A/N: as I said last chapter, this is a POV change... very exciting. because of this perspective, i can go into more depth about how this particular cult works. thank you for reading so far!

iv. you think that he's yours but it's only in your head.

Day one for Rumplestiltskin was day fifteen for Mikan.

Mikan's day one had been the first night in town, after her family had gotten settled in the house she'd found. She'd swiped a candy bar from the store, just once, like a test run. She had a plan and everything in case she was caught: "Oh, whoops, sorry! I forgot to put it back!" and then she'd skip out like nothing happened.

It worked before.

On her way out, after having not been caught, she spotted a morose figure walking across the parking lot towards the store.

She watched him approach, watched him not notice her, watched him yawn, watched him stare at the store like it was a bright light in a science fiction movie and he was getting abducted by aliens.

Floop! and he'd get sucked up by the mothership, this convenience store, never to be seen again.

The thought of that made her sad.

She stayed outside, leaning against the store wall, watching the door and waiting for him to come back out.

She ate her candy bar. When she was finished, she wrinkled up the wrapper and threw it in the trash.

The sad boy came back out, a soda in his hands. He opened it, let it fizzle, and then took a nice long sip.

Mikan watched him drink the soda. He stood still for a while after pulling his mouth off the bottle. He examined the label like it contained a hidden code. He seemed to realize that he was doing nothing, snapped out of it, and then kept walking, like a robot with laggy programming.

Mikan's second day, he came in when she was stuffing her shirt with candy bars for her and Youichi to share later. She froze upon hearing the bell.

She'd encountered that kind before, people who would spot her sneaking a bag of chips or a wrapped onigiri in her pocket and suddenly feel like they were heroes for telling the cashier.

She looked around the corner and saw him, soda boy from yesterday, who was checking out the fridge section, particularly the canned iced coffees.

She kept her eyes on him until he opened the door and seemed to choose one at random, his fingers hesitating before finally selecting a can and walking with it to the cashier.

He paid and Mikan took the chance to sneak back out.

She stayed by the trash can, in the darkness, out of the light of the store, to see him come out. He didn't open the can until he was half-way through the parking lot and seemed to remember having purchased it.

He's a dear, she decided. He was precious.

He functioned about as well as a computer with only three keys on the keyboard, as a microwave with only a "start" button… about as well as she did.

More days passed.

Always this boy, alone, tired, out of it.

On day seven, Mikan stole a box of cereal in the same aisle as him and he didn't even turn, not even when her sneakers squeaked against the linoleum.

Day nine, he tripped over a bumper in the parking lot and Mikan had almost cried out in concern-but he had righted himself, shaken his head, and kept moving.

Dear, she'd think when she saw him.

Always so bored and blank with the cashier.

"Just this."

"No thanks."

"Yeah. You too."

"Right."

Day ten, he talked more, and Mikan rejoiced, hanging by the onigiri shelf and listening intently.

"You come here all the time," the cashier said. "It's really late."

"I work late," Mystery Boy said. "Sometimes I'm hungry so I stop by here on my way home."

A lie! Mikan grinned at that, at the thought there was a riddle to solve.

She told Tsubasa about him, about the boy at the store.

"I don't get why you're obsessed with that place," he'd said, confused, picking at a pillow in the bedroom. They were sitting on the bed after Mikan had come home with a haul of onigiri for everyone. Most of the rest of them were in the living room, smoking weed, which did not interest Mikan in the slightest. "We have a store much closer."

"There's a boy there. A mystery boy. He comes to the store like a zombie, buys one thing, then leaves. Always around three in the morning. And he lies. I like watching him."

"God, Mikan, you're so sweet and innocent I don't think you get how creepy that sounds."

"How is it creepy?"

"Does he even know you're watching him?"

"No."

"Then it's creepy." Tsubasa took a bite of his onigiri, shaking his head. "And Kuonji is not gonna like that you keep sneaking out to see some random guy who's not even part of the group."

"It's fine!" Mikan defended. "It's nothing serious. I just think he's very interesting."

"If you say so."

It was something serious to Mikan.

Things were getting very strange and tense in the house. There was so much whispering, like when Persona would lean down close to Kuonji's ear. Then the room would freeze when Kuonji's expression turned furious. A moment would pass and his smile would return, like nothing happened. But something did happen, and Mikan was worried. She was relatively new there, having only been with them for about two years. Still, they were the only family she had anymore. She didn't want it to turn cold.

