By Night Beauty
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon or any of its characters.
Author's Note: I'm in Shanghai lacking anything better to do, so I wrote this short fic. Hope you enjoy!
She felt dizzy.
Takenouchi Sora could vaguely remember what had happened until she retched into the toilet before her.
She was more than slightly intoxicated.
Her long auburn hair was dripping wet around her clothes. Taking a glance at the mirror, she saw her face was flushed and that her make-up threatened to smudge more over her delicate features. The soft yellow dress she wore had darkened due the rain and it stuck more to her like a second skin.
She sighed, taking off her ebony-colored stilettos, finding herself unable to comprehend how she was even able to wear such shoes.
And then she remembered Mimi.
Tachikawa Mimi, a younger girl by two years, was her best friend. In Sora's eyes, Mimi was much better at the social life. Bubbly and optimistic, Mimi was a more carefree and wild girl. It was amazing how she and Sora were best friends with such big differences.
It had been her idea.
Mimi had gathered all the Digidestined at her mansion for a New Year's Eve party. Sora, who had been not nearly as excited, was persuaded to attend. Mimi proposed to wear something Sora had designed, and so Sora complied. Mimi loved to show off her new designs—and Sora let her.
She wondered why Mimi didn't become a model. She was certainly suited for it.
But the thought ran quickly past her mind, and she found herself vomiting again into the toilet.
Sora glared at the apartment door, which could be seen from where she was.
Sighing, she stood up shakily and pursued the door. She opened it slowly. "Yes?"
"Sora, are you okay?"
"Never been better."
"Can I come in?"
"For what purpose?"
"Damn it, Sora…"
She stuck her tongue out and turned for the kitchen, leaving the door open for the visitor.
"You're soaking wet, Sora."
Silenced followed, and then she realized the boy had left towards the bathroom where he retrieved fresh towels. Sora leaned against the counter, her stomach threatening to purge itself one again.
"You'll get sick."
"Doesn't matter," she replied quietly. She closed her eyes as a towel was placed around her shoulders and on her head.
"I'll make something warm. Why don't you go shower?"
She didn't reply. She stood up straight, allowing one towel to fall to the ground.
When the boy turned around from what he was doing, she was gone.
She glared at herself in the mirror. 'Why did I let him in?' she frowned. She let the shower on for a while until she could see the steam coming from the water. She ran her fingers through her hair until she reached a knot. She pulled down, pulling it until her scalp hurt and her head throbbed from the pain. Finally her fingers slipped through, red and sore.
Sora hated her hair. It didn't suit her at all, she thought. It had been Mimi's idea to grow it long, because to her, it was more elegant. Angrily, she reached for a pair of scissors on the floor and began to snip her damp hair...
The boy patiently waited for the milk to boil. When the slightest bubbles came into sight, he poured in the packet of instant hot chocolate. Additionally, he threw in some pieces chocolate to enrich the flavor.
Sora loved chocolate.
His lips pursed, remembering what had happened at the party. Her cherry-flavored lips still tingled on his.
And then the bathroom door opened.
Sora stepped out slowly. Her hair, which had flowed down her back, now barely flowed past her shoulders. She donned khaki shorts and a one-size-too-big black t-shirt.
Her cheeks were flushed as her eyes looked away from the boy who gapped at her.
"Ow!" he muttered a curse. His fingers had crept to close to the stove where the hot chocolate was beginning to spill over. Quickly he shut it off. "Sorry, we'll have to wait a bit for it to cool down."
"Mm," she replied. Her headache began to fade away. Sora sauntered over to the couches, sitting down and making herself comfortable. She continued to stare blankly into space while her visitor sat next to her.
But he made sure not to sit too close.
Her eyes fluttered shut at his scent which was creeping up to her.
"5! 4! 3! 2!..."
Somehow, his lips found hers. She could smell her own breath that was tainted with alcohol and punch mixed with his breath. She fell into his embrace, his tongue searching her mouth and...
Sora shook her head.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded subtly. "Just remembering."
"About tonight, Sor..."
"It was a mistake," she interrupted. "I was bit tipsy. It was my fault I let it get too far. I'm sorry."
She felt him move away from the couch. His footsteps faded into the kitchen, where he gathered two cup to pour the drinks in. He came back and offered her a cup.
"Thanks," she nodded and accepted the cup. She took in its sweet scent and drank carefully so she wouldn't burn herself. Satisfied after a few sips, she set the cup on the coffee table.
"I didn't think it was a mistake."
She looked at him.
His eyes stared into hers, as if he could read her emotions like a book, as if he could summon something in her that would make everything better.
"I... don't know what to say."
"You're telling me... you didn't feel anything, Sora? When we kissed... you didn't feel what I felt?"
"What did you feel, Yamato?" she asked softly.
"Complete," he said, reaching his hand softly behind her head and pulling her towards him. Her lips once again found his, and she fell on top of him, tangled in an awkward position on her couch.
But neither of them cared.
She entangled her fingers through his ruffled blond hair, her other hand pressed coldly against his neck and head.
He shivered at her touch.
She felt his hands reach in under her shirt, gently stroking her back up and down, up and down, up and down.
She broke away, breathing heavily, resting her forehead against his.
"Is this bad?"
"No, not at all."
And she believed him.
They kissed--harder this time, each one bruising the other's lips, while the two cups of hot chocolate sat together untouched again.