Chapter IV: Tenerife Sea

We are surrounded by all of these lies

And people who talk too much

You've got that kind of look in your eyes

As if no one knows anything but us

(Ed Sheeran)

"Is this you?" Kina Midori demanded.

Slightly alarmed at her usually soft spoken friend's tone, Mikan almost dropped the fork that was holding a squiggly instant noodle.

Kina pushed herself down the steel bench, right across Mikan and her steaming cup of ramen. "This! I mean, I know it's close to impossible but Mayumi swears-"

"Mayumi? Isn't she on leave?"

"That's why she had the chance to catch up on the gossip. So? Is this you? Because if it's not I have this super smart but extremely harmless plan that involves pretending you're her."

Kina was referring to the so-called exclusive snaps from The Star, the ones that were of her and Natsume waiting at The Peninsula lobby. One could hardly assume from the first few photos, but about three were of her hugging Aoi goodbye before getting in Ruka's car with Natsume keeping her close. Her long hair was tucked behind her ears for a sleek, shiny style, but it kept her face in plain sight.

"I'm kind of curious what you mean by pretending…"

"Haven't you seen Monte Carlo? Or Sister Act?"

"Huh. Sister Act," Mikan mused, vaguely remembering the musical. Maybe she should've skipped the whole engagement act and locked herself in a nunnery, that would've thrown Reo away. If it worked for Deloris Van Cartier then maybe she had a chance.

Kina tapped her phone again, accidentally zooming the photo of Mikan from the chin down. She frowned at the pixelated ring necklace, then back at Mikan's neck, where the same ring was dangling. "This is you! Move over, Kate Middleton," Kina chortled, nodding approvingly.

"Don't tell anyone!" Mikan said hurriedly. "Believe it or not, this is supposed to be a secret."

"Your boyfriend's been gracing the gossip pages for a week. Trust me, this isn't going to be a secret for long." Kina pocketed her phone and leaned in a little to have some of Mikan's noodles. "And, anyway, Mayumi was the one who put me up to it. What'll I tell her?"

"I don't know. Just don't text back?"

"It's like you don't know Mayumi." Her phone buzzed, signalling a new message. "See? It's her already. Oh, look, now she's added Saki into the group chat."

"You guys have a separate group chat?" Mikan asked, looking crestfallen.

"Well, we do now," Kina said unapologetically. "You know, it's not everyday your co-worker's dating a richer, older, handsome guy that only the rest of us could dream of and gossip about."

"But they don't know that."

"They do now." Kina grinned wickedly, fingers on her keypad. Mikan snapped the phone and looked down on Kina's response to the group chat: It's her!

"Kina! Natsume is going to kill me-"

"Mikan!" Kina exclaimed, mirroring Mikan's panic. "You don't hide things like this from us! I thought we were friends?"

"We are, but-"

"But nothing! I should be angry right now, but I'll get to that later once you tell me how the hell you snagged him." Mikan shook her head and shoveled food in her mouth. "Oh, get out of your head. No one's going to judge you for dating someone out of your league. On the other hand, he is another story, seeing as he's dating down."

"You're an amazing friend," Mikan deadpanned, "Have I told you that?"

Kina merely laughed. Her tactless words aside, Kina was one of the few people Mikan trusted- originally since she had no choice with just a handful of employees at Hana Hime, but eventually because Kina proved herself a worthy, loyal friend. There weren't a lot of people who'd play along to a fake story on a last-minute sick leave- complete with a small paper bag of medicine, two bottles of fruit juice, and a box of fever patches.

"We have a few minutes," Kina said through half a mouthful of noodles. "Start with the story."

"I really can't-" Mikan's phone vibrated (a rare account since she didn't really have a lot of people texting her), Natsume's name appearing on the notification bar.

...

From: Natsume H.

Message: What are you doing?

From: Mikan S.

Message: Eating

Attachment: 1 photo

From: Natsume H.

Message: Stop using plastic.

From: Natsume H.

Message: Dinner later. Just us. Pick you up after work.

From: Mikan S.

Message: Should we have the conversation again?

From: Natsume H.

Message: Which conversation?

From: Mikan S.

Message: The conversation about me being part of decision-making

From: Natsume H.

Message: This is a surprise.

