Here it is! Chapter 8!
Thanks for all the feedback, I'm so happy at every single review I receive, every comment, every kudo (and I have a suspicion some of you are signing out of Ao3 to leave kudos as guests on the new chapters? Superb, simply glorious).
you can thank Irritablevowel and Floraone for all of this!
Usagi concentrated on fishing the cherry out of her soda-based mocktail, while Minako cheerfully bubbled on to the two boys sitting with them at the restaurant. Minako and Hiroshi were sitting across from Usagi and her date - Tatsuo, she remembered Minako introducing him as. Minako and Hiro-kun, as she called him, had been going out fairly casually for about a month so they were already comfortably talking, his arm around the back of her chair.
Usagi finally got the cherry in her spoon and popped it in her mouth, not caring much about the lipstick Minako had taken such pains to apply on her just half an hour ago. She was about to be eating anyway.
"You can have mine, too," Tatsuo said, smiling. A cherry had come bobbing in the whiskey sour he had ordered and he tilted the glass toward Usagi who angled her pink-painted fingernails just so to grab the stem without contaminating his drink.
"Thanks," she said, remembering at the last minute not to talk with her mouth full. Her hangover yesterday had turned her off alcohol for the time being, and the whiskey taste to the cherry made her wrinkle her nose.
"I can tie the stem in a knot with my tongue," Minako said from across the table.
Usagi made a face. "Last time I tried that I choked so badly the bartender had to give me the Heimlich maneuver."
"If I remember correctly you still got his number," Minako reminded her, and Usagi blushed at the memory. She'd never called him.
Annoyingly, the reminder that a random bartender who had to make her gag up a cherry stem would freely hand over his digits, and her hot neighbor whom she almost kissed the other day remained unreachable made Usagi want to order dessert first, to be honest, but she settled for a hamburg steak with extra fried potatoes.
"So," said Tatsuo. Usagi noticed he did have nice eyes, very warm, like a mug of hot chocolate, and framed by the thickest, darkest lashes Usagi had ever seen. He was very cute. It just made her feel empty. "So Minako tells me you are apartment sitting for your boss? What's that like?"
Usagi nodded. "It's awesome," she said. "My place is huge and I don't pay rent. The view is amazing!" She cleared her throat, taking a swig of her soda. "And, like, my neighbor Mrs. Matsumoto is ancient, and super hard of hearing, so I can play music and movies as loud as I want without anyone complaining."
Tatsuo laughed.
"I mean," she cleared her throat again, "my neighbor on the other side could complain, but he's known me forever so I think I get away with a bit more." She paused, considering whether or not to continue and then it seemed like her mouth just moved ahead of her brain. "He's ... kinda annoying, though? Like, okay, this one time..."
Usagi polished off her entire meal and a slice of chocolate cake before the check came, and realized she'd done most of the talking - even around bites.
"Sorry," she cringed. "I usually don't hog up the conversation like this."
"That's okay," Tatsuo said, "I'm a good listener." Despite Usagi's protests, he covered her portion of the check even though she had her phone ready to figure out splitting it.
"So, are we off to karaoke?" Minako asked, standing up and slinging her purse around her shoulder.
"Just a moment, we'll catch you up," Tatsuo said.
With a grin and a wink, Minako walked Hiroshi out the door of the restaurant, leaving Usagi and Tatsuo behind.
Tatsuo took a deep breath, and looked at Usagi with a sad smile. "I think maybe it's time to head home."
Usagi looked at him, distressed, but his smile held no malice or annoyance.
"Tsukino-san," he continued, "you are a really sweet girl, and very cute, but... I think you are in love with your next-door neighbor."
"Mrs. Matsumoto?" Usagi burst out, before she could stop herself, and Tastuo laughed again, looking almost wistful.
"And you have a great sense of humor," he added. "I really like you, but... You literally didn't stop talking about this Mamoru guy all night," he said. "I think... this is the place where I bow out."
The heat in her cheeks was hitting nuclear levels, and tears were pricking behind her eyes. Great. She couldn't even have a normal date. She couldn't even pretend to be a normal, non-Mamoru-obsessed human being for, like, two hours.
"It's okay!" he said, taking her hand and squeezing it. "Tsukino-san, it's really okay!"
"It's not," she managed to say through the burning in her throat. "I'm sorry I ruined your night for nothing. He doesn't even like me back."
At this, Tatsuo looked genuinely surprised. "I don't think you were listening to the same stories you were telling me," he said.
Usagi's brows knit and he shrugged in response.
"Well, what do I know, I don't know you that well and I don't know him at all so..."
