waiting, longing, falling, a digimon fanfic

waiting, longing, falling

Author's Note: first of all, i highly suggest you read this over on ao3 (i'm dianaagron over there) because formatting here is real ugly and it doesn't let me do what i want or type whatever the fuck emojis i would like. second of all, hi! let's get on with it!

this is for all my girlies still thinking about that one situationship from 10 years ago i know you're there!

two things before we start:
- i had written a joint in at one point then i found out it's illegal in japan :(((( new headcanon half of the kids are casual weed smokers (also this is fictional so if you want to believe the roll up i'm talking about has weed in it that's up to you it sure is the way i intend it)
- we graduated from condoms to birth control this time around don't worry we like the sex we don't like the pregnancies in this house

lastly, there is a capsule playlist that has inspired me immensely while working on this little thingy that i suggest you listen for a full experience (in this exact order! because it follows the feeling and sensations that i tried to embody in the progression of the fic)
1. sharpest tool by sabrina carpenter
2. omg by suki waterhouse
3. the 1 by taylor swift
4. r.e.m by ariana grande
5. calm down by rema feat. selena gomez
6. bated breath by tinashe

happy reading it will probably take you 3 days considering the length!

(proofreading of this was done scattered by yours truly and either late at night or very early in the morning, this is very long so bear with me if you find any inconsistencies in my grammar. i haven't lived in a english speaking country since i was 16 and i'm 29 now and my english has turned to what the scholars would call,,,, business english,,,,)

It's unexpected when she reads the message.

She doesn't follow half of the people who are in the group chat, yet she recognizes each name, every single one of them the subject of her late night ventures into the Instagram.

Peeking at the lives of those she once knew, scrutinizing those aspects of their world they decide to share. She can only guess so much, the rest up to gossip or imagination. There's a fine line between the two, usually erased by her mother's words.

1999 reunion

That's the name of the group chat she finds in her DMs.

She didn't even get the notification on her lock screen, which is fortunate considering she is going through a rough one at work that day. Messy ponytail, a fanny pack is resting on one shoulder and styled as a purse. Mimi absentmindedly goes through it with her right hand.

She's so used to multitask she doesn't even register having unzipped the thing first, her left hand still holding her phone. With the same distracted attitude she gently touches the screen once more to avoid it fading to black, still taken aback from the letters imprinted on the otherwise empty layout.

There's that kind of breath that falters, as if she needs to inhale twice, quick, before exhaling. She realizes too late that her heart is beating quite fast now, as if a rush of adrenaline has just washed over her. She doesn't have the time to give it a second thought though, already busy unrolling the wrinkled folded paper she had stuffed in her fanny pack and rushing back to set.

—

They met each other at summer camp in '99, when she used to wear a pink hat that was too large for her petite head. It looked ridiculous, as much as those cowboy boots that she refused to leave home (but that would later become a premonitory symbol of her American adventure).

It was a camp organised by the school of the small town up in the mountains. All their families either owned a place there or decided to visit for a few summers. Late July and the need of finding things for kids to do and spend their time with, camp was the easiest way out for many parents, her own included.

It wasn't that bad, and Mimi has fond memories related to those days. Yet she didn't attend twice, preferring to meet up with the friends she had made when she was ten outside of the camping home and away from all those rules and restrictions.

And it lasted for some years. With the seven of them becoming quite close (and forcing their respective parents to keep coming back to that small town in the mountains), they spent a few weeks each summer playing together and building new memories.

Then they grew up.

—

She's commuting back home that night. That extra minutes she needs to waste during the connection between one train and another she uses to go through the list of people that had been included in that chat.

It's not just the seven of them, it's eleven in total. She remembers some of the members of the group chat as the younger kids that used to tag along with Takeru when the latter became a little older than the cutest six-year-old her memories still hold close. The message comes from one of those kids, Daisuke.

In his profile picture his spiky maroon hair is hidden by a traditional bandana that lets Mimi guess he's become some sort of chef. A quick look through his otherwise quite empty profile tells her he's still in culinary school, judging from the one single highlight named as one of the best schools in a nearby city.

His is not one of the accounts she ends up checking once in a while when she can't fall asleep, nor does she follow him. She briefly questions if she should now, then resolves she can always do it later, if she really does end up going to that reunion.

It's kind of silly, really, the way her heart has faltered when she had first read that message. As if she had waited years for it to come, as if it was the one piece missing from a puzzle she made up in her mind (and she did, oh if she did).

It started in that way that all therapists like to remind you of: you can't leave anything behind if you haven't really found closure. And she hadn't. On her part, at least.

She doubts any of the thoughts that torment her at night about him and the two of them ever knock on the door of his mind, and yet this doesn't stop her from spiralling down a labyrinth of spiteful pride and chances not taken, discussions went the wrong way or the lack thereof.

She has to stop herself from going down that road now. It helps to remind herself that she's almost thirty now and should focus on something more important than a thing that should've been buried a little short of ten years ago now.

(Funny how being thirty doesn't make you any smarter than you were at twenty-one.)

She still hasn't responded by the time she's in bed.

The nice smell of her favorite night cream is soaked in her pillow cases and it reminds her of home, of the place she has put together by herself with her ingenious vision and no knowledge whatsoever of interior design.

Where people would think they'd find something offensively bright, there's neutral tones and soft textures. The few pops of color work perfectly, much like they're the main pieces at an art exhibition.

It's so her, that apartment. A big living room that she mainly uses as her laboratory, with pastries and cookware left on the open kitchen now that she has ran out of storage space (her growing collection of appliances has taken it all up). The rest of the place is made up of a small bedroom where the bed linens match the colors of the room and a bathroom in which she went for a shower instead of a bathtub (that decision she regrets).

Even the short pyjama she wears is color coded with her bedroom, and her then boyfriend had made fun of her for her obsession with order that had seemingly sprouted only once she became a home owner, never experienced or seen before in any of the other places she used to sleep at (her parents', her boyfriend's, her friends').

She should talk about it to someone, but the only people who could fully understand have been invited to that same reunion and it's been so long and talking about this would make it known that she's still thinking about it but it's been years —

Her phone lights up and it's Miyako. She's replying to the group with a thumbs up and a photo of her and Ken smiling. It's her way to say she will be there, and Mimi's heart is at the same time lighter and heavier for just a second.

She and Miyako used to spend all their time together when they were little. Mimi doesn't know the number of nights she hung out at her own place with the younger one, countless of sleepovers that made Miyako wish she was part of the Tachikawa family instead of her own messy one.

Mimi had met Ken a couple of years prior the invite, an occasion that Miyako had planned to perfection. She remembers thinking that his name suited his handsome figure, and that his calmness balanced out Miyako's loudness in a way that she had never been able to find in any of her partners (not that she had had many).

Miyako was still working at her parents' convenience store when she and Ken met. It wasn't love at first sight or anything like that - the opposite, really - but it worked. And it still makes Mimi feel like nothing she ever experienced in her relationships has ever looked similar to what her friends found. Which also seems to be a recurring occurrence.

She turns her phone into airplane mode without checking if anyone else has replied before going to sleep this time. When all lights are off, silly as she is she can't help but wonder if, among the rest of their names, he is waiting for hers to pop up.

—

She has forgotten about the whole ordeal when she wakes up the next morning, or at least she does for those twenty seconds before she can put everything back into focus and start another day.

Mimi has always been great at making new friends, not so much at keeping those friendships alive. She's way too volatile to be able to check up often on all those friends she's made along the way — Miyako is much better than her with this.

It's her text she sees first that morning. And it's classic Miyako, with her multiple question marks and exclamation points. "So?" she says, and that's it. Mimi knows better than to fake she doesn't know what she's alluding to, so she just skips over it without giving an actual answer.

Doesn't it feel weird when you think about the fact that Sora is married now?
Like actually married

i mean they've been together forever

I know but we're young

you think getting married before 30 is weird?

A little

what difference does it make they've been living together since like 2014

But we were kids together

and we're turning 30 next year

I'm turning 30 this year

you used to be more romantic

I am romantic!

then what's not romantic about childhood sweethearts getting married?

Because it's weirdddd to think about them marriedddd I remember them as kids not as people getting married!

ur weird it's not like you didn't shag your childhood friend either
so what's the difference

Mimi has to physically distance herself from her phone to avoid throwing it out of her bedroom window. The difference (but she doesn't tell Miyako this) is that for some reason she detaches the image of Sora and Yamato at their wedding from the image of the two of them when they used to hang out when they were younger (when she knew them).

The difference is that she doesn't detach the image of adult Taichi - whom Miyako is referring to in her last text - from his younger self because they never really lost touch, at least not like with some of the others (she knows him, or at least she thought she did up until one point).

The phone rings again. She picks it up only after she's fixed herself a quick breakfast (tea from her latest trip to London and leftover shortbread she had prepared a couple of nights before, when she couldn't bother going to sleep at a healthy hour).

are you salty bc they didn't invite you to the wedding?

No we haven't seen each other in ages
Ok it stung at first
But I understand it makes sense
You can't invite every single person you've been friends with in your life at your wedding

hikari said it was a nice wedding

I know I saw the photos
I loved Sora's dress
It was one of the few I liked from last wedding season
All the rest? Tacky

you can say that to her if you come

You don't know if she's coming she hasn't replied yet

yeah she did
were you not up last night?

There were new messages?

you know it's better for you if you decide before he does
so that he doesn't think you're waiting for him to reply
to make your decision
also i mean awkward af if you reply right after he does

He replied?

She doesn't wait for Miyako to text her back, she goes online and opens the Instagram app to discover she didn't get a notification of what appears to be a full conversation between some of them, with now half of the people invited having agreed to the time and date of the proposed reunion.

It's with a sigh of relief that she sees Taichi hasn't seen any of those messages yet, and with Miyako's words in her mind (uncomfortable, nagging) she agrees to be there as well.

She doesn't even check her calendar.

—

He had kissed her for the first time when she was fifteen and had never kissed a boy before. She was somewhat of a late bloomer, although you would never tell judging from her appearance. And yet she had never really had that much of an interest in anybody who wasn't herself, at least up until him.

She hadn't seen him in a while, he had maybe skipped one summer up at the mountains because of some other camp he went to (maybe soccer, maybe he had just changed so much from one year to the next that she had been left speechless at the sight of him, smiling wide and the sundown making a halo behind his shoulders, never his head).

She had spent the whole three weeks up there making up excuses for herself because she had never been in a situation like this, she had never experienced an actual crush as big as this one. No matter how many times Sora had tried to note the peculiarity of Taichi's attentions towards Mimi, Mimi would deny any sort of thought that would imply he had lingering feelings for her, just as much as she had for him.

He had kissed her for the first time when she was fifteen and it had been like she had imagined it would: straight out of a romance book, soft lips and butterflies dancing round inside her, his tongue sweet as the ice cream they had eaten just moments earlier, late summer afternoon and the golden hour bringing out lighter specks in her honey irises.

It had lasted only for that day, their last day of vacation. She had gone back home the morning after and, although there had been no promises, she had kept recalling, and savoring, and reminding herself it had all been real.

—

They decide for August 1st because it falls on a weekend and some of them are in between traveling. Not that it was easy coming up for one date, but Jyou had made quite the case and his being a doctor helped his cause — every other argument felt a little less prominent than the one coming from a "saver of lives", as Takeru had nicknamed him.

She swears days go by so slow and so fast at the same time. One moment they're going to meet in three weeks, the next is one week from now and the days just seem to drag minute by minute, unbending and relentlessly ignoring her wish for them to speed up.

Taichi hadn't replied, but Koushiro had for him. They had followed Miyako's example of sending a picture of the two of them together to assert their presence, a photo that Mimi is guilty of having memorized to perfection in spite of all the resolutions had made over the years.

It's a cute picture, the two of them smiling and making fun of what is at the moment Yamato's latest post on his Instagram profile. In the picture, Koushiro and Taichi are the spit image of Yamato and Sora on their wedding day, arms linked and flutes of champagne in their hands. They look at each other longingly, but you can see it in Koushiro's and Taichi's eyes that they're about to break character - the latter before the other.

It makes Mimi smile, and she has to physically stop herself from turning the corner of her lips upward when she realizes how stupid she is, all smitten about a silly photograph. Her cheeks hurt from smiling without even knowing she is, and she messages Miyako.

How did you not date anyone

excuse me i dated plenty of people!

I mean in the group

takeru was taken at the time
and then the magic faded
as soon as hikari let me read their texts
so cringe

Is it true that Hikari and Koushiro are dating?

uh uh
but i mean
would you consider them as like
a summer romance?

What do you mean

what you meant
it's not like they met up there
like we did the others

No you're right
Koushiro has always been around a lot
I mean they were classmates and then roommates

exactly
also they started dating way later
even later than you and taichi did

Not an hard task to accomplish
It's been like ten years ( xx )

i like them together
they're funny and snarky
she should leave her parents' and go live with him
gonna tell her to do so

Mimi deletes the last text she was going to send before thinking better, then only absentmindedly reads the following ones from Miyako. She sighs, then wonders if she should write Sora.

There was a time when they used to talk to each other relentlessly, a time when they didn't need to catch up on different aspects of each other's lives because they were always so immersed into them they could understand everything to perfection, without missing any links.

Now it's been years, and Sora is married, and Mimi still remembers one of their last conversations before they lost touch and after she and Taichi had called it quits on whatever it was that they had.

But then, maybe, it's just that longing feeling that is making her text and linger on things that should've been long forgotten, or at least kept inside a drawer that should better be the hardest to open. She knows she shouldn't fixate on the what ifs and yet, as the years go by, as she becomes an adult, she can't help but look often and more often behind her shoulders.

She looks to the past, while everything and everyone else moves (on and over and away).

—

Her hair is a faded pink when they meet again and when they do it's in his big boy city, the same that has become her big girl city.

University is learning new ways and finding old friends. They meet at a party and gravitate towards each other, magnetically bringing back memories and old feelings left half-savored. When they kiss it tastes like ripe strawberries and alcohol, like finding warmth and blossoming after the longest winter.

And it's spring now but not warm enough to not wear tights, yet she doesn't anyway. His hands are there to heat her up, always rough and a little mischievous, protective when others are around but otherwise traveling, drawing shivers and tattooing their journey over her skin.

She experiences everything differently when she does it with him. She doesn't need to keep her socks on, she's so whole she doesn't feel bare even when nothing covers her but his body. They make it work, lunch breaks and study groups, party nights and getting to know his new friends.

