A/N: heyyyy! a quick update! i hope that you all enjoy and also that you've been having a nice day!
Academic Decathlon Subject VII: Science. Introduction to Genetics and Scientific Advancements in the Field of Genetics in the Early Twentieth Century.
Hyuuga Natsume Decathlon Subject VII: I Am Not Attracted to Him. I'm Not Secretly in Love with Him. I Don't Want Him as My Boyfriend. I Don't Want to Kiss Him.
Study Sessions up to the Conference Room
"I could deny it if I liked. I could deny anything if I liked." - Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest
Mikan was sick over the weekend. Turned out all that crying and stressing and freaking out had not been good on her immune system, so within a few hours of returning home from the banquet, she was a sniffling, feverish disaster, her head on the brink of breaking open and used tissues scattered all over her bed and floor. No amount of cold medicine or tea or hot soup was enough to ease her suffering because only part of it was physical. Her illness only exacerbated her worrying about what had happened in the girls' bathroom at Alice High School. At the very least, if she had to be sick right after the ceremony, couldn't it distract her from all her problems instead of just making things worse? That was probably too much to ask for.
She was still sick through the weekend, and very little studying got done. She was still sick by Monday too. She wanted to go to school anyway, afraid of Hotaru's wrath if she didn't appear for their arranged team study meet, but Jii-chan had fixed her with a glare when she tried getting up.
"Mikan, you are sick. What if you get others infected too? Don't be selfish!" And that was the end of that. Mikan guiltily crawled back into bed and begrudgingly texted Hotaru that she would be a no-show today because of her illness.
Fine. Study today at home though. I'll know if you don't.
Mikan believed her, but the idea of studying while in this state did not appeal at all. Mikan had been very good about not texting Hotaru in a private message, asking "WHYYYYY?" and "WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM WITH DATING? IS IT REALLY THAT BIG OF A DEAL?" Because of her concern for Permy, of course. But she refrained from that crazy behavior all weekend and was very poised and mature about it now.
It had nothing to do with her, she decided. Natsume was a weird guy who liked to do weird things. He'd probably gotten it in his head that kissing her would be funny and did it for the laughs. There was nothing behind it. Why get all worked up, then? Nah… Mikan was fine.
Mikan spent Monday falling asleep and waking up to drink tea and then falling asleep again. No studying occurred, and that only vaguely gnawed at her in between bouts of unconsciousness. The hours ticked away and Mikan was nudged out of her sleep by the sharp vibration of her phone.
Intermittently, she'd been getting concerned texts from her friends and classmates, Iinchou texting her throughout the day with reminders to stay hydrated and to rest. It was no big deal to receive one more, except it was, because this one was from Natsume, the first word she got from him since he abandoned her, humiliated and alone in a bathroom.
heard you were sick. come back to school soon polka dots.
That jerk. All weekend, crickets from him, and now all he could muster up to tell her was to come back already? He had some nerve! Mikan disapproved of his behavior immensely, which was why she fell back asleep with a wide happy grin on her face.
Tuesday was much better. She woke up feeling more refreshed, her sinuses clear, and only a mild headache as any proof that she hadn't always been healthy as a horse.
She got dressed with intent, brushing her hair for a bit longer than usual and then applying mascara from the tube she'd never gotten around to returning to Permy. If she felt more peppy than usual, it was only because she was so relieved to not be sick anymore. Not any other reason.
None of the things that had bothered her on the day of the banquet mattered anymore. Luna definitely did not have a boyfriend-and serves her right. Mikan still had plenty of chances to prove herself as worthwhile to the team before Prefecture. And Hotaru's rule didn't apply to her anyway. If Koko and Permy wanted to be together so bad, they could just wait until after the competition. It wasn't the end of the world.
As for that tiny little whatever moment in the girls' bathroom… who cares? Mikan had maybe been nervous to go back to school and see Natsume again, but he had texted her and sounded normal, like nothing had changed, so her worries had melted away. Even more-she looked forward to seeing him. Not for any special reason, of course, but just to show him how unbothered she was about the kiss.
No distraction, no worries, no Luna. Everything was perfect.
Mikan showed up to school wearing a pretty skirt even though it was still winter, her face all made up and her hair nicer than ever, just because of that spectacular mood she was in.
But Natsume wasn't in school. She'd absently looked around school all day and hadn't spotted any red eyes or moody glares, not that she was looking for him or anything, but she really noticed his absence when Acadec came around and he was nowhere to be found.
"Where's Natsume?" Mikan asked Sumire, when they were ten minutes into class and he still hadn't showed.
Sumire rolled her eyes. "You are transparent," she said with a sigh. "But if you must know, Natsume is at home. Sick."
"He's sick?"
"Yeah, you must have both gotten a bug or something. He's been out all weekend."
"He wasn't at school yesterday?"
"No," Sumire said again, annoyed. "I just said, he was sick."
Mikan glanced at her phone, sitting on the corner of her desk. He had texted her yesterday, though. Who had told him she was out? She hadn't even bothered replying because she was sure she'd be able to talk to him today, but that was clearly off the table. Besides, part of her had viciously thought that if he really wanted a response, then he'd come by-since he was a creepy stalker who knew where she lived and all-but he hadn't so…
Yeah, because he was sick too. And he'd gone out of his way to send a text even though he'd been feeling so poorly. Mikan's heart was thrumming wildly in her chest and her face heated up significantly. Probably leftover symptoms from the fever. It would pass.
"Are you wearing mascara?" Permy asked, astonished. "Hand over the tube! That's mine! You can't just steal people's things, Sakura!"
"I was gonna give it back," Mikan defended, sliding the tube over across the desks. "But you said I didn't do a good job cleaning up before so I thought maybe I'd practice."
"You might still be contagious," Permy said dramatically, squeezing a dollop of hand sanitizer over the tube and rubbing it all over, which was just mean and unnecessary. "Honestly, Sakura. I'll get you a mascara and you can practice all you want. You'll need it for when Natsume comes back to school, right?"
"Right," Mikan answered without thinking. Then she did a double take. "Huh? What are you talking about?! No! Natsume has nothing to do with-"
"Sure," Permy said with a sly smile. "The rule and all. Your secret love for him is safe with me."
Mikan scoffed but adamantly changed the subject back to the Music curriculum. Secret love? What a joke.
She definitely did not love Natsume.
She didn't text him or call him or anything. Instead, she sat through the hour and a half of group study-time after school and then walked home by herself.
She never made it home though, because she accidentally passed a sandwich shop which smelled overwhelmingly like hot chicken soup. It was still winter and quite nippy. Soup was the perfect antidote to the February chill. So she ducked into the shop and purchased a bowl of chicken soup to go. When she was leaving, she remembered that she wasn't hungry at all because she'd eaten at the study meet. What a waste of soup… What was she supposed to do with it now? It would be such a shame to throw it away.
And that's why Mikan was heading in the direction of Natsume's house. Not because she was worried or in love with him or even because she wanted to see him, but because she had soup she didn't know what to do with.
(It was irrelevant that the shop was out of her way and not at all on her way home or that she'd been sipping on a hot chocolate when she ran into the shop, so she wasn't cold at all by the time she walked in. Those things had nothing to do with the turn of events.)
By the time she arrived at the Hyuuga family's door, she was totally normal and calm, and not freaking out at all that he wouldn't wanna see and would scoff at her buying him soup.
She stood on the stoop for a stressful moment, looking down at the plastic bag of soup, then at the door, then at the soup again. She reconsidered her next actions a thousand times in a few minutes, deciding to leave, then deciding to knock, then deciding to leave again over and over in a vicious circle. It might have never ended if not for one of the "deciding to knock" periods lasting just long enough to give her the courage to actually do it, sending her fist against the door a couple times and then holding her breath until it opened.