"Anyway, I am sorry," Usagi managed. She stood up and shrugged her denim vest on over the low-cut black top Minako had picked out for her. "Thank you so much for dinner. I think... I think I'm going to walk home. Could you let... the others know?"
He nodded, and after she thanked him again and hurried out of the building before she could embarrass herself further.
What an utter and total failure she was. At everything.
The sun was setting earlier and earlier as summer was drifting to a close, and the sky was already dark purple dusk above the hazy light of the tall city buildings.
Usagi shoved her hands into her vest pockets and hunched her shoulders as she walked. In her pocket, her phone was pinging with texts from Minako - concerned about her no doubt - and without looking she pressed and held the power button until it turned off. If only it was pouring rain, that'd fit her mood better. As it was, she just wanted to get home, sit in the bottom of her bathtub and turn the shower on full blast.
She arrived on her block at the same time a taxicab pulled up to her building with a squeal, and a very inebriated man stumbled out. Usagi barely blinked; it wouldn't be Tokyo if there weren't drunken salarymen shuffling home - even on Saturdays - but then she looked closer. Something about the lanky figure struggling to the door was far too familiar... "Mamoru?!"
He looked at her blearily, shaking his head and blinking a few times before mumbling a greeting, slumping against the doors to the building as Usagi stood on tip-toes to quickly (and soberly) enter the code to the building for both of them. Opening the door, she took his arm to usher him in.
"When did you get back?" she asked, as they waited for the elevator. He swayed on his feet and Usagi held on to his arm for support, a bit nervous about what she was supposed to do if he fell over. He may have been able to catch her and carry her easily when she fainted from the fever, she doubted her own ability to do the same should he collapse on the ground.
"Today," he answered, looking at her hands on his arm.
"Did you go out drinking right after getting home?" Her nose wrinkled. "You smell like the carpet of a Kabukicho bar, for pete's sake," she accused, knowing she was being incredibly hypocritical, considering the state she was in just two nights ago. But at least she had an excuse! She'd been nursing a bruised heart!
"How many bar carpets have you smelled," he said, leaning heavily against the wall, "to know so well?"
Usagi glared. He was barely slurring his words at all, even though the man could barely stand up straight. Seemed Mamoru was quite the articulate drunk. Lucky her.
The elevator arrived and she stubbornly kept his arm in her grip, even as he tried to wave her off. "I can walk, Odango Atama."
Undeterred, she kept steadying him as he weaved a bit, looking at the floor numbers like he was trying to get his eyes to focus.
"Eleven," she said, pushing the button with her free hand. "We live on eleven."
He spent a while fumbling for his key in front of his door, and Usagi bit back a few thoughts she would never, ever say. Like that if she had his spare key, maybe she could let him in much easier. Or that she'd help search his pockets for him, if previous evidence hadn't shown he might enjoy that a little too much. She ended up snatching the key from his hands once he produced it, and opening the door a bit too quickly, with a bit too much agitation.
Her spark of indignation was quickly doused, however, by how helpless he seemed, listing against the doorframe, dark hair falling in his eyes, hands opening and closing in fists.
"Hey," she said, gently. "Let's get you taken care of." She reached up and brushed the side of his face with her hand, trying to draw his gaze to hers. Instead, he reached up and cupped his hand over hers, turning his face to into her hand with a sigh.
Usagi's heart pounded in her throat. The feel of his skin against her palm sent tingles down her spine and she had to shake herself out of it by reminding herself that they were still standing in his doorway, shoes on, door open, key in the lock. He was drunk, and as such, was acting uncharacteristically... well, stupid.
"C'mon, drinky," she said, too cheerfully, pulling her hand away.
She took care of the door, removed her ballet flats easily, and helped him when he struggled with his loafers. Then, winding an arm around his waist, she walked him to the sofa, where he sat down heavily, covering his face with a groan.
For a moment, Usagi couldn't help running her hands through his hair, telling herself it was an innocent, comforting gesture. "I'm gonna get you some water, okay?" she said, gently.
"Aren't you supposed to be on a date?" he asked, and Usagi paused.
"How'd you know that?" she asked from the kitchen. Of course his cabinets were immaculate and organized perfectly but somehow the usual annoyance Usagi would feel at such a discovery only felt like a rush of affection instead. Oh god maybe Tatsuo is right. I might actually be in love with my neighbor.
"I ran into... I don't know...Blonde Friend ... she said."
"Minako?" Usagi handed Mamoru the water and sat down next to him, smoothing her skirt over her lap, thoughtfully. Minako hadn't mentioned running into Mamoru - let alone that she'd blabbed about Usagi's date to him! - but then again, she may not have wanted to ruin Usagi's attempt at getting over the man by bringing him up in conversation.
