I did say the honeymoon wouldn't last forever...
"I'm sorry."
Mikan had been saying it too much, recently. It make Natsume worry; it sounded like she was going away or something.
Oh, yes. So she was.
Looking back on it, he felt like the argument over getting tested for STDs and the pill had been the stupidest fucking thing ever. He'd been annoyed about that? God, he'd been ignorant.
Because now things had become just as fucked up as they could possible be, and it had blown in out of nowhere all at once.
Step one; Mikan announced that she was going to University on the other side of Japan, and that obviously they would break up when that happened. Mikan couldn't toss in her future just so they could have regular sex, and he had a place at one of the top universities in Tokyo, so he was as rooted to this city as she was to Hokkaido.
Step two; in stupid childishness, he shut up as much of his emotions as he could and tried to make it seem like he didn't care about step one – after all, begging had not worked, so he saw no need to continue to play the stupid hound to her.
Step three; he still loved her, and when they kissed and made love (that was what it was now) it was obvious, as their bodies betrayed all the cold and hurtful things they said.
Step four; his mother walked in on them having step three, and went, to coin a term, 'batshit crazy'.
Mikan said later on that it was probably for the best; that his parents were doing what they were too weak to do, and with less than a week to graduation – and Mikan leaving three days after that – Natsume almost didn't mind that his parents were locking him in his room every night to stop him going out.
For one it stopped him going to Mikan and making it all harder, and for two it stopped him going out to burn things. If there was a time when he should not be trusted with fire, it was now.
He lay in his room, staring up at the ceiling, talking his heart out of this situation as best he could. He remembered when he last saw Mikan, after having sex in this bed.
"Natsume?!" his mother had screamed, and Mikan had screamed herself, while he swore.
"Fuck off!" he snarled – even if it was his mother, he response was not going to differenciate between people. The door slammed, perhaps out of shock more than anything else, and they kinda finished, but after they dressed again (very awkwardly) Mikan had that awful look again, like she was about to burst into tears.
"Just, walk straight out," he said quietly. "Don't stop, even if she yells at you; I'll deal with it."
"Why.... How did this happen?" she whispered, and in a huge moment of weakness he put his arm around her and hugged her. He didn't want her to leave, but he knew it was best for her. He didn't want to be selfish and ruin her future just because of his own feelings, but it felt like he wouldn't be able to go on without her.
"Just... go," he murmured into her hair, his mouth saying words his heart hated to hear him say. "Leave." He heard her breath hitch, and after a few seconds of returning his embrace tenfold she stood up, tearing herself away and shaking him off, and then more-or-less ran out of the house. Natsume followed her downstairs.
"Leave it," he warned his mother as he watched the woman glare as Mikan ran past, opening her mouth in prepration. "I'm the one you want, right?"
"You dared to bring that girl back into our house!" his mother exploded, and a whole lot of other stuff was said that Natsume didn't care to pay too much attention to. "And not only that, Natsume, but you were doing...doing!" Her face flushed – out of fury – and the words she sought wouldn't come.
"We were having sex," he said coldly. "We're eighteen, it's allowed. And it's not the first time, but... it may well be the last." His mother cocked an eyebrow; she was interested. "She's... leaving, soon," he explained acidly. "Moving up north."
"Ohh," his mother said sinisterly. "So that means?"
"You'll get your way after all," he muttered; wondering why he felt so strange. Maybe he couldn't do this.
"Go back to your room," she commanded shrilly. "I will speak to your father, and we will discuss an appropriate punishment." Natsume smirked; no punishment would be bad, not compared to losing her. Pity it was meant to be.
When he heard the lock on his room – a deadbolt that was installed when they moved in because of his 'Alice' – he felt somewhat like a caged animal, but at least he felt secure. Not happy, but there wasn't anything he could do here.
This was where he had remained until graduation. He was allowed out to school, but he had to be back straight away, and his father had even gone so far as to arrange a taxi to pick him up – the driver obviously paid to make sure he was taken to his house and watched him go inside.
He didn't bother going back out, he didn't want to anymore. He and Mikan had said they didn't have to break up straight away, but it was nearly time anyway, and from the moment they'd said those deadly words, it was over.
He'd never expected to enjoy graduation really – he didn't see the point in it, and he didn't share the same joy in leaving school as other students; he liked to learn, and he knew university was just around the corner. It was nothing to get so excited about.
That said, it did mean he got to see her again. One last time. He spotted her with Sumire, and his legs moved and mouth called to her before his brain could stop them - his heart screaming out for her. She saw him, and the look of panic flashed between them.
"Hey," she said awkwardly.
"Yeah," he replied, and they fell into an awful silence.
"I've got an idea," she said quietly, trying to ignore the (well-informed and up to date) people watching them. "How about we just pretend it's all normal?"
"Huh?"
"Like I'm not going away, and your not grounded every hour of every day," she elaborated hopefully. "Pretend it was as good as, oh, say, the week before last?" They smiled a little, remembering how quickly their relationship seemed to be able to switch. The week before last had been golden, and now they knew they were going to have to say goodbye.