Aoi answered.
She was dressed down in pajama pants, clearly unwinding after a long day at school, and Mikan felt incredibly unwelcome.
Aoi's face shifted from bored to immediately enthusiastic. "Mikan-chan! You look so cute today! What are you doing here?"
Mikan glanced down at the soup again, then back at Aoi. "Nothing."
"What's that?" Aoi asked, but her tone hinted she knew what it was… and who it was for.
"Oh, nothing, you know. It's so cold today, so I got soup. But then I remembered that I already ate and I'm not that cold anymore, so I have nothing to do with it, and throwing it away would be a waste, and I don't like wasting food, so I figured I could give Natsume some since he's sick and all. I just overheard someone mention he was sick. It's not like I… No, I just don't like wasting food."
As she spoke, Aoi's smile spread wider and wider, looking more devious by the second. "Interesting." She took a moment and then pouted. "But Natsume's asleep right now."
Mikan was almost relieved to hear it. This way she wouldn't have to face his rejection of her soup and her totally casual gesture of goodwill. "That's fine. You can take it and he can heat it up later in the microwave."
Aoi clicked her tongue. "I would, but I'm going out tonight, so I won't be around when he wakes up. And our dad is working late, so Natsume will be on his own and he probably won't even come out of bed. I don't know. He might even starve."
"You could just, like, leave a note or something…"
"No," Aoi said. "His vision's bad right now. He's all bleary-eyed from the fever. He won't be able to read it. I don't think he'll get the soup unless you give it to him yourself."
Mikan wasn't that stupid. Aoi clearly wasn't going anywhere. The sky was already dark and she was wearing pajama pants. Where could she possibly be going at this hour on a school night? She was trying to pull something, but Mikan just didn't know what.
"Can't you just leave it on his bedside table?" Mikan asked, holding out the soup.
"No, I'm not allowed in there," Aoi explained. She seemed to have an explanation for everything. Very suspicious.
"I guess…" Mikan hesitated, glancing around herself as though a camera crew was about to jump out and shout at her that she'd been pranked. "I guess I could go in and give it to-"
"If you're offering!" Aoi said, beaming. She held the door open wider so Mikan could come in and closed it firmly behind her. "Sorry the house is a bit of a mess. I've been home alone without Daddy and Natsume hasn't been around to yell at me to clean up, so…" The TV was on, playing some anime Mikan wasn't familiar with. It wasn't too messy, just a bit lived in, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, a hoodie thrown on the floor, four empty glasses scattered around the room.
Mikan peered anxiously down the hall. She'd never ventured down there before, like she knew it was off-limits and that seeing what lie beyond would change things forever. Down there was Natsume's room. Down there was Natsume.
"Natsume's room is the last door on the left," Aoi said helpfully. "And take this." Suddenly, she was pressing a thermometer in Mikan's hand. "Just check if he has a fever while you're in there. Also, this might come in handy." A bottle of liquid cold medicine. "Just in case he needs another dose. He has a water bottle in there so he should be good for hydration."
"Are you really not allowed in his room?" Mikan asked skeptically.
"He's just been suffering so much these days. We thought it would have passed by now but it's a stubborn cold. He's been in and out for a long time." She just… skirted the question. Like Mikan hadn't even said anything. "He'll be so grateful. You don't even have to wake him up. Just leave it on the table by his bed and take his temperature real quick and also leave the medicine and then bounce. It shouldn't take that long and he's a heavy sleeper-he won't even notice you're there."
That wasn't reassuring at all. But Aoi nodded encouragingly and Mikan didn't have much of a choice but to go down the hall on her own, hands full of soup and medicine and a thermometer.
She made it to the last door on the left. It was clearly Natsume's. The room across from it was covered in butterfly and unicorn stickers, Aoi's name messily scrawled in pink and yellow paint. But this door had no stickers and was only marked with a sign saying "CAUTION: KEEP OUT" and Mikan hoped that was just a joke and not a real warning..
She was not about to knock. She knew better than to risk waking him up. She was on a mission: to go in and out as quickly as possible without rousing him from sleep. She awkwardly maneuvered the items in her hands to give her just enough space to open the door. She winced when it creaked, but walked in when nobody started screaming at her to get lost.
She didn't close the door all the way, unwilling to slow down her escape in case he woke up, but she also didn't want it all the way open in case Aoi decided to watch from the hall or something similarly bizarre.
Mikan had imagined Natsume's room a thousand ways, but she was surprised to see it was boyishly normal. Piles of clothes, red and gray sheets, posters of rappers and shounen anime. The only things that stood out at first glance were the various impressive ceramic works and drawings scattered about, and she expected those now that she knew he was an artist. His bedside table was unfortunately crammed with things, including a large and full water bottle, just like Aoi said. The lamp on the table was turned off too, leaving Mikan very little light to work with as she shuffled quietly to his bedside.
Natsume was sleeping, breathing peacefully under several layers of blankets. She couldn't see his face because he was facing the wall, but his hair was messy and all over the place, challenging that effortlessness Sumire was sure he possessed. Still, even though it could use a brush, it looked as soft as ever.
Mikan crouched on the floor and tried to work as silently as possible, rearranging the junk on his table so she could find space for the medicine and soup. She managed it after a bit of tetris, and then slowly came to terms with checking his temperature.
But he was facing the wall!
Mikan panicked a bit. But this wasn't really her problem. She should just tell Aoi the angle wouldn't allow any thermometers and leave.
But what if he was dying from a fever that was dangerously high and if Mikan wasted any more time second-guessing herself, he would die from overheating?
That's stupid.
But still.
Natsume was a heavy sleeper, right? She gingerly felt at his shoulder. It brought back memories of when her hands had found his shoulders when they'd kissed, but she shoved that thought aside. He was sweating through his t-shirt and Mikan worried even more that he might be in danger. She slowly turned him over so he was facing her and in less than a second Mikan regretted every single thing she'd ever done to lead her to this moment. Aoi was a liar!
Natsume was opening his eyes, waking up, not a heavy sleeper at all. He blinked at her, then blinked again, then another fifty times. "Polka Dots?"
Mikan didn't want to be there. Why had she decided to be generous and kind and thoughtful? When was the last time anyone had benefited from being nice to Natsume? Definitely not anytime she could remember.
At a loss for what to say, she just held up the thermometer. "I'm supposed to check your temperature."
His eyes widened, as if that was the worst thing she could have said. Then he rubbed at his eyes furiously. Sadly, especially for her, she was no hallucination, and he saw that when he opened his eyes again. "What are you doing here?"
She had no good answer, so she stuck the thermometer into his mouth. "Shut up."
His face was pink from the fever and his eyes were wide and focused on only her as she waited impatiently for the stupid thermometer to beep and let her escape. At least he shut up like she'd requested.
The thermometer beeped and Mikan nearly sighed in relief to pull the thermometer back to check the temperature. "Great. It's not deadly at all. Still a fever, but not deadly. You won't die."
"Why are you here?"
Mikan ignored him, moving her attention on literally anything else in the room. His embarrassing posters or his dirty laundry or the glow-in-the-dark skull sticker on his dresser or anything.
"You could've texted or…"
Or a couple pairs of shoes haphazardly tossed about the floor, begging people to trip over them or-
"Are you really here?"
Mikan hummed in reply, still unwilling to make eye contact.
"Why?"
Certainly not because of any secret love or soul-crushing concern! Couldn't a girl be nice to her arch-nemesis once in a while? Her speech was about how important enemies could be, so it would be hypocritical to not even show up when he was sick, even though she'd never come by any other time he'd been sick from school.