It feels for real this time, even with all doubts and self promises of being cautious. Even with the constant reminder that he's a boy in his almost-mid twenties, he says things like "we should do things properly this time" and his other roommate tells him "how pretty is your girlfriend" and the next thing she knows they both haven't reached out in a while and then it just fades to black.

—

Mimi texts Sora in the end. She resolves that she can't keep bitching and moaning to herself about how things have changed and how she lost all that she's lost if she doesn't do anything to make a difference in what she doesn't like about her life anymore. So she texts her.

And it's nice to talk to her again, although there's a melancholic aftertaste left because of the tiptoeing they're obligated to make and the over politeness that comes with not being as comfortable as they were once around each other.

I'm sorry I didn't invite you to the wedding

No, it's okay
I understand
I know it would've been different if it was a few years ago

It would
But also we tried to not make it too big
We both hate big crowds
It would've been embarrassing

I know
It's cute

Although Takeru did try to use his +1 for both Hikari and the girl he was seeing at the time

Omg?

I know
Wild

Does Yamato know?

Course not
He believes Taichi brought Hikari as his +1 to make Takeru think he should get back together with her
So that she would stop dating Koushiro
Because in his head Hikari dating Kou is worse than her dating Takeru
But anyway both Taichi and Takeru had a no +1 rule vetoed by Yamato himself
So I have no idea how he hasn't realized
Boys are so thick sometimes

Do I wanna know why they had a no +1 rule?
It's lowkey pretty funny tho
Of course he would hate Koushiro dating her
They must be around all the time

He's changed you know
Back to who he was before
That obnoxious frat boy phase was the worst
I almost didn't invite him because of that

Understandable

Have you two seen each other lately?

Mimi laughs. It's a funny concept, really, how that lately can cover such a large amount of years and feel like the shortest break the same time.

No, she hasn't seen him in ten years. No, she hasn't talked to him apart for those circumstantial occasions such as each other's birthday. Those are frozen in time, she dreads the days because she knows she'll get sour if the message does come and no other conversation follows, and she will get disappointed if the message doesn't come at all, sulking for the rest of the week.

It's a lose-lose situation. It comes and goes — some years she'll remember it's just a thing in the past, other times she'll impatiently wait until he messages and she can breathe again.

It's been years and she wishes she could lie to herself and say she has moved on, but deep down she knows she still holds the door ajar when it comes to Taichi.

Only when it comes to him.

—

She's one to go all in, there's no doubt in her heart or mind when she falls in love. But just as it's easy for herself to spot when she is, it becomes as simple to understand when she's fallen out of love.

It's when she starts going back to those ill cycles of what could've been's that she comprehends something has broke. It's when she starts looking for Taichi's name in the midst of all the other hundreds when she uploads a photo, or when seeing other people in his pictures bring back that uneasy feeling inside her chest. That's when she knows she's not in love anymore.

She knows it's wrong to leave something current, something real, for the idea of someone that she has no way of knowing if it coincides with the reality of the facts. Mimi has no way of knowing who Taichi is at thirty-one years old because all she's known of him in the past ten years have been videos filmed by other people, parties she's seen him go to, gossip coming from old friends or her parents.

And she's been single for a year now, ever since the thought of him had come back to haunt her in the last months of her previous relationship. What good was keeping someone around just because she felt lonely by herself? How could she wholeheartedly love this person if in dreams she kept revisiting other faces she once knew?

The truth has never left Mimi's lips, sealed and rosy and fuller on her bottom one. Embarrassment lingers on the pit of her stomach when she remembers the last straw that brought her relationship to cliff's edge (she hasn't talked about it to her therapist either, too ashamed to bring it up).

She wishes she wouldn't hope for rekindled flames but she does. Scenarios fill up her mind during break at work, she checks her phone more often as if she's about to receive a text from him (she never does). Memories come flocking back to those early spring afternoons when they had found each other again and to the summer nights when their encounters had become mature enough to learn about one another over whispered breaths and sweaty skin.

And then when it's late at night it's the thought of him that knocks over frames of unknown people sharing an uncanny resemblance to the two of them (you never see their faces, only shots of long cinnamon hair and tanned, athletic skin). So the muffled whispers become echos of memories she brings to life, her own hands the ghosts of Taichi's thick fingers unlocking her until the moans become louder than the sound coming from her laptop.

She's sprawled on her bed, soft cotton sheets undone just as much as she is. When she checks her phone again, her lockscreen is just as empty as usual.

—

Mimi has no idea of how coincidences work, she swears that sometimes nothing happens for the longest years and then, all of the sudden, a peculiar map is drawn out of many fortuitous episodes spanning seemingly ordinary days.

"No way?" Says a young woman with the sweetest voice she's ever heard of (Mimi used to be jealous of it, too, compared to the screeching-high pitch that comes with her own one).

And she was out shopping for the exact reason why she would've met them just short of a week from now, endlessly trying to find a good outfit but never seeing anything she particularly likes when she studies herself in the mirror.

So she's given up, resolved that she'll just order something online and then re-list it in case it doesn't work (she's currently been getting a kick out of the pre-loved market) and so has headed to the grocery store where - gym shorts and oversized Reputation tour t-shirt - bare faced she's getting some fresh cucumbers.

Koushiro is hand in hand with Hikari and god if it feels weird to see them like that, the last time she's met Hikari must've been in 2007 or some time around that, which means she must've been fifteen then while now she's a full fledged adult that has consensual sex with Koushiro and she's spiralling again and Mimi say something!

"Oh my god?"

She's actually laughing because of course out of all people to meet with two cucumbers in hand and a Taylor Swift shirt on she would be meeting his sister and his best friend. But, deep down, she's also laughing at how ironic it all is, the world and its counterclockwise antics.

"Do you always come to this supermarket?" And it's so Koushiro to go straight to the point, without spending time on too many courtesies, that Mimi almost feels at home again.

"Sometimes," Mimi confirms, "veggies are fifteen percent off on Sundays." It's the lamest thing she could ever come up with — although, to be fair, veggies are fifteen percent off on Sundays and it helps to save some money when one does all the experimenting that Mimi cooks up in her kitchen.

Still, she can't believe she's feeling flustered in front of Koushiro of all people. She used to make fun of him. She should get a grip. She needs to say something without falling into the name-dropping trap.

"I told you! —" Hikari peeps at Koushiro, poking a delicate finger against his chest. Mimi hates that it's the cutest thing she's seen in the past three months. "— We should come here more often even if it's a little farther from home!" She turns to Mimi now. Her eyes are kind and they are just a tad bit lighter from being the perfect shade of warm, chocolate brown. Mimi hates that she thinks that, too. "He moved in the neighborhood in June, we're still trying to figure our way around."

"I can share some places I found if you'd like," says Mimi, a little dumbfounded. "It's not that many, I moved here last September — I mean, two years ago. With work I'm away a lot so it's taken me a bit longer to find the right spots around here."

"See, it takes a while to become acquainted with a new place," Koushiro hushes Hikari, eyebrows raised at first and then the smuggest smile breaking in right after. It's there for just a moment, long enough for his girlfriend to catch it and respond with one of her own, before he turns back to Mimi. "You travel much?" He asks, in that Koushiro way that makes him constantly look uninterested while everyone who knows him understands he's anything but.

"I traveled a bit more when we were shooting the previous format, but I've just been to London three months ago for this new one we're working on now," she explains, not even sure how acquainted they are with her job. It's been a while, but they do follow each other on socials. She knows Koushiro works in IT in a big corporate company while Hikari is teaching kindergarten, so they must remember to some extent that she's working behind the scenes in television. At least she hopes they do.

"That must be so nice," Hikari chimes back in, all smiles and feet pointed up. "Please do share your suggestions when you have some free time, we would love to check out some new places!"

"He wouldn't," says Mimi before being able to stop herself, looking at Koushiro and grinning. It's muscle memory, and it brings her (and Koushiro) back to that time when they were in their early twenties and they used to hang around each other so much they forgot there was a time when they weren't even friends.

Then they drifted, she gave up, he picked his side (it wasn't hers).

Hikari smiles again, laughing at the joke and poking an unamused Koushiro to his side now. "Shut up," he grunts, then turns to look at the rows of cookies faking an immense interest in those.

"We can invite Miyako too, it would be nice," proposes Hikari, and Mimi is already dreading what she knows is going to come up next.

The air feels rare now, a sense of anxiety climbing from the middle of her stomach up to her chest. It crawls until it reaches the pit of her throat, but she's still able to fake a smile and say "Sure!" just before Hikari follows up. "Taichi doesn't work far from here either, he comes by sometimes after work when I'm also there. He says he does it so he sees me but I know he really just wants to eat Koushiro's mom's leftovers."

Mimi doesn't get melancholic. She doesn't show any of the uneasiness and its claws keeping her still, frozen in her spot. Instead she nods. "They're some damn good leftovers," she agrees, then looks down on her cucumbers.

She should go, she says. Koushiro turns back to the two women, he gently hovers a hand over the small of Hikari's back. The younger one looks up to him and reserves for him the most affectionate look Mimi has ever seen in her life. He reciprocates and they're the first to turn away after the courtesies and the round of goodbyes, we'll see you very soon, I'll text you later!

It's only when she's taking the long way home, amidst the way too hot weather of that late July afternoon, that she thinks they're probably one of the best suited couple she knows.

She loves love (she misses love).

—

He texts once when she's twenty-three and it makes her so upset that that time she just flips him off because how could he think they're fine and she'd be ok with him casually making an innuendo to compliment her appearance?

Was it really that casual?

—

She ends up opting for a black Saint Laurent satin short dress with spaghetti straps that can work well for dinner and drinks too. It would also work well if anyone was to travel with their hands up her skirt, but that's another one of those thoughts she'll keep buried until the rest of her time on earth.

This time the notification coming from the group chat shows up on her lock screen. She chuckles because it's very Daisuke, and maybe she really should follow him back.

WHO DOESN'T TAKE A PIC WHEN THEY MEET AFTER NOT HAVING SEEN EACH OTHER IN AGES?!

She sits on the arm of her grass-toned couch. She thinks twice before sending, and when she does she leaves the phone there on the pillows for a while.

I don't want to spoil my good looks to those I still haven't seen since I was a teenager
Gotta make an impression in person 👑

It almost makes her nauseous how much a single text makes her feel like she's back her younger self.

—

Sometimes she misses the person she was before. Before they grew up, before the unexpected parts of life happened and she became one just like many others: more doubtful, second guessing, a bit anxious.

She looks in the mirror and no longer sees herself as beautiful. She may be pretty, sure, but what does she have that stands out in that sea of beautiful models, peculiar faces, unexpected traits that she meets everyday?

Maybe she shouldn't have started a career in media — maybe if she just kept to her small neighbourhood, where living in the States for a few years was such a privileged experience that the majority could only dream of, maybe she would still be Mimi and she would still be beautiful.

She had come to the harsh realisation that she wasn't, in fact, as special as her parents had her believe to be. The first failure she encountered in her life as a young adult had probably shaken her way more than it would have anyone who didn't grow up in such a sheltered space.

She used to believe she was princess of some spectacular world, confidence rimmed each of her edges, harmonious and delicate.

She's sharper now, her cheeks not as full as they once were when she painted the tips the warmest pink and drew the most perfect black line to elongate her almond eyes.

Her honey irises are all the same, maybe lacking the spark that made her look constantly vivacious, sometimes mischievous. Their golden specks now perfectly catch the warm tone of a late summer day, with a touch of maturity that makes them somewhat melancholic at times, if someone takes the time to notice, if someone knew her before.

She had dyed her hair so many colors, so many shades, at one point she just forgot which one was the correct answer to someone asking about her real features.

She has taken a liking to wear a very light brown now. It's grown up, so faded you might mistake it for a dusty blonde. She believes it fits her, the reality is she doesn't know how to be special anymore if she goes back to her roots and lets go of all that effort to look different.

—

Do you need a ride?

Did you buy a driver's license on the dark web?

Fuck you

Mimi actually giggles. It feels nice to talk again.

Am I third wheeling?
I don't think I'll be able to take it if I'm third wheeling you
It's against nature

It's what you deserve after all the third wheeling 👉 I 👈 have had to endure because of you

It was only a couple of months

Yeah a couple of months
Every other year

She missed Koushiro, but they pick it up right from where they had left each other, sarcastic comments from his side and insufferable comebacks on her part. Mimi wonders if he catches the subtext of her messages, and she believes he does (he might be a bit tone deaf when it comes to relationships, sure, but he's still one of the smartest guys she knows). If he really knows, though, there's no signal to indicate it.

For real tho
Am I the only one you're picking up?

Yes
You're the only one who lives close by
But if you want to take the train then
Be my guest

She doesn't know what she was expecting, or if she was wishing for a particular answer. All she knows is she's sighing of relief, again feeling as if an heavy mass has just been lifted from her chest. Just as she'd done countless of times during that same afternoon, she goes back to her purchase email for a second, reads the transaction total for her dress once again and tiredly wipes her face with a hand. Then it's back to the messaging chat once more.

😚
You missed me

(She's the one that has missed him the most.)

—

They arrive late.

Which is great in hindsight, because that way she doesn't need to be the one there awkwardly standing at the door of the restaurant and waiting for it to be her turn to say hi to him.

"We're here!" She drags the letters, shouts the whole thing while half-ass running towards the table where the rest of them are already sitting down. The heels she's wearing are only a couple of centimetres high, but she's not risking any sprained ankles this time, not even with Jyou there at the table with them.

In all truth, it is her fault if they are the last ones to get there. She couldn't decide if she should wear her hair up or down, which purse to pick, if earrings were too much or not (down, the hot pink one, they were). In the end she only has a small gold necklace to frame her collarbone, the dress (it fits, thank God) does the rest.

She can't put down into words the feeling that pervades her. It has probably been almost twenty years since the last time they all sat together at a table. It might not have been that long since she last saw them singularly, of course, but the unique feeling remains the same.

Of course Daisuke is sitting at the head of the table. Mimi giggles between herself, she can imagine how that conversation has played out. Hikari has already taken the free spot the younger kids have left for her next to the mind behind the reunion that is finally taking place. She is exchanging hellos with them while Daisuke is shooting a "caring is sharing!" at Koushiro, who's filling the empty seat next to Miyako, and this time Mimi laughs out loud.

"Hot damn!" Whistles Takeru, standing between Hikari and Miyako, right before he hugs Mimi. She has to make the round to reach the other side of the table, no other free spots left on the side facing the entrance. "You were right with the no spoiler thing!" he adds and she laughs, having already forgotten that flash of an old version of her coming through.