From: Natsume H:

Message: I was told this was romantic.

...

Mikan rolled her eyes at the latest message. Last night, just after they finished the contract, Aoi made a supposed noncommittal sound that led to a short-lived rant about how signing a contract before you even got engaged was the least romantic thing in the world.

Kina, who had been eagerly waiting for Mikan to finish messaging not-so-mystery man, was just about to demand answers when Himemiya opened the door. "Girls? A little help?"

Grateful for the interruption, Mikan hurriedly gobbled the rest of her food and put on her apron, a silently complaining Kina tailing after her.

By eight o'clock, Mikan was unsurprised to find Natsume's heavily-tinted BMW on hazard just outside the cafe. Kina and Saki were both failing miserably at trying to hide their mixed awe and amusement as Mikan hurried out the door, sparing everyone else a quick goodbye.

"Natsume, guess what, I— you're not Natsume."

Mr. Narumi smiled apologetically from the front seat. "I'm sorry, Mikan. Natsume needs to work for another extra hour. I just have to drop a few things to the house then I'll go ahead. He'll meet you at The Peninsula around nine."

"I…That's nice." Mikan forced a smile and closed the car door. Of course, she thought almost bitterly.

"What were you about to say?" Narumi interrupted her musings.

Suddenly, a silly story about playing tag with her coworkers over whose turn it was to pump the toilet seemed trivial versus his work. She bet her bottom dollar that he probably had never even held a plunger before.

"My friends were asking about him," Mikan said instead. "They saw me in that silly online site that's been writing about Natsume all week."

"Yes, The Star's been quite obsessed with him," Narumi replied. "Can't be helped, they were bound to find out sooner or later."

Mikan knew that Narumi knew- after all, he was Natsume's assistant- but surely so many people knowing about the real reason why they were getting married was in bad faith?

"At least they photographed me well," Mikan attempted to joke. Narumi politely laughed, and watched Mikan close her eyes to sleep. However, he noted how they'd move and twitch, so he knew she was just pretending.

Once they arrived, Narumi vanished to Natsume's home office and bid her goodbye a minute later.

The bungalow seemed so much more spacious when one was alone. It had a lot to do with the floor plan, she figured, and the lack of furniture. Outside, the house was very masculine, an apparent reflection of its interior. It was the type of house one would risk walking around on when the lights are off because there was so much space that accidentally bumping into corner tables or stubbing an innocent toe was impossible.

The living room was well off to the right, with only a dark grey tuxedo sofa and an ebony mid-century cocktail table over a black wool rug. Embedded on the white wall was the television and under it a wide built-in electric fireplace, but save for these additions, it was like Natsume literally just moved his apartment to the bungalow without bothering about switching it up. On the opposite side was the kitchen with the bar lit by hanging lights, behind it the four-seater dining table (clearly he never thought of having guests beyond his family), and just in the middle was the hallway that led to the two bedrooms, bath, and his home office. There was no doubt that a bachelor owned the place: there were no photos, no plants, no artwork- just a minimalist open-concept house staring at her as soon as she opened the front door.

Growing up with at least thirty other kids, she was used to having little to nonexistent personal space. Even in her old apartments, the spaces were too small and, given she couldn't afford the luxury of better furniture, she made do with open storage. The house, on the other hand, had room for everything- even the microwave and espresso machine were tucked behind cabinets. It was so clean and tidy; Natsume called it minimalism, she thought it was flat.

Mikan knew where the mess was, of course, and it wasn't in his bedroom (that area was as pristine as everywhere else). The mess was in the sunroom that he had converted into an office space cum library. With its high ceiling, paneled glass walls, full wall shelving unit, and contemporary chaise lounge, it was clear that this was the only room in the house that he made an effort with- after all, he practically lived in the room, if the past few days were any indication. Mikan had been sleeping in the guest bedroom directly across the hall from Natsume's, and every night she'd get up to go to the bathroom, she noticed that it was empty. It was like he couldn't take five hours every night to give himself a break.

With a sigh, she headed to her bedroom, contemplating whether she should skip taking a shower and just sleep for the next thirty minutes. She turned on the lights and noticed a wide black carrier bag on the platform bed, an elegant S printed across it in gold. Inside was a red A-line tea-length dress with a flattering princess seam and inverted pleats. There was a note hanging by the handle, signed NH.