"Well… I was walking home and on my way, I ran into this sandwich shop which was selling hot soup, and I was thinking about the weather and the fact that it's cold so I decided to buy some soup, but then after I left the store, I remembered that I'm not hungry because I ate at the study meet and also that I wasn't even cold because I'd been drinking hot chocolate, so I bought the soup for nothing, but I hate wasting food, so I didn't wanna throw it away, and then I remembered that Permy had mentioned that you were sick or something, so I decided to stop by and give it to you so you can eat and I don't have to waste any food."
The perfect explanation. She'd practiced it a thousand times on the way here so she had it memorized, too. No plot holes, no gaps in reasoning, everything was accounted for. But Natsume didn't reply. She chanced a glance in his direction and almost groaned to see that he looked just as bewildered as he had when she'd stuck the thermometer in his mouth.
She turned her attention back to his messy room, eager to find something to change the subject. She was about to settle for teasing him about the posters when her eyes landed on something taped on his wall, something that clashed with the dark, edgy colors of his bed and his posters. A pink heart, cut out with a fancy border, stamped with glitter and ink and lace.
For a very SPECIAL BOY! - Mikan, clearly written by a nearly illiterate child.
Maybe Mikan was still sick. Maybe her fever hadn't fully gone down. She could feel her face heat up again, just like it had been over the weekend.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing to the heart.
Natsume's eyes flashed and the bewilderment was clearly being tabled. "You're here because you're worried about me," he said firmly.
"You're changing the subject!" she accused triumphantly. "You kept my valentine from kindergarten!"
"If you knew what it was, why'd you ask?"
"Because I wanted to hear you say it! Why'd you keep my valentine? You made fun of me for it!"
"It's not everyday an annoying girl confesses her love to you via obnoxious valentine." He shrugged, but Mikan knew he was lying. He got confessed to all the time. "I would have felt guilty throwing it away."
"I did not confess any-That's not-" Mikan took a deep breath. "But why'd you tape it up then?"
He didn't have a smarmy answer for that, apparently. He clammed up and then dramatically collapsed against the pillows again. "I'm really sick so how about we talk about your undying love for me some other time?"
"There's soup on the table." She watched his eyes flit in the direction of the soup. "And medicine." When he raised an eyebrow, she waved her hands defensively. "From Aoi, not me! She said she wasn't allowed to come in here, so she gave it to me to give to you."
"Aoi's been in here pretty much all the time all weekend. You've been had."
Mikan bit her lip. "Fine. Well, now you know the whole story, so…"
"Why are you here?" he asked again, for the millionth time. "Are you here?"
"I mean, I had the soup-"
"Why'd you get me soup? You could've just texted. It's not like I expected you to come here, and… It was really weird. I thought I was dreaming at first."
"What, like you dream about me a lot?" Mikan asked sarcastically. She regretted saying anything when his mouth closed resolutely. "I might have been a little worried. And I have to one-up you. A text wouldn't do, since you sent me a text first, so I outdid you by coming all this way with soup."
She expected more bickering, maybe some further accusations or boasting. She did not expect him to smile sleepily up at her. "Thank you," he said.
Mikan blushed and looked away.
"...For buying me soup instead of making it. I don't trust your cooking."
"Hey! I went out of my way to come here so don't be mean! And anyway, I'll have you know I'm a fantastic cook! Don't knock it before you try it. My chicken soup is to die for."
"More like your soup makes people die." He snorted-not charming at all. "What do you put in it? Chocolate?"
"No! That's gross. Last time I made it, I put a couple tangerine slices in-"
"Shut up, you're gonna make me barf."
"It's called being creative!"
"It's called food poisoning."
Mikan glanced back at the valentine on the wall. Taped above his bed. It was definitely something he could look at everyday, not tucked away in a closet or in some random drawer. It was on proud display, like it was something he liked looking at.
She definitely did not like him, but maybe he liked her? It felt ridiculous to even consider it, but if she really thought about it, there was a faint possibility… Besides the random and sudden kiss, he'd also held her hand and comforted her and told her she was pretty and…
But he also had made a habit of calling her ugly and insulting her all the time. He'd goaded her into bouts of violence and turned her off of the color red and all polka dot patterns. That wasn't exactly the behavior of someone in love.
No, he didn't like her.
But if he did… What would she do then?
She didn't like him!
She turned back to him and he was smiling at her again, staring. He must have been really sick. Delirious. Out of his right mind. He did have a fever, and that explained his bizarre behavior. Maybe he was sick all the time, which caused him to act like a weirdo.
Or maybe he likes you.
That voice sounded a lot like Permy's, and Permy was a liar who couldn't admit her obvious feelings for Koko that Mikan hadn't known about until the sleepover, so she couldn't be listened to.
"You like me," he said through that dumb smile. "You're here because you like me."
"I hate you," she said, but even though she'd said it a billion times in her life, it had never felt less true. "If you die from sickness, it would make all my future successes meaningless. So you have to live. You know, so I can beat you."
"I wouldn't dare take that away from you."
Mikan couldn't help a dopey smile from spreading across her own face. The moment stretched on for a while, the both of them smiling stupidly at each other and saying nothing for far too long. When Mikan blinked and snapped out of it, the room even seemed darker. "You're clearly sleepy. And rest is the best thing a sick person can do, according to my grandpa, so…"
"Your grandpa is really smart," Natsume said. "And cool. I wish I had a grandpa. My grandpas are both dead."
Mikan made a sympathetic face. Yes, clearly delirious. Normal Natsume would never spill his guts like this. "I'm sure your grandpas are watching over you with love."
Natsume shrugged. "I don't need them to. I have other people for that." He said that last part softly. His voice was slurring, though.
"You're about to fall asleep, I think," Mikan mumbled under her breath, getting more uncomfortable by the second. "I think I should be going now. Just remember your soup. I guess Aoi can reheat it later, if she's still here. She said she was going out."
"She's not. But you can stay anyway." He was still smiling. Still delirious and crazy. "I want you to reheat my soup. And take care of me." Even sick as he was, he was still trying to embarrass her. Typical.
"No," Mikan said firmly. "I have to go home. I have homework and my parents will worry and you might get me sick again. Also my dad still doesn't like you, so he won't like me staying." She leaned toward him, but just enough so she could tuck the blankets around him. He didn't fight her, but just stared at her. "Now go to sleep and get better."
"You gave it to me. The bug. You got me sick."
"You don't know that. You have no proof."
"You can't get sick again, your immune system knows to fight it off because it just did. And yes, I do know. Because during the banquet you were all red and warm and pretty much everyone noticed. I must have gotten it from kissing you."
Mikan froze, gaping down at him, half furious and half shocked at his audacity mentioning it.
"Oh, you remember," he slurred. "I remember too. Your spit in my mouth got me sick."
"No!" Mikan snapped. "No, it did not! You got me sick! I was not red and warm at the banquet because I was sick!"
"Then why?"
"Because-" Because you'd called me pretty and I was embarrassed to talk to you. Also Hotaru implemented a no-dating rule and it bothered me for a reason I still don't wanna think about. Also you ended the day by kissing me. But she couldn't say any of that even though it was true and all his fault. He would just laugh at her, even in this crazed feverish state he was in. He'd backed her into a corner and there was no escape. "Because!"
"You got me sick," he said definitively. "So just stay."
"No, Natsume. I'm going home. Just sleep." She reached out with her hand to gently close his eyelids for him. He let her, but as soon as she pulled away, he blinked back up at her. "Sleep. Sleep!"
"Okay."
"I'll text you," she promised. "Eat your soup. Get better. I'll be really mad if you don't."
"Anything for you."