"Gotta keep creative to keep young!" She replies fast. So accustomed to cunning comebacks, she takes the time to hug the rest of the younger friends, notices how Ken is sitting next to Daisuke and Iori and actually pretty far from Miyako.

"How come you're here all alone?" She asks him, already guessing this wasn't any of his choice.

"It's a reunion! There's no point in people living together sitting next to each other today!" Explains an ever smart Daisuke, confirming her suppositions and not letting Ken say a word before he's done with his truth. "Miyako agreed I wouldn't make any new friends if I sat next to her," adds Ken, a bit defeated but otherwise grateful for the welcoming atmosphere he's found.

Mimi had wondered if anyone else would bring their significant others, but a quick look at the table when she had entered the restaurant had confirmed her that Ken was, indeed, the only outsider of their group. (Not that this answers any of her late night doubts).

It really is classic Miyako to not let anyone feel left out and Mimi likes Ken, so it doesn't really feel very strange to have him there with them. Mimi thinks she recalls her friend telling her about introducing Ken to those of them she had kept in touch with — most of the people present at the table, knowing her.

She's hugging Iori and stretching her arm toward Miyako now, squeezing her hand while she's already turning to the left, where Yamato and Jyou have left a space for her to sit down, with Sora peeking behind a very tall shoulder belonging to Jyou and beaming at her.

Mimi screeches, Sora's the first she reaches out for. Completely dismissing the two men before her, Mimi jumps to her childhood friend; they hug tightly, twisting arms and squeezing bodies. Sora smells like delicate flowers and her hair is longer now, it reaches just below her collarbone and it's parted in the middle with cute curtain bangs to frame her heart-shaped face.

Mimi takes a couple of seconds to look at her, hands intertwined just like they were for many summers when they were little. She scrunches up her nose, smiles at Sora who's smiling back at her even with her eyes. She had missed her (she had missed her wedding because of her inability to keep things around). Mimi knows that if she wasn't so full of excitement and adrenaline because of all those memories and feelings coming back all at once, her eyes would probably water without much effort.

"You're so hot, I can't believe you're a married woman now," she says, goes for the comedic relief. "Now I wanna get bangs again," she laments and then hugs Sora once more.

"Shut up, look at you. You're incredible." The older one replies and Mimi wants to believe her, but she waves a hand (the free one, the other is still holding onto Sora's) and lies with her head on the shoulder of the older girl.

"So here we have Mr. Takenouchi," she jokes while pointing at Yamato with her chin.

"That he is," agrees Sora.

Yamato is somewhat pissed Mimi has completely ignored him just moments before, or at least that's how she reads his resting bitch face. It's what she tells him. "It never gets old," and she grins.

"What does?" He replies, arms crossed over his chest. His brow is cocked and Mimi thinks that aging suits Yamato, whose hair grows now a little darker than it had when he was twenty but with his blue eyes all the same, just softer.

It was almost scary how otherworldly handsome he used to be. Mimi now finds him, if possible, more beautiful but in a down to earth way. It must be Sora's love, she thinks, to have softened him.

"Your resting bitch face, Barbie." She sees exactly that softness in the way that he cracks up the faintest smile while hearing the nickname she offers him; Mimi can't help but smirk back at him before turning to Jyou next to him.

He's still wearing specs but this time they're not too big for his face. They frame his good looks perfectly and she notices the most delicate wrinkles on his forehead over his eyebrows. His hair is tidy and pulled back on one side and it fits the light blue shirt he's wearing. Mimi would kiss the top of his head if only he wasn't (has always been) too tall for her. She settles for a hug - tight on her part, unexpected on his.

"How are you so strong?" Bewildered he asks. She shoots him a frightening look.

"To make you fear me," she says. Then she knows it's time.

It would be a lie to say she hasn't ignored him and his spot for the past minutes. It has all been deliberate, and she finds herself lost now, that claustrophobic sense of anxiety building up in her stomach makes her believe, for a second, she won't be able to turn around and face him.

But she does, as she's done it so many times before.

He's there and anxiety turns to something else entirely. It grows from the pit of her stomach to her very core, heart stopping its beating in the middle of her chest for just a second.

He's tanned and tall, wide shoulders and strong hands. His hair is pulled back, shorter than it had been when he was younger and he used to tie it up, shorter than it had been when he was a teenager, mop of brown locks covering his forehead.

There are faint lines carving the place where dimples appear over his shaven skin. Lines around the corner of his lips as well. His eyebrows are thicker, darker than the locks of hair she knows has turned to a lighter brown near its edges because of the summer sun. His eyes are round, a little upturned on their inner corners. They look attentive, turning to mischievous only when his irises find hers. Yet they're cheerful, and at the same time more composed than they've been in the past.

"Hey," he says, familiar and warm.

"Hey," she answers, breathy but sure.

She steals glances at him during dinner.

They went for a shabu shabu restaurant so it's natural to reach for the center of the table. They all exchange bites, she prepares some extra spicy meat to leave on Jyou's plate before he realizes a little too late that he shouldn't really trust her that much — they all laugh, even Sora tries to stifle her giggles while she pats Jyou's back.

He once told her she was brilliant, but she doesn't wonder what he thinks of her now.

There are so many inputs, so many voices talking and shouting and bursting out laughing to be enough so that all intrusive thoughts are erased and Mimi can enjoy the conversations, and the food, and her friends, without any worry. There will be time for that later, later in the week, later when she's more sober.

She pierces a piece of meat just as Taichi is about to do the same. He's ready to lament it.

"That was mine!" With a whine that is all too similar to those that used to come from a much younger Mimi. Her smirk is wide, she's ready to bite the meat and challenge its flaming hot temperature just to prove a point. He stops her knowing just what she's about to do.

"You're going to burn your tongue!" His hand is embracing her wrist now, a gesture that would've taken more thought if made with no presence of alcohol in their systems. It's likely he notices it's the first time they're touching since forever, but Mimi's drunk on confidence much more so than on the few drinks she's had and cheekiness sweeps her back as a magnet, having lost her for way too long.

"So what?" Her smile is challenging, she can't help but wander with her eyes over the line of his mouth, full and tanned. His teeth are showing now, Taichi unable to resist a grin of his own before biting his tongue and reverting his gaze back down on the piece of meat.

"Nothing," he replies, eyebrows lifted and expression amused after having fallen into the same trap that got Mimi just a moment earlier. His eyes linger not on her honey pair, but a little lower, where her lips keep themselves stretched in a challenging line.

Once upon a time this would've been the perfect opportunity for Koushiro to grunt at them - forever annoyed at their constant flirting. But he's turned towards Miyako, laughing alongside her, and no matter Mimi's sitting right in front of him, or that Taichi is on his side, he doesn't notice the exchange.

Or maybe it's because they're older now and their ways a bit more guarded, silence more prominent in the cracks of their attraction. They don't make it as obvious as they once did, it is only reminiscent of the times when they were so loud it was almost insufferable.

It's in the pauses between one line and the next, in the way he holds onto her wrist for a moment too long for it to not be deliberate. It's in the way her stomach makes a knot and forces her to skip a breath before taking all air in at once as soon as he lets go.

All the little details add to the embroidery of her memories shared with Taichi, that piece of art she has never been able to undo. Now it comes back to life, threads once loose finding shape one more time.

She eats the bite and it's tasty and it makes her wonder how it'd be with some jam over it. She's reminded that life is good when she spends time with friends of a lifetime, that she shouldn't just wonder how it'd be to meet up again but instead she should pick up the phone and be the one to reach out.

She shouldn't be so scared of hearing a no instead of a yes. Things are never so final, fluctuating instead in between moments in time.

That little exchange gets to her head more than she would've liked.

She had wished tonight could've been the proof that she'd grown, that she could finally see him without expecting, without wondering, without feeling — and yet here she is, leaning with the side of her head over Takeru's shoulder while he puffs out a cloud of smoke, casually looking at Taichi a couple of steps away from them.

And she feels, she wonders, she expects him to look at her the same way she looks at him: incidentally, nonchalantly.

"— Yamato can't bitch about this because he does it too and I know about it," says Takeru. Mimi chuckles and Sora, on Taichi's side, surrenders her hands up.

Takeru turns the roll-up he's smoking toward Mimi, who refuses it with a smile and a shake of her head. Then she leaves a little kiss on Takeru's shoulder, there in the spot where she was leaning just a few moments ago, as a way of appreciating the offer she's just turned down.

The majority of them, who had momentarily left the restaurant to blow some breaths of smoke, have already gone back to the table. Jyou had never left, nor had Yamato, which prompted Takeru to deliberately disrespect his brother is the most lovingly way possible.

"In his defence," says Sora, "it helps with the anxiety," and it's cute the way she fights for him when he's not there. Mimi wonders how much of their growth she's missed, and how much more was still waiting for the two of them. Are they already at the finishing line? Or are they, just like her, trying to swim through the changes of being older?

Maybe not, she thinks. If they are so sure of each other to be able to make such a decision as getting married, then maybe their ocean isn't as deep and as wild as the one she's challenging. Maybe the water of their sea is tempered and calm, it lulls them with the familiarity and strength of their bond.

"You just don't have to overdo it or you'll end up all weird and alone," Taichi jokes on Takeru's way, but he should've known better.

"Do you mean or I'll end up like you?" Takeru grins, then blows his last breath of smoke up in the air and laughs between himself, leaving Sora with Mimi and Taichi just as the latter is about to retort how "I've had plenty of girlfriends!"

"Situationships," Sora corrects him.

Mimi doesn't know if it's because she's there and they're technically talking about her among the others, or if Sora is actually working on a plan she's not been shared in the details of, but the redhead leaves after Takeru and it's back to Mimi and Taichi, alone just outside the restaurant.

Taichi's answer is feeble, yet loud enough to make Mimi's stomach contort for a second. "Catherine was —" and then he stops, likely suddenly aware of the silence around them. Cars are flashing through the night farther in the distance, but the two of them feel safe behind the walls of plants that shield them from the bustling city.

It takes a moment for Mimi to turn her head up. Drops of melancholia paint the irises on her small face, yet she gathers strength and determination when she looks at him. Her eyebrows are raised in a menacing way.

"Don't make it weird," she says. She doesn't know where that comes from.

"I'm not," he's defensive, she sees the dimple in his cheek coming back visible and she knows he's biting it from the inside. He's always had the tendency to laugh when embarrassed.

It makes her smile although she shouldn't.

"Stop it!" She whines, he bites his lips now.

"I'm not doing anything!" Taichi tries to defend himself, not excelling in the job.

"You're always doing something!" She bites back, eyebrows raised and lips pursed in a doomed attempt to stifle a smile.

"What am I doing now?!" This time he's almost incredulous, although all signs point to her being right.

"I don't know, you're — you're you and you're here!" Mimi is gesturing now, hands all up in the air trying to make sense where there's a lack thereof. It's like she's painting his figure with the movements of her fingers, trying to shade his image in the background.

Taichi chuckles and Mimi thinks, once her arms fall down on her sides, that only if for a moment he was meaning to reach out for her while she was moving. But then his hand naturally closes on itself, becoming a fist before he stretches up his fingers once again.

It's the closest they've come to talk about it in years.

"How long were you two together?" She's the first to surrender. To curiosity and to him.

And she goes right into what she's never been able to digest: how it failed with her but it worked with someone else, someone completely out of their circle, the perimeter they knew so well. It had her wonder about the ways she was not the right one for him, about what made her imperfect in his eyes, not worth the effort.

Or maybe he was just too young and stupid to realize his actions could have such an impact on her sense of self. Either way.

"A little short of one year and a half, something like this."

Mimi knows he's earnest by the way he holds her gaze. Taichi is still, fit shoulder prepped against the column of a gazebo. He's wearing a dark blue linen shirt that he keeps unbuttoned around the neck and over his collarbone. It falls nicely over his shoulders and chest, and Mimi finds herself distracted, as well as taken aback when he questions her before she's able to do so herself.

"How old was he?" Taichi asks and she knows he's wondering about her ex boyfriend. It had been her only long term relationship she'd had after him, the only one she'd made somehow public.

She feels less lonely now, knowing she's not the only one to have caved to curiosity. It sparks back the thought, but mostly the hope, that at least once he's thought about her just as she's wondered about him.

"Forty-one," there's no shame in admitting it and Taichi doesn't let any particular emotion come through his otherwise calm expression. He nods, reverts his gaze back on his hand and he seems to be thinking.

She thinks as well. About the way her last relationship ended and the role that Taichi, unknowingly, had played in it. He turns out to be more daring than her, now just like he'd done many times before over the years.

"What happened?" He asks, but this time Mimi can't bring herself to be fully honest. She shakes her shoulders, takes a few steps around the spot where she'd been standing. She sways back and forth until she reminds herself she's not so young anymore to be wasting time lost in herself in the presence of others.

"A twelve years difference is a lot," she simply says and leaves the rest up to his guesses. He goes on.

"And at first?" He pushes against Mimi's silent intentions. There's no need to remind herself she has the choice to keep it all to herself; she's already replying, bold and direct, before reason can urge her to not share anything more than what she's already done.

"He was older, more stable. I didn't mind his age and he didn't mind mine because we got along well." A familiar feeling of emptiness travels back to her throat, Mimi holding Taichi's gaze just as he'd done with her a second before.

She had to readjust to a life she had left on pause after breaking up with her last boyfriend. Finding herself single after two years had brought back a routine that didn't feel familiar anymore, she had had to find herself into a normality that was once shared, into thoughts louder and more prominent than ever. Mimi had grieved something that her own two hands had broken, sometimes still missing the domesticity of counting on a person that was just hers.

"He liked to cook." She finally adds with a timid smile.

It sounds final. She takes a deep yet reserved breath before she smiles back at Taichi, too. Mimi doesn't wait for any type of apologizing acknowledgement from his part, and she wouldn't need it anyway. He's not one to share much about his feelings, she's learned it the hard way and one might argue that, in her softness, she protected herself by doing just the same when it came to him.

Taichi's lips are parted now, waiting for who knows what before speaking. And in the wait Daisuke, Ken, Yamato and Hikari come in, sweeping them back into foreign conversations and away from the intimacy they had briefly built for each other.

Mimi takes a glance at him, notices how his lips now close against each other. He doesn't give the rest of the group half of himself and neither does she, attracted to his stance more than to whatever discussion is going on between Yamato and Daisuke now. Their gaze is interlocked and, even if for a second, Mimi swears she sees what she guesses might be the ghost of regret on Taichi's warm irises, momentarily colder.