Mikan did not smile, though was grateful. It wasn't fair to be upset at Natsume, and she knew he didn't necessarily have any obligation to her other than what they agreed about, but would it be that bad if he tried to be a little more human, a little less workaholic?

"You've got everything alright?"

"Aoi, hang up."

"What?" She gasped, as if the very suggestion was a curse word. "You want me to hang up? Natsume, someone I like is going to be married, and, in case you have it wrong, that someone is not you. It's Mikan, my friend, who I met way before you roped her in! And you're telling me to hang up?"

"I can't possibly do anything if I have you talking my ear off."

"Oh, multitask, for God's sake. It's not like you haven't been doing it in years. Wait a sec, have you got someone to videotape it because I swear if you don't, I'm jumping on a cab and use my damn phone, Natsume, I swear I will."

Not for the first time in the conversation, Natsume was glad that he barred his sister from coming to the hotel. His backup plan was that, if Aoi still insisted, he'd have to blackmail her unless she wanted to have to stop staying over his house when she argued with their parents.

"I'm hanging up," Natsume announced as he reviewed the menu he pre-ordered.

"Natsume…" she said in warning tones.

"Yes, Aoi, I do have someone to videotape it," he groaned. "Now, do you mind? I'd really rather not do this while on the phone."

"I'm just checking," Aoi said in defense. "I mean, the least you can do to someone you're forcing to marry is to give her a proper proposal. It's her first wedding, after all."

"I didn't force her to marry me," Natsume replied, his voice now hushed, "It's a mutual decision. And it's going to be my first wedding, too."

Aoi scoffed. "Only because no one wants to date you after Ibaragi. Honestly, I don't know why married women are so attracted to you. You're boring!"

"That's not what Nobara said," he implied, though as an effort to get her off the phone. He heard her fake-vomit on the other side. "I'm going. I won't call you later but she probably would."

"She probably will because she likes me better and oh yeah, I was her friend first-" click.

Just as soon as he hung up, though, Natsume was met by another uninvited guest. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you, too," Ruka said with a quirked brow. "Tell me, did it escape your mind to tell your best friend that you're proposing to your fiancée tonight? Oh, wait," he continued sardonically, "Didn't you already give her a ring?"

"It was… a promise ring," Natsume finished lamely. "How'd you get here, anyway? This is a private party for two."

"One," Ruka pointed at himself, then at Natsume, "Two. I think we're good. Come on, let me help you. How are you planning to do this? Just pop the question? Slide it over dinner? Bend on one knee?" Natsume ignored him and continued to pace. Ruka shifted his voice to something higher and more delicate, sounding nothing like Mikan's; "I'm waiting, Natsume. Where's the ring?"

"A good friend would throw in some advice."

"A good friend wouldn't have lied about his plans tonight."

"I didn't lie," Natsume said curtly. He distractedly looked down on his phone- Mikan had just arrived.

"Let me guess. You conveniently forgot to tell me?"

He fastened his suit while giving Ruka a sardonic smile. "Congratulations. Now I know why you're a lawyer. And here I thought you're retiring early to start your own zoo."

"Pet clinic," Ruka corrected exasperatedly, walking after his best friend.

Mikan needed all the luck she could get.

They were unsurprisingly admitted into one of the few private rooms but despite the lack of audience, Mikan kept waiting for the proverbial bomb to drop, for someone to cry the words fake, fraud, gold digger on her face. She couldn't bring herself to enjoy the elaborate- not to mention expensive because god forbid Natsume Hyuuga ever allowed anything less in his mouth- kaiseki spread they were offered. The host- blond and moustached with a faint tohoku accent- had just brought in a small serving of umekyu to cleanse their palate from the hotpot when Natsume decided to stop the safe and casual conversation.

"Mikan," Natsume started, at the same time she called his name.

She smiled despite the jitters. "Sorry. You first. I'm sure it's important."

It was, but now he didn't want to start with his and end with whatever she wanted to say- because she didn't look happy. He wasn't naturally callous or insensitive. He at least knew that a frown on someone you were supposed to propose to wasn't a good sign.

