I loved you but you were a small war.

The table was alight with the sounds of fine cutlery clinking against expensive china. The restaurant was beautiful, out in the bayside with a terrace that overlooked the ocean. She had been proud to invite her friends, prouder even, when she announced that she was now the head chef of the place. The years had gone by and some friendships kept strong, such as theirs. Despite the fact that they had now jobs and businesses and marriages (and children!), they were, first and foremost, the best of friends.

That evening, the food and wine went around generously as they caught up on what they had been up to the past few years. The terrace had been booked for the night and they all seemed to be enjoying the salty air and night lights. Mimi and Sora sat over at the table, tongues loosened by the fine wine.

"I still don't get over the two of you not being together," Sora blurted out. She had caught Mimi staring over at the blonde in question not once, but countless times during the evening. "Sometimes, it feels like it never even happened."

Mimi's breath hitched, her heartbeat skipping a few beats in turn. Yamato was leaning casually over the balcony, a glass in his hand as he laughed generously at something Taichi said. She cast her eyes back to Sora, fingering the rim of her wineglass.

"We were young. It wasn't that big of a deal," she said, taking a drink because her tongue felt so dry.

"He's doing better," Sora continued. "Loads better. He's a different person now, more like - like before."

Mimi drained her glass. "I heard he's getting married."

Her friend nodded slowly, still half dazed. "Catherine's an old family friend. I've never seen him happier."

She knew Sora didn't mean it like that, but it hurt Mimi right in the gut. Yamato looked more at ease, far less troubled than she remembered. It hurt, knowing she had nothing to do with that. As if she sensed what her words had provoked, Sora reached out a hand and gently squeezed her fingers.

"He still loves you, Mi. You're a big part of him."

She laughed, and it was short-lived and dry. "I'm happy for him, I really am," she said. "But I don't think either of us has forgotten how I left him."

It felt strange, acknowledging that out loud. And Mimi knew it sounded wrong because Sora pursed her lips and hid the action in her wineglass while Mimi poured herself one far too liberally.

When the night was over and they all left one by one, it felt as though by some divine intervention they found themselves alone with each other in the sparse balcony, in what looked like a romantic scene and was everything but. Yamato was the first to acknowledge her, leaning closer after some hesitance. His eyes were shining and she knew he was more inebriated than he let show. Then again, so was she.

"I'll walk you home," he said, making her stop in her way to finish that one last, damning glass. "Please."

They left together, walking side by side. Neither looked at the other. Mimi didn't live close by and neither did he but they remained quiet and, in silence, reached the docks. It wasn't so late that the place was empty but it was mostly couples, young and old, friends and lovers and such. Mimi wondered briefly why they couldn't be either. She sat on an empty bench and Yamato leaned against the rails, watching the waves with a calm she did not feel.

She closed her eyes, opening them only when his perfume reached her nostrils. Yamato was looking at her, no hint of a smile in his eyes or lips.

"Do you still hate me?" she asked, but it came out as more of a whimper.

Yamato reached for her hand and she wanted to cry at the contact, at the way he made her skin flare up in protest.

"No," he murmured quietly. "I don't."

In a brief bout of courage, Mimi let her fingers wander up his wrist, bunching up the material of his jacket and knowing she'd find the scars in his forearms. Yamato thought them ugly, she knew, and she had never told him how beautiful she had thought they were, even then. And now, she could find no reason not to.

"You were so beautiful, you know," she whispered, fingers touching the long, thin lines. They stilled. "God, you still are."

"Mimi—,"

"No," she interrupted. "You were — God, you were such a mess but I loved you."She dropped her hand, held it in her own to avoid searching for him again. There had been sleepless nights, waking hours at the clinic, with Jyou. Calls in the middle of the afternoon because he hadn't left his home in three days and he was far too drunk, far too stoned to get into the shower himself. But even on the good days, he was always too angry, too sad, too afraid and alone and loving Yamato was like fighting a foreign war with swords and wooden shields while your enemies had tanks and bombs and came at you in the middle of the night.

"I didn't know how to then, but I loved you," he murmured, rubbing circles with his thumb on the inside of her wrist. "It's always been you."

She leaned into him, pressed her face to his neck. "I hope she makes you happy."

Yamato nuzzled her, turned to kiss her. "I wish it could've been you."

Not for the first time, Mimi wished that, too.

Notes: I didn't want to extend this one but basically, self-deprecating, destructive Yamato makes my heart ache. I imagine this happened after one or both of his parents passed away (likely, his dad) and he became very depressed. I also think that, if Mimi hadn't left him, he would've never gotten better. I actually wrote that and ended up taking it out: "If you hadn't left, I would've killed myself trying to make you stay", as in, he relied so much on her that part of his destructive attitude came from wanting her to take care of him.