Ken turns to her, tells her that Miyako was looking for her and that's Mimi's cue to revert her gaze back to the interlocutor. She feels silly, sure that Taichi's stare has remained on her although she has no way of knowing, not until she allows herself one last glance his way. His hands are deep in his pockets now, jaw stretched and burning look. She wonders if her cheek redden, but she's too close to him, and to Yamato, and to Daisuke to not raise any questions if she were to ask Ken about their state.

"I'm going back inside," she thanks the latter, sure in her mind Miyako would be waiting for her to finally have some time to chat. But Mimi's destination is the powder room and she has to lock herself inside the modernly designed and nicely scented stall to grant herself thirty seconds of silence, of detachment.

If she hovers her hand on her chest she can find an unsteady beating, with blood pumping fast. It's all dizzy, with the weight of buried emotions coming back to the surface and heaving on her shoulders. Silly as she is, the burning look she had caught in Taichi's eyes make her mind wonder how it'd be like if she would find him outside the bathroom door — but when she leaves it, he's not there waiting.

But at the same time, he is always there — and if he isn't he's the one she's looking for.

In between jokes, and giggles, and breaths, Mimi prints photographs of Taichi in her mind. In no way she is distracted, taking all moments in and not letting anything pass her by. She treasures the dinner she's sharing with her longtime friends as the most valuable time she's spending since a long time, but all the same she find herself naturally inclined to seek him.

He looks for her too, she notices that. Blood rushes to her rosy cheeks whenever she looks up to find that his eyes are already fixed on her face, her eyes, her lips, her body. It's hard for Mimi to ignore the way her lips fight to curl up when that happens — and Miyako doesn't fail to notice it either.

"You know it's noticeable," she is blunt and direct, in the same way she's always been. Miyako looks at Mimi with a calm demeanor that hardly matches her otherwise snappy voice. Mimi has a drink in her hand and is sitting with her friend by the bar of the restaurant.

"Not doing anything," she lies. Miyako sips her drink through the straw, looks at her now raising the pair of thick eyebrows that bring out the dark color of her roots, contrarily dyed into a faded purple on the ends. It's been years since she last fully dyed her hair, most likely since a year after she started dating Ken.

"It's not a bad thing," Miyako goes on.

"What isn't?" Mimi's honestly lost, unable to predict where Miyako is headed with her thoughts. She looks at her, higher on the last drink she's sipping than how she'd like to be. So things move slower although they're fast, words take time before they take meaning.

"Wanting him still."

It's so easy when it's someone else saying it. Coming from Miyako seems to make the concept as light as a feather, yet Mimi lets her head lop down to her shoulder, therefore sending a sideways look at her friend. She's naturally more reluctant than the younger woman to admit something as crucial as that.

"You know it is," She finally replies, but Miyako seems to be having none of it.

She rolls her eyes, then finishes her drink in one gulp. Mimi oppresses a chuckle, finding it impossible to not notice the comedic side of her close friend.

"Oh, please! What's the worst that can happen? You sleep with him one more time. Is it that bad?"

Mimi thinks it is, but this time she keeps her mouth shut, at least at first. Then can't help but share her nonsense with Miyako, knowing fully well that she'll be shouting in a matter of seconds.

"You don't know if he wants to sleep with me."

Miyako seems speechless at first, then her eyebrows shoot up in a highly skeptical manner, together with her eyes becoming wider, which are made even bigger by the thick lenses of her specs. "Do you want to try on my prescription glasses? I think you need them." She says then, incredulous but nonetheless bratty as Mimi loves her to be (not so much right now though, not as usual).

Miyako's logic tries to crack through the wall of denial that Mimi confines herself into in a failing attempt to protect herself from what she's convinced will be an eventual disappointment. She's kept her feelings, her thoughts, her hopes to herself for so long she's lost all words needed to explain them.

There's not a world in which she'd be able to express how long she'd been convinced that at one point it would've been her and Taichi, just as she'd waited for an occasion such as the one happening this night to come around. It would make her too silly, too hopeless and far from the girl she decided to become. Except she hardly recognizes herself lately, confidence fading into uncertainty.

She had felt independent after coming to terms with the end of her supernova romance with Taichi. She had felt empowered by herself, surrounded by a life she'd built after graduating from her studies. Her job, her way through a new career, the house she'd filled with taste and memorabilia from her travels: everything added up to Mimi as a flourishing twenty-something year old — until she started craving for the last piece of adulthood she had been missing.

That's when a relationship had come in, but even that had crumbled down together with all the rest of her convictions. One by one, bricks falling and leaving her to be nothing but a frame of what she once was, who she wished she'd be, and all the space in between.

So, when Miyako tries to deconstruct her fears in the hopes of building a more analytical angle, the ivy that covers Mimi's walls tightens its grip around them. She's left frozen, listening still to the words of the friend.

"From the way I see it, either you two realize it's over or you decide to make it work for once." Miyako's logic is usually flawless, especially when applied to other people and not her own self. Her eyes aren't on Mimi now, rather looking from a distance for Taichi, who's still sitting at the table with the rest of their friends. "You're frustrating when you do this," she soon adds, moments before reverting her attention back to Mimi, "and he was looking at you."

That seems to be the key to Miyako's point, and she looks definitely smug because of it, too. In any other scenario Mimi would grunt out of frustration, this time she turns her head away from Miyako's gaze in an attempt to hide the smile that she's biting from the inside of her mouth.

And if Miyako's key is so clear, the one the Mimi's missing is the same that would have her reach the comprehension that her wishes had never been too far off reality, that she really had the power to make something she'd dreamed would happen come true. Hadn't she in the past fantasized about a reunion much similar to the one happening in that same moment?

"Stop being so thick," is Miyako's last suggestion, and this time the taller friend does leave an affectionate kiss over Mimi's temple, covered by loose locks of wavy hair.

Easier said than done (but Mimi perceives her chest a bit less heavy now, almost encouraged).

She doesn't really hover around Taichi, but they do have a way of circling one another as if they were satellites of each other's planets.

It's casual (and at the same it isn't at all) how they keep ending up together between one group discussion and the next. She's eaten some more, drank a little less, and words, just like shapes, are clearer than before.

Sora's sitting on Yamato's lap, Jyou on their side deep into conversation with the two of them. All of them have reshuffled around the big table that is hosting the group, and Taichi takes advantage of the vacancy in the seat next to her. Mimi has found herself into a little nest of temporary solitude after all their younger friends had sat up to go get another round of fresh air.

She welcomes him with a smile brighter than before, as if her conversation with Miyako has made her a little less self conscious of every single movement and reaction she has in his regards. Taichi smiles back, now sitting closer to her than how he had been standing earlier, when they had found themselves alone together outside the restaurant.

His eyes fall on the length of her wavy hair, and he keeps silent for a couple of breaths before finally speaking. "I like your hair when it's lighter," Taichi says, taking Mimi by surprise. It's the first time she hears a compliment coming from him without any trace of lust since she was younger. His expression is peaceful, his voice soothing.

So different than the daring looks she's used to, Mimi's first reaction is to reach for something simpler, something more recognizable. So she jokes, digs for what was once there and now isn't (she's no longer the cocky Mimi he once knew, he's no longer the impulsive Taichi she once liked).

"So you don't like it when it's darker?" And it really doesn't come as easy as she thought it would, especially when his response consists of a disoriented look that turns into a pout.

"That's not what I said!" He defends himself by lifting his hands up. She grabs them before she can become aware of their touch.

Taichi's hands are rough, yet warm. She envelopes both his palms with her own tiny ones, a feather-light touch that doesn't seem forced nor inappropriate. It lets her and Taichi slowly and spontaneously ease back into that more physical aspect of the bond they once harvested. "It's okay, I'm just messing with you," Mimi reassures him, soft and delicate just like her touch.

He squeezes her hands and, if only for an instant, he becomes the one to hold her instead of the other way round. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the touch fades through the distance that rests between their traveling hands.

Mimi's breath is deep, it makes her feel much like at the end of her sessions with her therapist. That sensation in her chest, as if it had been completely emptied or mended, it's hard to pinpoint which of the two. Now she listens to Taichi before reverting her gaze up toward his squared face.

"When I think of you I have you in mind with that pink hair you used to wear." He had never confessed and this seems, to Mimi, much more intimate than any other praise she'd heard about herself coming from him over the years. He is traveling with his eyes all over her clean face now, to her hair and then back into her eyes. "I liked it," he concludes, soft gaze over hers.

The light over the table illuminates him just enough so that the warm chocolate of his irises gets more visible than ever. Mimi drowns in that warmth and in the curve of his eyelashes. He looks more mature, sincere in the look that he gives her and it prompts Mimi to gather the courage to do just the same.

"Me too," she says then, with no pretence and no regrets. It's like celebrating a version of herself that had been important, vital for her growth. This time she greets her fondly, with less melancholy or nostalgia. It's freeing now, being able to converse, maybe even joke, without putting too much weight on the past she shares with Taichi and that has anchored Mimi to a version of herself, and him, that is now long gone.

Perhaps Taichi is following her same flow and that's the reason why he stretches his hand forward to gently brush her hair. "But I like this color too. It suits you," his smile is little, unlike his usual bare teeth grin. This time his lips curve up on one side whilst his index finger turns and turns until a strand of Mimi's hair is tangled lazily around it.

Mimi's eyes are fixed on that peculiar sculpture. "You think so?" She asks him, vaguely distracted before finding his gaze once again.

"Mmh-mmh," Taichi confirms, voice low and reverberating hoarse in his throat. Mimi's heart falters, her hands this time craving his touch one more time. But she doesn't move, instead she tries to stabilize what she feels is an unsteady beating inside her chest, almost threatening. "You look brighter when it's lighter," he goes on to explain, his hand now fully embracing strands of her hair instead of limiting itself to only one lock.

Mimi feels dizzy. Absentmindedly she wonders how it'd be if he was to hold her locks tighter, how it would feel to sense his palm over her head, fingers pulling against it in a mess of hair and lust. Her eyelashes idly flutter once, then twice, before her softer side sweeps her in, incredulous in front of such tenderness that's impregnating into Taichi's words.

"I'm sorry," he says, too. Her eyes are wide, astonished.

"It's been a long time," is all Mimi gets around to say. It is almost ironic how in all her scenarios, all her fantasies, she had never considered even one where Taichi would apologize to her. And it leaves her lost, unable to predict what could come next, how to respond. He shakes his head, keeps playing with her hair.

"It doesn't change the fact that I was an asshole. I'm sorry."

His sincerity is striking, Mimi speechless. She watches Taichi hold her gaze without letting go of her long, thick hair, and wonders how it could be so easy for him to bring back to the surface something that she had been working years on burying.

And at the same time, hasn't it been so easy for her to drown herself once again into the sea of attraction she feels for him? What changes? Perhaps only the way he's able to be brave enough to put it into words, instead of playing on the unsaid and the lingering feelings.

So, if he's already there, she tries to learn from him.

"I didn't fight for it, either." Even if too late, that's when she realizes it. It had taken her years, and now the words flow out of her mouth right into Taichi's awareness as the best kept secret, worthy just of him. Mimi tilts her head to the side now, cascade of hair falling to cover his whole hand. She smiles at him with the smallest drop a weary glimpse now tinting her irises.

"I wasn't a good enough reason back then." How his words are simple, surrendered to the knowledge of who he was, who he'd been. At least that's what Mimi imagines while her cheeks turn up with the faintest red, Taichi's fingers now grazing the skin that is pinched simply by the heat of his hand.

And she'd be leaning even more to the side, ready to abandon her head to the grip of his palm, if it wasn't for a familiar grunt ready to distract the two of them, altogether pulling them out of their newfound haze.

"Oh, fuck me!"

Koushiro is already turning his shoulders to Mimi and Taichi, groaning away, looking for his Hikari in a brand new attempt to distance himself from something that he knows will only get worse and worse.

Time ticks fast and frenetic, moving them soon enough to the closing hours of the restaurant. It is shared, that feeling of not having had enough time to spend with each other, golden thread connecting the twelve of them.

Miyako's the one moving forward the idea of continuing their hang out in a different place. Takeru shares names of clubs. Mimi checks them out and decides where they all should head to. There are no arguments against it, the excitement buzzing between one another makes it hard for even the less daring of them to say anything that could stop the transfer.

Mimi feels a hand gently touch the small of her back once she's lowering down to get her purse left on a chair. When her face turns, Taichi is there waiting, standing beside her.

"Everything alright?" He asks, and the smallest caress hovers on the soft fabric of her dress. Mimi nods, his affectionate ways a safe harbor that she had missed.

"Just getting my purse, I'll be there in a second." She assures him, tender smile rising just for him.

"Alright," Taichi replies softly before moving away to reach the others.

But when Mimi gets to the rest of them she also gets swept away by a conversation with Sora that distracts her to the point where the older offers Mimi a ride on her car, to which Mimi agrees to with the unsurest of the sure's. Sora's hand is pulling her inside the car but Mimi's head is turned away, where Taichi is standing with a drunken Daisuke who's swearing he can drive.

The glimpse that they share is brief, yet full of longing. Mimi's eyebrows are arched in an apologizing way that's not too different from Taichi's grin. He's more hopeful, reassuring with his teeth bared and his nod. He lets her go with the tacit promise of seeing her soon enough.

The drive to the club is spent by Mimi in a haze. She's laughing with Sora about things she won't remember tomorrow, turning around from her passenger seat to reach for Takeru and steal a french fry they stopped to get at a drive thru. The music isn't much lower than the one waiting for them at the club, and everything contributes to making Mimi, and all of them really, feel feathery-light, and carefree, and young.

And at the same time she's missing him, in the breaths between giggles images of him come back to her mind. Taichi looking for her through all the rest of them, his hand entwined to her hair, his palm caressing her back. Her chest burns with the beating of her heart, fast and unsteady, his voice ringing in her ears with apologies and delicate words.

Their car is the last one to land at the nearest parking lot. Ken's motorcycle is naturally already there, with Miyako leaning over the saddle with a look that is almost bored. Ken is keeping one hand on the handle of his bike, his other arm propped over Miyako's shoulders. He leaves a kiss on the top of her head, as he points to the place where the missing group has parked their car to let her know they've arrived.

"Such a gentleman!" Mimi gets out of the car in a bubble of giggles. Takeru's hand is waiting for her after having opened her door (he had shot up and out of the car just to make the grand gesture), she takes it and trots with him on one side, and Sora on the other, elbows linked, toward the group.

Hikari mirrors them by locking her elbows with Iori and Koushiro, waiting perfectly unbothered close to her brother.

