note: forgive the cheesiness! entirely inspired by that one viral post of a few years back, and dedicated to moonlight-shimmer
On a Thursday in August, a banner alert drops down from the top of her phone's screen in the middle of a script rehearsal, making her miss her first cue in recent memory. She rarely has to do second takes, usually got everything pitch perfect on first go. Directors—and more importantly producers—loved her for it, and Mimi likes being loved. Closes her mouth into the widest smile for the studio audience, winking at the crew already resetting the scene. "Let's try that again." Laughs as she says it, reassuring the room.
The notification's disappeared from her lock screen by the time she's wrapped and back at their apartment, showered and dressed down for the night after a long work day. This doesn't deter her. Razor sharp memory when it comes to these kinds of things, social media curation an art in her view. It's about time Taichi started seeing the same sense, and with a post of his own volition, no less. She'll be damned before she lets such a singularity escape her attention.
Navigates to his profile while sucking on a piece of candy, lounging on the living room sofa, humming the tune of a catchy pop ballad that'd been stuck in her head all day, no thanks to him. Their friends make fun of her taste in music, when really he's the worst of them, no taste at all. Herself being the single exception to this fact, of course.
His profile finishes loading. There's no new post.
Mimi frowns, lips in a pout. Refreshes the page, then checks her notifications list again. Brings the phone closer to her face, skims each entry, goes back to the top again, sucking on the sour apple round all the while. And then, amid a flood of old comments and reactions to his latest post, is one from Takeru's handle, timestamped to just after the phantom notification had dropped across her screen that day. The timing isn't the only odd part. The most recent post actually old, some out of focus shot of a storefront with a funny sign he'd snapped on a layover between Brussels and Santiago almost ten months ago. She remembers the picture, scrolls past her own comment made at the time. But the comment from today, by Takeru, is from this very morning. Most damning of all: it seems to have nothing to do with either Brussels, or Santiago, or the funny sign.
She rereads it ten times in a row.
Posted to the wrong account again, ace?
Wallace'd liked it. Ken, too.
She stops humming.
Iori'd liked it.
Mimi spits her candy straight onto the coffee table, where it bounces off and scatters off across the hardwood floor, echoing through the empty flat. She, of course, tunes her entire surroundings completely out. Not even on the same earth anymore, transcending.
Takeru!
?
What wrong account?
?
He has another account?
?
Takeru?
?
What account?
?
Abandons that source of frustration for another, more eternal one.
Daisuke! Let me use your Insta!
there is no yours and mine baby
all is ours
Miyako might feel differently!
c'mon now
she'd leave me for you as fast as i'd leave her for you
Awwww
Thank you, hon'!
anytime
but like srsly anytime
like we've been down for this ménage à trois
Sighs as she searches for someone marginally more sensible.
You're friends with Taichi, right?
...as in Yagami Taichi?
Our mutual, childhood best friend?
Who else, Jou?! Pay attention!
Wait, did he say something to you?
Is he mad I was too busy to make it to boys' brunch last weekend?
I knew it!
He said he understood but I knew they were lying to make me feel better!
OMG this is not about you!
Give me your Insta password!
I need to see his account!
Oh, no, we're not friends on that.
JOU
I don't have any socials! You know I deleted them when I started my fellowship!
USELESS
THAT IS VERY HURTFUL
STOP YELLING AT ME
YOU STARTED IT
ALSO ARE YOU COMING TO MY DAD'S BIRTHDAY PARTY NEXT MONTH
MY MOM KEEPS ASKING
OF COURSE I AM
WHAT SHOULD I BRING
HE LIKES THAT LEMON CHIFFON PUDDING YOU MAKE
THEN I'LL MAKE THAT
THANK YOU
Okay, I have to go back to work.
Closes the chat without replying, broiling in increasingly scattered feelings. Why couldn't anyone understand her situation?
Soraaaaaaa
Babe, hi, but I don't have a lot of time right now, can I call you later?
I think he has a secret Instagram and everyone's acting like I'm crazy!
I'm not crazy!
What are you talking about? Whose secret account?
WHO ELSE?
