Yawn.

Thanks to:

ThatGirl96-I looked it up, and it is pretty similar... but I was using a different source. I'm kinda obsessed with dark stuff right now.

JuSt To RaNdOm-0==p ...I just typed that while searching for the backspace button, and I'm too lazy to keep looking. Anyway... this is ur update!

bunnyjumps- You are the only person who mentioned Rena this time. Thank you.

fear-One of the many who enjoyed the Mikan slapping Natsume scene, including the above. I wanted it to be sadder. *Pouts*

Sakura Breeze-Someone with some sympathy! Finally!

kiers-...You're that happy Natsume was slapped? ...*scoots away* Well, technically, reading back... never mind.

greentulip-Sorry. My describing skills aren't the best. Smileys, smileys, and more smileys!

-Tribal Addict--Yay! You understood my descriptions! You are incredible! (Seriously, I couldn't when I reread it.)

iDolly-You seem neutral. Do you like that she slapped him or do you feel sad. Hm? HM?

You guys make me so happy! I smile like an idiot whenever I read your reviews!

...Then again, I always smile like an idiot. Pretend you didn't hear that.

But really, you're all totally awesome. If you didn't review, I would die! ...No I wouldn't, but I would stop writing and go into depression. Probably.

...

I don't own Gakuen Alice.

Sorry, this isn't my best work. Oh well. Enjoy... or not.

I just realized that there is literally no dialogue in this. ...Hehe?

Never Again

Chapter 10

Natsume wanted to punch—no, he wanted to kill someone. In particular, himself. But we can't have another injury on that incredible face, can we? So he didn't.

Instead, he had to be content with bundling himself under the covers and compressing his pillow around his head as if he could squeeze out the torturing memories. But he could still see, as vividly as an HD video that was stuck on replay, the events from earlier.

After the slap, it was almost as if his senses had been magnified hundredfold. He saw the tense quivering running throughout her entire body, the redness of her right hand despite how her knuckles had whitened, the trembling lips that were pressed together so hard they had turned white as well, the unusually hard set of her delicate jaw, the wrinkles around her eyes as she scrunched her face up—whether in anger or a desperation not to cry, he didn't know. Neither prospect was inviting.

He hadn't had enough courage—or stupidity—to even glance at her eyes. He was afraid, yes. Afraid enough that he was perfectly capable of admitting it to himself. He thought he was used to pain, used to the beatings, the cuts, the blood. He hadn't known how naïve he was until she found him with some other girl he didn't even know the name of for the—he had stopped counting a long time ago.

Her eyes then, just like every other time, had reawakened every past wound and multiplied it, rendering him unable to breath for several minutes while whatever-her-name-was fled. Only, that time it was so much worse.

It might have been because a few weeks ago had been her fifteenth birthday, and he hadn't treated her any better than before. If anything, he treated her worse. He had been planning to give her a present later, a beautiful necklace of gold, set with rubies, enchanted with powerful Alices, like Healing and other protective charms. He had saved his huge allowance for a few months to buy it.

He was going to visit her that night to give it to her, but was detained on the way by some girl who pulled him into a corner. She was good, he had to admit. And he was always unsatisfied when Mikan pulled away after only a little bit of kissing. Did she not want him like he wanted her?

But it seemed she had had some business in that hallway, and didn't realize it was him when she came to investigate the strange noises. He hadn't noticed until he heard the familiar gasp, turned, and caught a glimpse of brown hair in the scarce light. He had left after that, sick to his stomach with himself.

Or maybe she was particularly upset because of his tendency to treat her indifferently. More than half of their dialogue was made up of him not responding or saying he didn't care. He didn't exactly make her feel exceptionally loved most of the time…

His goal had been to make her react, like she had before. So when she did, why did it hurt so much?

He used to think she would forgive him no matter what he did. He wasn't worried when she shunned him, sometimes refusing to come out of her room for days. It had happened enough that he knew she would come out eventually.

