Disclaimer: Don't own.
Okay, so I LOVE all 02 characters. Please, please don't think I'm bashing anyone in this chapter. I absolutely adore them all, and believe me, they all will get better. (Maybe)
As for the introduction of the character I introduce…she will be playing a part. Maybe not a big one, but it will be a part.
So I hope you enjoy, and of course, review!
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/11:45 O'clock Friday/
Flipping her hair, she stormed past them, ignoring their steaming, red faces, and their angry glares.
She didn't give a damn about them.
She only cared about herself.
And for her popularity.
She
was popular after all.
Being popular meant you had to be
mean to everyone.
Being popular meant you had to sit with only popular people.
Being popular meant you had to be obnoxious and rude.
Being popular meant not giving a damn about anyone else except yourself.
And that's exactly what she did.
She yelled, she screamed, she whined, and she complained.
She didn't give a shit if someone stared at her.
It was just more attention.
She didn't care if someone thought she was a bitch, or if she was being an ass.
She was being who she thought was popular.
And she didn't give a damn about anyone else.
And even as much as she tried to deny it, she didn't give a shit about anything anymore.
Including herself.
Even her so called friends she used to have abandoned her. Even the so called friends she had now hated her.
And she didn't give a fuck.
She was a bitch. And she knew it.
She dumped the only man she ever loved. The only man who ever talked to her now only responded in silence. The only girls who went shopping with her never called anymore.
She had no friends.
And she knew it.
But she still didn't care.
She didn't mind the stares she got as she walked down the halls. She didn't bother with the whispers directed at her.
They called her a slut. They called her a whore. They called her a ho. They called her just about anything.
And she ignored them all.
Even the staff stared at her and rolled their eyes. Even they called her names.
And she loved it all.
She just soaked in the attention, and wouldn't admit anything was wrong.
But when she sunk into her bed that night, she cried.
She had been wearing a plastic smile for ages. She had been forcing herself to pretend to be happy.
She hated depressed people.
She hated it when they cut themselves, or when people complained on how fucked up their lives were.
And she did her best to make sure she wasn't one of them.
Instead, she became falsely happy.
She didn't notice anything around her besides herself.
Everything had to be about her.
She was the center of attention.
But no one wanted her to be.
That night, she was slapped.
She knew it was coming. She knew she deserved it.
But she didn't give a damn.
She was mad as hell, and she intended to get her revenge.
How dare he slap her? Wasn't he the one who had been stalking her and following her for the past days?
She threw off her necklaces, and she wiped off the mounds of make-up on her skin. She removed the stuffing from her bra.
She tried to hard. She knew it. And she still kept it up.
She didn't know if he had got her out of it, but she did know it had already begun to take effect.
She was a bitch.
And she still knew it.
But Mimi Tachikawa was starting to give a damn.
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Sora turned.
She looked up to find her head throbbing, and her skin feeling dirty.
She desperately wanted to take a shower.
When she made to get up, she heard the soft moans from the sofa beside her.
As she studied his face, she felt mixed emotions.
She wanted to scream and yell at him.
She wanted to beat the shit out of him.
She wanted to cry on his shoulder.
She wanted to be held in his arms forever.
She wanted to kiss him and never let go.
And in the end, she totally ignored him and took that shower.
He woke up when she heard her splashes.
Slowly, he cleared up the table, filled with vomit, and straightened the pillows and sheets.
He headed to the kitchen, where he gathered some food, and filled a glass with milk.
When he returned, she was sitting on the couch, her bathrobe around her. She kept staring at the table when he sat down and placed the food on the table.
"Here, have some cookies and milk. It may not seem very appetizing, but it always helps me when I have a hangover."
She looked at him, confused.
"You…get hangovers?" Her voice was faint, and seemed strained.
He nodded and smiled, and she silently picked up the plate. She nibbled at first, but soon she was taking big bites, as she gulped down some of the milk.
She weakly smiled at him, and he moved over to be next to her on the couch. He stroked her hair, which was still wet, damping his fingers, but he just kept stroking.
He gently pulled her head onto his shoulder, and she quietly kept eating, but not moving away either.
And they sat.
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He was frustrated.
Unfortunately, he took out that anger on Mimi.
After leaving Takeru's apartment dejected, he had wandered the lonely streets. Somehow, he found himself standing before the only party held that night.
He wasn't surprised to find her laughing, her short, revealing dress fluttering in the wind. He didn't bother with blushing.
All of his friends had seen Mimi in revealing clothing before.