"Go ahead," he told her with what he hoped was a calm expression.

"It's going to be pretty long."

"We have all night."

Mikan took a deep breath a counted to three. "I- don't freak out but- I'm not sure if Narumi told you and- well, it's not like I wanted to tell them, it just sort of-"

"Mikan, you're babbling," he said, sounding amused. It brought Mikan to focus.

"Sorry, it's just… well, people at work, they found out. Because of the article. Now, you don't really have to worry about anyone else because I don't have a lot of friends in the first place, and I'm not really worried about you know, the orphanage, they tend to keep to themselves, and it's not like I have any ties anymore, but the thing is, and please don't freak out, okay? Besides, you can tell me you're not-"

"Still babbling," he interrupted, this time not even bothering to hide his amusement.

She took a deep breath, eyes closed, and the words tumbled out of her mouth in a quick, incomprehensible mumble: "Ineedthefourmillionifthatsokay."

Natsume's eyebrows lowered into a confused furrow. "Pardon?"

"I maybe… sort of… kind of… might need… the-" she coughed on her fist, then proceeded into a whisper, "Four million."

He blinked. "Oh. That's it?"

"The fact that you're not even bothered by the request makes it worse," Mikan groaned. "Like you knew this would happen."

"Not really. I've already set aside the money when you told me your proposal."

"That same night? But it wasn't even official yet?"

Natsume regarded her carefully. "You signed a contract, remember."

"Yeah, on a piece of paper. I thought that was just a post-it note for you the next morning. That's why I didn't worry about having to put it back in your room."

"It had the elements of a binding contract. Similar to the contract you signed with Mouri, except ours is legal."

Mikan rolled her eyes. "Take it easy, Hyuuga. Just because you bought me a fancy dress and a fancy dinner doesn't give you the rights to throw shade on my debilitating debt."

"It's not shade if it's true."

She scowled at him, though not really meaning it. "I should've raised that four million when I had the chance." She stopped talking because their host had returned with two servings of grilled mackerel.

As soon as the meal was explained and the host politely darted out of hearing, Natsume asked, "Why do you need the four million? I thought we weren't suing Mouri."

"Because my face is on an online website, and last time I checked, they had two thousand retweets on Twitter. Do you not know how famous Yura Hatsuni is?"

"I do. That's exactly why I agreed to handle her case." Natsume crossed his arms. "Let me tell you, I'm starting to think it's not worth the paycheck."

"Well, no thanks to the stupid article, I may as well have walked on the streets with a Mikan Sakura neon sign over my head, just begging for Reo to find me. And what if he kidnaps me? Worse, what if he hurts Mr. Bear?"

"Mr. Bear is…?"

"My old landlord- you know, the white-haired man who looks like he's got a stick so far up his ass, but he's a really nice person, our… tenancy issues… aside."

Natsume nodded. He had only seen the landlord once, through a tinted car window, after Mikan came back for a pair of shoes that she thought she left behind (Aoi "accidentally" threw them and replaced it with a newer, nicer pair of warm boots).

"So I may as well just get it over with, don't you think? Pay him off?"

He cleared his throat. He was meaning to have this conversation with her, although he initially figured tonight wasn't the time or place. "I was supposed to talk to you about that."

She raised her eyebrow. "Really, now? What's this thing you were supposed to talk to me about but never did, despite sitting across me for the last half hour?"

"I want to sue."

She blinked. "On what grounds?"

"Mikan, he stole money from you."

"No. He lent me money- at a high interest rate, sure, but he didn't literally steal them. I willingly handed it over."

"He took advantage of the fact that you were desperate for money."

"And I knowingly accepted!"

Natsume paused. "I see we've reached an impasse."

"Good luck to our marriage, right?" she said with a playful wink just as their host ducked back to take out their plates and replace it with a selection of steamed vegetables served on traditional tableware. "Moving on-"

"I didn't think we were done."

She swallowed the soft radish. "We're not, but we're moving on because I have another thing to say."

"Should we have the conversation?" Natsume mimicked her.

"Not up for discussion," Mikan said firmly. Her features softened; it was annoying when the same words were thrown to her. She didn't want to return the favor. "I'm kidding. What if you just- I don't know, try to find out what you can do, I guess? I don't really know anyone else who was his client, but I doubt we're a small circle. He's pretty good."