Mimi, you know Taichi can't even remember his email password without Koushiro keeping track for him. Would he really be able to maintain an entirely different set of handles on his own?
I mean I guess not...
But something is definitely up!
Wait
Why are you using plurals? There's more than one?
And what do you mean 'on his own'? Who else is in on this?
SORA
SORA ANSWER ME
But this gives her an epiphany about the next person to bully, er, try. She'd always been able to get him to do anything if she whines about it hard enough, but at this point she elects for direct command, saving her more annoying brand of pestering for the emergency route.
Kou, hack me into his Instagram account!
That's not how any of this works.
Hack me, Koushiro!
I'm blocking you.
Tries the emergency route.
Yamato (* ^ _ ^ *)
No.
I haven't even finished typing anything!
"Message unable to be delivered."
Mimi blows a raspberry at the screen. Taps her fingers to the sides of her mobile, trying to plot out the best next move. Clearly someone's talking, knows she's caught the scent. How else would Yamato and Koushiro have guessed what she'd been about to harass them for in the first place? (The idea that she routinely drops into their otherwise normal work days via random, manic texting bursts does not feel important enough to acknowledge, and totally beside the point, really.)
With a sigh, Mimi understands she has no choice but to go for the grenade, only to look down at her phone to see Hikari's beaten her to it:
finally!
p.s. I have a bet going with Dad that this is how you'd find out about his secret account, and a bet going with Mom that this is how he'd find out you know
I'll split the winnings with you!
The shamelessly gleeful series of messages is followed by her login details and the name of an unfamiliar Instagram handle. Mimi beams, a wolf's smile. Her favorite co-conspirator, because for some reason no one ever sees Hikari coming.
!
You're the best!
I prefer the term 'undefeated'
(*^U^*)
Mimi laughs, kicking her feet up in the air and falling back across the cushions. Holds her phone overhead, humming a little victory chant as she enters the borrowed login info and navigates to the account Hikari'd tipped her off to, tapping out a side shuffle along the arm of the sofa with her bare feet.
The feed loads, and she feels her heart skip three whole beats, then three more.
It's a slim cherry wood case, narrow as a lighter. Hinged open, held in one outstretched hand, his other holding the phone before him in a winking selfie, broad shoulders raised in a slight shrug. The ring sparkles brightly in the foreground, nestled safely in its cushioned case. Behind him, she lays sprawled on her side across the same sofa, fast asleep. Her mouth is open and slack, frozen in an inaudible snore. The caption is short. guess we'll try this another time
In another one, she's sitting shoulder to shoulder beside him at an outdoor cafe, the kind they like visiting on lazy Sunday afternoons. Her face is hidden behind the double-paneled menu she holds open with both hands. His chin is tucked to one palm, the ring dangling off the tip of his littlest finger, eyeing the camera with a half-smile. good luck trying to get her attention when she's hangry
Then she's walking ahead of him on a rocky outdoor trail, bundled in his blue windbreaker, the hood pulled up over her head and strings drawn tight, hurrying out of the sudden downpour and towards the lakeshore cabin his parents had bought years back. In the frame of the selfie, angled so her escape from the rain is directly behind his shoulder, he holds onto a broken umbrella, the cherry case peeking out from under the cuff of his long sleeved shirt. not the version we'll tell the grandkids
She's looking directly into the camera in the next one, smiling so wide her cheeks are stretched a pearly pink, loose hair in scattered frizzy waves as the wind sweeps through it. They're standing at the peak of a desert sand dune, one of their wilder holiday adventures. Her arms are in the air, a dazzling Y shape. In the foreground, he holds up a peace sign with the hand not holding the phone. Tucked into his palm is the ring again, the sunlight hitting the screen just enough that she can't see a thing reflected in it. any ideas to top a moment like this?
It goes back months, and months, and months.
Hidden in plain sight between all the other rings and ear cuffs gathered in the shallow ceramic jewelry bowl she keeps on her dresser, in a snap he takes of her drying her hair in the bathroom mirror, just beside the vanity.
Dropped to the bottom of a clear flute of watermelon bellini he'd freshly mixed for her while she lounged on the living room sofa, wholly engrossed in her magazine with her hand outstretched to reach for the drink he held out to her.
