AN: I am starting this little side-project to keep updating short Mimato stories, just for the sake of keeping the ship afloat. I titled it after the French word for "anthology", for obvious reasons. I hope you enjoy these little tids and bits, and please drop by to say hi whenever you feel like it.
The events of this particular story would be set before or rather during those of Episode 38 of Adventure 02, which is when Sora decides to give Yamato a batch of home-made cookies for Christmas.
Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon, nor will I ever claim to do so. The cover image belongs to DeviantArt artist Dralamy.
She had chosen a royal blue paper wrapping, and a single silver ribbon set off the package rather nicely. She smiled, thinking perhaps he might like that arrangement of colours. She didn't really think he'd notice, but if he did, she told herself, she'd be happy with her choice. The walk towards the venue itself wasn't too long or tiring, but that may have been because she was rather nervous and that usually manifested itself as an upsurge of energy. She blinked, looking down the deserted alley and biting on her lip anxiously. She looked around, but there was no-one here, as most of the people were lining up on the other side of the building, waiting impatiently for the show to start.
A gentle breeze blew, and Tachikawa Mimi shivered slightly. The weather was taking a turn for the worse, growing colder by the hour, but she could only hope that it would be cold enough to snow soon. Christmas wasn't Christmas if it wasn't white, after all. The girl took a small breath, adjusting her pretty pink beret and gripping the long package just a little more tightly as she made it to the door. Raising her fist to knock, she was quite surprised when the door suddenly opening, revealing a pair of deep blue eyes belonging to Ishida Yamato.
Recognition registered in them, and he smiled as he looked at her – a small half-smile that he saved just for her, and that she returned with a full one of her own.
"Mimi-chan," he greeted, opening the door and gesturing for her to come in, "You shouldn't be outside, it's cold."
"It's not that cold," she lied, but entered nonetheless, hearing the door click softly behind her. It was warmer inside, certainly, but Mimi's hands were still trembling slightly as she held the package that he had not yet seen or asked about. She didn't expect him to – Yamato could be very prudent and did not like perusing others' business.
"You came," he said again, even as he started walking down the hall, knowing he didn't need to be told to follow.
"I was in the neighborhood," the girl replied with a shrug, tossing her cinnamon coloured tresses over her shoulder as she spoke. It was a lie and he knew it, but did not call her out on it. She knew he would not.
There was another door, leading to a living room that was very poorly decorated – there were only a mirror, a few low couches, a low coffee table and various mismatching posters hanging on the walls. It was, mostly, a waiting room where performers could relax and sit down when preparing for their shows, and it was here that Yamato had left his case, coat and scarf. He sat down on a couch, resting his feet on the table before him even as Mimi took a seat on the very table, looking casually at him with her ankles crossed below her. Neither one was talking, just silently smiling and enjoying the proximity. She was the first to break the silence.
"I can't stay," she said simply, and Yamato cocked his head to one side.
"I supposed you wouldn't," he admitted with a sigh, "Still, I am glad you stopped by."
Mimi smiled at him, removing her hat and looking at her reflection on the mirror behind him. Her fingers twitched around the box and she extended it to him, smiling slightly as he reached over to take it from her.
"I brought you something," she said, her cheeks growing warmer the more he looked at her, "I hope you like them." She had bought the long box at a specialty bakery store, where she had gone to pick up the ingredients that she had needed to prepare his surprise. He had mentioned once in a phone conversation that though he did not love sweets, macarons had a special place for him in his heart. They reminded him of home, and his French relatives, and he had always enjoyed the fancy little cookies. Mimi had since then spent more afternoons than she'd ever admit to him trying to perfect the art of making the delicate French pastries, just so that she could make them for him.
He looked very grateful, and a little taken aback by the gesture, but his cheeks were warm too, and she had to admit that flustered was a good look on Ishida Yamato.
"You didn't have to," he muttered, "Thank you so much, Mimi-chan."
"Open it!" she told him with a small laugh, "I didn't bring it just so you could see the thing."
