My first contribution for Dendy Week 2022
Day 3 prompt: "This isn't real."
Big shoutouts to LinLamont for hosting the event, and to RiverLethe9 for the stellar beta work. Thank you for all the time and care you put into this piece.
The basement of the Keio University library was one of Mamoru's happy places. With its lack of elevator access, darkened atmosphere, and few tiny, upper windows, most students avoided the out-of-the-way trek to get there. Typically, only the occasional history student would make their way down to grab a book or two on their desired subject, then retreat up the stairs to a more populated area.
It was a place of comfort for Mamoru; fewer people and less noise always helped him focus. He was also the only dork who wanted to be there on a Saturday, and he'd spent the last couple of hours in peaceful, productive silence. Usagi had made plans with her friends, so he'd decided to use the free time to get a head start on his thesis.
Feeling good about his progress, he stretched his arms overhead and let out a contented groan. He wanted to stand and stretch his legs for a few minutes but was stopped cold by the sound of the stairwell door opening with a creak. Mamoru glanced across the room and his breath caught in his throat.
Violet-colored sweater. Wild, crimson hair.
No. Not here.
The woman glanced at him, acknowledged him with a nod, then plopped her books and herself down at the table closest to the door.
Trapping him in.
Mamoru's pulse roared in his ears, his scalp burned, and his stomach threatened to violently expel his breakfast.
Breathe. Just get a hold of yourself and breathe. This isn't real. She's dead. She can't–
The woman across the room sneezed, and Mamoru nearly jumped out of his seat. His hands shook, and he felt sweat breaking through every pore of his skin, chilling him.
Freezing.
She didn't even look like her. This girl was short, with thicker curves and a round face. He tried, tried to tell himself that if he looked closer he would find kind eyes and a friendly disposition.
But why did she have to wear that color of purple and have the exact same shade of red hair?
The girl was oblivious to the crippling panic she had inadvertently caused 15 feet away. She didn't even glance over when Mamoru, trembling and on the verge of hyperventilating, rose from his seat and retreated to the men's bathroom, abandoning his laptop and all his belongings.
Now, huddled in the corner across from the stalls, he let out a shaky breath, struggling in vain to fight off the inevitable panic attack. He put his head between his knees, his breathing jagged.
"Endymion.."
She called to him in his mind, beckoning him back to that dark place with the crook of one long, bony finger.
You're not real.
She wasn't, and Mamoru's logical mind knew it. But his twitching skin could feel the scrape of her stiletto nails raking across his flesh, defiling him without even removing his clothes. Just her touch had made him irreparably dirty.
He ran his hands along the skin of his face, neck, and arms, rubbing furiously to get the feel of her off of him forever, scratching away at the lines she had traced over his skin.
What was he supposed to do in moments like this?
Five things I see….leaky sink, filthy urinals, nasty bathroom floor.
That exercise never helped him, especially not now as he sat amongst said filth. Mamoru tried the pressure point on his wrist, closing his eyes and visualizing a safe place, but all he saw was her in that darkness.
His eyes shot back open.
Nothing was working. Each hitched breath threatened to blow him up like a balloon, levitating him up and away from Earth, doomed to float helplessly in the atmosphere forever.
"Help–" he choked out, barely audible. "I need help."
The sharp vibration of his phone made him flinch, and he jerked to reach it and silence the intrusive noise. But his clammy hands fumbled it, and just before it tumbled to the floor, his shaky fingers hit the single button he wanted to avoid, accidentally answering the facetime call from–
"Mamo-chan?" Usagi's voice sounded from his phone.
Oh god.
"Mamo-chan!? What's wrong?" From her angle, she could only see the ceiling, but his stunted breathing was hard to mute. Mamoru really didn't want her to see him like this, whimpering on the bathroom floor in a prison of his own design, but he was too far gone and desperately didn't want to be alone.
He needed her.
Tentatively, he raised his phone to see her concerned, sapphire eyes fixed on him. His tears were instantaneous. He put his hand over his mouth to stifle the sobs but the tears immediately clouded his view of her.
"Are you still at the library?" Her gentle voice asked.
Mamoru closed his eyes and nodded, more tears squeezing out and pouring down his cheeks and over his hand.
"What floor, Mamo-chan?"
"Basement," he hiccuped through his hand.
"I'm coming to get you. Stay there, sweetheart. I love you." There wasn't a hint of panic in her voice, just assured resolve. His sobs rose into an even higher pitch after the call disconnected, mourning her loss.
He wiped furiously at the tears and snot sticking to his face. Usagi and the girls were shopping all the way in Shinjuku. It could be an hour before she got to him. Maybe he would calm down on his own by then, and he'd only succeed in wasting her time.
But what if he didn't calm down? What if these hysterics persisted into the afternoon and then into the night? What if he couldn't sleep? If he never slept again he could never go outside and Usagi would finally leave him because he could never make her happy if all he did was drag her down because he was STUCK IN A STUPID BATHROOM–
And then he felt Usagi transform.
Right.
