January 7th, 2004

Rem is much more imposing than what Misa remembers her being from the other side of a screen.

"Hi," she smiles and pretends the Shinigami is not looking at her with poorly concealed curiosity and, well, distrust. "It's nice to meet you," I think you were in love with me once upon a time.

The God of death has a skeletal appearance, with rather human features much to her surprise. Her hair is longer than what Misa remembers it being (again!), white strands shifting to a deep blue color towards the ends as they reach the plane of her visible shoulder blades.

Rem is actually quite beautiful, otherworldly as Misa takes all of it in - from the smooth, almost varnished aspect of her body, to the soft edges of skin around her eyes, around her mouth.

Despite the shape of her eyes being narrower than Gelus', the color is the same striking yellow, the human's lips quirk at the silly thought, "What are you playing at?" the Shinigami ignores her, turning her gaze back to Gelus.

"I wanted you to meet her," what Misa does not know is that Rem is quite young for a Shinigami - much more so than Gelus and that the female is trying to wrap her head around the idea of the doll-like God being friends with a human.

Ridiculous.

"Candy?" Gelus eagerly puts the sweet treat offered into his mouth - he's found himself a fondness for the cherry flavored ones. Rem blinks, mouth set in a straight line as she stares at the older being, puzzled.

Misa's smile is soft and she closes Rem's claw-like hand around the heart-shaped candy when her question has no answer. "We usually watch movies when I write some papers for college," she hesitates, not sure Rem knows what the word means. "Would you like to choose for this time?"

The taste of sugar is something Rem does not remember ever tasting, yet a familiarity comes with it when it enters her mouth. She only chooses the first movie - another weird human invention, as to appease Gelus, this does not mean anything.

Rem does not know how to interact with humans, only how to observe them.

And so, she observes. How the human's hair is silky in a way she's never seen a Shinigami's be, how her eyes have about a thousand colors to them - none of them permanent, constantly shifting.

(blue and brown and amber and green and grey and-)

It is how she knows, there is something fundamentally wrong with Misa Amane.

(n.) the action or process of regaining possession or control of something stolen or lost.

Recovery is a hard subject to tackle, one who despite her vast experience Misa's not sure even she completely understands. She tries very hard not to think about how some never recover, how some don't get better.

"Nami honey, you need to eat." The girl has been seeing a therapist, quite the irony when you consider what she's studying in - although Misa knows the girl has been thinking of dropping out, she had already changed her schedule for one with fewer classes and more free time.

(Misa has none of her dedication and just skips)

"Right, sorry." Hazel eyes soften as Nami ever so slowly takes a bite of steaming rice, "don't be, we'll just try to be more careful about it okay?"

We, you and me, always.

Mrs. Matsuo gets back home from grocery shopping, joining the two girls for lunch. "Your father won't be home for a few more days," the older woman says as to start a conversation - it doesn't work and her daughter's face closes off.

The older woman tries again, mentioning the delicious meal the blonde had cooked, cold soba, Nami's favorite. The exchange is slow and almost painful, Nami trailing off more than once as her mind drifts elsewhere. Her mother stays seated, patiently waiting each time for the girl to regain her bearings.

(how did it get to this?)

She insists on doing the dishes as this is her house despite Misa being kind enough to cook and oh yes I'm quite sure darlin'.

She breaks down crying the second the girls are upstairs, loud sobs wracking her body.

It's not she doesn't want to be there for her daughter, her baby, of course not. But how does one listen to their child talk about blurry vision and hazy mind and a pair of hands going down her body? How?

Of course, the girls being only a staircase away, they hear.

The two go down the stairs this time, grabbing their coats and quietly going out of the house. "How about we go take a walk?" They do and it's when they're walking by the huge pond that the nearest parc has to offer that Nami opens her mouth, "I...I want to go out tonight."

Misa blinks, not understanding the request. "We can catch a movie if you're up for it or eat out, my treat." Starting soft, something that is safe. "Whatever you're comfortable with."

The dark-haired girl links their fingers together and shakes her head, "I was thinking more of a party, Nanase's brother is throwing one."

Oh.

"I...why would you even..?" Misa Amane does not do uncertainty and so she sets her features into something softer, something sure and confidant. "Whatever you're comfortable with, whatever you want... are you sure though?"

(irises bleed into something redredred)

"I-I need this Miichan, I need to feel normal again. I want to have fun." Misa nods once, her head moving ever so slowly as she thinks the words over. This is fine, she can accept this, pale and unpainted lips part, "What? Playing Monopoly at my place and movie nights aren't fun anymore?"

Nami's brows furrow, a smirk playing at her lips. "A girl can only take so much of Pirates of the Caribbean or Finding Nemo," the two had recently hit the screen, Misa finding humor in watching them over and over again - much to her parents' despair.

"Heathen!"

So, as intended, the two show up at the ridiculously large Nanase residence around nine o'clock. They sway to the overwhelming music and each have no more than a drink and talk about unimportant things with people Misa does not remember the names of.

(how could she?)

(she knows the names of a hundred, of a thousand)

This is not her definition of fun, but well if that's what Nami wants, this is what they'll do.

Control, that's what the young adult wants, what she needs, to never feel like she has no power over her own life. Never again.

That's...understandable, Misa thinks and maybe she's starting to even relate to it, from her own desperation for something out of her comfort zone, something to make her feel as if she's not living someone's else story.

(she does not want to know and so she acts as if she doesn't - like she can, not know those damned names)

And so, she mouths to the music and sways her hips in between overheating bodies far worse off than her. She giggles and looks pretty for everyone to see, flirts with stereotypically handsome college students - her eyes do not leave her best friend even when the girl goes off to mingle.

Nami's cheeks are flushed and she barrels her way through the crowd to meet up with her best friend, pushing the boy Misa was talking to away without so much as a thought.

"He was charming, I'll have you know, liked Shakespeare and Dickens." Misa cuts in as she lets herself be dragged outside to the balcony that offers a magnificent view of the pool and all of the inebriated people in it - she sees a girl wearing a boy's soccer jersey fall into it with a screech that turns quickly into laughter.

There's something rather captivating about it.

Nami raises a brow and so she continues, "He was also incredibly boring and full of himself, still a better conversationalist than most people here!" the other girl cackles, wiggling her eyebrows as she mouths something about riding.

Oh, how Misa sometimes longed for a time where hormones were not a thing.

The rest of the night is spent in a similar fashion, eventually spilling into morning and they go back to the blonde's house since it's closer. The ride is silent, a far cry from the crowded and unabashedly loud mansion from earlier.

"Did you have fun?" the answer is what she wanted it to be, yes, but Misa lies with every breath she takes and knows that it is not the full truth. She does not press and goes to fetch them both a drink when they enter the Amane residence on light feet, not wanting to wake up her parents.

(she lies by just existing, by breathing)

Laying in bed as they pass the bottle between them is far more up her alley than the previous party, Misa thinks and allows her fingers to comb through short brown locks leading to the head resting in the crook of her neck.

"I love you", the blonde says and puts the bottle on the nightstand while carefully not moving around too much as to not wake up the now sleeping girl.

She does not, although her efforts are for naught in the end - Nami wakes up only a few hours later, harsh sobs wracking her body with the feeling of not fitting in her own skin anymore, of terrible emptiness that she is now accustomed to.

Hate festers, beautiful flowers growing in its wake.