"I went," she said. "It didn't work out." She could feel him looking at her, and she stubbornly refused to look over. Forcing a smile on her face, she continued to address her knees. "Left early. He wasn't my type."
"Sorry," Mamoru said, quietly.
"Drink your water," Usagi admonished, poking him in the arm. He complied, then insisted on walking himself to the bathroom.
Usagi refilled the water and walked it into the bedroom, putting the glass on the nightstand for him. With a sigh, she thought how she'd slept in the bed when she was sick, when he took care of her, instead of going to the opera with his gorgeous colleague. His suitcase was sitting by the bed, still unpacked, which Usagi thought seemed unlike him.
A footfall behind her made her turn, and she was greeted by the adorable sight of Mamoru rubbing his eyes like a child. Her heart squeezed. "C'mere," she murmured, wrapping an arm around his waist again. She pushed away the thought that he didn't really need help walking the three steps to his bed, just enjoyed the feeling of his leaning against her, the starch of his shirt and leather of his belt against the underside of her arm.
"I know it's kinda early but...," she said, as he sat on the edge of his bed, "I think you should probably sleep this off..." She gave him a crooked smile and he looked back her, eyes dark, dark blue in the room's dim light. "Be right back, okay?"
Taking a cue from Makoto, she got a warm, damp washcloth from the bathroom, and padded back to the bedroom.
"You don't have to-," he started but she waved off his protests, kneeling in front of him.
"You've taken care of me more times than I can count since I moved in," Usagi said, as she softly ran the towel across his forehead, eyes and face. "It's only fair I'm here now."
He shut his eyes, sighing softly. Then his eyes popped open wide again. "Usagi, what-"
"I'm not letting you fall asleep in your clothes! What am I even here for otherwise?"
"I can unbutton my own shirt!"
"Can you, though?" She returned to deftly and quickly unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off over his shoulders in one easy movement. The tank shirt beneath was fine to sleep in, Usagi decided. And not bad on the eyes, either, not that she was looking. "See? Not so bad."
She tossed his shirt on the floor in a puddle, and he glanced at it and shut his eyes again, falling back down against the pillows. She sat on the bed and scooted up next to him.
"Mamoru, can you get your belt off?" She whispered. "Sleeping in that will be so uncomfortable... Sorry...," she said, again, the heat of a blush burning her face. "I can help, if you need me to..."
He mumbled something she couldn't hear, his face toward the pillow.
"What?" she said, leaning over him slightly.
"I asked if you're trying to kill me," he said, blinking unevenly at the ceiling, eyes still unfocused and cloudy with alcohol. "If this is some... cosmic joke being played on me..."
"I don't understand," Usagi huffed.
"Tsukino Usagi just moves next door," he said, sitting up on his elbows, "as if... as if... that's just a thing I can handle."
"Hey! I'm not that bad," Usagi said, frowning. Over and over he said she wasn't the worst neighbor! So now what was he going on about?!
He clumsily turned to face her, lifted a hand to her hair. Usagi shut her eyes against the feeling of his fingers caressing the curls around her ears, at the nape of her neck. To keep herself from falling utterly helpless to his touch, she tried to keep talking. "I mean..." As she talked, he dropped his head to her neck, his breath tickling the tender area where her neck met her shoulder. "Okay, so I'm not, like, perfect but..."
"You are," he growled into her neck, "goddamn perfect."
The sound she made was embarrassing, almost a squeak more than a moan, at the feel of his mouth pressing hot on her neck, at his other hand sliding along the exposed skin between her shirt and her skirt. Her whole body responded with aching, immediate reciprocation.
"Mamoru... you're drunk," she said, swallowing hard. "You... you don't know what you are doing."
"I know exactly what I'm doing," he mumbled, pressing his lips against her skin, tracing a line of kisses up to her ear. She couldn't help the soft cry that escaped her, the temptation to stay, to imagine that she was here with him in a lover's embrace and not as a drunken mistake.
But she wouldn't. She couldn't.
"No," she managed to say, shaking her head and pulling herself out of the fog of desire that had settled over her body. As soon as she protested, Mamoru let her go, dropping his arms and she scrambled up off the bed.
"I just...," she looked at him. At his mussed up hair and confused blue eyes and rumpled bed and she wanted to throw up. "Not like this. It can't be like this. Not with you."
She didn't even bother to put her shoes on, just grabbed them and left, running next door to an apartment that never seemed less like home.
