A/N: I'm going to put the author's note at the beginning this time, because this one shot is a little something different I tried. I am well aware that you guys are probably not going to like it, because it portrays Natsume and Mikan in a whole different light. I don't really read fanfiction anymore, but I know that a lot of them perpetuate a really unhealthy portrayal of relationships, especially where Mikan and Natsume are concerned. So I decided to write down my take on those relationships and show a different side of Mikan and Natsume, because the way Natsume treats Mikan in the manga is often times not okay, although I enjoy the trope they represent, and the way he treats her in fanfiction is even less okay; the way he puts her down, and insults her and makes comments on her intelligence is not okay, yet it is presented as such, and even romanticized and I don't want to come across as condescending and put every fanfiction out there down, because there are really great ones out there, but whenever I look over some entries on this side, it strikes me how problematic some of them are, and the misogyny inherent in them worries me, especially considering they are written by girls, young girls, teenaged girls, and the way they let Natsume put Mikan down, or the way Luna is portrayed, or other females in general, is really worrisome. So sorry for this novel, but this one shot is something that just kind of wrote itself (within half an hour or so), I don't even remember when, sometimes in 2013, I believe, and as you see below, I added a trigger warning. The abuse is only implied, but it's always better to be on the safe side. I actually meant to publish another one shot this month, but it's written in second person narration, and according to this site's ruled, that is an interactive format and therefore forbidden (for some unfathomable reason).

Anyway, thanks for all the kind reviews I received for the last chapter, they really made my day, and also thanks for the favorites and followers this one shot collection has by now.

Trigger warning:Abuse.

xvii. Abuse

.

.

.

Mikan had always been a masochist. How else could her friendships with Hotaru be explained? But you couldn't choose who you loved, and so being prickly Hotaru Imai's best friend it was.

So of course, it wasn't the sweet, reliable Ruka she fell for. Ever the masochist, her heart settled for his best friend. He was a jerk. Her was an idiot. Her was ungrateful, and selfish, and immature, and perverted, and whathaveyou. And she wanted him.

Badly.

She wanted the impassioned,

impetuous,

heated discussions.

The making out in public places.

The anguished declarations of love.

The fights.

The making up.

The expensive gifts.

The breaking up.

The hns and tchs.

The hot kisses.

The getting back together.

The romance.

The everything being with Natsume Hyuuga entailed.

(And she was twenty, and she wanted all of this.)

Sometime she went back in time (figuratively, not literally) and visited the little girl dreaming of her perfect match, of her one true love, the handsome prince.

She had gotten him.

She revelled in the passion. And the fights and break-ups that came with it.

(She was twenty-three and it seemed right.)

They butted heads, they screamed, they slammed doors. And she could always count on the flowers he brought her the next day, the sorries and iloveyous, and the regretful looks. She had been counting on them for ten years. Now she was twenty-six and she and Natsume still regularly broke up and got together, and she still put up with his mood swings and his dour answers.

Mikan had always thought Natsume was her prince. He had swept her off her feet all those years ago. She'd never question that this was what she wanted. Natsume and her, and their happily ever after.

The fights, the doors, the screaming matches.

She took them.

Wanted them.

They were her life, the basis of their relationship. And all the little remarks, they hurt. Hearing God, why are you so stupid? and How do I even put up with you? I deserve a fucking medal, it hurt. Yet she still put up with it. Like she always had. Childhood lovers.

Her prince sweeping her off her feet.

Maybe.

(Maybe not.)

Until recently, she had never considered it. Just leaving, not taking him back after the last time he'd insulted her intelligence and told her how no one else would take someone as ugly as her anyway. She should be grateful he even put up with her.

The next day he'd bought her roses.

Like he usually did.

And it was okay again.

Like it usually was.

(Was it?)

Mikan had always been a masochist. So she put up with his antics.

(She wouldn't call it verbal abuse. He loved her. And who else would?)

And maybe, she thought, she deserved better than this. Better than being called ugly, and being told how useless she was. And oh, by the way, it wouldn't happen again. If she would be willing to sleep with him more often, he wouldn't have needed to fuck that other woman. It was all on her.

Sometimes, when she lay in bed, she thought how she was tired of red roses. Quickly, she silenced the thought. What better could there be than being given twenty red roses? Even at the price of being called useless, and stupid, and ugly, and expendable, and who would ever take you, and you need me.

It wasn't like he ever hit her. Or hurt her.

Well.

Not that.

(Only that one time, with the fire.)

But he did have a short patience. She knew. So when he set her hair on fire, she understood. It had been her fault anyway. For being stupid. He'd said that. Surely, he was right. He usually was. I'm cleverer than you, he'd said. He was probably right. He was the prodigy.

(Stop crying. You look ugly.)

Mikan had always been a masochist. And she would never admit it out loud

but

she

wanted out.

She wanted a Ruka now.

A Yuu.

Someone who cherished her.

Someone who didn't give her flowers.

At least not to make up for insulting her.

Someone who kissed her and told her how pretty she was.

Kissed her tenderly.

Not as roughly as Natsume did.

She didn't like the way he kissed her. She'd told him so.

(He was always so impatient.)

Just go along with what he tells you, Sumire advised her.

She didn't like it though.

She didn't want him to touch her anymore.

She didn't want him to look at her anymore.

(It's not like anyone is going to love you besides me.)

(I'll never let you go.)

(You're mine.)

Mikan was tired of the passion. She wanted a quiet love story. She longed for a little time to herself. She didn't want the flowers anymore. His iloveyous were getting stale, and anyway, was that really love when he bit down so hard on her lips it drew blood and she said, no please, stop that, you know I don't like it. And that charming smile of his, oh, how she'd loved it once upon a time. Onceuponatime, when she was still young, and she was such a romantic, and all the fighting and making up was what she thought she wanted and his touch was scorching and his eyes smouldering, and the iloveyous still rang true. When had her feelings started to change and when had Natsume's sweet nothings turned into toxic threats, and when had sex started being such a chore, and when had his teasing you're so silly turned into a cruel you're good for nothing. And maybe she was a masochist but maybe she didn't want to be anymore, and maybe all the laughing faces of her friend saying how do you put up with him? You must be a masochist didn't look happy and harmless anymore but contorted and scornful in her mind. No one would understand if she called things off and weren't they a Duo anyway? Two for one, Mikan and Natsume, the two of them always sticking together. Maybe she was a masochist or maybe she wanted to be a normal girl, living boringly with a doting husband and two kids, and wanted to be appreciated and all those passionate sides to their relationship wasn't what she wanted anymore. Maybe she wanted to be proposed to and be married, but Natsume thought marriage was a dumb social construct and who wanted children anyway?

And maybe she had never been a masochist, and Hotaru was long gone anyway, and who would support her now, with all their friends mutual or strewn all over the world, or kept in the past forever. She longed for a little time with herself. Being single didn't seem like such a bad idea, but how to break it to Natsume? And even the idea of leaving him seemed inconceivable. More than anything she wanted to be happy, but how could she be when being happy meant being apart from Natsume, and wasn't she supposed to be his saving grace and his support, and weren't they a Duo?

And maybe she would stay a masochist a little longer, and maybe her lower lip was bleeding from where she's chewed it so hard, her teeth had pierced the soft skin, and maybe she didn't like pain and maybe she was afraid of pain. And maybe she just wanted him to leave.

Or maybe she had always been a masochist, someone who relished the pain.

(That's what everyone else said, anyway.)