"Stop saying stuff like that," she muttered to herself, ignoring the fierce heat in her cheeks. She made for the door, because if she didn't force herself to leave, she might end up swept away in more delirious conversation that never ended. Then, to him, she said, "Good night, Natsume. See you tomorrow?"
"Good night, Mikan."
Mikan shut the door behind her and made it six steps before what he said registered and she tripped over her own feet, stumbling into the wall. "Huh?"
"Mikan-chan?" Aoi called from the living room. "How's he doing?"
"Uhh." Mikan glanced back at the closed door. What the f-
"Does he still have a fever?" Aoi popped up in the mouth of the hallway, cocking her head to the side in faux concern. When she spotted Mikan's face, her devious smile reappeared. "Ohhhh… Did something happen, Mikan-chan? You look all red. Are you still sick?"
Mikan shook her head aggressively. "No, I'm great." She briskly finished her walk down the hall and returned the thermometer to Aoi. "His fever is not dangerous, but he has one." Then, to herself. "Obviously." She grinned. "I'm going to go home now," she said. And scream.
"Thanks so much for thinking of him," Aoi said sweetly, holding the thermometer as if it was precious. "He thinks of you a lot. He was so worried about you when he found out you were sick too. He kept blabbering about how stupid you were for getting sick, but he was also sick. Isn't it weird that you two got sick, but nobody else on the team did?"
Mikan was starting to get the feeling that Aoi had some sort of agenda, and it almost felt like she was trying to insinuate something. "Yeah, that's weird," Mikan said absently.
"Well, maybe you two just got too close," Aoi suggested.
"I have to go home before it gets too dark," Mikan said, moving to the door. "Reheat Natsume's soup and make sure he drinks it. Also remind him to take the medicine."
She opened the door and made to leave, suddenly hesitant because of the horrible cold outside, when Aoi spoke again, voice teasing and low. "He's been talking about you for years, you know. He loves orange juice. His favorite flower is a sakura. And he's single, by the way, if you ever wondered…"
Nevermind. Mikan would have preferred venturing into the Arctic than staying in the Hyuuga living room for another second. "Good night, Aoi! See you later!"
"I look forward to it! Be safe!"
Mikan had never walked faster in her life. At some point she was close to running. She didn't feel the cold so much because her face was hot enough to power a small factory. She just wanted to get home already, so she could lock herself in her room, eat nothing all night, and then maybe dissolve into dust sometime around 3 A.M.
The wind was strong enough to spring tears in her eyes and her backpack was getting heavier by the second, especially with the Acadec curriculum weighing it down, but the only thing she could think of were two syllables said by a voice that had never spoken them in that order before.
Good night, Mikan.
He'd said her name.
She hadn't even asked him to and he'd still dropped it so casually, like he said it all the time. But he definitely didn't. He only ever called her Polka Dots or other such derivatives or similar insults. Never her actual name. He'd said it so nonchalantly, in fact, that she hadn't even noticed at first! By that time, it had been too late to call him on it. Why did she keep missing chances to call him on his BS?
And then there was all that stuff Aoi had said…
Did Natsume really like her? Was it not just a joke? And since when? It must have been a recent development, since he'd only started being nice a few months ago, and "nice" was maybe too generous a word for his recent tolerable behavior. What, did he realize while arguing with her one day that he'd been wrong about her all these years? She couldn't really remember doing anything to make him start liking her. She only started being nice when he did. So what the heck was up with him?
Or maybe he'd liked her all along? Maybe, from kindergarten…?
But that also seemed unlikely. She knew him back then and he'd been nasty and horrible. Also making fun of her, always messing with her and tattling on her-there was simply no way he liked her back then. Valentine and Aoi's little comments aside, his behavior did not align with that theory at all. It must all be some kind of fluke.
Or maybe this evening was a fluke! He was sick, after all, and clearly out of it. He'd been slurring and half-certain she wasn't even really there. It would be unfair to take any of his fevered blabberings at face-value, Aoi's commentary notwithstanding. It was just as likely he was secretly in love with Jii-chan as it was that he loved her.
By the time Mikan made it home, her cheeks were still boiling and bright red and her hands were in tight fists, but her mind had wrapped all the possibilities up until it had reached this shiny and perfectly plausible conclusion: He was just sick and delirious and definitely did not secretly like her.
Mikan went to sleep that night with a frown on her face and bitter thoughts in her mind about stupid red eyes and messy black hair, but she kept her promise and texted him Get better soon, but that didn't mean she had to be happy about it.
He didn't show up to school the next day, but he did arrive on Thursday, well and fresh-faced and not resembling the sleepy mess he'd been the other evening at all. He walked into class, all nonchalant as usual, and barely even looked at her before getting caught up in conversation with Mochu.
He clearly had no memory of that night at all, which was for the best, because it wasn't either of their finest hours. Mikan could pretend it never happened too.
Until the school day finished and then the after-school study meet finished, and Mikan was walking out the classroom only to get ambushed by a smug, T-shirt-wearing delinquent in the hall.
"I liked the soup," he said plainly. "It didn't make me better right away, but it tasted good. Probably because you didn't make it."
Well, there went that theory. He must have some recollection of that night.
"Oh?"
"Yeah." He leaned back, all smugness leaking from his face as he averted eye contact. "Listen, I was on a lot of cough medicine and not really-"
"No, I know."
"-So if I said anything weird-"
"No, I get it."
"-Just ignore it."
"Yeah."
"I think I said something about your grandpa?"
"Yeah, I relayed the message that you want him to adopt you. He said no thanks."
"Oh," he exhaled some poor approximation of a laugh at her terrible joke. A moment passed between them, and more of their teammates left the room, waving at them. When they were alone again, Natsume looked back at her. "I shouldn't have done that."
"What?"
He didn't even blink, just looked at her. She knew what he was talking about.
"Here," he said, shoving a folded up piece of paper into her hand. "A thank-you, for coming by, and for not pressing charges against me. Bye."
He breathed out tightly, like he was annoyed, and then walked off past her.
If Mikan didn't know any better, she might've guessed he was embarrassed… But that would be crazy talk.
She watched him walk down the hall until he was out of sight, before turning to the paper in her hand and carefully unfolding it. The paper was thicker than typical notebook paper. It was good quality, like something out of a fancy sketchbook. Amongst the creases in the paper was a pencil sketch, elegant and beautiful, of a spindly and blooming sakura tree, and beside it a-a urinal on its side?
She giggled to herself.
"P. DOTS. 2024," scrawled to the side of the urinal. Above the image, beside the blossoms and branches, was a little inscription, unassuming and undetailed. "Thanks."
She turned to look back down the hall, even though Natsume had long since disappeared.
If Mikan skipped home, nobody was there to see or ask why. If she smiled the whole time, despite the cold and wind, then it wasn't anybody's business. If she kept stopping to open up the paper again and look at the sketch Natsume drew for her, then it was only because it was the single best thank-you gift she'd ever received and she wanted to tape it up on her wall so she could see it everyday.
In fact, she did just that as soon as she got home.
Humming a silly song to herself as she tore off pieces of scotch tape, she stuck the paper onto the wall above her bed, her smile never leaving her lips. "He's so sweet," she whispered to herself, only to realize what she'd said and shake her head. "Well, not all the time. But this was sweet."
Suddenly inspired, she took her phone and found his name among her text messages.
thanks for the drawing. i like it a lot! i think duchamp would be proud
She debated including a smiley face and after twenty seconds of thinking, she decided to go ahead and send one.
In less than a minute, she got a response:
i didn't do it for him. i hope he rots in hell.
but i'm glad you like it.
