Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter Five: Anger

…

The next two weeks passed quickly for Kari. Exams were drawing nearer and she found that most of her time was spent reading and studying. When she did have spare time, she spent it with Blake, who was becoming a constant presence in her life. She could tell that he had romantic feelings for her, and though she did not return them, she didn't feel the need to tell him that. Truthfully, it felt nice to have someone pay that kind of attention to her, even if it wasn't T.K.

The thought of T.K. made her frown. They hadn't spoken since their argument and she wondered if she wasn't the only one feeling lonely. They had been in fights before, of course, but they'd never deliberately ignored each other like this. She wanted to talk to him, but more than that, she wanted to win this standoff and show him who was in charge. They weren't together because she didn't want to be, after all. She couldn't be more in control if she tried. Right?

She had a moment of self-doubt, and then felt her emotions turn on a dime. She was the one calling the shots. Screw T.K. for making her think otherwise. Screw him for acting like such an asshole the last time they'd talked and then ignoring her as if she'd been the one to do wrong.

Settling on anger and throwing out the rest, Kari marched to his dorm room and banged on the door until he answered. He looked surprised to see her.

"What?" he asked. Everything about him seemed changed.

"You have no right to be such a dick to me," she announced. "Apologize."

He seemed unable to tell if she was serious or not. Finally, he shook his head. "I'm not doing this anymore," he said softly, and began to close the door.

She stuck her foot out and blocked it. "Are you kidding me?" she demanded. "You've been ignoring me for two weeks because – why? Because I was late meeting you for lunch?"

He stared at her with a blank expression. "There is something seriously wrong with you, Kari." He spoke slowly, with no emotion, and his apparent indifference stung her far worse than anything else.

"What did you say?" she demanded loudly. She wanted to cause a scene. She felt wildly out of control. If he was going to treat her this way then she wanted everyone in the whole building to hear it, to know how rude he was.

"You heard me," he said flatly. She looked at the hand he had on the door and watched as his knuckles turned white. She didn't understand how he could be so malicious and so unaffected at the same time.

"You know what –"

"Shut up," he said. She fell silent, shocked. T.K. never spoke to her like that. "I can't listen to it anymore." He turned away and turned back quickly, like he wanted desperately to swallow his words but couldn't. "I am ridiculously in love with you and you know it. You – you know it, and you use it to your advantage because you know that I'll never feel differently. That I can't. You know that I'm never going to stop loving you no matter what you do to me, and you don't give a shit. But I give up. I am done trying to save the girl who doesn't want to save herself."

His eyes never left hers as he shut the door slowly, softly. This time, she didn't make any attempt to stop him.

She walked back to her dorm room slowly, growing less and less sure of herself with each step. She couldn't understand T.K. – not just his words, but the emotion behind them. She didn't use him. She didn't take advantage of him. Did she?

When she reached the safety of her room, she locked the door and sat down in front of her dresser. She picked up her phone and dialed T.K.'s number. When he answered, he said nothing. She could barely even hear him breathing.

"I don't need to be saved," she said, staring hard at herself in the mirror.

There was a click as the line went dead.

…

"Meems? Meems? Mimi? Hello?"

She could hear him. But she had headphones in, so she was hoping he would just assume she couldn't and give up. He grabbed her iPod to pause her music, hoping to talk to her, but he discovered that it was off. He looked at her, puzzled. "Couldn't hear me?"

She could tell that he expected a lie, maybe even wanted one. If she couldn't be decent enough to respond when he spoke to her, he probably hoped that she would at least be courteous enough to pretend.

"No," she said. She felt especially disconnected today, and she didn't care enough to spare his feelings. "I could hear you just fine."

He said nothing. He never said anything, and a part of her appreciated how hard he tried. Another part of her lost more respect for him each time he let her walk all over him like this. Every time he came home from work and asked what she felt like having for dinner, only to be told that she'd already eaten alone, he just nodded and prepared dinner for one. Every time he asked her if she wanted to go to a movie and she told him she'd gone to a matinee last week, he merely turned away and busied himself with something else. Why was he always so content to drop the issue?

"I'm running to the store. I'll probably grab a coffee on my way back. Do you want one?"

"No, thanks," she said.

He returned half an hour later, a coffee in either hand.

"What the hell is this?" she said, unjustifiably annoyed, when he placed one on the counter in front of her. "Did you not listen when I said I didn't want one?"

"I know what you said, but I was going there anyway. I figured if you changed your mind then you'd enjoy it. If you don't want it, well, don't drink it."

"I'm not a child, Matt. When I say I don't want something, it's because I don't want it. Stop wasting my breath and your money," she said loudly. Why had she raised her voice? Why did she feel so hostile? She knew, in the back of her mind, that he'd only wanted to please her. Maybe, on a different day, in a different time, she would have done the same for him.

He stared at her, confused and hurt. "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem is that you don't listen to anything I say!"

"Oh, I don't listen? That's rich coming from you," he snapped, and the fact that he was right only made her angrier. She could feel the tension building up inside of him, all of the feelings he'd buried over the years, and it was about to come out in one huge argument. She wanted that desperately. She was always so angry, and he was never willing to engage.

"Fuck you," she said. She couldn't remember ever saying that to him before. He took a step away from her, visibly stung.

"Wow. Okay, Mimi." His voice was calmer, more even. He was going to back down, going to let her win. She couldn't let this happen again. She wanted to fight. She wanted to scream, to say all the things she had no right to say – all the things she would never be able to take back. She wanted to burn this – her last – bridge. She needed to. And she had no idea why.

"God, would you stop doing that?" she yelled. "Stop acting like a little bitch and say what you think! Stop swallowing it! Man up and say what you want to say!"

"What I WANT to say?" he cried, taking a step toward her again. He looked wild, and for a moment she felt afraid of him. "What I want to say is that I'm sorry, Mimi. I'm sorry that Sora died and you got stuck with me, because clearly it should have been the other way around. That's what I think, what I want to say to you all the time! That's how you make me feel everyday! Does that make you feel better? Are you better now? Are you done being unbearable? Can I have my wife back?"

The coffee was in her hand before she even noticed, and in another second, she was hurling it at the wall. Hot liquid exploded out of the cup, splashing against the wall and staining the white throw rug.

She stormed into their bedroom and slammed the door behind her. She was too furious to breathe, but she wasn't even sure why. She paced the room, glancing around frantically as if searching for something else to throw or abuse. She grabbed a photo of Sora and herself. Without thinking, she ripped it in two, one girl on each half. She grabbed one half and tore it into pieces, then threw them against the wall. She wanted to set them on fire; she never wanted to look at that stupid face again. She stilled for a moment, put a shaky hand on her nightstand, and collected herself. After an eternity, she looked down to see her own smiling face, still intact, staring up at her. Sora's eternal grin lay in several pieces on the floor.

And Mimi realized then what anyone else could have told her years ago: she may have hated herself, and she may have taken it out on Matt, but she only really blamed one person. Sora.

…