"Probably, if he came highly recommended," he muttered, remembering Mikan's story of how she came to know about Reo. "Must be good business, if he weren't so dishonest."

"I told you, he wasn't dishonest, he was…" Mikan tried to come up with the right words; as horrible as the whole ordeal had been for her, she had to admit she practically brought it on herself. "Business-minded," she finished. "And anyway, as a lawyer, isn't that what you do?"

"I don't lie," he denied. "It's called stretching the truth. They're completely different things."

She regarded him flatly. "I'm not an idiot."

"No, but you can't lie for shit."

She stopped herself from spraying his stupid, expensive tux with some of her riesling. "Excuse me?"

Natsume opened his mouth to explain, but their plates had to be replaced with the custard egg. As soon as the coast was clear, he continued, "You couldn't lie to Aoi the day after we made the deal, or to your coworkers when they asked if it was you, or even when you talked to Narumi earlier. I do know that you think that dress is pretty even when you said 'It's okay'."

She blushed a bit, looking down at the red dress. She still felt it was prettier on the hanger than on her, but then again it could be she'd never really had enough clothes to compare it with. "Sumire picked it out," Mikan said instead.

"No, she didn't."

"It's the same carrier bag from her store."

"I came over during lunch to pick that up."

"Did she choose it?"

"She chose the size. Why don't you believe me? It's just a dress."

Because to you, it's just a dress, Mikan thought. If it came from Sumire, it would've been a sweet gesture, especially if Sumire knew Natsume was going to take her out to dinner that night. But coming from Natsume, Mikan had a feeling it was just one thing off the checklist.

They went through the next three courses in silence, until the dessert was served. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"You," she said, causing him to uncomfortably fidget in his seat. "Not in a bad way. Or, I don't know, I guess if you look at it some way, it's not bad. But it's… The thing is, I know… I know you wouldn't want to do it, since it's not in the contract or anything, but it'd be nice, if, you know, if you… if we…"

"You're not thinking about… Err… "

"Oh my god, Natsume, don't tell me you're thinking- you know what, this is stupid. Ignore what I said." She buried her reddened face on her hands.

"Sorry, I was joking!"

She peeked through her fingers. "You don't joke."

"I've learned it's easier to communicate with you through sarcasm or humor. What were you saying?"

"I just wanted to say that I hope you'd… that this-" she pointed between them, "This date, or dinner, or whatever the heck it is, it's not a one time, post-contract thing. I don't expect you to shower me with gifts or anything since Hotaru practically robbed you through the prenup, but it doesn't always need to be a fancy dinner, just some time would be nice, you know? We're going to be stuck together for a long time. Least we could do is try to get along like we're friends."

"You might not want to go around telling people we're not friends. I'll be your husband, after all."

"Not yet, you're not," she mumbled, poking at the dessert and taking a not-so-angry bite.

Natsume stood up, fastened his jacket, then extended a hand towards her. "Then let's change that."

She gazed very unattractively at the attractive young man in front of her. She took another bite of cake for the nerves; wordlessly, he took her by the hand.

And then Natsume knelt on one knee.

For some reason, even though she wasn't an idiot (although she could've fooled herself) and knew exactly what was about to happen, she followed him on the floor, bent knees and all.

"No," Natsume said, urging her up, "Don't."

"But-"

He took out the cool grey box that had been burning a hole through his jacket pocket all dinner-long.

Mikan didn't gasp; she just stared at the silver ring prettily sitting on a velvet cushion, the smooth freshwater pearl surrounded by bright white sapphires.

If people didn't notice the ring before, well, they would now.

"Mikan, will you…"

She inhaled sharply.

"…wipe that thing on your nose?"

"What?" She had been so sure Natsume was going to propose to her, but that didn't sound like he just did.

Natsume's brows were drawn together; he stood up and whipped out a handkerchief from his pocket. He gently rubbed it against Mikan's little nose.

"Just how picture perfect does this need to be?" Mikan joked, but feeling quite peeved. It wasn't everyday a guy knelt down for you. Why did he choose this time to be bothered by some dirt on her nose?

Natsume, however, wasn't listening. "Why is it all over your face?" he muttered.

