A/N: This is my first ever story. Please be kind to me. :))
Mimi was his friend, true, but Yamato still wasn't going to speak to her for as long as he could hold out.
There was a small frown between his eyes as he held up the wet piece of paper up against the light. He was lying on the floor, his eyes and the muscles of his hands tired from lack of sleep. Mimi had annoyed him one time too many. He had worked on the song for a month, she knew that. She could have been more positive. She didn't have to yawn in his face or spill the lemonade he had given her on his song sheet. He'd get mad if she had spilled it on his floor, but he was downright pissed when she had yelped as the water poured onto the paper.
Yamato sighed. He should have just asked Sora or Takeru over. At least they wouldn't sprinkle his sheet with glitter from their hair.
His bedroom's door creaked slightly. "Are you still mad at me?"
"Why would anyone wear glitter if they're not going to a dance?" He wondered aloud.
He heard Mimi's bristle. "I like it and it looks good on me."
"It doesn't look good on this," he held up his sheet sadly. It caught the light and shimmered. Yamato blinked. He didn't like that his song was shimmering.
"Your song?" He nodded. "I didn't get it."
Yamato glanced at the girl still standing in his doorway. "Are you afraid I'll pounce on you?"
"Why don't you just leave?" He murmured, turning back to his sheet.
"I can't just leave you here," she replied. "Angry. It doesn't look pretty on you, Yamato."
"Ouch, that hurts." Yamato said in a dull voice.
"But it's true."
"This isn't going anywhere." He sighed. "Just tell me. Was it that bad?"
She shifted her weight, staring at the blonde. "I told you, I didn't get it."
"Like, all." Mimi rolled her eyes. Then, she said softly. "I can't read music sheets."
"What?" He turned on his back, propping his face on his hand. "What was that thing the other day, then? That song about my ex, the one you said sounded like it should be on radio?"
She didn't answer him for a long moment. Mimi even refused to meet his glare. She looked at his bed, which was unmade and sporting lots of scribbled papers and empty cans of Redbull. She glanced at his window, which was so greasy it made her wince. She did try, once, to lure him to wash his windows but all she received was a blank stare. She looked up at the ceiling, at the overhead lamp, which she knew he used as a hiding place for his magazines. She thought about looking under his bed, but that would be going a bit too far. Frustrated at the dwindling choices of places to look at other than his face, Mimi turned to him and stared at him in the eyes.
Her voice trembled. "I lied, okay? I pretended to understand your sheets, but I've heard the song before. On Koushiro's laptop. He's a big fan of your songs, by the way. He really likes them, he plays them all the time at school it just drives me nuts."
Yamato was astonished. "Why did you do that?"
"Because!" She paused. Mimi realised she was starting to sound a bit desperate, so she took a deep breath and thought about what she'd say. "I don't want to look stupid. You and Taichi are always talking about guitars and stuffs. I just want to be included."
He looked at his soaked sheet. It smelled like lemons. It wasn't a bad smell or anything, he thought. At the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of her legs. She was wearing knee-length black stockings, the ones that were popular with girls nowadays. Yamato was surprised she didn't wear neon pink stockings. Black stockings didn't seem like her. They were too funeral-like. She was all little smiles and pearly fingernails.
"I can play it for you," he murmured. "If you want."
"Of course I want you to play it for me," she muttered. "I like your songs."
Yamato didn't say anything but quietly, he was pleased. "Go and get my guitar."
Mimi grumbled. She didn't complain, simply because she saw the wrinkle in his forehead had smoothed away. "Where is it?"
"No idea." Under his jacket, on the coffee table in front of the television. "You need some exercise."
But she went and searched for his guitar. She looked under the sofa and behind the refrigerator, because it was just like Yamato to play tricks on her. Mimi even opened the front door and looked around the hallway, since he could have left it there, so reckless and so careless. She let out a soft 'aha!' when she found his backpack, which he had left next to the door when he came home from school and needed to unlock the door. Mimi left it there. On impulse, she looked under his jacket and there it was.
She carried it like a sacrificial goat. "Here."
Yamato took it from her hands and placed it against his chest. He'd memorised the song, so he laid the sheet beside him and started playing the song. All the while, his gaze was on the ceiling as his subconscious was carried away.
"Hey," her voice broke into his daydream. "Do you have a recording or something?"
"What?" he looked at her, his gaze blurry.
Mimi flipped open her cell phone. "This thing. It can record right?"
"Mm," Yamato answered absentmindedly, stroking his guitar.
"Can you play the song again?"
He played it for her, once more. Her lips were tightly pressed together as she held her cell phone close to his mouth and guitar, concentrating on getting the song recorded. When Mimi asked, Yamato shrugged and said he had no name for it. So she saved the recording as 'Yamato's'.
Mimi had the vague feeling that letting Yamato crash her date might not be her best decision, and her suspicions were on target.
She placed her chin on the table, glancing between her date and Yamato. They had a private table, at the very back of restaurant because her date had told he wanted to be alone without her. But now he and Yamato were busy with each other, talking. Usually talking is her forte. Mimi knew all the right, catchy, crispy things to say to make people like talking to her so much they just let her talk non-stop. But this. She felt like they were talking about the rough surface of Mars and she knew nil about science, other than what she had gleaned from movies and stuffs.
"What are you guys talking about?" She had asked earlier, leaning into her date and smiling. Her date had carved a big smile for her and Mimi had almost melted, if not for Yamato coughing and asking her to get him a glass of water. When she returned, they had resumed talking and ignoring her.
She sat up, determined. She didn't know why Yamato was purposefully ruining her night, but she wasn't going to let him think she's a pushover. Oh no, sir. Mimi fixed her gaze on her date's face, a smile at the corner of her mouth. When it became obvious she was staring at him, he glanced at her. She took the chance and fingered the left strap of her spaghetti strap shirt. She slid it down her arm, all the while holding his gaze.
