Hi! So, I actually did remember! :D
Btw, how do you like Rena?
Mikan took a breath, and she smiled. "Hotaru." You cannot… "It's nice to see you again." …cannot run away. "It's been…" You must… "…eight years. Such a long time!"…always smile. "How was Europe?"
Hotaru's eyes opened fractionally wider, and her forehead seemed to crease momentarily. She opened her mouth, then closed it. She opened it again, and this time, managed to produce coherent sounds. "Mikan?" Well, it's a start.
Mikan forced her smile wider. Help me, Rena. "The one and only. I'm so glad to see you, Hotaru!"
Hotaru blinked. "Mikan!" She took a few steps forward, before hesitating. Mikan noticed, and rushed forward to envelope Hotaru in a hug. Hotaru raised her trembling hands, and patted Mikan on the back. Only their friends noticed the tentative little smile Hotaru released.
By the time Hotaru extricated herself from Mikan's grasp, the smile had disappeared. Mikan didn't get a chance to see it, but she laughed. "Hotaru didn't shoot me!"
Hotaru took out her baka gun out of… well, I'm not actually sure where she got it from. Huh. Anyway, Mikan froze. But Hotaru put it back… wherever it came from, and sighed, "I can't do this in the public non-Alice world."
Mikan prayed in relief.
"Oh well."
Mikan was flying through the air, and Hotaru was considering the cannon she had just take out. "It still isn't powerful enough," she muttered. Then she turned to the stunned crowd, and said, "Baka Cannon 5001. Best used on idiots. Can automatically target idiots. Easy to use for idiot best friends, idiot spouses, idiot boyfriends that cheat on you, or idiots in general." Suddenly, there was a desk in front of her. "Order now and get a 1% discount."
To everyone's surprise, a line quickly formed, and Hotaru was kept busy for a very long time. Not that she minded collecting money.
Mikan on the other hand, accidentally let her smile slip, and she stared sadly at the cannon, before replacing her smile and calling out, "I need to touch up my make-up. Be right back!"
Only Sumire saw her square her shoulders and breathe deeply before gliding off.
She needed to breathe. She desperately needed her space, her air. Not those… friends of hers. Friends. Friends who used her for advertisement, for testing, for… playing around with like an object. Friends that didn't really—Stop right there, Mikan.
She sat gingerly on top of the toilet, still fully clothed. She sighed, and put her head in her hands, rubbing her temple. Being around these people again was giving her a migraine. And heartburn.
She allowed one droplet to escape, before drawing up all her pride and dignity, and sealing off those traitorous tear glands. Help me, Rena.
She stood. The toilet automatically flushed as she walked out the stall door. She halted at the sight in the mirror.
THAT was not the Mikan her friends were supposed to know. THAT was a hollow, tired, broken young woman who looked weak, vulnerable, and ghostily pallid. The chignon she had tried to emulate Rena with was coming apart. She couldn't let her friends—she couldn't let anybody see her like that. They would pity her, then abandon her. She couldn't be so… pathetic.
She sighed and reached for that overused makeup kit in her purse.
"Where's Polka-dots?"
Sumire threw him an angry glare—her cat side was coming out—and hissed, "You didn't notice?!"
"Notice what?" Mikan stepped next to her. "What did Natsume not notice this time?"
Sumire rolled her eyes. "Never mind."
Mikan shrugged. "Okay…"
Sumire stopped, and studied Mikan's face. Something was off… she had applied more foundation than before. And bronzer. What did you do, Mikan?
But the object of study had already moved over to Ruka, who was staring at Hotaru. "Hey," she whispered, and he jumped. She covered his mouth before he could yell. "Sorry, but you don't want Hotaru to know you're watching, right?" She waited for him to calm down before releasing him.
"I guess."
She nodded knowingly. "So… can you tell me why Hotaru apparently left the Academy?"
Ruka jerked his hand threw his hair, messing it up. "I… Sakura-san—"
"Mikan."
"What? Oh. Mikan, I… um… Sorry, Sa—Mikan, but can you… not ask that… right now?" He swallowed. "Sorry, it's just…"
"Personal?" Mikan sighed. "I understand." She patted his shoulder rather sorrowfully, though it looked merely sympathetic to everyone else. "Everyone has secrets, or things they just don't want to tell. It's fine." No one could see the empathy.
Ruka's nervous face relaxed. "Thanks, Sa—Mikan." His expression morphed to worry. "Are you—I mean, you seem… different. You aren't as … hyper." Happy, he replaced in his head.
Mikan chuckled. "I suppose. That's what happens when you grow up. You leave things like that behind."
Ruka hoped he imagined that flicker of pain.
"So… what are you doing in America?"
"Wha—Oh. I'm a surgeon." Ruka grimaced. "The blood isn't fun, but the happiness is worth it."