She wasted no time before replying.
i do! now i need to plan a way to thank you for the thank you gift
She got called for dinner after sending that one, but she made sure to take her phone downstairs with her, just in case she got a reply. She sat down at the table and set her phone screen up so she wouldn't be rude checking it every two seconds.
"Jii-chan made miso soup tonight!" Yuka said excitedly, placing the last of the table-settings down before joining the family at the table. "And some curry."
"Thank you, Jii-chan," Mikan said, earning a pleased smile from her grandfather.
Halfway into the miso-soup, her phone lit up.
you just want another drawing, huh?
"Is that Hotaru?" Yuka asked. When Mikan looked up at her mother in question, she could see a faint smile on her mouth. "Iinchou?"
"No."
"Who is it?" her dad asked, clearly less amused.
"Just… someone…" Mikan swallowed some more soup. "Why?"
"You're smiling," Yuka said. "Is it good news? A funny joke?" Mikan blinked, not understanding. "I don't know… A cute boy?"
Mikan choked on her soup, hot miso going up her nose.
"No," Izumi said insistently. "Mikan's not allowed to date until college."
"I believe you just made that up," Jii-chan said.
"I've never seen you smile like that, honey," Yuka said, ignoring her husband and father. "I think I know that smile. It's the smile of a girl with a crush."
Mikan shook her head adamantly, suddenly horrified. A crush? On Natsume? Her mother was being insane. "Nuh uh!"
"Don't listen to your dad," her mother said sweetly. "He's just being difficult. You can date. I think it's about a good time to start, if you want to. You can tell me. You're not in any kind of trouble. Is he cute? Is he in your classes? Have we met him?"
"I-"
"There's no boy," Izumi insisted. "Mikan is far too young to start dating. She's not doing well enough in school to allow something like that!"
"He has a point there," Jii-chan said sagely. "Mikan's math grade is not very good-"
"Or her Japanese! Or her English! Or her Science! The only classes she's doing well in are gym, which is obvious, and that academic class, so I think she should focus on her studies-"
"Oh, hush, Izumi," Yuka scolded. She turned to Mikan supportively. "Grades aren't all that important. Don't stress about that. What's his name, honey?"
"I don't like Natsume," Mikan said, still feeling shell-shocked by the horror-level plot twist this dinner conversation had taken.
Her mother's smile widened. Her father dropped his spoon. Her grandpa chuckled.
"Ah, Natsume-kun."
"No."
Yuka clapped her hands together. "Your first crush! I'm so excited we get to see it in real time! Oh, and he's liked you for so long, this is like something out of a movie!"
"I'm not hungry anymore!" Mikan said loudly, picking up her bowl of miso soup and taking it to the kitchen. She poured what was left back into the pot on the stove and then ran away, back upstairs, gripping her phone for dear life.
She collapsed onto her bed for a while, staring daggers at the ceiling and hugging her phone to her chest. Why was everyone so convinced she liked Natsume? What was she doing to give people that entirely misled impression? Was all the shoving and pushing and arguing not hint enough that she couldn't stand him? She was constantly acting just to spite him!
So what if it took her a while to stop her brain from fixating on what he looked like after she'd pushed him in the pool during the summer? So what if holding his hand felt comforting and warm, like all her problems didn't matter as long as he was touching her? So what if he'd made it a habit to make her blush and stammer? So what if his opinion seemed more important than everyone else's? So what if she wanted him to compliment her and be impressed by her? So what if she looked forward to seeing him everyday at school? So what if she had liked kissing him and wouldn't mind doing it some more? So what if she thought he was pretty? So what if he was her favorite artist in the history of all art ever?
She released an unpleasant whine, then smothered the follow-up groan with her pillow, then decided to make it a mild scream for good measure.
Oh no.
She liked Natsume.
Hiding this revelation was actually easier than she thought it would be.
Sure, she saw him plenty at school and he was in her class and on her team and in her category and all, but Narumi had insisted A Team divvy up based on what they needed to study most, and they had very different strengths. For two weeks, Natsume was across the room studying with Ruka and Permy, going over Science and Social Science. Meanwhile, Mikan was with Mochu and Koko, going over… almost everything.
The three of them had scored the lowest on the team, so it had been gently suggested to them that they buckle down for Prefecture. Well, gently suggested by Iinchou. Hotaru had been a lot less gentle when it was her turn to talk.
Mikan took that as an opportunity to completely forget about liking Natsume, turning instead to the comfortable pages of her curriculum. Mochu and Koko were great friends too, really cool guys who were funny and fun to talk to. They weren't really much like Natsume at all, which also helped, because it would only make it harder to get her mind off of him if she was being constantly reminded of him.
Mochu brought Natsume up at times, but that's only because they were close friends. Mochu also liked acting like Natsume because he thought Natsume was cool, but that was easy to ignore too because he wasn't really all that good at it. But Mochu's tendency to lean back in his chair and call for Natsume across the room? Not the easiest thing to ignore, especially when Natsume's red eyes would look up and then Mikan would remember that he wasn't her enemy anymore, but a boy she liked, forcing her to look away or change the subject.
Just the realization of her feelings was overwhelming and confusing, and it didn't help when he was unavoidable, always there in class, always hanging out with her own friends. But she was also eager to throw herself into studying, not just to distract from Natsume, but to increase her chances of proving herself, since she'd decided that was her goal for Prefecture-to get acknowledgment for her efforts and make a difference on her team's scoring.
After those two weeks of hardcore studying, Mikan was exhausted, from all the learning and from the refusal to think too much about Natsume. When she was at home, away from Narumi's suggestions and Hotaru's prodding, she had moments of free thought, where her brain would ask intrusive questions, like "How long have I liked Natsume?" or "What on Earth did I do to deserve this?" or "What is there to like about him?" When that started up, Mikan would reach for her curriculum in a hurry to try and get her mind off it. Her family was no help, because although her father refused to accept that Mikan was no longer six years old, her mother kept implying things and had once even mused about becoming a mother-in-law-gross-which was not helping matters at all.
The first Monday after those two weeks, Narumi had changed his tune and was now very on board for the whole team interacting again as the focus changed to subjectives. Back to Interview and Speech practice, he had decided. The groups would randomize and switch and Mikan was now often finding herself at the same table as Natsume. And so now avoiding Natsume and her feelings for him was a lot harder, but she was still putting her all into it.
Interview and Speech were to be taken seriously, and just sitting in the same vicinity as Natsume did not necessarily mean she had to think about him. Her feelings could stay a careful secret, she decided. Maybe even forever. It shouldn't be hard.
Until one after-school meeting at the cafe.
Mikan had gone ahead with Iinchou and Hotaru so that she could get her coffee ahead of time this time. She nursed her extra-chocolatey mocha in an arm-chair of her very own, and was feeling very smart and sophisticated with a Hemingway book in her lap and a cup of coffee in her hand when Natsume walked in with Ruka and Mochu. She had to turn in her seat a little to see him at the front, ordering his coffee, and when he looked up across the cafe to meet her gaze, she rushed back to face front, flushing furiously. She kept her attention on the book and on Iinchou's discussion about the themes in the final chapter as Natsume waited with the boys at the front.
When he came around, he didn't say anything, but did inconspicuously drop a folded-up piece of paper into her lap. She recognized the sketchbook texture and her stomach fluttered with the realization that he'd drawn something new for her. She tried to keep her smile in check, but it was hard, so she pushed the paper into her jacket pocket to look at (and fawn over) later.
Stupid jerk, trying to distract her with his pretty pictures.
He sat across from her, beside his best friend on the love seat, but that only made it easier to look at him, which she did often, even when the rest of the team came to join the meet.