"I..." he started, staring at her. "Sorry," he said shortly, just after she tried to reach out for him 'normally'. "I can't." He saw her face fall. He couldn't, he couldn't pretend now, it would just remind him of the reasons why he loved her, and make the inevitable feel even worse.
"Oh," she mumbled, and he could see how hurt she was. He helped her out by turning and walking away. Although, at the last minute his willpower deserted him and he span around, grabbed her, and gave her one last kiss for the record. Just one more.
"Bye," he said casually, like they were going to meet again tomorrow. They weren't. They wouldn't. Oh hell, he might never see her again.
He couldn't think that, he'd go insane. He'd go pyro.
He didn't go out to any of the graduation parties – he was never invited, and he was not interested anyway. He didn't feel like it either. No, he definitely didn't feel like going out and having fun.
Oh, he did know what he did feel like, actually – aside from shit.
It was a routine, that much was true, but it was not one he'd used in a while. He had his parents to dodge, and deadbolts to bribe-little-sisters to take off, and dodgy-don't-know-your-face-here stores to shop in.
This wasn't the girl-chasing routine; that was still dead as long as he knew everyone would remind him of her, and all he wanted to do was forget. This was the old one. The reason the lock was on his door in the first place.
At first he only started small – little fires, pieces of wood, fuel-soaked rags. He was a bit rusty at first, and burnt himself badly more a few times, but it all came back quickly. He bought aerosols, lighter fuel, wax, firelighters, coal, blowtorches, petrol when he could get his hands on it, and he would -- amongst many other things -- trail long strips of the things across walls and light one end; if he got it just right he could make some good scorch marks, and stop the thought for a few beautiful, flame-engulfed seconds.
Once, just once, he was wandering around some dead open space near where he lived, and in a fit of irritation he stamped the top off one of his cans and poured it into a particular shape along the ground. He took one of the lighters – he had about twelve now – with low fuel and pulled down the gas release toggle with insulation tape (so it would stay lit), sparked the flint and then dropped it on the track. The thing lit up brilliantly, and there was a small pop as the lighter exploded/melted.
He stared at his creation hypnotically; a great burning heart in the middle of nowhere. How disgustingly ironic. He wondered what she'd make of it, and then tossed the thought away like an empty canister. She wasn't here now: that was why he was here. It didn't matter; he didn't think anymore. Thinking hurt too much.
He did know he wouldn't be satisfied with small things like that for long, and he did know eventually his parents would recognise the smell of smoke and solvents. He considered time and time again going out to find someone to pull, to try to change the balance back, but he could never get past the nearest combustible. His triggers were too strong – previously he'd used lust as a decrease on his Alice, but it was strong, and when it was like this there was nothing he could do.
Not without her.
He lost track of days or nights – Ruka, bless him, realized what was going on and at least tried to stop him, but Natsume kept him away as best he could. They would still hang out, but he would go out afterwards and torch something without a second glance, and Ruka knew he could do nothing to stop it. That was the problem with Alices.
He wasn't quite sure if it had been a week or two since graduation, but it had definitely been at least one since Mikan left. He hadn't seen her since that day, she was obviously – popular as she was – very busy after graduation. He was at home for once, wet from showering lighter fuel off his body. He'd hit up a trash can today; it had been asking for it, overflowing with cardboard and full of dents where kids had been kicking it. The first in a while. He lit the fucker and sat there on the street watching it burn; no pleasure or pain, just an action he had to do; an itch he had to scratch.
Someone once said that for him, it was like he didn't like his inside, so he destroyed things on the outside, but he never really bought it. He just liked setting shit on fire.
He nearly didn't hear his phone ringing, but when he finally recognised what the strange sound was, he dived for the device. People didn't call him; Ruka called his home, and she didn't call him at all now.
Well, until now.
"...Mikan?" he said curiously, as he answered the call – recognising the caller ID. He heard nothing. "Mikan?" he said again. "Are you there?" He heard a tiny sound, but it was a voice that he'd heard so well he couldn't forget it if he tried.
"You're there, I know you are," he said hurtfully. "What do you want?"
"I can't call you without a reason?!" she snapped, and his heart wrenched to hear the girl he knew again.
"Not anymore," he snarled. "How's it up there?"
"It's great!" she spat. "I'm... having a great time."
"Glad to hear it," he said as insincerely as could possibly be expressed. "So, what do you want from me?" he asked cruelly.
"I..." she said a little less aggressively, and Natsume heard something so slight in her voice. A tiny whine, or a slight gasp; he couldn't be sure.
"Mikan?" he said softly. "Hey? What's that?"
"N-nothing," she murmured, but the stutter told him what he both did and didn't want to know.
"Fuck, are you crying?" he demanded weakly, and he heard another broken sound that told him he was right.
"I'm n-not!" she yelled, but her voice trembled and he knew she was lying.