"What took you so long?" Yamato asks Sora once they approach, soft concern lining his otherwise tranquil look. Sora's bubbly and cheerful, she shakes her head and makes her bangs dance together with her messy locks.

Jyou picks it up where Yamato has left it, lifts a hand up only to smack it against Daisuke's slightly curved back. "It took you longer than us, and we had a sick boy to take care of," Jyou snickers, Daisuke grunts, and Taichi's the one to take the matter into his own hands and point with his thumb to the club behind his wide shoulders.

"Shall we?" He says, then leads them in.

She's never loved the club too much, unless she visits it with a group of friends. It's ideal now, being surrounded by her longtime friends, knowing they'll be by her side so that she won't have to worry about strangers coming up to her, unwanted.

Mimi can dance now. She sways carefree, with her heart so full. All worries are left behind, locked in the trunk of Sora's car. Part of her wishes she'll never get them back, casually thrown away instead together with almost-empty paper cups of soda they've drunk on the way to the club.

And it is almost believable when the flashing lights take her mind off her everyday headaches, making her believe to be this time, just as she had done in the past, she is the main character. Just like in one of those shows she used to watch as a teenager, the same type that she now recognizes all tricks and secrets of, her work behind the camera offering Mimi a different perspective throughout.

But at the same time it's like observing things happening from the outside. Unreal, detached, too good to be true. Like having Taichi only a few steps away from her, not behind a screen as she's become so accustomed to in the past ten years. If she wishes to, she can reach for him with her hand.

At arm's length, he seems to be leaning for her even before she makes it known she's looking for him. They don't have the best track when it comes to timing, yet now they seem to keep meeting in the middle.

Taichi is catching her hand and letting Mimi untangle herself from their rediscovered tight-knit group of friends. They sneak away to reach the bar, again, but it's only a beer the drink that he's getting. Mimi watches him order it, lets her eyes rest on his side profile. He's attentive but serene, smiles wildly at the bartender although the latter isn't exactly careful when passing him the drink that spills on Taichi's hand and on the dotted pad over the bar.

It seems that Taichi doesn't care anyway, more interested in the knot that their hands have formed than on the spills of beer on his other. His gaze caresses their entangled fingers and so would Mimi's, if only she wasn't so taken from the image of him looking at the two of them, reunited.

"Let's get some air?" He proposes, eyebrows up on his forehead making him look purposeful and positive. She can't deny him an affirmative smile of her own.

The speakers music is muffled from the outside in the secret garden on the back of the building. Few people are there, most of them smoking or lightly swaying to the beat of the music coming from inside the dark doors that just shut behind Mimi and Taichi.

Her hand feels light and bizarre as soon as she leaves Taichi's hold. She doesn't even realize she's doing so before she's standing in front of him and has to find a new occupation for her hands. She caresses the satin of her dress to fix it over her hips, shifts her gaze from his to hide how uncomfortable she's made herself feel by taking a step away from their proximity.

"Here you go," says Taichi, holding up the glass of beer only to offer it to her. Mimi looks at him positively puzzled, nonetheless smiling.

"Did you get it to share it?" She asks. She wouldn't have guessed, so used to the past him and his tendency to exaggerate his decisions, both good and bad.

"Aren't we?" He follows suit. He hasn't taken a sip yet, now that she notices.

Mimi's grin is similar to those that Taichi always bites up from the inside of his cheeks. She finds herself doing just the same, especially upon hearing what's left for him to say.

"I've drank enough already and I don't want to blackout. I'd much rather remember the rest of the night." He's casual in his line delivery and Mimi finds herself forced to take a sip of that beer if only to hide the blush of her cheeks.

So used to moving so fast, she tries hard to steady her own thoughts and soothe her tendency to let lust take over her romantic (or rational, for that matter) side. What's the use of projecting, when she can live the present in all its serendipity? Hence her eyes shoot up, while the drink lowers.

"We can share, then." Mimi agrees.

The summer air starts to feel nice now that it's well past midnight. Cooler blows of air breathe between the two of them, no matter the proximity of other people that is still much more reasonable here than how it'd be inside the club, over on the dance floor.

She would like to take a step forward and reach for his touch again, yet the burns she mended over the years prompt her to stay still. How many more signs she needs from him to convince herself that her longing is mutual she doesn't know, and maybe it's his patience the key to her door of stone.

"Thought I'd be the only one not able to," his nonchalant tone doesn't falter, and Mimi gulps down another sip before responding.

"What do you mean?" She is lost, unable to make sense of his words. Her gesture is familiar, leaving him the drink he's offered her just moments earlier. He takes the cup and doesn't miss the opportunity to graze her fingers in the way.

Taichi shakes his shoulders, Mimi lets her head fall to the side with a waterfall of blondish hair, trying not to dwell too much on the electricity of him touching her. It feels like waiting for the biggest secret to be revealed, only to find that it is much closer to the confession of a teenage boy lost in the appearance of a grown up man.

"You know, all those hugs and comments and kisses with the others…" He's dismissive now, almost shy. She would comment his uncanny resemblance to Yamato at the moment if her grin wasn't growing on her pretty face, menacing and dangerous if seen from Taichi's perspective. He should've stayed silent.

"Kisses? What kisses?" She half-laughs, already entertained by the scene. She knows Taichi, knows he's trying to play it cool by masking something that makes him look more real and human and tender in Mimi's devoted eyes.

"Nothing, I was just saying…" Taichi's attempt is cut short by Mimi's eyes getting bigger, her free hand shooting up to point at him while realization washes over her with glimpses of her affectionate ways towards an ever-cute Takeru making their way before her.

"No way you're jealous of Takeru," she breathes, bites her lower lip trying to contain the mischievous grin that wants to take her fully. She studies Taichi's moping face that for once isn't so keen on interlocking gazes with her, then words roll out her tongue like the sweetest, most amused understanding. "Oh my god, you are."

Mimi's laugh tinkles and counters the bass of the music coming from inside. Her chest warms up at the thought of Taichi harboring such a feeling, although foolish, in her regards. This time she takes a step forward, grabs the bottom of his linen shirt to catch his attention.

"You know he's a child," she says softly.

"—Demon," he corrects. Mimi chuckles and he finally looks down at her, closer than they've been earlier, even more so than while they were navigating through the people gathered around the bar of the club.

"That's your opinion on every one of Hikari's boyfriends," she notes, then adds to herself that, thankfully for him, Hikari hasn't had that many boyfriends - at least to her knowledge.

Taichi gulps down a sip of beer before he's ready to retort. "Wrong. Koushiro's a traitor, not a demon."

"Oh my god," this time Mimi laughs out loud. Her grip on his shirt becomes looser with the shakes of her amusement in contrast to Taichi's pout. Her eyes are almost watery with the hilarity of it all, its lenses making Taichi look younger to her than he really is.

"Well, it's true that you were all — kissy-huggy and affectionate," he seems to want to point it out, with Mimi not completely understanding his deal, only the funny part of it.

So she tries to draw his attention to the obvious. "It was sisterly affectionate," nothing more than it always had been. Mimi's never been able to see the younger of their bunch as adults as the rest of them had become, maybe because back then she'd always considered them the closest she had to younger siblings. Taichi marches on that exact point, but on a different direction.

"He's grown up. And he's not horrible looking." His beer is lowered down now, just like his look on her face. Mimi feels his eyes searching on her features for an answer that she doesn't have, so she lets an old habit come through.

"Cuter than Yamato I would say," she says, short and concise, with a sarcastic undertone that is nothing but a fact when it's Mimi voicing it. She doesn't shy away from Taichi's look, instead opting for a blank face that mirrors the nonsense he's perpetuating.

"You were all kissy—" He tries again nonetheless, temporarily placing the glass of beer down on the nearest windowsill.

But Mimi huffs and cuts the rest of his sentence with her own reply. "Wouldn't you want it to be you," she says without thinking too much about it, or actually not at all. The hint of a smirk lights up her sarcastic expression, her face turned up to study him better.

It's in those times that she finds herself again, in the impulsivity of her words and the warmth of his touch. "Maybe I would," says Taichi, in a second much more serious than he's been during the past few minutes. He grabs the fabric of her little dress in a way that parallels the one Mimi's painted with him.

This time around it's her turn to remain speechless, words silenced in her mouth, no longer eager to leave the safe haven that her lips are. Rather than serious, now that Mimi observes him with lips parted and eyes wide open, Taichi looks blunt but comfortable in his truth. He's placid, and she finds him cool in a way that she wishes she could be so herself.

Instead her cheeks redden and she's back to feeling like a novice in a world wider than the one she's learned to navigate. The confidence that spilled through her edges once is now a ghost she can try to bring back to life, but unsure of the result. And yet, if Taichi's able to be so straightforward with her, why can't Mimi do just about the same?

"Koushiro would say we're kissy-huggy right now," is the lamest thing she can think of, but the most earnest at the same time. And it makes Mimi chuckle, and Taichi as well, and that's what warms her up the most in the humid air of that August 1st night.

That's how Taichi's hand travels around Mimi's waist to land palm open on her back. It leads her closer to him, at once erasing that one last step that was granting her enough space to avoid him hearing the beating of her heart. Now she sees herself crash into him, grasp on his shirt fallen like her arms on each side of her body.

It takes Mimi a moment to understand Taichi is holding her in a single arm embrace, his elbow propped around her shoulders and his free hand reaching for hers. That's when she lets out a breath. She takes in the smell of Taichi's clothes, unchanged compared to the cologne he's wearing, new and mature.

For once careless, she lets her eyelids flutter then close and her cheek rest on his chest in an image of affection. Their intimacy is out of place in that small garden where all around them are strangers, yet not one of them seems to care.

What Mimi desires is to memorize the warmth of his skin, the smell of his proximity, how firm is his embrace and the weight of his chin resting over her head. When she opens up her eyes and she turns her face up, Taichi's grinning with his teeth bared.

"Bit too hot to do this in August, isn't it?" He jokes and Mimi snickers once again, this time punching a feeble fist against his chest.

She shakes her head, eyes wide and unwavering grin. "See! You always make it weird!"

Mimi doesn't say, but it isn't a bad thing at all, and in any way she's just messing with him. Taichi's always known a way to make everyone feel comfortable and part of something, even when it was the first time meeting each other. It might have been one of the reasons why, a long time ago, she had felt so mesmerized by him.

Even now, it's heartwarming to see every one of them turning to him for advice in their own special way and how Taichi still fits the role of leader of their group so well. It's not as in your face as it once was: now more muted, it has become not about physically be the first to decide where to go or what to do, but rather about being a quiet helping hand, a treasure chest full of reassurance.

She sees him hyping up an otherwise tired Jyou once they get back inside the club, offer a round of drinks to the younger bunch (Takeru and Hikari excluded by chance or by his own mischievousness). At one point, his arm is propped around Yamato's shoulder.

"Come on, let me try it!" Taichi tries to grab his wedding ring by keeping him still, or trying to.

"Not a fucking chance," is the response from the blonde one, adorned with Sora's snickers and a kiss she leaves on Yamato's lips before the latter cleverly sneaks away. Sora is left alone with Taichi's antics, now fully directed to her.

Mimi laughs while she sways and Koushiro doesn't fail to notice.

"He's not that cool, you know," he's half-shouting through the music. Mimi turns to him, always amazed at how much taller he ended up becoming from the short kid that used to avoid her back when they were little.

She shoots him a glance packed with unamusement, not too different from the scoffing one he's offering her. Then she shakes her shoulders and tries to listen to Miyako's suggestion, at least once.

"He called you a traitor thirty minutes ago," a grin sneaks up on her pretty face, molding it into a teasing and playful mask, "one might think there's some sort of feud going on between you two."

Koushiro sips his drink through the straw. It takes an instant only, but Mimi catches a flash of victory in his otherwise blank expression. "What can I say, I know how to get under his skin," he comments casually, although Mimi knows how to spot an underlining sense of confidence and pleasure in his tone.

"Or under Hikari's sheets." Her answer is irreverent and it surprises herself more than it does Koushiro, who's not as acquainted with her present self as much as with the past Mimi. It's true that he doesn't show any sign of consternation, which leads Mimi to confess. "I wish I could've seen it unfold in real time."

This time she turns to Koushiro fully and holds up a hand waiting for him to offer her his drink. He cocks a brow at her, but then parts from his glass nonetheless.

"He almost had a breakdown," he says, yet not as reluctantly as Mimi might have guessed. It's hard to crack Koushiro: his integrity a virtue, his loyalty to Taichi the reason she guesses had taken a part in their own estrangement. But now he looks relaxed as he speaks, and Mimi wonders if that isn't actually Hikari's influence over him. "By the time he realized we were a thing, we had been going out for six or seven months already."

"What?!" Mimi cries out loud ending up chocking on her sip, unable to hold her amusement but exaggerating in trying to. She coughs, turns away his drink and gives it back to Koushiro while he feebly pats her back in a failing attempt to help her breathe again. "That's a long time," she clarifies the obvious, still out of breath.

It looks like that's the key needed by Koushiro to turn to her and offer her the best of his cynical looks, topped by a sly smile that is way too similar to the first one she'd offered him. "And that's the man you find irresistible."

Mimi knows he's won that round, hence she takes his reply as a cue to grumble away a "I'm gonna go find Sora," to which he responds that "She's literally in front of you", which earns him an "I MEANT MIYAKO!" yelled once her shoulders are already facing Koushiro and her burning cheeks safe from his blows.

But it's not Miyako she looks for. Her intention is only that of losing herself, letting all thoughts become silent while the music fills her body. She dances with Daisuke, loud and hectic, then with Hikari, soft and graceful. Yamato holds her hand while she twirls around but it's Taichi who she faces when the older releases her hand and lets Mimi loose.

Her palms fall naturally on Taichi's chest and his response is to let his own slide down over her hips. Mimi looks at him for a moment, struck by the way the neon lights illuminate his features, drawing sharper lines where she knows she could find softness under her touch.

She decides to hide her smile by turning around and letting her back press against his chest. His hands remain there on her hips, gently following her sways to the beat of the music. That's when she finds what she was seeking: the feeling of freedom, of a different kind of emptiness in her mind. This one embraces her by silencing intrusive thoughts; it banishes logic and lets her become one with the music, and the lights, and Taichi dancing behind her.

His grip on her is steady and Mimi feels protected and tiny in front of him. It's easy to fall back into that bubble where only they exist and everything and everyone else becomes muffled in the distance. She loses track of where their friends are: she either can't see them or can't seem to remember they're not alone in the club.