So that last time, he wasn't worried in the least. Even when she didn't appear for weeks, and the others were going crazy. Even when Narumi became a loveless robot. Even when Imai started refusing patrons. Even when Ruka stopped visiting the barn, Yuu's grades dropped, Sumire didn't swoon over them at all, Anna's cakes were more ash than cake, Nonoko caused an explosion that destroyed her lab, Koko and Kitsuneme's grins evaporated, Nobara was found near death in the DA room, Tono shunned women, Misaki didn't punch anyone nor deny being a couple, the shadow freak slept in a tree all day every day, Kaname's dolls started living in the hospital… the list went on and on.

He knew she would eventually come out. He thought everyone else knew too, which was why they weren't breaking down her door. Never had he dreamed that she had somehow everything-proofed her door, her window, and the vents so that nothing but air could get through. Everyone running at it together full-speed couldn't even shake it. Nonoko couldn't blow it up, and even Imai couldn't get through. He finally relented to try burning it down, shaking his head at their foolishness.

He never expected it to crumble as soon as the fire touched it.

He also never expected the room to be empty; no clothes, no books, no Mikan. Instead, it was accumulating dust.

He didn't want to remember how he had reacted: shock, and anger. Pain was only in the background. It was mostly anger that she had abandoned him without a word.

Alcohol had been a very good friend for eight years. It still was.

--

Mikan was drawing.

She didn't want to recall all the times Natsume had hurt her—in fact, she couldn't. There were too many. Too many times where she found him with another girl, too many times where he wanted her to break off contact with all other males (including Yuu), too many times where he just didn't care.

She was a toy. She knew that. But she had hoped that she had become independent, no longer under his spell.

She was wrong.

He could still poke at her wall and make it crumble to ash like it was just too easy. He must have thought she was an easy girl since she fell so quickly like everyone else. Falling hurts a lot. The shorter the fall, the less the impact, the less broken one is at the end. He had pushed her off a cliff and now she was a mass of blood and bone, confusion and pain, still looking up at his silhouette with the smirking sun behind him. Or was he the sun?

Sometimes, one's wounds can be stitched together, only to tumble away again. The seams break. More injuries are added. Eventually, if one is unlucky, one will not be able to recover. The ER can't save everyone. One will fall down so far, one will be irretrievable, no long able to fall, but no longer able to be saved.

While one is falling, one will hit rocks along the way, get snagged in protruding roots and such. Sometimes, these previous warnings lessen the fall at the end, almost as if one can predict and guard against pain.

Willingly jumping over is suicide. Sometimes there is a barrier, a railing, to stop one from suicide. Other times, the extra force causes even more pain.

Sometimes, one can grab the murderer as one falls, and both will be broken. Both will live on that different level together, until someone else pushes one off another bluff. The one left behind will be smashed against the wall by the new killer.

Before she had gone to look for Natsume that final time, she had visited Hotaru. Hotaru had shunned her like usual, but for some reason she had felt the pain so much more keenly than usual. At that moment, she had begun to build the wall. She didn't dare cry.

She wanted to vent to her other friends. They were all busy with something or another. The wall grew thicker. She didn't dare cry.

Finally, she succumbed to searching for Natsume. He listened, if nothing else. Then she found him. She didn't know what she felt at that moment. It was a blur. She remembered how she could feel the newly built wall start to crumble before she frantically, desperately stacked up more bricks.

She hadn't been careful, hadn't made sure the wall was secure. If she had taken the time, she might have been able to build a wall by the cliff as well, and make sure all her armor was in good condition, and make sure both walls were sealed.

She needed some alcohol.

--

She was here. Why was she here?

That dress was really revealing.

Was she upset about earlier? Of course she was. He was an idiot.

She had an amazing body.

Imai and Ruka didn't go after he that time, only banged opened the door and stared. Why didn't they chase her?

So many guys were around her.