"What is?" she asked, sounding quite irritated already. She spun her head towards the glass mirror surrounding the room, absentmindedly scratching the edge of her nose. His scrubbing bothered her- closer, though, she finally realized what he had been twitchy about. Her nose was red and blotchy, the spots now spreading across her cheeks like freckles.

They weren't unfamiliar, because the last time this happened to her was when she was nine and had eaten, on a dare by Ken, a...

Oh crap, she thought.

Realization dumped on her. Her eyes went to the half-eaten slice of amaretto cheesecake on her plate with the spun sugar and brushed sauce, the finale to their eleven-course dinner. It was the cake she liked, because with the glaze it tasted different, sweet and...

"What's the matter?" urged Natsume. She didn't even realize how many times he asked the same question in the last few moments.

Citrusy, she finished in her mind, watching as the splotches spread on her pale face.

It was an allergic reaction.

"I'm sensitive to citrus." She gave a feeble smile. "Ironic my name's Mikan, huh?"

Natsume held back on asking Oishi to just drive over every person and car on the road. St. Luke's was less than ten minutes away but because this was Ginza on a typical weeknight, traffic congestion was bad. The Peninsula's clinical staff were helpful with treating her rashes but when they noted her low blood pressure and dizziness complaint, they suggested the nearest hospital in case of an anaphylactic shock.

Mikan unconsciously reached to scratch her face but Natsume held her hands down. "Did this happen last time?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I can't be sure, it's been years so the memory's a blur. Can I scratch my face now?"

Natsume shook his head.

"Just one, quick scratch?"

He shook his head again.

"Come on, I never denied you of something as simple as this!"

"You might irritate the reaction."

"I'm already irritated," she huffed, and crossed her arms. There was a moment's pause; "Just one—"

"No. We're here." He gestured at the emergency room entrance as Oishi swiftly swerved the car to the front. Natsume took off his coat to put over her head because the last thing she needed over an allergic reaction was a cold and fever from the snowfall. He got out from his side of the car and opened the door next to her. "Come on," he said, offering his hand.

For a fraction of a second, she was taken back to about an hour ago, when he did the same thing in the restaurant, and of the ring that wasn't on her finger.

Her musing was interrupted by the ringing of a phone; they both looked back at Natsume's mobile left in the backseat. With a frustrated sigh, he helped her down the car.

"Go on, I'll be right behind you."

"Are you going to take the call?" Mikan asked, trying to keep the sullen voice in check.

"It's important," he said as he fixed his coat properly on her head. "It'll be quick. I have to tell Oishi to get a few things, too. You don't have health insurance, do you?"

She bit the inside of her mouth before replying in a slightly embarrassed voice. "Didn't have the time…"

"I'll handle it. Go inside," he prodded her again, "Wait for me. It'll be fine. I'll be there before you know it." He turned back to the car and reached for his phone.

Wait for me. It'll be fine. I'll be there before you know it. These were familiar words, and for another moment she had to pause to mull it over.

On his end, Natsume slid his thumb across the screen to accept the call from no one else but Narumi.

"I could honestly kill you right now," he muttered.

"I take it you haven't proposed?"

"Don't act so smug. You haven't got a girlfrie—" Mikan had been absentmindedly moving and accidentally slipped, landing butt first on the ground.

Quickly, he abandoned his phone and hurried towards the entrance. There was so much noise although truthfully it could just be a result of him drowning everything else, because Nastsume didn't notice the blaring ambulance spurring towards the same direction- it didn't notice him either, after all, what idiot would intercept an ambulance in the first place? His reaction had been in reflex; he dodged by swerving his body backwards, one foot awkwardly but instantly in reverse and back on the slippery, icy pavement but at a horrible, painful cost: he twisted his ankle.

"Natsume!" Her voice rang through his ears. She hurried to his side and leaned her worried face over his. "Are you okay? "

"I think I twisted something…" he murmured, and forced himself to sit up."Are you hurt?"

"No, don't stand up," Mikan said, ignoring his question though her butt hurt quite a lot. "Help's on the way."

He could barely make out the white-clad nurses making their way because everything that led to this moment, of him on the pavement with a twisted ankle, was all because he was too concerned with the rashes on her face than putting a ring on her hand, and it was the weirdest, worst thing that could happen on the night one was supposed to propose.