Yamato chuckled at her impatience, but did as he was told. He liked the way she had wrapped it, noting that she had used colours that reminded him of Gabumon. Mimi was like that, taking care of such little details that no-one else even noticed. Carefully he unwrapped the box and his eyes opened wide when he saw the neat assortment of French macarons, all in different colours and looking almost store bought. "Did you make these?" he asked her, and she nodded happily.
"Yes," she said proudly, "Don't they look nice?"
"They look great," he said, but then frowned, "Are they safe to eat?"
Mimi gave him a level look, cocking one eyebrow at him.
"Excuse me?"
"I'm joking," he corrected quickly, letting out a small chuckle. Yamato opened the box and took out a green macaron, presumably pistachio. The girl was nodding, encouraging him to try it. Yamato took it to his lips and bit half of it, his eyes brightening and his lips pulling into another rare smile as he chewed.
"They're fantastic, Mi-rin," he complimented, making the girl clap happily and blush a furious pink.
"You really like them?" she asked, clearly relieved, "I am so glad."
"Here," he said, handing her a pink macaron and watching her nibble on it delicately as she moved to sit next to him, surprising him a little. Mimi had a way of doing things so simply, so easily, and she often caught him off guard. She rested his head against his shoulder, and he finished his cookie, smiling. He didn't tell her anything that day, but her present had endeared her to him more than she could have hoped. He'd had no idea Mimi knew these were his favourite cookies, nor did he know that she had learned how to make them for him. But she had, and it made Yamato's stomach flutter a little, and his heart beat just a little faster.
"It's almost time for your concert," Mimi said, looking down at her wristwatch and getting up.
Yamato only shrugged, surprised at how cold he felt when she stood.
"I still have some time."
There was a knock on the door, and Yamato looked back as it opened. Gabumon was standing there, but he took no notice of Mimi, who was now standing behind the door. "You've got visit," he said, "I think Sora's outside."
Yamato snapped out of his trance, offering his Digimon partner a smile. "Can you see to her for a moment?" he asked, "I'll be right out."
"Sure," his friend said, leaving and closing the door behind him.
Mimi's back was to the wall, smiling a little sadly at him. Whatever warmth had been in the room had left with Gabumon, and they were both thinking about the Digimon's words.
"I have to go now," Mimi said, and Yamato only looked at her, not surprised or sad or angry – he was just looking at her, as if he was trying to memorise the lines in her face. Slowly, he nodded, standing up. Mimi walked up to the couch and retrieved her beanie hat, carefully adjusting it over her head and looking as if she had just stepped out of some designer's expensive winter collection with her long white coat, tights and ankle boots. She opened her mouth to say something, but Yamato beat her to it.
"I'll walk you out," he said automatically, and she only nodded. Neither of them said anything, but they went the opposite way to where she had come in. There was a side exit, and she'd come out where all the rabid fans were, would be easily lost in the crowd. She didn't notice that he was still carrying the box in his hand, and her smile was hard to hide once she did. What did it matter, what he was about to do, if that box was still in his fingers?
"Yama-kun?" she asked.
He looked down at her, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes?"
"Please don't tell her."
He didn't answer, only gripped the box tighter in his hand. His lips were set in a grim, firm line and he didn't know what he wanted to tell her, but suddenly, Mimi was standing on her tiptoes and kissing him fully on the mouth. She tasted like almonds and cinnamon and if he had been more prepared, he would've wanted the kiss to last longer, to hold her hand or her hair or do something other than stand there, eyes closed and cheeks on fire.
"Maybe we could have dinner," she said as she fell back; giving not one indication of what she had just done. "If your father works late, or something."
It took him a moment to find his voice. "Ye – yeah, that'd be nice," he said lamely.
Mimi was standing at the door, her hands clasped behind her back and the sweetest blush on her cheeks.
"Happy Christmas, Yama-kun," she said softly, and Yamato gave her a full smile, the kind he rarely gave, even to her.
"Happy Christmas, Mi-rin."