Sat in its wooden case on her own shoulders as she lay on her stomach on their shared beach towel, the laces of her baby blue bikini top undone to ensure no tan lines as he massages in more sunscreen while she listens to a podcast on headphones.
On the dash of his car, as she leans all the way across his lap and out his rolled down window to talk to the drive-thru attendant of her favorite coffee shop.
In the side pocket of her purse he holds for her while she stops to sign a few autographs for the fans lining up outside the stage exit of her recording studio.
On the highest bookshelf in her home office, just out of reach, even as she stretches herself up on her toes to try to grab blindly for the binder sitting only a hand's length away.
In his open palm, his other hand already twined between hers as she walks ahead of him, leading him into another new adventure in the brightest sunlight.
On her pillow, waiting right beside her, as she sleeps in his arms.
Her eyes are too blurred to see anything past that, but it doesn't matter, as that's when the front door to their flat unlocks.
"Hey, I'm home—what the fuck?" He cuts into a groan, shuffling noises coming from the entranceway. "Mimi! Did you spit out half-eaten candy onto the floor? Again?!"
She clutches the phone in both hands, sitting up. Her laugh is wild, high-pitched delirium. "Yes!"
Taichi is still grumbling, limping into view of the living room, duffel bag over one shoulder and his now ruined sock, sour candy round stuck to the bottom of the sole, in his other hand. Shakes it at her, brows knit crossly. "You're disgusting, you know that?"
"Yes—,"
He'd roll his eyes at her chaotic grin but his frown whittles away just as quick, swallowed by a yawn, dropping the sock. "So Takeru just texted, cancelled on dinner last minute. Just as well, 'cause I'm exhausted. Flight got rerouted for mechanical issues, couldn't sleep a wink—why are you smiling all creepy like that?"
She giggles, tossing the phone onto the cushions, standing up on the sofa. Her whole body is trembling. "Yes," hiccuping a bit through her laugh.
"...Yes," repeats Taichi, arching one eyebrow. Looks her up and down, waiting for imminent mental collapse. "That all you're gonna say?"
Mimi nods. A little breathless now, awestruck. "Yes."
He eyes her oddly. "Yes, wh—? No, don't, I'm so tired, wait—oh, come on!" when she leaps off the sofa at him. Hurls the duffel bag to the floor just in time to catch her in his arms, stumbling back into the wall in a shocked grunt of pain. She climbs higher up him, ankles locked around his lower back, arms wrapped over his shoulders, her face wet where it's pressed into the curve of his neck.
It's not often that he's thrown off his bearings, but she's always had a penchant for keeping him on his toes, his favorite adventure. Curls a hand through the hair at the back of her head, coaxing her face around to look at him. Winded, and aching all over now, but still manages a wheezing, "Are you okay?"
"Yes!" Just about yells it at his face now, which does her no favors about his confidence in her emotional stability.
Walks her to the sofa, pulls her off of him, sets her roughly onto the high back. Both his hands holding her face, not bothering to mask his alarm, or joke about it either. "Mimi, you're starting to freak me out. More so than usual."
She shakes her head. "Yes." And yanks him close.
It's determined, and needy, and a little too uncoordinated, but she'd stopped thinking sensibly after that first post loaded, running on pure heart. Usually don't last very long after one of these kinds of kisses, barely making it past the front hallway if it's been an exceptionally brutal separation, their careers doing their best to keep them from each other at a regular pace, though they'd learned how to live through it. But he's still grimey from the long haul flight and she's still acting weird as all hell, so when she leans so far that she's about to tumble backwards onto the sofa, taking him with her, he manages to grab hold of the high cushioning and pull her upright, his left arm tight around her waist, knees knocking into the furniture.
"What's gotten into you?" though laughs as he says it, grinning against her mouth. Takes her bottom lip between his teeth, gentle and tempted. "Or did you miss me this much?"
A breathier "Yes" to that, tearing at his collared shirt with such single-minded focus a couple buttons scatter. Doesn't give him the time to mutter in surprise, her hand sliding under the loosened buckle of his pants before he grasps her wrist, then laughing again when, whining, she surges forward to kiss him harder.