And this boy, mystery boy, made it all seem warm again.

She could pretend like it was all how it was when she'd first started hanging out with them: bright and happy and innocent times.

On day twelve, she realized why she was drawn to him.

She was outside, drinking chocolate milk, when he arrived by the store door, but he was hesitating.

He didn't open the door, he just stood there, like he was gathering strength. And then Mikan realized he was.

He exhaled and then went in and Mikan watched him with awe through the windows as he wove in and out of aisles, searching for something-anything-nothing at all.

He bought something-it didn't matter what; maybe a box of batteries or a bag of wasabi chips-and walked back out, shoving his purchase in his pocket. He walked with purpose out of the parking lot and Mikan was determined not to let him escape her sights. She only had to follow him for a short moment until he crossed the street and entered the nearest apartment building.

Mikan looked up at the building-a behemoth about ten stories tall. She wondered which of the windows was his, which floor he was headed to, when he'd be able to fall asleep, if he was being waited on by anyone.

That was it, Mikan realized. They were the same.

They both went to this store at ungodly hours, both ended up being drawn here for no reason, both came alone each time.

But there was a reason, wasn't there?

Because whatever was waiting back at home was cold and scary. The store was warm and bright and sizzling with the sound of fluorescent lights. They didn't come to the store because they had to, because there was something they needed to buy. They came because it was something to do that wasn't being at home.

On day fifteen, Mikan walked right up to the fridge Mystery Boy was lingering at and grabbed a lemonade. She stared into his eyes as she drank it all, watched his mouth, watched his eyes as he looked at her for the first time, watched him.

She put the bottle back and put her finger in front of her mouth.

"Shh."

Your end of the deal was to leave me alone forever, right?

Mikan stormed back into the house, in no mood to put the door back up. Persona would fix it, because he always did, and she didn't care if he yelled at her about it this time.

"Why did you guys do that?" she snapped.

"Mikan," Kuonji said, his voice a warning.

"You were crowding on him and being weird and why were you all so stoned?"

Misaki took her hand. "How were we being weird, Mikan?" she asked gently. "He's the weird one. He's just not like us. It's okay; it happens. Not everyone can be like us. We have to stick together."

Mikan flailed, not knowing what else to do. She ripped her hand from Misaki's soft hold. "He is like us! I know it! I can see it! He's alone and lonely and bored and he needs help!"

The rest of them stayed silent, most of them avoiding eye contact with her.

"You guys…"

"He's just like the rest of them," Megane said, sounding strangely sober. "Just judgment and hatred, like all the rest."

"There isn't love there," Nobara agreed. "His heart's not big enough to fit in with us."

"No!" Mikan turned to Tsubasa, who was biting his lip. "Tsubasa! You know! You saw it too, right? You said you liked him!"

Tsubasa shook his head sadly. "I gotta agree with them, Mikan. He's just not one of us."

Mikan's eyes were welling up with tears, and that frustrated her even more, but then Kuonji's hands were encircling her wrist and she felt herself deflate.

"Mikan," he said, voice tender and affectionate. Tears slipped from her eyes. "You tried. You saw a lost soul and you held out your arms. He didn't take the offer. That's not on you, it's not on us. It's on him. He's the one who thinks he's too good for help, for other people, for love."

Mikan let Kuonji take her in his arms. She hugged him back, willing her eyes to suck her tears back up.

I don't know you. I don't like you.

Had she really been creepy? Had she crossed a line?

Kuonji let her go, but not before pressing a kiss into her hair.

"Do you feel better?"

Mikan shrugged.

"That's not good enough for me." Kuonji turned to the room. "Let's all tell Mikan we're sorry."

Everyone in the room stood up and approached her. Mikan was still feeling stiff, upset, unhappy, and part of her wanted to tell them to leave her alone.

"We're sorry, Mikan," they all said.

"Let's show her how much we love her."

Hands were reaching for her from every direction, touching and caressing and pulling and hugging, so many hands and she didn't know where they were all coming from.

"We love you, Mikan."

"Mikan."

"Oh, Mikan, we're sorry."

Mikan was in the middle of a big huddle, arms all around her and tangled up in each other, heads resting against her shoulder, their shoulders, her back-

She giggled. "Okay! I know! I love you too!"

They all pulled away. Tono pinched her cheek.

"Don't worry us like that," Kuonji said, smiling. "I was scared that you were going to say you wanted to leave us."

"Me too," Nobara said. "We don't want you to go."