Forgetting is effortless when his body crashes against hers and in return hers follows the need to stretch and reach for him better. She pulls up her arms then, so that they embrace Taichi's neck, her own head laying against his collarbone. That's when she feels his breath tickle the side of her ear, a movement that disrupts her tranquility but not her dancing, and doesn't let her catch whatever he meant to tell her - if anything at all.

Her own breath falters, hearts skips a bit and thrill takes over every other emotion, both mental and physical. She tightens the grip around his neck while she turns her face around, as much as she can, to try and read his expression.

Mimi's met by Taichi's intense gaze. It feels to her, in that moment, as if all that they had been keeping guarded in the past few hours has now found a way to come up to the surface: freed from their own scruples, hesitancy turns to craving. The yearning that was once visible to all but the two of them now becomes hunger, slithering between one and the other like a thread pulling them closer.

Her eyes are clear, fascinated by the half sight of Taichi leaning down towards her head. His lips are soft and warm as they graze her temple, with Mimi believing for a fragment of a second she could burst out in flames if his lips keep their proximity to her that way. Then, when Taichi's eyes finally find hers, unmistakable desire is burning in his warm irises.

She recognizes it instantly, greets it like an old acquaintance, and yet in the familiarity there's maturity. It's all new: how his fingers sink over the silky fabric of her black dress in an attempt to feel her skin, all without traveling down to adventure under the rim of her dress; or how his lips don't leave any mark on her, gently caressing her skin instead without resorting to biting it.

It's a different kind of hunger, one that makes her wish for the first time that night that their get-together could be over. This time when he whispers she's ready to catch it. "I swear I have good intentions," he says almost sheepishly over his longing and Mimi can't help but bite the grin that is spreading on her face.

She turns now, finding that she misses the presence of his toned, wide body right away on her back, as soon as air fills up the space between them. She's the one to take a step forward, again, taking into her own hands the decision to erase the distance by stealing it from him. Her smile is still quite visible, a proof of how partial she is to his regards.

"Good, because i'm not as good as you are with resolutions," she admits for the first time even to herself. It's with great courage that she turns her face up and lets the tip of her nose brush against his chin, made rougher by the late hour. Her eyelids feel heavier, lashes bat slowly. She catches Taichi bite his cheeks from the inside by the way his dimples become more visible, even without turning up into a full smile.

"You're not making it very easy, you know," he says, dark eyes fixed on hers and his hands traveling up and down her sides. Mimi knows and she nods, impish she can't bring herself to feel sorry. She can't even be rough with herself for the decisions she's taking and the path that she's walking, knowing fully well where it will lead but unsure about the consequences of her final destination.

"Would you want me to walk away?" She asks and there's no grand meaning behind her words, at least not consciously. It would be interesting to deconstruct them later, once she won't be so high on his presence and his touch, in order to fully appreciate the evolution of their connection.

Taichi's face turns downwards almost imperceptibly. It feels quite impossible to catch him doing so, the flow of his movements as natural as waves washing over the shore, and yet before she's able to tell he's there, hovering over her mouth with his own, so close it would take only the slightest tilts of her head to reach his lips.

"No," he admits with a grin, wide and toothy and mischievous. Mimi's heart falters, but she bites her lips instead of finding his.

"That's interesting," she surprises herself by saying so, all logic thrown away, foreign to her in the moment. She can smell Taichi's nice cologne, invading her personal space and her mind.

"You think so?" He asks, this time much more interested in looking down at her lips than anywhere else. She feels one of his hands travel up her spine, up until his fingers reach the bottom of her hairline. The brush of his fingertips tickles her neck as well as the rest of her limbs.

"Don't you?" Mimi answers this time with the smallest of doubts interlacing her tone. Distracted, she lets go of the hold on her own lips, her honey irises wide and searching his own chocolate ones for a way to calm herself down. She doesn't seem to find an answer to her unspoken question, though.

"I think you're talking quite a lot right now," his voice rings so close that Mimi can sense his breath caress her bottom lip. His amusement spills over her, becoming anticipation.

"I tend to do that sometimes," she admits while Taichi's hand grips locks of her hair and entangles them around his fingers. Mimi's chest feels as light as her head right now, and when his hand finally cups her cheek her own fist clenches around the collar of his opened up shirt.

They find each other in the middle, without needing to add any more words. Mimi can now taste the ghost of his charming smile pressed against her own hungry lips. The kiss reveals right away how she had been waiting for it to happen for the longest time, so much she's unable to make up her mind about what is happening.

She follows his flow as naturally as she's always meant to. It's Mimi the one to part her lips first but Taichi follows suit by entering the space left empty for him to fill, their mouths two pieces of a puzzle that matches perfectly. He tightens his grip around her face as if, even in that proximity, she's not close enough yet, not as much as he would like the her to be.

She grasps for air as they stumble back to find an empty corner of the wall to fill, legs shaky and chests frenetic of half breaths. Her eyes are the last to get a break: when she opens them back, the picture of an out of breath Taichi is the first to greet her, lips puffy that are already leaning forward towards hers again.

She chuckles before him, welcoming his sweet touch like water of the finest spring. Her arms are now embracing his neck fully, feet propped on her toes. She can't believe she's living what had been a fantasy up until the day before.

It's really a miracle none of their friends catch them, stop them or, more likely, make fun of them. It's like all planets have aligned to make that moment only theirs with no interference: there will be time to come to terms with what is happening, to explain their absence to the others.

The time of other kisses drags through the minutes of the following song pumping up the mass of people on the dance floor. When they part once again it's with Taichi dragging a line of kisses down Mimi's neck, who inspires and flutters her eyelids. Her fingers reach his face, where she draws the line of his lips with the tip of her index.

Taichi's eyes advert to the side, his gaze caught by the neon sign indicating a staircase leading toward the restrooms. Mimi follows it while memories fill up her mind — ages ago, the two of them plunging their feet into similar rooms with unspeakable intentions.

He grins. "Should we go inside?" He asks her, earning a giggle from Mimi's side.

Her eyebrows arch in an unbelieving way, her smile shows the perfect line of her teeth. "Too gross!" Her tone partly sounds like a question rather than an affirmation, but her amusement, still palpable, makes the whole exchange light and playful.

Taichi roars a laugh that mends whatever's left of Mimi's scars. She'd missed it, the tone of his voice and his hoarseness. She had missed him. "We're too old for that, aren't we?" He asks for her validation, but then soon adds, "It's bed or nothing now," flashing her a smile. Mimi can't hold her laughter much longer after that.

She tinkles with giggles, incredulous trying to stop him by shoving a palm against his mouth while he goes on "Missionary sty—", overpowered by her "Oh my god, not like that!" that is stopped by a kiss he leaves on her hand, prompting her to take it away freeing his mouth by doing so. She smiles and he's able to lean down and catch her lips once more, kissing away the hilarity.

"We'll see. I'm not twenty-three anymore, you know? My joints are rusty," Taichi jokes in a way that makes Mimi feel incredibly wholesome on the inside. She watches him mimic the classic stretched position of an athlete about to start his match, arms distended over is head and his torso curving one side and then the other. He can't stop smiling at her, just as much as she can feel the muscles of her face hurt from the continuous laughter.

"Goodbye!" she teases him by making the impression of turning around to walk away from his embarrassing antics. Taichi cackles but catches her wrist before she takes one step too far from him. He pulls her back to his side, catching her face with both palms after freeing her arm. He smacks a kiss on her lips, loud and almost childish before gently pushing away her face.

"Okay, goodbye," his shoulders stay propped against the wall. "But where are you going?" He soon adds, actually straightening up to follow her back through the crowd. Taichi's fingers remain attached to the hem of her dress, casually pinching it while they walk towards the bar.

"Finding Sora?" She shouts; she doesn't know why she keeps asking him for confirmation without even meaning to. "To have an alibi?" He wonders, always the prankster. She chuckles, then shakes her head in an almost admonishing way, if it wasn't for the ghost of a grin cracking up her attempt to look serious. "No, to spend some time with her," she explains. Taichi grunts, then makes her laugh, again. "Sora, that rascal!" She quickly thinks of him as unbelievable, then bites down her cheeks to avoid looking too smitten. Not that anything changes, at this point.

"I'll catch you later?" Taichi asks, finally, when they catch the glimpse of some of their friends.

Mimi nods fondly. "Yes."

She doesn't catch herself tracing the curves of her own lips while she walks in the direction of Sora. Her fingertips become shadows of his kisses, still warm in her mind as she tastes her own lip. She feels silly only as she spots herself all a smile in the reflection of a mirror that's part of the tacky decor of the room.

Resolving she should play cooler, but finding it extremely hard to do, she settles for a relaxed expression that doesn't quite hide her more appeased demeanor. Sora giggles a few steps away and then greets her by welcoming Mimi in her arms, squeezing her tiny body against hers.

"I'm so glad you came," the older one says. Mimi can catch the slightest hint of inebriation in Sora's eyes, soft and watery. Her eyelids are imperceptibly loopier than usual, something that she notices only because she used to know her friend so well (still does).

Mimi lets herself relax under the hug of the redhead; she rests her chin over her shoulder, with the shorter strands of Sora's hair there to tickle her nose. She giggles before straightening up her back. "We all came."

"I know, but I was hoping to see you more than others," Sora confesses with a scrunch of her nose. Mimi mirrors her tender smile, taking her hand in her palm.

She studies Sora's mature face, the way her wavy hair is now a bit less voluminous, slightly flattened compared to its appearance at the beginning of the night. Her friend is also lulling her own body to a much slower rhythm if one takes into account that of the song the deejay is playing. Mimi giggles fondly. "Are you about to tell me it's getting late and it's time to go?"

"It really is super late." Sora's apologetic smile warms Mimi's chest. She doesn't want to say goodbye just yet, at least not to her. But she can call her tomorrow without fear of looking out of place in doing so. She knows this now, or at least that's how much Sora's hold on her hand reassures her.

Mimi doesn't need to check her phone to know it's late in the night, much later than she thought they would be staying out. "Undeniably so," she confirms.

"You're not gonna need a ride back, are you?" Says Sora with a knowing look. It takes Mimi by surprise and something in her chest does an abrupt jump because of it, but instead of mumbling on about how she doesn't know or how she has yet to ask Koushiro about it, unable to lie to Sora she surrenders to candor instead.

"Did you see us?" She wonders with her eyes wide and hesitant. Sora's hands encourage her once again by taking both her fists in her palms. Mimi looks down at their entangled hands, then up again to discover a comforting pair of eyes waiting for her after a shake of the head.

"No. But I know you," Sora has always been able to make her feel valid even in the times when Mimi herself had felt nothing but misguided. So she finds solace in her friend's judgement - or lack thereof. Sora continues,"and him."

Mimi's lips close on each other, turning into a line that she bites and hides. A grin is there, buried under the fear of showing herself as nothing but a relapsed fool. But then, even if she was, one could say just the same about Taichi, couldn't they?

"Text me in the morning?" Sora asks after leaving a soft peck on Mimi's cheek. She nods, squeezes her hands again and then kisses her back on the cheek.

The married couple is the first one to go, followed by an ever-tired Jyou catching a ride with the Ishidas. After them slowly, but surely, divided in groups they all start to flee the club. It's three and a half in the morning and it takes a while for each of them to reach their own apartments.

Mimi appreciates Koushiro's lack of questions about her ride back after having been hers on the way to the restaurant. She hugs him tightly as he leaves with Hikari already buckled in the passenger seat and Iori in the backseat, makes a mental note to text him in the morning (she knows he will play dumb) before he turns and leaves her, Taichi and the few people left with a wave.

Miyako is carefully wearing her helmet trying not to make a mess of hair and specs in the attempt - not before having shot Mimi a knowing and devious look. She hops on Ken's dark motorcycle and hugs her boyfriend around his torso. The sound of the engine roars through Mimi's ringing ears now that she's outside and the high speakers of the club have become a welcome memory. Daisuke moans about the unfairness of life.

"Why can't I come with you?" He cries to a Ken who's ready to give gas to his bike.

"Because it's illegal, you moron!" Miyako yells back at him through her helmet, cheeks all squished up and soft. Mimi is taken by a wave of affection toward her younger friend.

"Let's get you a taxi, lion." While Taichi takes Daisuke under his arm, Takeru's eyes travel from the two of them, to Mimi, to Ken and Miyako leaving. Mimi catches him raise is eyebrows and blink fast.

"I can get him home," offers Takeru, voice dull, after having succumbed to what Mimi guesses had been an internal struggle of his.

Taichi turns to him with a dubious grimace that makes him look silly. "You don't have a car," he points out something that the younger is likely well aware of. Takeru shifts his body to face Mimi; his look is appalled and, as she understands the subtext, she can't help but giggle. "Let's all get the taxi, we can split the bill that way," she says sweetly, any other matter pushed to the side.

"Drop me off first, I'm still a broke student!" Yells Daisuke, interrupting whatever Takeru wanted to add in. Ken and Miyako take that decision as a cue to take off, and they do so with a nod of their heads and wave of the hand. The sound of the bike's engine rumbles in the night while Mimi checks the distance of the taxi she's booked. When it arrives, she's ready to decline Takeru's offer to let her sit on the passenger seat in the front.

"You're taller, I can squeeze in the middle of the backseat," she smiles warmly, knowing fully well that the excuse isn't going to be enough for Takeru to be persuaded into believing it's not suspicious that she and Taichi haven't already left separately. She would find it questionable as well, if she was observing the scenario from afar.

"You're so nice, Mimi!" Gushes Daisuke, this time taking her hands in his and looking at her with eyes full of admiration. "And funny! And hot!" He continues, stumbling on his own steps around the car while they try to shove him inside the taxi. "You're, like, the full package!" This time Mimi bursts out laughing. While doing so she catches Taichi's look on the opposite side of the car: his expression is marked by a pleased nuance, making him look particularly smug. She tilts her head and flashes him with her eyes, all the while amused.

"And you're drunk, let's get you home," she pats Daisuke on the shoulder just before descending on her uncomfortable seat between him and Taichi. The latter doesn't wait long before finding her hand and entangling his fingers with hers; he brings her hand closer to his thigh, far from Takeru's inquisitive look over the rearview mirror. In any case, Taichi's sitting directly behind the younger blonde, thus allowing the two of them a privacy that Mimi believes it completely unnecessary. At the same time she likes the secrecy that Taichi tries to secure for the two of them, so she lets it be.

The city lights flash behind them as they travel through the city. Mimi's face is pointed ahead, looking at the street, counting all traffic lights turning red, to green, to yellow. Sometimes she lets herself turn to the side to observe Taichi's relaxed profile; unlike Daisuke, he doesn't seem to surrender himself to exhaustion. Instead, he gently caresses Mimi's hand with his thumb, sending familiar tickles between her thighs.