"Unless it fails," Mikan muttered, barely audible.
Ruka hoped his ears were having issues. "What was that?"
"Oh, sorry," Mikan said sheepishly. "I was just wondering it's going to hail." She gestured vaguely at a window. Sure enough, the clouds were gathering, dark and ominous.
Ruka looked at her carefully. There was a tiny crease between her eyebrows.
"Ruka? Are you listening?" Mikan waved a hand in front of his face. "Ruka?"
"Huh? Oh," he blinked. "Sorry."
She just chuckled. Again.
Mikan doesn't chuckle, she laughs.
"Someone's a little spacey today."
He smiled with her, even as his forehead imitated hers.
"So, I was asking—"
"Hey Ruka, do you want a drink?" Natsume smoothly stepped in between them, glowering dangerously at nothing.
Maybe I shouldn't have talked with Mikan that long… Ruka sweated, nervous again. "Uh…" Unwisely, he glanced at Mikan for help. Natsume's glower intensified. Luckily for him, he was facing away from Mikan.
Mikan just sighed, and threw her hands up in surrender. "You may be spacey, but you're also in high demand today, it seems." She chuckled. Don't chuckle. "I'll just have to talk to you later." She waved, turned, and swished away.
"N-Natsume…" Ruka gulped. "We were just talking about…" He faltered at Natsume's look.
Natsume shook his head. "I know."
That was the closest to an apology he would likely ever get, and he smiled softly. It's not like it was totally unbased. Well, it was, but he understood. Kind of.
The best friends walked in comfortable silence to the bar.
The other best friends… seemed to be avoiding each other completely. One was still taking orders and raking in money, while the other was flittering and fluttering about, chittering and chattering with just about everyone.
Well, the first wasn't exactly avoiding the other. She was just sitting there, after all. But every now and then, she would distractedly glance around the room to search for the other, then quickly return to work.
And the second… didn't seem to be paying any attention. She was merely discussing who-knows-what with random people, each time different. How exactly did she transition? Who knew Mikan could become so socially skilled. But it didn't seem like Mikan; instead of her full-on cheerful grin, she was wearing a small, courteously amiable smile the entire time. Only people who knew her from long ago could notice how pasted-on it looked.
Or at least, that's what it seemed like. Mikan without her bipolar mood swings and near schizophrenic behavior just… wasn't Mikan. The other friends observed the tension between the two friends, which they had thought had already been dispelled.
"Mikan's acting strange," Anna frowned.
Nonoko added, "She's not smiling a lot."
"Maybe she's just feeling off today," Yuu suggested, "Everyone has off days."
Kitsuneme said, "But Mikan isn't affected that easily. She's like… super recovery girl."
Sumire pursed her lips, but remained silent. Girl?
"She might be sick," Koko put in.
Sumire's frown deepened. True, Mikan wasn't as frighteningly cheerful as before. But Sumire was perfectly fine with that; that attitude had annoyed the hell out of her. Usually. But Mikan now was—"Ow! What the hell, Koko!"
"You're going to get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that," Koko told her, grinning. "Don't make yourself any more ugly than you are already."
"Uglier," Yuu corrected automatically.
She walloped both of them with her purse, and shoved Mikan's problems to a corner of her mind. Mikan would survive. Koko, on the other hand…
"How uncivilized," Mrs… Whatever-her-name-was-now tsked. "Chasing a boy around like a buffoon is so unladylike."
Mikan turned to look at the object of scrutiny. A black and green haired young woman was running around in stilettos trying to hit a laughing man.
"My goodness," What's-her-face continued, "acting like little children. How immature. Now you, Mikan my dear, would never act like that." Her face pinched up. "And making money off of guns. Ugh." She shuddered.
Mikan thought absently, Now I know why old people have wrinkles. It was a habit of hers, using amusing ideas to push away bad memories. "Mm hm," she assented, rather mindlessly.
The elder woman pinched her face up even more. "Now that you mention it"—you mentioned it, you hag—"you were talking with them earlier. You don't know them, do you, dear?" She somehow managed to look down her nose at Mikan, despite Mikan being taller.
Mikan was silent for a moment. "No, of course not."
The woman sniffed haughtily. "Of course you wouldn't, my dear. How could I even think that." She shuddered again. "Mikan dearie, you are sometimes too kind. You don't need to show courtesy to people like that."
You must smile. Mikan said, "Of course, Madame Leclaire." She smiled. "Thank you for gracing me with your wisdom. I don't know them at all."
Is that an okay ending? Hm.
I think I might put the rest of the party in the next chapter, but I was too lazy to write it into this one. But there isn't much, so the next chapter will probably be really short. I don't know when I'll have time to post again. Technically, I should be doing my project right now. Bleh.
Review so that I feel like getting a sucky grade is worth it! (No, I won't actually get a sucky grade. Hopefully.)