"I don't wanna go either," Mikan replied. "I want to stay with you forever. I guess… I just wanted Rumplestiltskin to want to stay with us too."

The rest of them were sitting back down, going back to their corners, but Kuonji stayed in front of her.

"Don't say his name anymore. It will only upset you. He won't be welcome here anymore, though he's made it clear he's not accepting of our family anyway. You'll only go to the store on our block from now on, understood?"

"Oh…"

"It's for your own good. You'll only get sad if you see him again."

The room chipped in with agreements and concerns for her happiness.

"We want you to smile, Mikan, don't we?"

The room agreed.

Mikan blushed and couldn't help the smile that spread over her mouth.

Kuonji took her face in his hands and grinned. "That's right-that's the girl we all fell in love with, the girl with the smile."

"Okay," Mikan conceded. "You're right."

"Of course he is," Megane said.

"No more going to that store, okay? No more Rumplestiltskin. It's forbidden for the whole group to say that name now, for Mikan's sake. We don't need folktales when we have each other. Isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"Will you promise me?"

Mikan looked around her, at her family. "Yes. I promise."

She stayed away, yes.

Yes, she did.

For a long time.

For a whole week.

For one whole long painful week.

After that week, Mikan was fed up. She wanted to see, to know, to hear, to be near… He had been her medicine for weeks now. She had taken him on as a habit and he was hard to drop, but she was doing her best.

But with recovery comes relapse.

So Mikan was tempted to break her promise after the week.

But no, Mikan didn't go back to the store.

She went into his apartment building, across the street from the store, at eight at night, way earlier than she'd ever been.

She wasn't there to see him, so that meant she wasn't a stalker, a creep, or hurting herself. And she wasn't visiting the store or saying the name "Rumplestiltskin" so she wasn't breaking any promises either.

There were mailboxes in the lobby and that's what she was there for.

There were little stickers on each metal box, labels reading the family name of the tenant.

So many names. Mikan eyed the bank of mailboxes and suppressed the desire to shiver. She read them, moving along the bank in tiny steps.

One of these names was his.

She had figured that she'd simply know which name was his when she read it, but that didn't seem to be the case. She reached the end of the mailboxes after a half hour of staring at labels and nothing. Nothing stood out.

Throughout her search and reading, doors would open, only to close again. Mikan would stay facing the wall, holding her face in her hands and hoping that nobody paid her any attention, but only three people passed her in the lobby, silently and without giving her a passing glimpse.

That is, until a girl's voice shouted from right outside.

"Natsume! Hey, wait up!"

Mikan startled at the sudden sound, immediately regretting this idea. What if this was it? She'd be caught. Maybe someone would call the cops on her.

She looked around for somewhere to hide, but there was so little in this scant, bare lobby. She hid behind the edge of the mailboxes, hiding her face through a curtain of hair that she'd pulled out of her usual braids to make her less easily recognizable. She wasn't wearing her usual hoodie-if it happened to be him, he wouldn't be able to tell it was her… probably.

The apartment building door opened and Mikan peered through her hair to see Rumplesti-no, him-in the doorway, a hand in his jeans pocket.

"Natsume!" someone else's voice called again and he turned this time, as if only just now hearing it.

A girl ran up from behind, with short black hair and bangs, two long strands of curls on either side of her face.

Mikan's mouth tasted bitter.

"Shouda," he greeted. "What?"

"Well, you've been really welcoming ever since I moved in across the hall. I'm very appreciative."

"Sure."

He told a random neighbor his name? Did he like her? Know her? Wanna be her friend? Was it her business to know his name? Did he not want her to leave him alone?

"I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner with me sometime? Whenever you have time, of course."

Rumplestiltskin-or, Natsume, apparently-was silent for a long moment, just looking at this Shouda girl with her dumb permy hair.

"You don't have to say anything, either," Shouda said. "Just think about it. It'll be my treat. I guess I just wanted to let you know how much your neighborly help meant to me."

"I haven't really done all that much," Natsume said.

Mikan was unsurprised by that, but still relieved.

"No, no. If I'm being honest, it's not about you being helpful. Though you are! I guess I just like you."

Mikan's stomach fell. Oh no, she'd be witness to a love confession.