They do indeed drop off Daisuke first, with the three of them left on the taxi all squashed against the windows of the car to make sure he gets safely in the doors of his apartment building. Mimi argues one of them should've accompanied him up to his front door, but Takeru's fast to silence her worries by holding up his phone in a victorious manner.

"He's in!" He announces, showing a selfie just received from an half asleep Daisuke leaning against his own red fridge.

The taxi driver gives gas again, and it takes them another fifteen minutes to get to Takeru's stop. "See ya!" He says; he's much faster than their other friend to get out of the car, and he does so by hopping off but then leaning in once again through the rolled down window on Taichi's side. "Happy shagging!" His smile infectious as much as he reveals himself insidious, Takeru runs away before he can hear Taichi's retort.

"Who's weird and alone now!" He yells back leaning out the window, but the taxi's already moving so he turns to Mimi, now more comfortable in a proper seat.

"Is that what you think we're doing?" She messes with him, the grip of his hand not lost on her. He brings their entanglement over to her lap, taking advantage of the position to trace a line with his thumb over her naked thigh. He follows the movement with his eyes, temporarily darker, then looks up again. "I hope so," he admits, voice hoarse and low. Mimi feels her heart rise up inside her throat, tries to stifle its beating by swallowing it back down.

Taichi's lips are on hers as soon as they reach the elevator. She welcomes him by letting go as she hasn't been able to do just a couple of hours earlier, one leg hopping up to straddle his hip without a care for her appearance or the way her little dress comes up to reveal her matching dark underwear. She selfishly convinces herself that nobody is really ever up at four thirty in the morning, especially not the neighbors on her same floor.

She reaches her front door in a tangle of kisses and limbs. Taichi is attacking her neck with his lips, his hands travel up and down her body to finally lock her in a hug that keeps her closest to him, his body pushing up against hers with a familiar bulge pressing against her bum. Mimi has to concentrate on getting the right key to open up the door, much more inclined to letting herself become a doll at his mercy than to do anything more reasonable like letting them inside the apartment.

She reaches his neck with her left hand while she works to unlock the door with the right. Her fingers graze his hairline and then sink around his shorter locks, bringing his head closer to hers in a way to encourage him to leave wet kisses all over her neck. The burning feeling between her legs makes it almost impossible to focus on anything other than finding ways to ease it, but she wastes no time as soon as they finally get inside the apartment.

Her bag is the first to be abandoned over the puffy bench in the entrance, for the first time since she's bought it careless about the way she handles it. Her shoes soon follow, together with Taichi's much bigger pair. Mimi takes advantage of this to turn around and finally face him, ready for him to look back at her eyes to flash his with an intense gaze. It's the first time she's stopped smiling in his presence for longer than five minutes since she's met him again that night, too raptured by their primal instincts now.

Taichi takes her face in his palms, then finds her lips while they both stumble back against the wall. Mimi hits her shoulders against it but no hurt can overcome the pleasure of savoring his lips. On his tongue Mimi can taste the beer he had last sipped before taking off to her apartment; she tints it with notes of pineapple and alcohol impregnating her own mouth.

Greedy, she can't stop trying to have more of his tongue, his lips, his hands on her body. His hips thrust against hers to let her appreciate the effect she has on him. Taichi's hand travels from the cheek he was cupping down to her neck, embracing it with his open palm as if trying on her the most treasured jewel. Mimi sighs and her eyelids flutter, catching in that fragment his attractive features turned rougher by the lust spilling in his blood.

He traces kisses following his hand's path, starting from her jaw and crawling down toward her neck. This time he's less delicate, sucking instead on her pulsing spot where blood is pumping fast and going to her head. Mimi moans and instinctively presses her hips against his, needing to feel him hard against her despite the layers of clothes standing in between the two of them.

But Taichi's hickeys don't stop at her neck. Instead, his lips proceed their travel down her collarbone, to her chest, with his hand now cupping her small breast and then squeezing it hasher that he might have intended to. The spaghetti strap of Mimi's black dress slides down on her arm to reveal she's not wearing any top over her chest. With his mouth over her bare skin, Taichi groans and looks up to her, momentarily putting on pause the course of his kisses to steal an additional one, open and wet, from her mouth.

It's a dangerous recipe, that of his grunts and kisses, and it turns Mimi more and more lightheaded as the minutes pass by, one chasing the other. In a moment she closes her eyes to find some lucidity, the next she finds Taichi on his knees, hands over her hips pushing up her short dress, teeth bared to graze the line of her underwear.

Mimi's hand falls to grasp Taichi's hair, slightly longer on top of his forehead she's able to push it back further, tightening her grip just as he moves her panties to start easing the source of her pulsating need. He takes it in his mouth, skilful he traces her folds and sucks on them sending shivers down her spine. His movements are clean and heated, able to drive her mad with the flicker of his tongue, especially when his eyes interlace hers from down between her legs.

Her head drops back and then tilts to the side. With her legs trembling with and desire, Mimi can't find any other grip to steady herself than the one she has on Taichi's hair. So she pulls his locks, incapable of measuring her strength. It mustn't be that painful for him, though, because in her fuzzy vision she catches Taichi's wicked grin spreading on his face, half hidden by herself. Pleasure then comes in waves, moans, and fatigue makes her fold on herself and cradle down on her knees.

Mimi lets her forehead rest for just a moment on Taichi's shoulder. It takes only a few seconds, enough for her to swallow the temporary weakness and come back to her senses after all has been washed away by pleasure. Taichi's eyes capture the only light, warm in its tone, that she's been clever enough to turn on while stumbling through the hall of the apartment. They're searching her own, studying her face, contemplating her whole undone body in a mesmerized manner that leads him to raise his hand and graze her face.

His thumb hovers her bottom lip. Mimi catches it in between, watches him as she traces the lines of his callused finger with the tip of her tongue. A hoarse groan escapes Taichi's mouth together with a whispered "Fuck". Mimi's mouth curls up into a cunning smile before she closes both lips on his finger, sucking on it without diverting her gaze even for a moment. When her lids flutter, Taichi's free hand is traveling upwards to Mimi's messy locks, that he catches and pulls into a disheveled ponytail.

"Stand up," she suggests. She doesn't need to be loud with her words, her voice can stay as small and breathy as she'd like now that the loud music is nothing but part of the past. The melody in her ears is now made up of Taichi's sighs and swearing, a suggestive mix that provides Mimi fuel to play with him as much as he'd done with her.

Their bodies now mirror those of each other only minutes earlier. In her turn to encourage his more decisive grip with her moans, Mimi's mouth takes pleasure in closing and sucking on him following a rhythm that is her own in the beginning, but hopes to be his once he'll give in to his instincts. It might take him by surprise, her initiative to something more obscene to what they once painted together, yet it doesn't seem out of place.

Mimi's comfortable, empowered by the chokes that turn to ardent laughter as she takes a breath and pats him around her lips, mouth open and warm tongue to caress him whenever she can. Taichi's eyes close right as his fist pulls on her hair, finally taking over the reins of her movements and directing her dives onto him.

Out of breath she follows, tears of pleasure drawing casually on the corner of her eyes and ruining her make up. The result is a chaotic canvas of spilled colors and rumpled hair, of him warning her to stop and pulling her up by force, only to lead her against the back of her couch and embracing her from behind.

"I can't last long if you do that," Taichi's raspy thought comes with seemingly difficulty and lands near Mimi's ear. She snickers, tickled by him and the wet kiss he leaves there, then she passes a hand against the corners of her mouth in an attempt to erase the unquenched thirst that has grown inside her throat. She turns her head, enough so that she can reach his lips with her own and steal a kiss from him. It's eager and damp and it leads to moans escaping from the encounter of their mouths.

Taichi's experienced in traveling her back with his open hand, now free from the grasp around her hair. Mimi's locks cascade in long, wavy locks that reach the plunging line of her dress. It draws a halo of light over her back, especially if she tilts back her head to be able to glance at Taichi while he caresses her figure not only with the palm of his hand, but with his eyes too.

A clap echoes in the half lit room, followed by her sigh. Taichi squeezes her bottom there where her skin is reddening and Mimi, unable to resist her craving for him and everything about him, urges the latter to hurry by interlocking her fingers with the shorter strands of his hair up his neck and kissing him once again.

Taichi doesn't have to fight much to get inside her. Mimi's bottom already bared as a perfect round sculpture, silky underwear pushed to the side, it takes only a couple of slides of his calloused fingers through her wet entrance to prepare the two of them by riling up excerpts of vision of their past encounters but, mostly, expectations of what the near future will bring.

"Can I?" He waits for her signal, mindful of any of her wishes. Mimi nods, murmurs a needy "Please," that is dense with impatience and yearning. It's a lot about their instincts, how one pulls the other in and the second holds and grips to be sure it is all concrete, happening.

The tangibility of the act twists Mimi's fantasies into reality. Hopes and memories fade into the past as much as who she'd been in it, her manners and ways lost in time now reborn into a more mature and cognizant self. She revels in his thrusts and finds out she doesn't need to guide him with her own hand to seek his touch over her tender spot while he sinks into her: he's already taking care of every part of her, rubbing between her swollen folds, none of the discoveries made in the past forgotten.

His digs are blissful heaven that put to rest all those convictions of being able to get over it and him. So Mimi lets go of all her attempts, surrendering to his skillful pushes that lead her closer and closer to be shaken once more with euphoria and the sweetest of the releases.

Taichi's mouth presses against her neck once he, too, reaches his climax. His comes with imprecations and groans, and his teeth biting her overly sensitive skin under her ear. Mimi sighs, takes in the last drops of pleasure by circling him still inside her through movements of her hips. Finally, they both stumble against the couch.

Their bodies are heated, the two of them a mess of wrinkled clothes half undone and entwined limbs. Mimi feels Taichi's weight on her back and chuckles while she tries to untangle herself from him, being careful not to let too much air come between their skin. She indulges in their proximity, appreciates the smell of his cologne now impregnating her own hair. Mimi's sigh is deep, yet shaky, however it's brief balance what she finds in Taichi's affectionate irises once her eyes land on his, on top of her, before he presses one kiss over her forehead.

It feels familiar once they end up in her bed, sheets all crumpled up on the edge of the soft mattress that everyone - Taichi included - has dissed at least once, incredulously tired when they realize it's already seven thirty in the morning but they've just had what had felt like midnight snacks naked in the kitchen.

Mimi eases up against his warm body, nests her head between his chin and collarbone. She believes herself privileged in being able to observe him in his comfortable confidence, to draw up lines on his naked chest or to trace with her thin finger the sharp edge of his jaw. Her own chest is full, heart beating slower at last now that ecstasy's cooled off through appeased desires.

He catches her hand and entwines his thicker, scratchier fingers with hers, then studies the peculiar knot he created.

"You never really had those long, pointy nails that girls like so much," Taichi observes casually, instantly making Mimi crack up and shoot him an incredulous look. It is probably the most boyish thing he's said in the whole evening. Or ever, really.

"All girls are not the same, you know!" She argues, moving back just enough to be able to scold him with her gaze. He turns his head but scoffs out a pout.

"I was just noticing a thing about you, come on!" He fights back for his honor and behind her dramatically reprimanding look Mimi finds him sweet. She doesn't need him to explain any further, but takes a great deal of pleasure in hearing the rest of his argument. "It's called being observant, Mimi, it means I've been paying attention!" Taichi finishes up and only then he cracks the code: her smile a flash through the fake grimace she tried to keep up, in a moment he turns both of them around to pin her back on the mattress in order for him to be able to shower her whole body with tickling, revengeful kisses.

"Stop!" She cries in between giggles, fighting for breaths of fresh air while he hovers around and keeps her hostage. "You win!" She finally yells.

"Do I?" Taichi's grin is so wide it easily becomes pesky, but Mimi nods and he smiles even wider after smacking a loud kiss on her mouth.

"Is it because you're afraid you will lose a nail while you cook and then someone is going to eat it? Gross." He asks and while he probably recognizes how silly he sounds, Mimi grasps a genuine curiosity lying between his words. And so, in her response, while amused she lets herself also be patient and honest.

"I can't stand flour getting stuck in my natural nails, imagine having claws instead of fingers," she explains, "and it would sure be unfortunate to serve something with an acrylic nail in it. My cooking is not that experimental." Mimi rests for a moment, then looks up at Taichi with a mischievous smirk. "You could get them, though, your work isn't so dynamic you need to use your hands as much as I do running around all day on set."

He fakes a wounded look, lifts his head from the mattress to bring it over his heart, balancing his whole body on the elbow that rests on the soft sheets. "Are you saying my job is boring?"

Mimi's eyebrow arch up. "You're a corporate consultant, Taichi, of course your job is boring."

He's rightfully brooding. "At least it pays well!"

Mimi's nose is scrunched while she tilts her head to reach his chin with the tip of it. "Will you offer me lunch, then?"

He angles his face down, kisses the little bump on her nose. "I will certainly do so," he agrees, his sulking dissipated into affection.

And she doesn't register that they've just made plans for the day, at least not right away. It takes her a few hours, falling asleep with him on her side with his chest as a pillow. The warmth of his body is never bothersome, not even in the heat of August, not when she can breathe his scent and ward off dreams in her sleep that had once turned her mood gloomy and unhappy.

They both lose track of time; with her blinds blocking off the summer sun it is easy to forget what time of day it is on what was supposed to be a Sunday like many other, but that has become the unprecedented continuation of an unforeseen night out. She wakes up first, cooks him breakfast at past three in the afternoon. It gives her time to start rationalizing about what has happened in the hours past, although distraction comes easy when his snores travel through the door of her bedroom left ajar and his scented clothes are proof left hanging on her couch.

She folds his pants and shirt, puts her dress up on a hanger in the entrance - it has had a rough night and it's too expensive to leave it all wrinkled up as if it was no more than a cleaning cloth (the sole thought makes Mimi shiver) - while eggs fry on her favorite pan. The fragrant smell of toasted bread fills up the air and cancels, at least temporarily, the smell of Taichi's cologne, and yet all it takes to relive the latter is to take a strand of her own wavy hair and gently lift it to her nose.

Mimi's steps are light as feathers around her open kitchen, her island set up to perfection with fresh fruits and jams and cream. The two plates she's prepared on two adjacent sides of one of the island corners are already hosting toast, eggs and bacon; in the middle, leftover cake she had made the previous Friday is still holding up, her sweet tooth inclined to reach for it before it does the salty side of the breakfast she's cooked up.