Yet here she was, hovering in front of him, like they weren't at the hospital to tend to her suspected anaphylactic shock and as if she didn't just bruise her ego and her backside by being a complete klutz with something as simple as walking. The coat was draped on her shoulders, and the snow showered over her hair like white curtain and he thought, crisis aside, she was beautiful and kind and undeserving of what he asked her to do.

The ring box continued to burn the same hole in his pocket, and he knew he couldn't delay it another moment too long, never mind that it wasn't his plan, that people were looking at them, or that he had never been embarrassed by slipping on ice.

The nurses arrived. They lifted Natsume on the stretcher.

With a quick flick of his hand, he drew out the box, the same one bearing the pearl ring intended to be on Mikan's finger more than an hour ago. Just before they strapped him, he opened the box, took out the ring, and breathed out, "Marry me?"

A lot of things ran through her mind but the one that was loudest was this: Are you serious? Yet despite knowing him for just two weeks, she knew he was.

People kept talking, and the world continued to move around them; the nurses on his side that worried more about his well-being than the proposal asked him to drop the ring for a while so they could check what was wrong, while those that tended to her had the wheelchair ready to roll further inside.

It was the weirdest, least romantic thing, but something about the night was funny and unique and so unexpected that Mikan just laughed, the most heartfelt she had in a long time.

Their audience waited with bated breaths.

With a bright, winsome smile, Mikan accepted the ring, her eyes crinkled with glee, and said, "Sure."

Mikan watched as they swept Natsume away, her following suit. He was going on about not needing an x-ray and she just shook her head, as they rolled her towards an empty bed in the ER. A nurse took her vitals while Mikan explained to another one about what happened to her face.

As they dispersed around her bed, Mikan sat back, waiting for a doctor, while smiling to herself. Maybe it wasn't the type of proposal that gets worldwide hits on YouTube, but to her it was special and it was her story, so if someone asked about their engagement, she'd happily share that it went like this: "Under the snow, outside the hospital, before we were admitted to the emergency room."

There weren't a lot of things that rendered Natsume Hyuuga embarrassed or afraid. He had always been a bit speculative, and compared to his younger sister who had a knack for theatrics, he was more level-headed, practical, and unassuming.

Right now, he felt the opposite.

He sat at the waiting area, his ankle strapped in a cold compression wrap. Natsume didn't like feeling restricted but the annoying contraption on his foot apparently helped, so he swallowed his pride and called for Aoi- who, unfortunately, had him on speaker phone because she thought he was going to announce the engagement officially.

Kaoru Hyuuga looked down on her son, her gloved arms crossed. "We met with the girl once and you propose to her the next day?"

"But you met her," jested Natsume, inwardly thankful that his mother took comments like these in stride.

"Enough of your cheek, Natsume. I just thought your father and I deserved a little heads-up, not through a phone call from the hospital."

Ioran sat across them next to Aoi, completely within hearing, but wisely chose to keep quiet.

Natsume cleared his throat. "You're not going to tell me she's young?"

She scoffed. "You know that's not my concern."

"Then what is?"

Kaoru lowered her voice. "The last person you dated was a recently-divorced prosecutor twelve years your senior. You date people you think are interesting, Natsume. You take them on like they're a case you need to solve."

"I've dated two people in my life. Three, now," he smoothly corrected.

"Well, I can't say I'm a little stumped to hear you're dating someone when you could have just told me that the last time I called."

"That's because the last time you called, you were ready to bite my head off," he reminded her, referring to when he first started appearing in the rumor mill.

"Rightfully so," Kaoru said, her voice back to normal. "You almost lost me a business opportunity that took a year to plan."

"And I told you I could handle it. It was a matter of trying to appease Mikan after the rumors were made."

"Was she mad?"

Across them, Aoi gave an awkward cough. He scowled at her before looking back at their mother. "She was eventually understanding."

"Well…" Kaoru paused and sat down next to Natsume. "You won't hear complaints from your father and I. I can even see Aoi's taken a liking to Mikan. While you have our support, you do know who might give you a hard time, and it's best if you tell Mikan about her, too. After all, your grandmother's not popular for being nice."