They all sat there for an hour or two, focusing on the book because Hotaru didn't allow the topic to derail, until Iinchou dismissed them. They all stepped out onto the sidewalk in the cold together and started to say goodbye.
Natsume was on Ruka's heels, following after his best friend and parting from Mikan with a nonchalant "Bye, Polka Dots," and Mikan, for some reason, giggled. None of her usual anger at the nickname, no bickering back, just a sickening giggle that felt stupid coming out. She was ashamed instantly, and the sound of that dumb giggle kept replaying in her head, sounding more ridiculous the more she thought about it.
She could feel a few people's eyes on her as it happened, and though Natsume just walked away like it was no big deal, not everyone else was as keen to let it go. Permy had grabbed Mikan by the elbow and was pulling her down the street, away from the rest of them, loudly announcing, "Sakura is walking me home today!" and leaving no room for argument.
"Permy-" Mikan usually walked home with Iinchou and Hotaru for a reason, not just because they were best friends. They lived near each other, and Permy lived in the opposite direction. Walking her home just to turn around and have to walk twice as long to get to her own home was not exactly something Mikan wanted to do when the sky was going to get dark soon, but Permy was a girl on a mission, walking fast and with a fierceness in her eyes that kinda spooked Mikan.
When they were on their own, and had turned down another street, leaving the rest of their team in the dust, Sumire finally turned to speak to her. "Is this a secret relationship or something?" she hissed.
"What?"
"Are you dating Natsume? You couldn't wait a month until the competition is over? You horndog! You do know Imai's gonna be pissed if she finds out, right?"
"I'm not dating Natsume!" His drawing felt heavy in her pocket.
"You don't have to lie to me. I don't blame you. He really is the hottest guy in the world, but your timing couldn't be worse. Imai was just ranting about how necessary the rule is this morning. You're playing with fire."
"We're not dating!"
"Everyone saw your stupid little giggle and I didn't miss him drop that note in your lap when he passed you earlier. You think I'm stupid? Plus all those little looks you guys exchange all day long? I'm not blind, Sakura! I pay attention!"
"I'm not dating him," Mikan repeated. Then she sighed. "But I realized… that, uh… I maybe do kinda just a little bit, like a weensy bit, maybe, just a bit, might like him?"
Sumire stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and face suddenly pale. "What did you say?"
"You were just accusing me of dating him and this is too much for you?"
"I didn't actually think you were dating! I was messing with you!"
Mikan gaped.
"You like him! You finally admitted it! Oh, good heavens, it's only taken you like ten friggin' years!" To rub it in, Permy spun in a victorious circle. "About damn time! You really acted like you were so much better than me, like you had better taste. What was it you said to me? 'Ew, gross', was it? And now look where we are. How the tables have turned!"
Mikan groaned, humiliated and not willing to have this conversation, especially since she hadn't even wanted to have it with herself. "It's not like anything will come of it. My dad said I can't date until college, and Hotaru has that rule, like you said."
"Who cares?" Permy said with a laugh. "You like Natsume and he likes you back! You don't miss a chance like that because of a stupid rule!"
"He doesn't like me. And anyway, you were the one who was saying Hotaru-"
"She'll get over it! To be honest, you'd probably perform better if you were dating him. Besides, your enemy schtick has been really distracting so it would probably get easier if all you were doing was sucking his face."
Mikan wanted to argue that point, but all she could do was flounder. "I-Don't-"
"What, like you don't want to kiss him! Just be honest!"
"We… uh… have…"
Permy screamed, right in the middle of the street, earning many concerned stares from passersby.
"Permy!"
"YOU KISSED HYUUGA NATSUME!"
Mikan pressed her hand against Permy's mouth to keep her from shouting anything else. They weren't that far away from everyone else, and there was always a chance this got overheard by the wrong person and turned into the newest gossip.
It took Permy a moment to calm down, but when she did, Mikan slowly released her and then, when she knew she was safe, she kept walking down the sidewalk, intent on running away to home, something she was doing a lot these days.
"I don't think so! Hold on a sec, Sakura!" Permy caught up in no time, jogging to meet her. "If you've already kissed, then how are you not dating?"
Mikan didn't have an answer to that. "I mean, we haven't really talked about it since it happened. It did just kinda happen all of a sudden. We're both sorta pretending like it didn't actually happen. So."
"Who kissed who? When? Where? Give me details!"
"No!"
"I told you, right, that you have my blessing but only if you give me all the juicy details, so spill!"
Mikan felt simultaneously indignant about this clause in their friendship and desperate to bear her soul to someone. Eventually, the latter won out. After all, she'd been overwhelmed for weeks-months, really-about Natsume. Naturally, the first people she really wanted to tell about the kiss and then about her epiphany on her feelings were her best friends, but they were both the implementers of this new, tyrannical no-dating rule, so they didn't feel like safe confidants. She'd been keeping it all inside for a long time and it did feel tempting to tell somebody about all the screwed up thoughts in her head.
"After the banquet. When I was supposed to be fixing up my makeup. I was, and then he showed up in the girls' bathroom and just kissed me for no reason and then left without saying anything."
When Permy didn't reply right away, Mikan turned to look at her expression, only to see a smug smile there. "Did you kiss him back?"
"No!"
"Sakura."
"Maybe a little?"
The smile only widened. "And when did the love notes start?"
"They're not love notes," Mikan said. "And this is only the second one."
"If it's not a love note, then what is it?"
"He drew me a picture."
"Let us see it, then."
Mikan rummaged in her pocket to pull out the paper. She unfolded it slowly and held it up so Permy could see too.
A hyper-realistic rendering of a pig. Possibly the nicest drawing of a pig that Mikan had ever seen. Then, he'd kindly scribbled the word "you" and then drew an arrow pointing to the pig.
"Like I said," Mikan sighed. "Not a love note."
"Jesus, this is worse than I thought."
"What are you talking about?" Mikan asked, feeling defensive. "It's a really good drawing! He's really talented."
"He's in love with you."
Mikan rolled her eyes. "He called me a pig."
"No, don't give me that. He's in love with you. He's drawing you pictures? What was the other one?"
"Oh, I can hardly remember," Mikan lied. She looked at that picture everyday, sometimes for minutes at a time. "Just like, a pretty blossoming tree and then a urinal under it…"
"Ew, a urinal?"
"You know, like Fountain. It's an inside joke, kinda."
"Oh my God."
"He is a really good artist, honestly. He's probably just practicing with his doodles and then giving them to me to mess with me. I don't get what the big deal is."
"Date him," Permy said, sounding suddenly quite serious. "Forget about your dad and Imai and everyone. Date him."
Mikan laughed her off, but Permy didn't laugh back, instead only raising an eyebrow, as if to challenge her. There was nothing she could say to really reply to that.
May it never be forgotten that Natsume had always been something of a rascal. That was one of Mikan's tenets to life. No matter how busy she got or how confusing life became, she had to fall back to that reminder: that he was a liar and liked messing with people.
After all, Mikan had originally been partnered with him because of his troublemaking ways, though now that she thought about it, she couldn't really remember that many instances of him getting in trouble. In fact, he tended to get her into more trouble than he got himself in. Raising his hand and smugly informing their teacher about whatever nonsense Mikan had gotten up to was quite possibly his favorite pastime.
It's not like he was a saint, though. He just knew how to avoid responsibility. Mikan tried to implicate him in his crimes, but he had a perfect poker-face, an impeccable explanation, and the wretched ability to pass blame onto the person next to him (usually Mikan).
In the fourth grade, things lightened up a bit. They weren't forced in each other's orbit, so Mikan could sometimes spend an hour or two pretending like Natsume didn't exist before being disappointed to realize that, no, he hadn't only been some big nightmare.
