Finally updating after oh so long! Hope you all like it!
"No jumping," said Mamoru, using his fingers to check off each rule. He walked in front of her, leading the way to his apartment.
"Okay…" she whined as he continued with his ever growing list.
"…no running…" he continued.
"…okay…" she murmured.
"…no yelling…"
"…okay…"
"…no breaking anything…"
"Alright, alright! I'm not to do anything but stay in one spot and wait until I leave!" snarled Usagi.
"Glad we've got that settled."
She stuck out her tongue at his back. Debating whether to blow a raspberry in his direction, she decided against it since he could probably hear it.
Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she shivered at the cold. "How much longer is it to your place?"
"We're almost there; Just a couple more blocks."
"I can't believe you walk this far every day!"
"It usually doesn't take me this long," he said, turning around and waiting for her to catch up. "I've got longer legs," he pointed to the jeans covered limbs, "so it's a pretty short walk."
"Right," she said, running up to keep up with his speed. She didn't want to admit he was going slightly fast for her to walk comfortably; she still had her pride after all.
"It's getting pretty windy," said Mamoru, looking at her over his shoulder. "You feeling cold?"
Usagi kept her teeth steady, preventing them from chattering. Show no fear to the enemy, she told her self. "I'm fine. I can understand if you're cold, though."
He rolled his eyes at her and sighed. "Here," he said, shrugging out of his jacket and wrapping it around her.
She snuggled into the green jacket. "It's not really colour." Mamoru raised an eyebrow at her, as if saying he could easily take back the garment. "—but if you insist!" Usagi quickly slid her arms through the appropriate holes. "Thanks," she said, working with the buttons.
"No problem." He walked ahead and she jogged to keep up with him. "Just don't get it sticky with your fingers."
"I'm not five, baka. You won't be cold?"
"We're almost there," he said ignoring the question.
I'd rather you be warm, he thought.
They walked in silence the rest of the way until they reached his apartment building.
"I'll pull the door," called out Usagi, rushing ahead to grab the door handle.
"Wait—"
It wouldn't budge an inch. "It's stuck?" She turned to him with a confused stare.
"You need keys for the building." He patted his pants pockets. Clicking his tongue, he turned to her.
"You don't know where they are?"
"Uh, actually they're in my jacket."
Usagi looked down at the green jacket. She patted the pockets through the sleeves and felt the jabbed ends of keys on a ring.
"Found 'em! Give me just one—egh!" She tried pulling up the sleeves to reach into the pockets but the jacket wasn't cooperating; the sleeves were just too big for her.
"Let me give it a try." Mamoru leaned forward and dug into his pockets.
Usagi backed away from him. "Oh, no you don't! The last you got near me I ended up with pudding in my hair."
He held up his hands, showing they were sans pudding. "You dumped a milkshake on me that day," he retaliated.
"Doesn't count!" She grabbed again at the jacket sleeves, clawing at them to get higher. "I only did that because of the pudding! It took forever to get it out of my hair!"
Mamoru bit back a smile at the memory. "Odango, I assure you I have no pudding on me. Not even a fruit cup." He held up his hands again to prove it. "Now why don't you let me get the keys before we turn into popsicles from the cold?" He shivered to make a point.
Glaring at him as if warning against anything he had planned, she gave a slight nod and moved closer. He slowly bent down and fumbled in the pocket she indicated. Retrieving the keys, he jingled them for her.
"That wasn't too bad, eh? No pudding on you; no milkshake on me."
He ushered them into the building and up the elevator.
"Your elevator music is weird," commented Usagi.
"The tenants get to make requests so we get a lot of variety on our elevators."
"But who requests Polka Music?"
He laughed at the sickened face she made. "I don't know and I think I like it better that way."
Usagi found it odd he didn't know his neighbours. The building was obviously trying to make people more social with each other and here was Mamoru completely avoiding making interactions with anyone.
"Do you not like people?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" He steered her out of the elevator and down the hall to his apartment. "I don't hate anyone."