He let out a choked sob of relief. Sailor Moon would be there in minutes.
Four minutes and fourteen seconds after the call ended, the door to the bathroom flew open and Usagi bounded inside. Fresh tears spilled from his eyes at the sight of his rescuer, and he pathetically reached out for her.
"Mamo-chan," she whispered, kneeling between his parted legs and wrapping her warm arms around his neck. He squeezed her to him, his crushing grip on Usagi the only thing keeping him grounded. She flooded his senses: hints of jasmine, that new hair product she was using, and that uniquely Usagi scent wafted over him, and he was safe.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed into her shoulder.
"Shh–" she soothed, running a comforting hand through his hair.
They sat that way for several minutes as he continued to tremble and cry. Nothing was said, as no words were needed. Usagi couldn't fix this or make it go away, and she didn't try to. He just needed her with him; her body for comfort, her presence for his soul, while he rode out his panic attack.
Slowly, the pounding in Mamoru's ears subsided, his heaving breaths eased into shallow panting, and his body tremors faded into an occasional twitch of aftershock. There was a dull burning sensation on the skin of his neck and arms. He felt heavy-lidded and almost high, the natural chemicals released during his deep breathing giving him a near euphoric feeling.
It was over.
He had survived.
Usagi didn't move in his arms, waiting for his cue. He caught one of her pigtails behind her back and weaved his fingers through the soft tresses.
"I ruined your day," he muttered into her shoulder.
"You did no such thing," she chided, her ribcage deflating in relief. He could hear the smile in her voice. "If the situation was reversed, Tuxedo Mask would have dashed to my rescue."
Mamoru chuckled weakly. "I was half expecting Sailor Moon to burst in here and sweep me away."
Usagi smiled, her lips brushing over his cheeks and forehead as her thumbs swept away half-dried tears. "I think that would have made an even bigger scene."
"What did you do?" He asked curiously, wondering what kind of destruction she'd created on his behalf.
She didn't answer him right away. Her face tilted to examine his neck and the corners of her mouth creased into a frown.
"You scratched yourself again," she observed, fingers tracing along the lines of raw skin. That explained the burning sensation. Usagi lowered her lips and tenderly kissed the sore flesh of his neck.
"Is there another exit besides the front door?" She asked quietly, her breath tickling his neck.
"What did you do, Usako?" He repeated his question, amused.
"I might have jumped the turnstiles to get inside. The librarians probably have a bounty posted for my arrest by now."
Mamoru couldn't help but laugh. In his hysterics, he hadn't even considered that Usagi didn't have a student ID and would be denied entry. The image of his girlfriend clearing the turnstiles like a track star and being chased by angry librarians brought a warmth that swept through his chest and alleviated some of his tension.
And now here she sat on the dirty bathroom floor, forehead pressed to his, after dashing across the city just to reach him.
She brought their lips together, and he welcomed the connection, accepting the intimacy she offered and showing his appreciation in return.
"Let's go home," she whispered against his lips.
He shook his head. "You should meet back up with the girls. Don't let me hold you up anymore."
"Mamo-chan, you're exhausted. We're going to pack up your things, walk out of here together, and go home. Let me take care of you today."
He groaned but didn't argue. It was selfish, but he was exhausted. Going home and letting Usagi handle the rest was exactly what he wanted.
But the basement's emergency exit was in the stairwell, and to walk out together, they'd have to pass–
"Was she still–" he started to ask.
"She was when I got here. Want me to go out and check?"
Mamoru was grateful he didn't need to explain himself.
He squeezed her a little tighter. "No," he said, resolved. "We'll go out together. I can face it."
She was still there. Thankfully, so was his laptop and all his belongings. Mamoru would later convince himself that this stranger would likely have protected his things if need be, but at that moment he only focused on packing up.
Usagi squeezed his hand as they passed her. If she gave them a look, he didn't notice. He let out an exasperated breath as soon as they crossed through the emergency exit.
Usagi was true to her word and cared for him the rest of the day. When they got home, she poured him a tall glass of water for his dehydration and drew him a bubble bath with a few added drops of lavender and rose oil. After bringing him a cup of chamomile tea and one of her treasured chocolate bars, she left him alone, letting him decompress.
Mamoru soaked for close to an hour, breathing in the steam and letting it clear out his nasal cavities. He even let himself doze off for a few minutes. Only when the water faded into lukewarm did he leave the tub, wrap a towel around his waist, and emerge to find an abundance of takeout food on the table.
"I didn't know what you wanted, so I got a little of everything," Usagi didn't even attempt to sound sheepish.
And all Mamoru could do was smile and wrap his arms around her, enveloping her body fully into his.
"Thank you," he whispered, his lips brushing the top of her head. His love for her was infinite and he was forever grateful for how much Usagi loved him in return.
So they ate a little bit of everything, then settled onto the sofa for a movie night, snuggled under a warm blanket, with Usagi nestled contently on his lap. Neither made it till the end of the movie, falling asleep in each others' embrace, dreaming happy, pleasant dreams.