Usually the fantasy shattered at recess. They didn't play together, but they ran in similar circles and merely acknowledging Ruka-pyon's existence with a friendly wave meant locking eyes with Natsume at the basketball court. Stopping by to tell Permy about something she overheard meant having to share oxygen with Natsume for a second. It was tragic but unavoidable. He was a menace, but the real shame of the situation was that she seemed to be the only person to realize that.
One time, when spring had fully reclaimed the earth and the sun was shining all the time, Mikan found herself entirely immersed in his usual crowd. She was content to ignore him, like always (something she wasn't really all that good at on account of him being the worst), and instead stayed fixated on everyone else in the group. He didn't seem to like that.
She had just finished crossing the monkey bars when he tapped her on the shoulder, her smile still on her face, withering slowly with each second spent in his presence.
"Want me to show you something?" he asked.
Mikan shook her head. She knew better than to trust him with anything. He was a villain. A liar. "I don't wanna go anywhere," she said, crossing her arms.
"I can show you here," he said. "Give me your hand."
"No! What are you gonna do?"
"I just wanna show you something."
"If you're gonna make me slap myself-" Koko got her with that one, telling her that her hand was the exact same size as her face, so that when Mikan moved her hand up to see, he shoved her hand into her face so she smacked herself. It was humiliated, but made even worse by the fact that he'd somehow gotten her to fall for it three different times.
"No. Give me your hand."
Mikan whined but offered her hand. He took it in his own, gingerly. She kept looking at their hands, waiting, but her face was heating up and the feeling of his hand on hers was strangely warm and inviting. He took his time, but eventually got around to it, twisting her hand so it was palm up, and then squeezing each of her fingers delicately, taking turns. Pinkie, ring, middle, index, thumb, and then all over again, completing the cycle three times, until he reached the index finger on the fourth run. Instead of lightly squeezing it, he pulled it back all of a sudden and Mikan cried out in surprise.
He cackled and, still gripping her hand, sneered, "That's what you sound like in bed."
Mikan ripped her hand away from him. "What are you talking about?!"
"You just moaned."
"No, I didn't! I screamed in pain."
"Science says the sound you make when someone yanks your finger is the same one as-"
"No, it doesn't! You're lying!"
"That's what you're gonna sound like."
"Shut up! No, it's not!"
"Yeah, it is, and I'm the first one to hear it. Tell your future husband."
"You're disgusting! Pervert!" Mikan shoved past him and ran away to the swings, desperate to get away from him, her face hotter than the sun. Her finger didn't really hurt, but her hand was still a bit tingly, probably from how he'd been squeezing her.
Mikan swung herself as high as possible, angry and fuming, promising herself she was never forget Natsume's true nature, his tendency to take advantage of her, his calculated and malicious lies. How come he had so many friends? How come so many girls liked him? She didn't get it.
It was because she knew him better than the rest of them did, probably. She saw him plainly, while everyone else just believed the lies. But she got him. He couldn't fool her.
The week before the trip to the Prefecture competition set a fire under everyone. Not only was it a week of travel plans, packing, and studying, but also making arrangements with family members and teachers about school. A Team had to get permission slips from each teacher to miss a full week of classes, and then there was the issue of the bus ride… There were a lot of moving parts and it was more than overwhelming.
In the days leading up to the trip, A Team was holed up in the conference room above the office, making school an officially Academic Decathlon Place of Study. It was supposed to force everyone to focus, but there was a lot of messing around too, especially when Hotaru had to step out because her math teacher hadn't signed off on her missing that class.
The room was very professional, with whiteboards on each wall, and a long table surrounded by comfy swivel chairs very much unlike the types of chairs most classrooms in the school offered. Narumi had his own classes to teach, so he wasn't even around, but he'd made sure to set up bountiful snacks in the center of the table for the teammates to partake in throughout the day, but Hotaru had decided to weaponize them, as well as the "privilege" of bathroom breaks.
Meanwhile, Mikan had changed her tune. Instead of avoiding Natsume like the plague, she was staying away from Permy, who was now the only person in the world to know her despicable secret and kept reminding her of that fact. She couldn't even admit to her family what they were all pretty much certain of anyway, and she wasn't about to tell Hotaru or Iinchou any time soon, so it was just Permy and her mischievous little glances.
Sure, sticking to Natsume like glue didn't do anything to wipe the wicked smile off of Permy's face, but it did provide a distraction and made sure she wasn't constantly being bombarded with ruthless teasing about how much she wanted Natsume's tongue down her throat or similar absurdities.
Besides, Natsume was fun to sit next to. She'd never felt this way as a child, but just being beside him felt like she was in on his thoughts, like she got him. Once she'd decided to get over the internal screaming whenever she was around him now that she knew she liked him, things went by more smoothly. He clearly didn't notice any change, and seemed just as content to sit with her as she was to sit with him. He'd lean his head over a bit to whisper something to her, or tap his fingers on her curriculum, or make meaningful eye contact when someone was talking, and she felt like his friend. It was a wonderful, if entirely foreign, feeling, like she was on his mind too.
As a group, they went over Econ once more, and while Hotaru was speaking, Natsume doodled in her curriculum, two grumpy-looking men in suits debating fiscal policy. Mikan had been forced to smother her laughter. During the Lang Lit hour, he'd leaned back in his swivel chair so much he was practically in her lap. She'd been tempted to reach around to touch his hair, but she'd been deterred by the fear that maybe that would be too weird. In between lectures by their classmates, he'd taken her arm and written a note across it. She'd been so giddy about the touch of their skin that she hadn't even paid attention to what he was writing until he was finished. OINK OINK SQUEAL. Mikan smacked his arm for that one, but she hadn't minded, really. He'd even written it in red pen, and instead of pissing her off, it just made her feel chosen.
He thought she was pretty in red, right?
Mikan's favorite thing to study these days was Interview, particularly when she and Natsume were fellow judges. They would arrange a topic of questioning before the interviewee was called over, like vampires or clowns, and would try to keep straight faces as they stuck to it.
"What is your opinion on watermelon-flavored Jolly Ranchers?" Natsume asked Permy once, and Mikan had spat out a laugh and earned an elegant glare from Permy. It did not help that Permy actually proceeded to seriously answer the question in detail, somehow managing to sound calm as she discussed her least favorite speech in the class.
At some point, Natsume and Permy were interviewing her, and she'd been forced to seriously answer his ridiculous questions without breaking, like "I can see that you're half-swine-Could you please tell us a bit about that experience?" or "If you had to assassinate one person in this room, who would it be?" or "Could you give us a few details about your time in juvenile hall?"
It was like he'd made it his mission to make her laugh, his questions becoming increasingly difficult to answer (because they made no sense). If she tried to tell him to take it seriously, he'd furrow his eyebrows in a show of anger and tell her that she needed to take it seriously and finish the interview properly or else there would be no job (these were not job interviews).
But the best moments in the conference room was when Hotaru the Tyrant stepped out for her AP Calculus class and left the rest of them to "free study", which was really more like a "free for all." The kids would spread out across the room and do whatever they felt like, almost like a well-deserved break, seeing as Hotaru was keeping them studying through lunch and snack breaks. This was when natural conversations would start up, when Koko would pull out endless licorice out of nowhere and Tsubasa would chase Mochu around the room after his beanie got swiped off his head. Just run-of-the-mill stuff Hotaru would put an immediate end to if she were around but that Iinchou didn't really mind as much.
For the last day of studying in the conference room, Natsume and Mikan found themselves under the table during Hotaru's absent period, sheltered by the sleek swivel chairs and gray carpet. Koko and Permy's argument about whether or not all of Seth Rogen's films deserved Oscars (Mikan was pretty sure Koko was just arguing because it annoyed Permy) was loud enough to drown out their own conversation, offering just a bit of privacy.