It's funny how things have changed from what she remembers of one of her most beloved mornings with Taichi. Back then, and they must have been twenty-two at most, he had had to leave early to give an exam at university. Upon waking up, Mimi had found his nightstand set up with a smoking cup of tea propped in the middle, surrounded by many different chocolate bites from the convenience store, all singularly wrapped in their own plastic. Together, they were making up what appeared to be his best attempt at drawing a heart on the surface of the little table. She had giggled, then snapped a picture she believes still exists in the gallery of her phone.

Part of Mimi reminds her, even now, that she should've deleted that along with too many other pictures of instances that it had always been better not to dwell on for too long. At the same time her stubborn, hopeful self can't help but believe that if it wasn't for her unwillingness to give up on her underlying feelings for Taichi, she would've been alone this morning, cooking up breakfast for herself only while meticulously trying to find a way to start over again.

Not that she's too aware of where they stand now and what that means for her status. Although lethargic at the moment, anxiety remains part of Mimi, ready to worm back to the surface on a day she won't be so high on her victories or his kisses. And even then, doubts do cloud her judgment between one bite of breakfast and a squeeze of Taichi's grateful hand over the back of her own.

Familiarity encourages her to open up more than she would have, had it been anyone else but him sitting to her side. But it's easier when it's Taichi, even though she's not sure if it's because of how long they've known each other, or because they used to be friends once, a very long time ago, or simply because she finds herself so tired with the games and the pretence.

"Isn't it weird that this is happening all of a sudden?" She asks him. Taichi doesn't seem to get worried about a question of the sort, quietly enjoying how tasty his breakfast is by humming up a moan of pleasure.

"Do you think this is sudden?" He wonders as soon as his mouth is free. Mimi can't read a single drop of deception in his face, on the contrary clean and puzzled. She stretches an arm along his cheek, caresses him to remind herself there's no need to jump to negative conclusions, no matter her grown tendency to do so.

"We haven't talked in years," she points out, a little defeated and at the same time apologetic for the part she'd played in it, herself not without faults although they've been harder to point out compared to his own ones.

Taichi smiles coyly, regretful he grabs the hand that is close to his cheekbone and kisses the back of it. "I didn't have the courage to reach out back then after everything," he confesses, this time leaving his breakfast be and turning his torso to better face Mimi. He doesn't let go of her hand, and she holds his just as tightly, look not faltering. "I just feared you would take any of my attempts as a way to try to sleep with you again, to be honest."

"Which we did," Mimi promptly reminds him, half critical, half smug.

"And it was great," he's quick to add, seemingly incapable of glossing over it and instead underlining his satisfaction once more, "but what I'm saying is I wouldn't have blamed you because I was an asshole and there was a time when it could've been just that."

Mimi ponders on those words that at last reveal part of what she'd wondered about for so long. She can't help but respect him for his honesty and for preferring to avoid her instead of playing her. Another part of her, though, mourns those old beliefs that shatter now that she has to face a discovered truth.

She's the first one to be surprised by her following question. Instead of asking him the what now that is pressing against her tongue, something else spills from her rosy lips.

"But what if we never met? What if Daisuke hadn't come up with his stupid reunion idea?" She wonders aloud, Taichi now his confidante as much as her own hidden self. Mimi's eyes are wide, a little scared of the alternate world where the reunion hasn't taken place. Taichi lets her hand go only to reach her shoulder with his palm. He caresses it gently, encouraging.

"We would've found another way," he reassures her with his warm smile and eyes. The lines drawn over their corners now become more prominent as his expression lights up, positive, turning his eyes into two optimistic half moons. Mimi doesn't know how much to trust him this time around, finding it more difficult to see a different way of having met — the city is big and not even living close by his office had granted her an opportunity to catch a glimpse of him over the past ten years.

"I hoped you would be invited to Yamato and Sora's wedding," he then confesses, not too long after an additional bite of eggs. Mimi's eyebrows shoot up, surprised. "What?" She's caught by surprise, obligated to stop her own bite in half. Taichi nods, then scratches the back of his neck. "It's stupid, really," he continues, for once reverting his gaze away from her inquisitive and curious one as if, for the first time, shyness takes a hold of him. "I thought it could've been the best chance to turn over a new leaf and apologize for being a dick. But then they were all, like, let's keep this small and cozy! Who wants their wedding to be small and cozy? It's the last time you can actually party with no consequences!"

Mimi needs to chuckle here, Taichi's impression of a mindful Sora already a bit too hard to handle, his following considerations even worse. Her hand shoots up to cover her mouth, careful to swallow the blueberry she'd picked up as if it was a popcorn while listening to his tale, then tries to stifle her laughter to better follow the rest of the story, at her expense more engaging than what she would've guessed.

He goes on, visibly upset: "—and Yamato even came up with that stupid no plus one veto thing, so I couldn't even casually suggest you without them thinking I was being a pig," disgruntled he blows away a piece of paper laying not far on his side of the table. "Sora's overly protective of you, by the way," he soon adds, looking back up to her. Mimi scrunches up her nose in a wave of affection, Taichi shakes his head. "Girls," he says. "I love Sora," she replies.

She anticipates the moment he will taste her lemon cake. Mimi observes him throughout, not even registering that for a fortuitous turn of events that might just be the perfect dessert for someone who's not as keen as she is with overly sweet pastries. She feels a particular kind of warmth as she notices his face scrunch up into a surprised, appeased look when biting through the slice of cake she'd cut him. This time his compliments come muffled by his mouth still full of cake, and she giggles, thankful for his incomparable honesty.

"But then Daisuke's thing happened," she goes on not longer after that, picking up from they've left the conversation. Mimi finds it unexpectedly easy to follow the stream of that river, refreshing even. She's been so used to keeping things to herself it is new to let words flow without forcing them in. Taichi doesn't seem bothered by the pressure she puts back on their exchange, if anything he looks calm and content, not letting even one crumble of cake remain forgotten on the almost empty plate.

"And we talked," he nods, seemingly looking for another slice of cake.

"And we kissed," adds Mimi, cleverly, fast in her reply. He mirrors her to perfection.

"A lot. It was great. A+ would do it again," he bounces back, probably surrenders to the reality of having finished the all the little cake there was left. He leans to the side, flashes Mimi with his toothy grin that she's not sure if it comes from reliving their accolade or because of the food he's just ingested. Either way he looks completely pleased when he hooks an arm around her neck and pulls her close enough to hide a kiss on her neck.

"Stop it!" His kiss sends tickles down her skin, dangerously awakening feelings she believed had already been pleased, at least for a while. "I'm trying to have a normal conversation with you," she explains, exclamative yet patient, stretching her arm so that her hand can fall on his cheek and caress it.

"You were the one to bring up the kissing part!" Taichi reminds her and Mimi fakes innocence. He welcomes her stroke by closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, serene and naturally at ease. "Do you always do this kind of morning after conversation?" He asks her then, but he isn't sarcastic. On the contrary, his tone is earnest and his eyes kind. Mimi traces the lines on their corners with the tip of her finger.

"First of all, it's not morning but four in the afternoon," she jokes. Taichi snorts, happy to pick up on her humor.

"Second of all?" He goes on, smiling. Mimi studies his face, appreciating how tan his skin is compared to her paler complexion. His hair is unruly, messy from the night and his sleep, and his naturally droopy eyes look nothing but cheerful and vibrant now that the warm afternoon light comes through the linen, cascading curtains of her living room.

Once again Mimi finds herself at a crossroads, but this time the path that is the correct one to take seems to be well lit, with directions spelled out and easy to recognize. It is not necessarily the easiest one, its way uphill and tortuous, but she takes it anyway.

"I'm testing how long it takes for you to flee the place," she meets her confession with placid surrender, for the first time upfront about her apprehension when it comes to him and the two of them, whatever this conversation will lead them to be. Mimi is so used to see him disappear, even after the best of the premises, that part of her is still hunting down the hints that will prove her right this time around as well, once again.

Taichi's eyes blink, his genuine look in a moment becoming somewhat serious. "Is that what you think I'll do?"

Mimi's digit draws the lines of his handsome face over his features. It calms her down, helps her stay focused although the look is of the contrary. "A little," she admits her fears, concise and directly into his eyes.

"I don't have the best track, do I," Taichi's smile is more muted now, apologetic. But nothing in him turns to sadness; instead he carries himself toward a more intentional place, confidence rimming his figure now that purpose takes up the space left by his shortcomings. "Guess I'll just have to prove you wrong, then."

"Even though you don't know me?" Mimi asks, astonished by how easily he seems to grasp each of her arguments.

"I know you," he corrects her.

"Not adult me," she retorts. "We don't really know each other." It would be interesting to learn that it's not lost on him how she seems to be going back in circles, now underlining her very first thought that had sparked the whole conversation. He is maybe more aware than Mimi herself even is, who has yet to uncover the key to the truth she seeks.

This time, Taichi takes a little before answering. To Mimi, he resembles his own self, just much younger, when he used to think hard about the solution of a quiz, the way to solve a mystery that would help all of them reach a new level of whatever game they were playing. His lips are drawn into a focused line, then a kiss left on Mimi's palm erases the solemnity of his careful considerations.

"We wouldn't be here if we didn't know each other at least partially. It just takes some time to learn about the years that we've missed," ever the optimist, Mimi thinks this much hasn't changed. Taichi goes on. "Are you scared of not knowing adult me?"

She nods, this time making more effort into voicing a thought that has troubled her in the past, and now more than ever. "I'm scared I'll find out I've been waiting around for someone who doesn't exist."

Although it feels as if a weigh has finally been lifted from her chest, it takes a little while still to erase the few droplets of panic that daunt Mimi's frightened eyes. Her vulnerability bared, it is time for Taichi to offer her the warm embrace of his hand cupping her cheek. His touch is reassuring, tender and all the while firm.

"That's for you to decide," his admission sounds much like a revelation to Mimi's careful ways, and she tries to impose herself to take it step by step. They've just spent a night together, she doesn't need to run a year forward when she can only grasp parts of what has happened. And, in a way, Taichi reads her mind. "You can take all the time you need."

Mimi's honey irises widen, surprised by how he has just nailed her unspoken arguments. "And you?" She asks.

This time he hops off the stool he has been sitting in for the past hour. He turns the corner of the kitchen island to reach Mimi and embraces her from behind. His arms become a frame to Mimi's shoulders, hugging her tightly while resting his chin over her head. "I'm already liking this new you," he confesses, "doubts included. It's sexy." Taichi admits, then leaves her back to kneel down and rest his forearms on Mimi's lap, now facing him.

She shoots him an inquisitive look, and can't help but notice how comforting and refreshing it is to look at his face from such a reduced distance. She sighs, then sinks her hand in his brown, thick hair.

"You never would've talked to me about this back then, you would've put up a front by ignoring everything to prove yourself above it. As if nothing scratched you," Taichi explains, offering Mimi a brief glimpse into the way he saw her when they were younger.

Now he's illuminated by a crisp light. The faint lines of his face underline his cheerfulness, with sweet dimples making him look youthful even through the unshaven surface of his cheeks. He's propped against her legs as if he's a pet waiting for her acknowledgement.

Mimi briefly considers the image that he's painted of her younger self, feeling detached from her rather than nostalgic. "That's because I was a brat," she declares, shoulders shrugging as to dust off that version of herself away from who she is now. Taichi lowers his mouth over her thigh, then bites it gently, playfully.

"You're less pretentious now," he smiles at her from below. "But I am as well, and I think we're kinda cooler this way." He smiles.

She thinks so, too. And she can't help but play that last sentence again and again in her mind in the hours that follow.

Although far from both of their wishes, Taichi has to leave and get back to his place to be sure that he will look presentable the following day at work. But they have time to go and grab lunch (it's dinnertime, actually) at one of Mimi's favorite casual places in the block, and although it's not technically a date he still opens up doors for her and waits for Mimi to be seated before doing so himself. He pays, and he's charming, and conversation flows naturally in short sentences and quick comebacks that match whatever the other has come up with to perfection.

Then it's ten and they're tired, but their kiss is soft and it tastes like the aftermath of those greedy ones that have taken up all space the previous night - and all throughout the day. The "talk to you later," that he offers Mimi before turning away doesn't sound like a promise, more like a statement, and for once she doesn't feel anxiety's clenching claws crawling up her stomach and reach her neck.

Instead she's unusually lighthearted once she finds herself back into her own apartment. The traces she finds of him make Mimi bite a grin that keeps coming back to the surface; the music she puts on is dated, upbeat, and it reminds her of sunny days and ecstatic feelings.

She taps to it while sitting on the toilet, too, the frenetic alternation of one foot and the other becoming an expression of euphoria if she stops and thinks about her past twenty-four hours, face hidden in the hands that stifle her screech. She cleans up her place but distracts herself by taking up dancing and singing along to lyrics she thought she had forgotten (she knows them by heart, still, decades later).

She has forgotten to look at the phone for the longest time, so lost in her own world that everything else seems distant. She might be wearing rose-colored glasses, yet she doesn't particularly care: even the faintest lines on her face that go from her nostrils to the corners of her mouth don't look too out of place at the moment, instead showing her uplifted expression much like her upturned lips do. Her face looks grown compared to the one she can observe in one photo she has framed over on one shelf in the living room.

She's not pervaded by any sort of regret either. Actually, had she known years ago that coming clean and being straightforward with her doubts could've been so beneficial, that could've probably saved her much time, and rage, and dismay. But then, at the same time, how could she ever get to a place such as the one of today, if her journey hadn't been one of growth by tripping on her own steps, picking herself up again and then trying to figure out who she wanted and could become?

The lyrics of her latest favorite song are now screamed out without particular care toward her neighbors or her window left ajar. Mimi dances in frantic movements that match well with the upbeat tempo of the song that's playing on loop. Her microphone is a wooden spoon that she's supposed to be storing back into the drawer, if only she hadn't forgotten why she'd picked it up in the first place.

She's not wearing any pants and her hair damp from the shower. But her chest feels so, so full, with an exploding enthusiasm sending warmth through her body. She's breathless, unable to make the muscles of her cheeks relax, happy.

When she looks at the mirror one last time before going to bed, with her face smooth and hydrated by the steps of her beauty routine, her expression is finally placid, content. She doesn't look half bad, she thinks, although her eyes are slightly more sunken in and lined. Her lips are still full and rosy, her body toned and her neck darkened by the sweetest of the marks right under her ear. Her hair is back to being dry, and long, and casually wavy. Its lighter hue gleams off a glossy shade under the lamp light of her bathroom.

Mimi smiles.

She's always liked it lighter anyway.