"Don't bullshit me," he said coldly. "Why are you calling?"
"I...I..." She didn't bother to hide it, and let a few horrible sobs slip out, her hand muffling her mouth. She didn't mean to cry, but she'd heard his voice and it had just made everything feel even worse, and when they started arguing, it pushed her over the line. "Can't I even miss you, huh?" she sobbed, and he heard the phone bump as she put it down and cried into her hands harder. This was the first time he'd ever known her to cry, and he hadn't said a nice thing yet. He had reverted too quickly, and all the cruelty had come back out of him... what was wrong with him?
"Fuck," he swore, and eventually the sounds got louder as she picked up the phone again. "Hey? Mikan?" he said tentatively, and heard her sniffling. "Don't cry, seriously, please don't," he pleaded.
"Do you even care?" she wept. "It doesn't sound like it. I miss you so much, you know."
"You think I don't care?" he scoffed. "I've been going out of my fucking head, okay? I only sound lucid now because I've just been out."
"Out?" she repeated accusingly. "Have fun with that?" He realized she must have thought he was out with a girl, and smirked.
"None at all," he said icily. "I reek of smoke." He was quiet for a moment, waiting to see if she took it in, and then with a little squeak she got it.
"No, wait, you've been--?" she said a little too quickly.
"Whenever I can," he growled – after all, she was just about the only person he could trust to be open with stuff like this – what was she going to do? "You pulled all the triggers. I'm fucked."
He heard her crying more, and he hated the sound so much. Screw it if he'd just come back home; he'd go back out again. He'd need it after this.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I wish it wasn't like this, Na... Natsume. Fuck, why did we do this!?" she shouted, sounding more angry at herself than him. "I don't even know why I'm doing what I'm doing anymore, I left my brain back in Tokyo, you dick!" She cried even harder, and he brought the phone away from his ear – it hurt too much to listen to it.
"Mikan, just..." he said brokenly. "God, I don't know! I need to go," he muttered as he stood up, grabbing his bag and trying to head back out. "I need to get out of here."
"Don't go!" she yelled through the phone.
"I'm not, I'm just leaving my house," he explained, keeping the phone to his ear.
"No, I mean that, don't do it, Natsume! I'll... feel even worse if I know I'm doing this to you," she begged. "Stay away from it, please, for me."
"For you?!" he snarled. "For you?! Fuck you! You left! I'm doing whatever it takes to stop me losing it, because you left and you were about the only fucking thing that made me at least hope I was normal!" He wrenched open his door and slammed it behind him. "You never told me about this fucking massive thing, just like you never tell me anything, and you fucked off at the worst possible time. You want me to be strong? Well you shouldn't have left, babe. Because there's not even an Academy to stop me now." He stormed down the street and heard her crying again on the other end of the line.
"You better hope I'm all right by tomorrow," he hissed, feeling the urge rocket around his body - trying to stop it now would be like trying to stop an avalanche with a windbreaker. "Because I have no idea at all." He hung up the phone – much to her protests (although he didn't hear them) – and turned it off. He didn't want her calling back, he couldn't handle it anymore.
The last time he ever felt this bad was the time at the Academy. The one that got him that bad reputation. He barely remembers what triggered it, although he recalls something involving a gang of boys from school and falling into a few dustbins with his face; they'd been on the piss and recognised him, he thinks. The Alice clouded a lot of it over, or his own memory.
He knew they wouldn't be in the school, but the stuff they yelled as they beat him up – just because he was a kid in their school, younger, and a bit bookish – was the worst trigger he'd had in his life. He turned all his anger for them onto the Academy, that place that had ruined his life, and he hardly recalls the things he did.
He remembers petrol and rags of builders' sheets, and he recalls burning his hand as he tried to pull a canister of lighter fuel out of a bin when he dropped it, and then legging it as the thing exploded. He remembers seeing a whole line light up in flames, and he remembers throwing the rest of the petrol over one of the buildings and tossing a lighter in with it before legging it.
He vaguely remembers telling someone there was a fire at the school as he realized what he might have done, and he clearly remembers being arrested. He told them he remembered nothing, knew nothing, and kept his mouth shut until Persona arrived – Persona was good at dealing with the police, and it was his manipulation that got him let off. Otherwise he would've gone to a juvenile prison. That was one of the reasons Persona picked on him, hated him, he knew Natsume deserved to be in prison, and he knew how rotten he really was.
Persona wasn't here now, though, and Natsume had his hatred all to himself. Well, to himself, and to the fire.
He was a fool to ever think he was free from this, he thought as he spent the last of his money in a dodgy convenience store, and gathered a huge pile of things for a fire to end all fires. A stupid lovestruck fool.
I... don't really have much to say, today. In response to reviewer suggestions/protests it's really not plausible for Natsume or Mikan to move to be together - they are just rooted apart, and changing that would be really stupid future-wise for them.
I don't know how this thing is even going anymore, lol, it's just happening. So let me know what you think. Better than the lovey-dovey stuff? Review.