Maybe they were busy. After all, one was firing her cannon and one was shouting at him. Were those cuss words he heard mixed in?

She was dancing.

Had she always been so…mesmerizing?

--

She wanted to forget. So she danced.

She swayed her hips. She clapped and stomped to the beat.

Her heart was pounding with the drum. She could barely breathe. The air felt so heavy, so humid. Sweat and perfume mingled so naturally.

She didn't bother to take in the faces around her, didn't care enough to register the eager hunger, the excited touches. She only noticed when a particularly good dancer joined her from nowhere.

Her vision was blurry. The alcohol, probably. It seemed like the world was distorting. She couldn't focus. She didn't want to. She didn't want to be dropped back through all her clouds and crash on reality. She didn't want the innocent Mikan or the sensible Mikan to come out. They would stop her from dancing with this stranger, this beautiful creature with dark hair and flashing eyes—

–so familiar. Had she seen him (she hoped it was a him) before? …why did she care? She was there to stop thinking.

So she continued to move against him and wished the night wouldn't end, wished she were light enough to float forever.

--

He tried to keep himself from losing control, he really did. That's what he kept insisting.

So why was he dragging her down a side hallway, with her giggling uncontrollably?

It was her fault for deciding to start grinding—

The memory caused him to suddenly slam her against the wall, almost desperate with his touches, knowing she would never allow this again. Where had his control gone?

Where had her control gone? The noises she was generating were driving him insane. While they had been dating, she had never permitted things to go this far, and she had certainly not given away any hint of pleasure.

In fact, after she had confessed, after he had indifferently accepted, it seemed like they had grown farther apart. Sure, she had become bolder in approaching him, but with no basis—he continued to tease and bully her just as much as before. Sure, she didn't scream pervert whenever they kissed, but she would if he tried to go further.

They barely had romantic moments. Natsume had started to abandon the Sakura tree. It reminded him of her, so he had stayed there, knowing she would come, hoping for that brief contact. Once they saw more and more of each other, he had the real thing. He no longer needed the tree.

She continued to go there. She was an idealist. She loved the memories of their meetings, enjoyed reminiscing about their arguments. At least until she realized she would never meet him there again. Until she realized that he was probably off with some other girl.

He couldn't help it. Every time she left him hanging, every time she refused to release a sign of happiness at their intimacy, he needed to vent. He was easy prey for the more attractive fan girls. And she was always there at the wrong time—or the right time?—to catch him in the act.

In the minutes it took him to recover from her look and become halfway decent enough to chase after her, she always managed to find some other guy friend to comfort her while she was crying. Usually Tsubasa. Natsume had no problem burning them… before she glared at him with teary, disgusted eyes, and he would wonder what the hell his problem was and debate on whether or not he was a masochist.

Eventually, he would make it up to her somehow. He didn't want to believe that she was merely postponing the inevitable breakdown, just like he was temporarily recovering with those pills she hated so much. He didn't want to recognize that she was far too trusting, so easily accepting the bare minimum of an implied apology, just to try to revive their connection.

He had never even said those three words that were so important to girls like her. It might have slipped out a few times or more to other girls in the heat of the moment, but never to her. It had been her who confessed first, and he had only said, "Hn. Whatever."

And he had prided himself on his intelligence, his sharp senses, his control. He scoffed at himself.

He knew that if he went too far that night, she would never even acknowledge his existence afterwards. He wasn't enough of an idiot to let that happen. He didn't want to think of the possibility that she would run before he could explain, or that she might not believe him.

He paid for a room. Maybe this way, she would forgive him. Even just a little.

Just a little would be enough. He no longer had the right to hope for anything more.

Whee! This is for those of you who wanted more "moments!" Sorry if they aren't good though. I'm uncomfortable writing explicitness, and I don't exactly know much. Come on, I'm-- not going to reveal my age online. But I don't know how to write this!

...So was it okay? Review! I need a loooot of help to improve my moments. ...That sounded weird, didn't it.