Author's Note: This one-shot was inspired by Daft Punk's song, "Instant Crush". I was browsing my iTunes for songs that fit Mimato, and this song was one of the best to describe their assumed off-screen relationship (because I am too stubborn and I do believe that at some point they had the hots for each other, mehehe). I've been writing more vignettes nowadays to get refreshed with Salad Days, since I still don't know things will end with that story (I just know that it's going to be a very long story). I like not going too ahead of it though, I just surprise myself sometimes. Anyway, enough babbling, here's a new one-shot!

Mixtapes
Almost Lovers

"I don't understand, don't get upset, I'm not with you,
we're swimming around – it's all I do when I'm with you,"

His icy blue stare pierced her cherry blossom-pink mane as she flirted with the brunet. They were just across the other side of the living room, and the view from Ishida Yamato's perspective was too perfect.

He did not welcome her return to Japan, and certainly did not welcome this sudden development with his best friend. In her unexplained absence, it took him two weeks to finally admit to himself that things – whatever they were – were already over between them.

And here she is now, back in homeland, already chasing someone else, and the lucky bastard just happened to be – oh – a friend of his. With arms crossed, his eyes fixated on the two of them, eager they'd catch him watching and maybe they'd be both sensible enough to abstain from displaying their affection.

But they don't, as they're too busy talking, laughing, rubbing against each other's arms and bumping foreheads. Yamato looked to his left; apparently, a much gloomier being sat beside him. Sora was not watching, but rather had her eyes diverted to the glass of orange juice that she held between her hands. Right on point, he assumed she was just as miserable as he was. He placed a palm over the ginger's to empathize; she looked at him, only managing a sad smile.

He could not wait to get out of Mimi's house, not after she ditched him with the distance and kept him hanging the whole summer.

Alas, he caught her glance at him, his angry eyes meeting her startled ones; but she was fast enough to regain her composure as Taichi took her by the face, then tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She was quickly distracted, now smiling at the boy beside her.

Yamato ran a hand through his wax-maintained hair, irritated at the sight on front of him. He felt betrayed; despite Taichi having no clue about his feelings for the girl. He felt cheated, even if Mimi wasn't really his to begin with. He slammed his hand on the sofa, then balling it to a fist.

But I was so damn close. He could not take it that she had easily thrown herself to someone else; just as she easily threw off his self-proclaimed affection which she happened to reciprocate.

But Mimi thought otherwise. She latched on to Taichi, taking advantage of the security she felt in his arms. She was aware that she was under her former admirer's scrutiny, probably mocking her and calling her insulting names in his head. She also knew Yamato remains ignorant of his own offense, but mending their infant relationship will only take trouble too much for her to handle.

She trusted him being there for her when she needed him – only to find out that to Yamato, her own problems did not matter as much as his did; especially when he repeatedly abandoned her from their planned webcam dates and hours-long phone calls in exchange of something more worthwhile to him – like his band. He'd only talk to her when convenience was at his side, and Mimi had gone tired of the nights she had to stay awake, tired of hoping that her pocket-sized machine rings up – tired of waiting for him.

Besides, she thought, as she tightened her embrace on Taichi. Sora fancies him, too. Of course, Yamato had no clue about her best friend's feelings. He couldn't even take a guess of the crime he committed against her.

Three hours along with dinnertime had passed before Mimi's visitors had decided to leave and let her rest from her anticipated jet lag. She gave Taichi and Sora her generous hugs and kisses, accompanied by her sugary words. The two left the house ahead of the man she was anxious of facing.

When she and Yamato had to bid goodbye, for five seconds they looked at each other as if it was the very first time. Each was wondering if the other was really the person behind the computer screen.

She contemplated if it was really him that told her she was the prettiest he had known, that he had liked her since they were kids; and he pondered if it was really her who answered his 489-word confessional letter, now doubting if she really did say she liked him too.

They did not even get to embrace, to kiss, or just merely touch – just any lingering, concrete reminder that for once, they were each other's. The adjective 'sad' was not even close enough to describe their feelings, but the silence seemed to have already done the talking for the two of them.

After a brief hug, he promptly turned his back around and headed for his exit. When both of his feet already reached outside, she instantly closed the door.

And since that day, they have faced each other with grey blurry lines in between. The ambiguity was acquainted by infinite questions that started with 'if's and 'maybe's – not knowing where to place, not knowing who they really were to each other.

I guess I'll never know.