"Not hating isn't the same as liking. How come you don't spend more time with people?"
"Now I'm insulted," he said, glaring down at her. "I spend time with 'Toki everyday."
"Yeah, but not your neighbours."
"Some people just aren't social butterflies like you, 'Dango." He tweaked her hair buns.
Inserting the key into the lock, he lead her into her home for the night.
Usagi took two steps in and reached down to pull off her shoes.
"Here," said Mamoru, grabbing her hand and helping her stand. "I'll show you around." The apartment opened up into the living room composed of a black couch and a variety of chairs facing a decent size television. "TV and couch. I only have one bed room so I'll be bunking on the couch tonight—"
"You don't have to—"
"Just 'cause I'm a jerk doesn't mean I'm not a hospitable jerk, 'Dango. Guests get the bed, I get the couch. Bedroom's that way," he said, pointing down the hall, "and bathroom's across from it, next to the closet. Kitchen's over here," his thumb pointed opposite to the living room. "There's a table and chairs there if you want to eat dinner, or we can just eat on the couch."
"Couch is good!" she said, moving towards it. She shrugged off his jacket and put it on a nearby chair. "Can we watch TV while eating?"
"Sure, but don't spill anything."
"I'll be careful." She moved towards the couch. "How often do you have guests come over?"
"'Toki comes over a few times a week but he doesn't spend the night."
"No sleepovers?"
He glared at her as she sat on the couch. "Sleepovers? How old do I look to you?"
"Sleepovers don't have age limits! You can eat junk food and paint nails at any age!" she proclaimed, wiggling around on the couch. "It's comfy."
"Quite jumping on it!"
"I'm not jumping, I'm bouncing."
"Then quit bouncing. What happened to no touching anything?" he asked, sitting next to her.
"I'm not touching anything! Did you see me go snooping in your drawers yet?"
"Yet? Are you plotting?"
"Why would I go through your stuff, baka? Am I going to find your list of names to call me or something?"
"Yeah, 'cause that's what I do," he said, rolling his eyes. "I spend hours upon hours thinking of new ways to torture you; it's not like I have anything else in my life."
She glared at him and stuck out her tongue.
"Real mature." Standing up, he ruffled her hair before making his way out of the living room. "Here, let me show you the kitchen. It's almost dinner time."
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"Mamoru?"
He felt a nudge on his arm, swatting it away half-asleep.
"BAKA!"
Gasping, Mamoru shot awake. His blankets curled around his waist. Red eyes turned to look at her.
The glow from the bedroom light illuminated her. He saw her wrinkled school uniform and moved his way up to her face. She had a slight blush forming, and her long blonde hair fanned her face. It seems she had taken it down for the night.
"Are you awake?" she asked softly. "I kept calling your name but you didn't get up."
Rubbing his eyes, he grunted. It seemed best not to talk. He didn't trust himself not to bite her head off for waking him up in the middle of the night. He rubbed his neck, already feeling a kink forming from sleeping on the couch.
"I'm hungry."
He groaned and looked up at her. "You ate dinner."
"But it was just ramen!"
He thought for a moment and considered going back to sleep. But she would probably wake him up again. By touching him. Again. "Fine," he grunted.
Yawning, he got up from the couch and made his way into the kitchen. Opening the light, he groaned shutting his eyes at the pain. His eyeballs felt like needles were sticking every which way into the sockets.
Serves you right feeding her noodles in water, he chided himself.
She followed him into the kitchen and took out a bowl from the cupboard. "Were you having a dream? I hate when Luna wakes me up when I'm in the middle of a dream."
"How's cereal?" He reached for the Honey Nut Cheerios not waiting for a response.
"I'll get the milk!" Pulling out the container, she laid it next to him as he poured her a bowl of cereal. "Do you want to eat, too?"
"I want sleep, Odango," he said, yawing again. Keeping his eyes wide open, he poured the milk in the bowl before blinking again.