"What's Prefecture like?" Natsume asked, his face covered by the shadow of the table. "Do you know?"
"It's fun," Mikan said. They were sitting, criss-cross applesauce, facing each other. She'd just finished drawing a small heart on the knee of his jeans in black pen. It wasn't really visible. "I've never been, but I saw the pictures from last year. It looks fun. The team gets split up in hotel rooms and between studying and testing, you get to walk around Kyoto and try new food and after the last test there's a dance and… It just seems really fun."
"Is there a pool?" Natsume asked, picking at the carpet.
"Natsume, it's March."
"An indoor pool?" he tried again.
"I don't know! What, do you need to swim?"
"I don't know how to swim."
"I can teach you," Mikan offered before realizing what she was saying.
Natsume just raised an eyebrow. "You're a pervert. This is disgusting, how perverted you are."
"You're the one who brought up a pool! And that you can't swim!"
"So you sexually harass me?"
"I did not-"
She was interrupted by Natsume's hand grabbing her nose and squeezing. "Maybe in the summer you can teach me how to swim." He withdrew his hand and went back to picking at the floor in front of him.
"Do you want to learn to swim?"
"I like pools."
I like you.
"This will be fun," Mikan said. "I'm really excited about it. Just traveling all together will be a blast."
"A blast," Natsume said with a snort. "You're the only person in the world who says that and doesn't mean it sarcastically."
"But it means to have fun!"
"I'm sure you will have a blast," he said, but he was right-it sounded sarcastic.
"You're just being-"
Hotaru returned, just then, and the entire room sank into silence. "What is going on here?"
Mikan stuck her head out from under the table. "Natsume and I are reviewing under the table."
"What subject?" Hotaru asked, unmoved.
Mikan blinked. In a perfect world, she'd have told Hotaru about everything that had happened recently, about all her confused feelings and unrealistic daydreams. Instead, she was hiding it all, and it made her feel more ashamed than she otherwise would. Hotaru was her best friend, but she'd made it clear discussing Natsume in any capacity was off-limits, let alone in any capacity related to kissing or dating. It made her sad.
"Econ," Natsume answered for her.
Mikan didn't miss Permy's smirk and knowing wink from over Hotaru's shoulder.
"And Perms and I were studying Pineapple Express!" Koko said excitedly. "It deserved an Oscar, right? Don't we all agree?"
Hotaru turned to him, unamused. "Koko, your Social Science score is abysmal. It's even lower than Mikan's. Study that."
Mikan and Natsume crawled out from under the table. She felt like being polite, so she took his hand to help him up. There was no ulterior motive behind that, like wanting to hold his hand or something. When he gave her a casual, "Thanks," she just shrugged like it was no big deal.
"You two have no subjects in common," Hotaru said, taking a seat at the table. "I don't get why you're studying together."
"He's good at the stuff I'm bad at."
"You're bad at almost everything."
"That's not true," Natsume defended. "She's really good at Art."
Mikan's heart did a backflip. Natsume had never really stood up for her before. It was nice.
Hotaru's eyes softened. "I didn't mean it," she said. Hotaru liked to mess with Mikan, to make fun of her. Mikan knew they were just jokes, but Natsume wasn't really in on those jokes. It was strange to see Hotaru backpedal. She seemed genuinely sorry. "Obviously Mikan has strengths. But your Art score is good too. I just think you could benefit from working with other people for the rest of the day."
"But we were mostly going over subjectives," Mikan lied. They hadn't been doing subjectives. Unless Interview practice now entailed informal and meaningless conversation about inane topics and debating which of them was a pervert. "That's fine, right?"
Hotaru sighed, eyes glued on Mikan's. There were questions unspoken there, and Mikan knew better than to answer any of them. "Yeah. Fine." Mikan smiled victoriously, but Hotaru wasn't finished. "Work with Ruka-kun, though. He's horrible at subjectives, so he should practice."
"I'm not horrible!" Ruka said from across the room. "I felt nervous at Regionals, sure, but-"
"You choked. Practice more."
Mikan didn't mind working with Ruka too, of course. He was nice and patient and asked interesting questions. It just meant that she and Natsume were actually studying instead of just talking. And Mikan really wanted to just talk to him.
But this was fine too.
Mikan had finished packing. Everything was done, her checklist (courtesy of Iinchou) filled out, everything in its place. All that was left to do was sleep and then head to school in the morning. But going to sleep was harder than she thought it would be. Too much excitement for the next day was obstructing her tiredness. Instead, she stayed up late, doodling her own pig to give Natsume tomorrow, thoughts focused on the hotel and the bus and the party and the medals and the chance to prove herself and, undeniably, on him.
Also on the dress she'd chosen for the party. She and the girls from A Team had gone on a shopping trip that weekend to buy last minute items, and when Permy had casually mentioned needing a dress for the party, Mikan had followed after her. All three of them had walked out with a dress in a bag, but Mikan was a bit embarrassed about her choice.
And now she was doodling for Natsume. She wasn't even good at drawing, and her pig was proof of that.
On the one hand, it was a relief to be able to admit to herself that she liked Natsume now. He was cute, and had been nice on a few occasions. She liked spending time with him, and that was the most surprising part, but being able to let herself know that put a lot of pressure off her shoulders. Pretending had taken up so much energy.
On the other hand, now she felt like she was thinking about him all the time, and she couldn't think up reasons to not sit beside him each chance she got. If she had freetime, why not text him? Why not waste twenty minutes thinking about him? Why not put on a cute shirt and hope he noticed? Why not stay up drawing a pig for him? She felt obsessed and embarrassed, and understood why she'd refused to accept it before.
What if it got in the way of scoring well? What if Hotaru was right? What if she didn't even need to date Natsume for him to be a distraction?
Besides, did he even like her back? Now that she was letting herself think about it, she wasn't sure. His behavior seemed strange now, but was that because he was acting differently or because she was now looking at him from a different perspective? She was probably just reading too much into everything he did.
She finished up the doodle. It was a hideous beast, even after all the effort she'd put into it, and barely resembled a pig, but she was still proud of herself for it. She neatly folded it in half and then stuck it in her backpack with her curriculum and other stuff she might need on the bus ride to Kyoto.
Maybe Hotaru was right after all. Getting distracted by boys was no fun, and Mikan still hadn't fully adapted to her epiphany, so maybe it could all just… wait. Just until after Prefecture. Then she would have time to spare to think things through a bit more. Until then, she was only a few pages away from finally finishing The Sun Also Rises. Tomorrow, the competition would really begin, and though she might not agree with Hotaru's rules on principle, she could at the very least respect them. Wasn't that her job as Hotaru's best friend? If she couldn't respect the rules, then who would? In any case, Hotaru didn't even know the kind of turmoil Mikan had been in these days, so it's not like there was any malice behind the decision or anything.
Happy with her decision, Mikan turned off her light and tucked herself into bed, keeping her brain trained on Henri Matisse and T.S. Eliot and the discovery of DNA and not on Natsume.
Focused. Mikan was focused. She was going to make sure her score stood out, that it got counted, that she could boast to Luna that her presence on her team made a difference. It's not like Natsume would help with any of that.
Then again, Natsume had already helped. Rather than be a distraction, what if he had been the secret all along? After all, he'd gotten her more pumped up and eager to study than any other incentive so far. Maybe he was the key to success?
No, Mikan wasn't really focused.
"You see, she learned to love him… so she put her love away in a corner of her heart, and tried to forget it, hoping it would either die, or have a right to live." - Louisa May Alcott, An Old-Fashioned Girl