"Mimi—Mi, look, I'm—I'm all gross from traveling, I need a shower and a— fuck ," in a buckling inhale, biting through a pleasurable groan at how wet he finds her when she brings his hand between her legs, arching herself onto his fingers from off the top of the sofa she's still braced against. His head spins a little off kilter, at the promised taste of her. Resets his attention, which usually isn't all that far from her to begin with, brain chemistry permanently altered after the first time he looked at her the way he always does now. Kisses her neck, tightening his other hand over her waist, focused on serious business. Lengthening his reach inside her, finding something new for the both of them, even after all this time. Hearing her gasp in his ear in that way that goes right to his head, the knowledge that he can make her make sounds like that. "All this for me, huh?"
She laughs into his mouth, fading into the softest moan when he begins to move his hand through her, teasing her clit in that way that has her quivering, teetering, undone, arms draped over his shoulders for balance, toes curling where her knees pinch his hips. "Yes, yes—," yours, yours.
Tilting back over the top of the sofa again, softening her whole body for him, and Taichi almost goes with her this time, would have, if he hadn't also then glimpsed her phone lying face up where she'd dropped it on the cushions to leap into his arms, welcome him home.
"No—!" in a strangled yell, tossing her into the sofa cushions without warning while he dives in another direction, limbs entangled in the most graceless of leaps down and across the living room rug. Grabs her phone, frantically navigating out of the app, stubby fingerprints making a mess of the process until he's about ready to smash the mobile entirely just to turn the screen off, when she shrieks again, tackles him to the ground, trying to grab her phone back. "Mimi—shit, you weren't supposed—you can't look—don't look, don't, no—,"
"Yes," as firmly as she can, straddling him in their bruised knees and scraped elbows, knocked into each other, battling wills. Can match her energy most days, and most nights, but the look in her eye stills him completely now, knowing she knows. Panicked desperation fades to blank disbelief, staring up at her. Stops blinking for so long she starts to frown, leaning over him, cups his unshaven chin in her hand, running her fingers over two days' worth of stubble. He does look tired, and older. Matured and set in his ways, even if he doesn't like to admit it. Still the prettiest thing she's ever seen.
"Yes?" Like it's the first time he'd ever heard the word.
Nods, allows her gaze to be clear, even with the rising well of emotion for the moment, unable to say anything else, unaware if any other word even exists in her mind. Holding his cheek in one hand, her left outstretched to him. He looks at her slightly raised ring finger, and then back at her.
"Yeah, I don't have it." Says this bluntly, in a bit of stupid daze.
Well. Mimi hadn't expected that part.
Her hand is still held out to him, and he's still staring right at her, the most ridiculous of standoffs.
"I don't—," and stops, tries again, trying to give his words time to catch up with his head, "—I don't carry it around with me." Her eyebrows draw up, and Taichi is quick to explain while still speaking so, so slowly, both of them more confused than they'd ever been in their lives. "It's not mine to keep on me. It's—yours. I, I keep it wherever you are." And looks past her.
Mimi turns to follow.
It's a slim cherry wood case, narrow as a lighter. Laying on its side in the painted dish that holds their wallets and keys, letters and cards. She passes it every morning, and every night, her studio lanyard from the taping that very day still draped lazily across it, in the way she'd tossed the badge aside there. Taking the day off, coming home to him.
Her lips part, while his can finally muster a small grin. His hand reaching out at last, cradling one side of her neck, his thumb tucked under the smooth curve of her jaw, pulling her back to look at him.
"It's been yours, I think." He looks sure about this, and still. Brown eyes trained to every flicker of color in her own.
His thumb to the corner of her mouth, which parts then, at last. "No," decides Mimi in the end, which he hadn't expected. Remembers exactly enough words to say exactly what's on her mind and precisely what she wants, which has always been the case. Heart on her sleeve, and his, too. Looking at him like the prettiest thing. "Ask me after. Finish me first." Sinks into his kiss when he laughs again, arms around his neck. Lets him pick her up off the floor, carry her over the threshold. All the time in the world, and the next.