"You can take the bed," she offered, putting back the cereal box. "I'm tiny so the couch works for me."
"Don't worry about it." He moved past her to put away the milk. "Just eat your cereal."
"Spoons, spoons! Where are you, shiny spoons?" She ruffled through the drawer, taking out two silver spoons. "Sure you don't want to eat? You're already up."
He stared at her offer. Seeing the inviting smile on her face, he found it very hard to decline. Shrugging a response, he fought back a grin as she squealed in joy. He wondered if she always got excited about people eating cereal with her at two in the morning. He could hope that reaction was reserved just for him.
"I'll get another bowl!" she cheered.
Mamoru walked back to the refrigerator; he needed milk again.
The lights flickered.
"Wait-what's happen—"
"Oh, crap! It can't—"
The kitchen light sputtered again before going out.
Pitch black.
There was a thump.
"Ow!"
"Ahhh!"
"Quit screaming, Odango! It's just me."
"You don't go thump!"
"The fridge door hit me," he explained, rubbing the bruise.
"It's dark." Usagi couldn't even see her own hand in front of her face.
"Yeah, night time does that," he drawled.
"Fix it! I don't like the dark."
"I'm trying—here."
She screamed again as something cold touched her.
"It's just my hand. Calm down, meatball brains." He squeezed her hand in reassurance. "There are some candles in the linen closet. You stay here and I'll get them."
He squeezed her hand again before he moved, stumbling into the fridge door again.
"Ow!"
"What?"
He grunted. "Nothing. Just give me a sec."
Spanning his arms wide, he found the wall and made his way into the hallway.
"Ow!" He muttered a curse under his breath as his elbow hit the corner.
"Are you dead?" she cried.
"Are you planning on finishing me off if I'm not?" he yelled back nearing the closet doors.
Grasping the door handle, he jiggled with the knob. Rotating up and down and yanking at the door, he grunted as the door finally opened.
"You did it!" cried a voice behind him.
"—Gah!" He gasped, turning around only into black emptiness. He carefully moved his hand outward—
"—Hey! Quit it." She shoved his hand back. "Light?"
"Right," he said, moving into the closet. "I've got matches and some candles in here."
"Is it a walk-in?" she asked, moving closer and helping him look.
"Yeah. The shelves are inside." He walked in deeper and felt around the different shelves. "Feel around for the candles; they should be next to some towels and sheets. I'll get the matches."
"Sure. Ooh, I feel sticks!"
"Sticks?" he murmured, wincing as he ran thumb first into a bobby pin.
"Yeah. Fuzzy at the ends. Maybe Q-tips?"
"The candles should be on the shelf above it."
Muttering an okay, she reached higher, jumping slightly.
"I feel something soft—I think it's the towels!"
"That's great—ow!"
"What?"
"Ugh, nothing." He winced, sucking on his bruised thumb. "Just regretting purchasing a few sharp items.
"Aww, okay. I'll help you throw everything out later."
"—What?"
"I think I feel the candles!"
She jumped higher, reaching for the candles. Her fingers touched the soft, waxy material before she felt her legs give away.
"Ugh—" she stumbled, her feet losing their footing.
"Careful! What're you—"
"Eegh!" She grabbed at the door handle, pulling it to regain her balance. "Ouch!" She rubbed her back side as she hit the floor, the door slamming shut.
"Was that door?" he asked. "Tell me that wasn't the door!"
"Yeah, I closed it by accident. But I think I felt the candles before I fell."
"Don't tell you closed the door!" She heard him slam his hands against the closed door, jiggling the handle.
"Is it locked or something?"
"Or something," he muttered. "Here, help me push."
She got up and stood next to him, shoving against the door with her shoulder along with him.
"Why isn't it opening?"
"The handle's loose. It gets stuck—Omph!" He slammed harder against the door, wincing at the pain.
"Wait-wait-wait! Does that mean we're—"
"—locked in…"
Hope you all liked it! Read and review, please. Any suggestions for the story are welcomed. :D