It was not pleasant.
When she walked past him, running her fingers through her companion's hair, he lost it.
"MIMI!"
The girl turned around, complete disinterest written all over.
"What, dweeb? I'm kind of busy now. You can have your chance later."
"WHAT THE FUCK? MIMI, IT'S ME, DAISUKE! Why the hell would I want to get into your pants? YOU BITCH!"
He had added the last part when she just grinned and began to slobber her latest man.
She turned, much to the dismay of her partner, and walked up to him.
He fumed, but she just smiled. He wanted to kill her.
He was always told never to hit a girl.
He was sure his parents wouldn't consider Mimi as a girl at this point.
So when she leaned in to kiss him, he did what he thought was best.
He slapped her.
Hard.
And she flinched.
"What the…?" She looked at him with such malice, but Daisuke didn't cringe. "Do you think you can just slap Mimi Tachikawa and get away with it?"
"You're not Mimi Tachikawa. You're a bitch. You're a slut, and a whore. Just get the fuck out of her. MIMI, GOD DAMN IT! COME BACK!"
He had lost it.
Still screaming at her, he ran off, leaving her staring at his silhouette.
When Michael Washington leaned in to kiss her, she punched him in the nose.
Mimi stalked off.
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Her phone was ringing.
She knew better than to pick it up in her condition.
Too bad she didn't give a damn.
"What do you want?"
"Mimi…"
The voice sounded familiar to her. She knew she hadn't heard it recently, but it sounded so sweet.
"Yes? Um…who the hell is this?'
"Mimi? You're not Mimi. I must have…got the wrong number then."
She made to protest, when the line was hung up.
Rolling her eyes, she quickly changed into her silk pajamas and tucked herself in bed.
She tried to go to sleep. She really did.
But the voice wouldn't leave her alone.
She didn't know who the hell it was.
And it bugged the shit out of her.
Frustrated, she got out of bed, and made her way to the phone again. Impatiently, she looked through the caller id. Again, it was a number that seemed familiar, but she couldn't pinpoint the exact person.
At first, she had considered it to be Daisuke's. She looked up his name in her phonebook, and found his number printed neatly beside it. Ignoring the evident change in handwriting, she was disappointed to find it a different number.
She winced as she felt the distress. She wasn't supposed to feel like that.
Then she reasoned that he wouldn't want to talk to her.
And so, she grabbed the book and plopped down on her bed, flipping through it.
The As held some people, but they wouldn't have called her. The Bs and Cs held some more people, but none of them cared a shit about her.
The Ds, Es, Fs, and Gs had plenty of people who thought she was a whore.
The Hs, Is, and Js had people she didn't even remember putting down. She eliminated them by the fact that she would have remembered their names if she remembered their voice.
Finally, she reached the Ks.
Ka…no one. Ke…no one still. Kh…it had some people, but they all lived far away. Ki…
She ran her finger down the list, but she backtracked.
A name read clearly through the jumble of other names and numbers.
Jyou Kido.
It clicked.
Excited, she picked up her phone, and quickly dialed the number.
It rang, and it rang.
No one picked up.
After the answering machine picked up, she spoke.
"Hey...Jyou it's…Mimi. You called, and I…um…I guess I wanted to …talk. It's been a really long time. I just wanted to…well…catch up. So um…call me. Please."
She hung up.
She didn't know why she felt so strange. She felt appeased by the sudden change in her voice.
She had bitched at Daisuke. She had yelled at her parents.
But she found herself so calm and sincere when addressing Jyou.
And it scared the shit out of her.
She put away the phone. As she made to return the book too, she decided against it.
She carried it to her bed, and by the light of her desk lamp, she continued to flip through. She highlighted every name. She colored blue for people who she couldn't remember. She painted yellow for people who hated her. She tinted green for people who she used to think were her friends.
And she highlighted pink for the people she dreaded to face.
She highlighted pink for the people who she had hurt.
She highlighted pink for the people who she should still love.
She highlighted pink…her friends.
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Tossing and turning, she slept.
Well, she tried to sleep.
Her forehead was covered in sweat, and her fingers twitched.
She was scared.
She was lost.
Everything seemed like a lost cause.
Nothing seemed to be worth it anymore.
She wanted to break down and cry.
She knew she couldn't let her brother see her in that weak state, but she couldn't help it.
She no longer felt energetic or authentic.
She felt…empty.
She felt like nothing could go right.
And it pissed her off.
Jun Motomiya had just broken up with her boyfriend.