. It did look a bit more appetizing after the glass of water. I sniffed at it, feeling if my stomach would react, but that was it. Whether my stomach wanted it or not, curry was just too good to pass up. My taste-buds jumped for joy as I shoved in a fork full, my eyelids automatically closing for full effect. The mixture of yummy taste and warmth made my body tingle all over in comfort. Idly, I wondered how I'd ever doubted eating it in the first place. By the time Mamoru had come back in, half my plate was gone. I blushed slightly when he looked down at me, a bit surprised.
"What?" I asked again, feeling a bit overly judged for a sick girl. "It's good."
He gave a soft chuckle and set down two glasses of water on his coffee table, one next to my empty cup.
"Yeah, it is, isn't it," he agreed and between the food and him bringing me more water, I couldn't really justify getting mad at him for laughing. So, instead, I took another bite of curry and turned my attention back to Milk-chan, once again feeling like an immature little kid.
I couldn't concentrate on it, though, too aware of the man beside me and I found myself sneaking a side glance at him, wondering why. Why was he being somewhat of a human-being to me? Why had he even cared that I'd been out in the rain? I mean, enough that he wanted to walk me home. And then taking care of me and cooking me this? I looked down at the empty-except-for-one-bite plate in my lap as I sucked thoughtfully on my chopsticks.
"There's more if you want it," Mamoru's offer broke my train of thought and I lifted my head to give him a blank look.
"What?" I asked dumbly, my chopsticks still hanging off my bottom lip. I hadn't realized how close he'd been sitting and it startled me slightly when I looked up at him.
"Do you want more?"
And, idly, I wondered how his eyes had managed to look so blue and black at the same time. And with the t.v. being the only light in the room, the shadows on his face seemed a bit harsh, letting me glimpse the slight bags under his eyes. They seemed so out of place, but then again, it did explain why every time I saw him, he was slumped over a cup of coffee. His eyes moved to glance at my chopsticks before meeting my eyes again and it hit me, how idiotic I must of looked with my mouth slightly agape and chopsticks hanging out. And I'd probably look less stupid, my mind admonished, if I answered his question. Taking the chopsticks out of my mouth, I looked down at my plate, searching my memory for what he'd asked.
"Uh, no. I'm fine, thanks," which sent my cheeks ablaze, feeling like my answer had done nothing to make me look less of a retard.
But the thought didn't linger as I felt the cushion beside me dip a bit deeper and I looked up at the movement, curiously. Suddenly enough to make my heart leap out of my chest like Luna when I step on her tail, Mamoru's hand wrapped itself around my cheek, curling his fingers firmly behind my neck, feeling cool against my heat. I knitted my eyebrows together as I formed the first syllable of "what" on my lips which he smothered by pushing his lips softly against mine.
And just like that, I'd forgotten how to breath. My lungs froze, or maybe just didn't have enough room to expand because my heart instantly felt like it had grown enormous and was about to explode. Startled, I pulled away, forcing in a deep breath that sounded like a gasp. His hand lingered, his fingers buried in the curls at the base of my head, burning my skin pleasantly. But that was only in the back of my mind. In the front, I was in complete shock and I couldn't think a coherent thought. I just watched as Mamoru smiled at me.
"You're too cute," he said softly, but it was enough to bring my mind back to me.
"I," my voice rasped, but when I cleared my throat I realized I really had no idea what to say. So, I tried again, pushing away his hand, "I...I, uh...what?" No, now I was sounding like an idiot again. Forcefully, I pressed my eyelids together, trying my best to squeeze out an understandable question. "What just happened?" I asked finally and let my lids fall apart now that the hard work had been done.
And it occurred to me as I took the site of him in again, only this time with a semi-functioning brain, that the situation wasn't nearly as mind-boggling to him as it was to me.
"I kissed you," he said simply and I wanted to punch him.
"Yeah, I got that," I spat back at him tersely. "But..." I continued, feeling slightly embarrassed, "why?"
He shifted his body slightly away from me, reclining it, looking relaxed and untroubled.
"Why not?" he asked, playing dumb. He was feeding my fire and I knit my brows together, though truly I was grateful. I'd rather be mad at him than embarrassed, any time.
"Because you HATE me!" I explained forcefully. My mind filled in further, playing back the list of insults he'd thrown at me regularly. I narrowed my eyes at him.
Mamoru furrowed his brows as he scrutinized my face. "I never said that," he admonished in a tone so mixed, I couldn't understand it. So, I went with condescension.
"You might as well have," I fought back. "You never miss a chance to make fun of me. And don't sit there acting stupid!"
"Just because I tease you doesn't mean I dislike you," he defended, but it was as mistake, I was sure of it.
I paused, mentally knocking aside the butterflies jolting in my stomach, waiting for him to take it back. I wanted him to take it back; he couldn't have meant it and the sooner he got it straight, the better.
My anger grew steadily as seconds passed and he didn't.
"Yes it does," I pressed between my teeth, keenly feeling the sting in my jaw. Something was burning in the fire inside me, but I ignored it as I balled my fists. "Why wouldn't you, Mr. Perfect," I spat, "Mr. Calm-Cool-and Collected?"
He looked surprised. His eyes searched my face, making me aware of the tears welled in my eyes. I was determined to not let them fall, all at once embracing and afraid of his judgement. I knew he thought I was a crybaby and I wanted to remind him of it, but I didn't want to prove it. I felt so confuse.
"It was a joke, wasn't it?" I asked, incredulously, though my mind had been made up that it had been. It was the only reason I could think of that made any sense. I didn't wait for him to answer. "That was my first kiss, you know!" I stood from the couch, too angry to sit. I let the throw fall from around my shoulders, not caring. I was too preoccupied with his emotionless face and restraining my urge to claw at it. "You sick, arrogant..." I tried to think of a word bad enough, but my brain was boiling and I was coming up short. So I change tactics, "I was saving that kiss! I wanted to give it to someone who loved me! And you just stole it! Like it's nothing! Like a Goddamn JOKE!" I stomped my foot, trying to let out some of the frustration. If I didn't, I was going to explode, but it didn't help. His face was so stoic, as if I were speaking a different language. My fists flexed at my sides, digging nails into skin.
He stood and I backed away, not wanting to be anywhere near him. He reached out, ignoring my movement, to clasp my shoulders. His calm eyes looked into mine.
"Usagi..."
"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!" I screeched, not wanting him to talk. He was so good at turning things around, I couldn't give him the chance. "HOW CAN YOU NOT GET IT?!"
And very casually cool, he fired back, "I don't think it's me that doesn't get it."
I wanted to slap him. I wanted to moon-dust him. I wanted a train to come right through his wall and crush him. And I wanted to be the one driving it.
"And what's THAT supposed to mean, you freakazoid?" I folded my arms across my chest, waiting on edge for him to answer.
If he made me feel any more childish and stupid, I was going to break. I didn't exactly know what that meant, but it was close. My insides were already in shreds, but I wouldn't spare a moment to wonder at how such a callous joke from someone I couldn't care less about had hurt so much. It was the principle of the thing, I told myself.
He faltered for a moment, looking unsure, and I wanted to yell in bitter triumph, "You see! You see!"
"It means," he sighed deeply and something in his eyes changed. They were more fragile and I didn't like it. "It means, my little Odango Atama, that I love you."