"Oh. I-"

"I really like you. So much. You're cool and mysterious and you can be really nice sometimes-" Mikan pouted, sad that she didn't know much about the nice side of him. "-And let's be honest, you're really hot-" Natsume stood stock still, just listening. He tended to wear the same coat every night but for some reason, at that particular moment, it looked softer than usual, and Mikan got the strange feeling that he would be nice to hug. "-And, yeah, I really like you. So much. So if you wanted to give me a chance…"

Mikan leaned her forehead against the wall, unable to watch anymore. It was already painful enough just to listen.

"Um… no."

There was a long period of silence.

Mikan smiled.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"No, no, that's okay! I'll… uh… talk to you later, yeah?"

"Right."

There was the sound of footsteps, and Mikan listened like a hawk.

One of the people left without another word, quickly disappearing through the door to the stairwell. The other person shuffled slowly through the lobby, sadly.

"Oh… uh, hi," the Shouda person said as she passed Mikan, as if only just then realizing there was someone else there. So Mikan's hiding spot had been decent, had it?

And then the lobby was empty.

Mikan withdrew from the wall and spun around a few times, arms outstretched, feeling very much like a child on a carousel.

She had caught herself smiling before, and maybe that was cruel and selfish and utterly nonsensical, but it didn't matter.

So Rumplestiltskin was named Natsume?

Mikan ran out the door and skipped the whole way home.

Once a week, Mikan found a phone and made a call.

There wasn't a phone at the house, so she had to find one somewhere else, usually at a convenience store.

The Saturday after the boy-Natsume-had rudely run from her house, she'd called to tell Hotaru that someone had been very mean to her friends.

Hotaru usually didn't say very much about Mikan's stories, mostly because Mikan wasn't very specific about what was going on.

Mikan knew what Hotaru was like, judgmental and rigid. That was the opposite of Mikan's life at the house.

"It's about the heart," Kuonji always said. "The world is full of hate and horrible things, people betraying each other, judging each other. We're different. Our family is all about the heart. We love each other, and that's what makes us unique. Other people are hateful."

Only special people had the right kind of love in their heart. Mikan was sure Natsume had it-she could see it-but her family had adamantly disagreed and there was nothing she could do to change their minds unless he miraculously reappeared and begged Kuonji for forgiveness. Getting him to do that was probably impossible.

Mikan had once, about two years ago when she first joined her family, recounted Kuonji's thesis about love to Hotaru, without dropping any names.

She was no Kuonji, couldn't explain it like he could, and Hotaru had been unmoved.

"That's stupid," she'd said, and Mikan never mentioned it again.

The Saturday after Natsume had walked away, Hotaru's advice had been stiff.

"So he doesn't like your friends. Fuck him and move on."

It was easy for her to say. She was studying in Paris and didn't know anything. She was too far away from the situation to be able to speak on it.

Mikan called her again the day after she'd spied on Natsume's mailboxes.

"Hotaru," she greeted at a payphone near a gas station. "How are you?"

"Ugh. Not doing great. I have way too much work to do, but I can fit in a short call. What's up?"

"You know that guy I was telling you about last week?"

"The one who was shitting on your friends? Yeah."

"I saw him again yesterday," Mikan said happily, twirling the phone cable around her finger. "I know I should stop looking for him, but…"

"Listen, Mikan, you get way too attached to people. You know this. You barely know the guy. You should just drop it. Whatever. No attachments. No hurt feelings. Just move on."

"His name is Natsume."

"Oh God, you named him? Really, you need to just cut him off before you get more hooked."

"It's easier said than done."

Hotaru sighed on the other end of the line. "I know. How are you doing? How are your roommates?"

"We're all doing great! Absolutely perfect! We're getting along swimmingly."

"And you moved in okay? Moving across cities can be really tough…"

"Perfect! Everything is perfect!"

"Okay." There was a racket on Hotaru's end. "Alright, I got to go. Talk to you next week."

"See you then."

Mikan hung up.

After the whole Jii-chan thing happened, Mikan had stayed with Hotaru for seven months in her campus apartment.

But then… Hotaru graduated and went to a fancy engineering grad school in Paris.

You'll be okay, won't you? All on your own?

Yes, Mikan was fine.

Homeless, but fine.

But Kuonji had found her, had opened his home and family to her.

"You were a broken bird," he liked to say. "And we mended your wings."

Mikan was too nervous to tell Hotaru more about her family, so she called them roommates, pretended there were only two of them, and didn't talk about what their house looked like.

Mikan loved her life, but she knew what it would all sound like over the phone, especially to someone who didn't understand. Hotaru would think things that weren't true. She wouldn't get it, not at all.

She would someday, when Mikan showed her.