Mimi almost giggled when he swallowed. Unluckily, Yamato was staring at her too.
"Here," he threw her his leather jacket. "You look cold."
She glared at him. "No, I'm just bored."
"Why?" he said lazily. "I'm having fun."
"Oh, really?" she smiled tightly. "I haven't noticed. I've been busy yawning, you see."
"Oh," Yamato leaned in, smiling. "I guess you're tired. Do you want to go home?"
Inwardly, she let out an irritated scream. Outwardly, Mimi gave her date a forced smile and a weak excuse, grabbed her coat, stood up and walked out of the restaurant. Since Yamato was determined to play with her, she was equally determined to get out of his game.
There was a light snow that night and her arms shivered at the cold. Her skirt barely skimmed her ankles as she stood in the restaurant's doorway, half of her face illuminated by the light from the street lamps. She took off one of her armbands and tied her hair into a ponytail. As she was doing so, she heard a soft 'Mimi' behind her.
Mimi didn't bother to turn around. "Happy?"
"I wanted to eat the sushi," Yamato grumbled, tucking his hands into his jeans. "Taichi said it's nice."
"No," she snapped. "He said it 'melts in your mouth, pours down your throat and elevate your very being to the heavens beyond'. That's what he said."
"Yeah, yeah," he reached out to ruffle her hair but she ducked. "Corny."
"I wanted to eat the sushi too!" her voice echoed in the night.
"So come back inside," he titled his head to the door.
"I can't, I just dumped the guy," she rubbed her hands together.
"Huh," he messed up his blond hair. "You were pretty mean."
Mimi looked up, glaring at him with the heat of a thousand Sahara suns. He stared back calmly, unperturbed by the almost murderous thoughts streaming through her mind that he was sure was happening.
"You," she stabbed his chest with her index finger. "Shouldn't have been there. You."
Yamato shrugged. "You said you didn't mind."
"I thought you were just sharing the table," she huffed. "I didn't think you mean sharing my date. When did you go gay, Yamato? Because I missed that memo."
He shifted his weight. His boots crunched the snow underneath his feet, making a brittle sound. Satisfied, Yamato looked up in time to see the glistening of her eyes.
He really looked at her. "Are you crying?"
"No!" she hid her face with her hands. "Just, forget it. Walk me home, okay?"
"Sure," Yamato shrugged off his jacket once more and wrapped it around her small frame. He made sure to let her ponytail escape the jacket and placed it on her back.
Yamato, being the taller of the two, easily outpaced Mimi and she struggled to keep up with him. She nudged through a thick stream of crowd as she tried to be at his side all the time. At her third apology to an annoyed couple, she yelled his name and told him to walk slower.
He loitered in front of a television shop. The light from the televisions flickered on his profile as he watched her running toward him. "What's up?"
"I'm not fat," Mimi quickly said. "You just have longer legs."
Yamato held up his hands. "Guilty of saying nothing."
"Funny." She flailed her arms. Her mood was picking up, probably from the walk. "Hey."
He glanced at her. "What?"
"Where were you from?"
His hands balled into fists in his pockets. "Same place as you."
Mimi made a face. "So you just happened to be in front of a really expensive restaurant, you saw me sitting with this guy, you waved, and when I waved back, you decided you want to eat sushi too so you came in?"
He thought about it. "Kinda."
Her whole face brightened. "Liar. You were stalking me."
Yamato groaned. "No."
She jumped, laughing in his face. Her hair bounced on her back as the sound of her laughter poured gaily into the night. It attracted a couple of passersby, but Mimi paid them no heed.
He took hold of her shoulders, staring straight into her eyes. "Fine. I saw you. I went in."
She stopped jumping long enough to toss a gleeful smile at his face. "I'm so going to tell Sora you stalked me."
"What are you doing here?"
Yamato leaned against the basement's door, waiting for her answer. Sweats dripped down his face and neck as he took deep, uneven breaths. His white shirt clung to his back while Mimi looked him over. He silently cursed the owner for being green. The basement was scorching warm and the lack of fans or better yet, air-conditioning, was getting to him and his band mates.
"You're having a practice right?" He nodded. "So I'm here."
"Who told you?" He raked his hair with his right hand, the left one holding his drummer's sticks. "I don't see any food."
"I'll buy a ticket."
"Sure." Yamato offered his sweaty cheek. Groaning loudly, Mimi shoved his face away and slid past him.
"Why didn't you kiss me?" He caught up with her as she walked down the stairs.
Yamato winced. Mimi ignored him, smiling at the rest of the band. She'd been to the basement before, so she knew the sofas scattered all over the basement were just for pranks. She made a small project by herself as Yamato argued with his drummer about a song. When he turned around to face their only audience and the microphone, she was smiling and sitting on top of a pile of bags, directly situated in front of the drummer. Mimi gave the drummer a flying kiss and a wink, which made Yamato blink.
Yamato couldn't get their ogle fest out of his mind. He forgot to play his part during a song when he caught her giggling at the drummer's antics. It gave the drummer, who had wanted a go at him for quite a time, to call him sissy, which irritated Yamato to no end. Mimi didn't say anything in his defence, which made him angrier. In a weak moment, he gave up the microphone to the bassist, who screamed his heart out, made them play punk songs and refused to let go of the microphone. All in all, it wasn't a good practice. In the end, Yamato wondered whether he should just give up.
When the dust settled, they were the only ones left in the basement. Yamato busied himself by tuning his guitar while Mimi examined her nails. Once she decided a manicure trip was eminent, she broke the silence.
"It wasn't your best, was it?" she said, sympathetically.
"Shut up," he snapped. "Why were you flirting with my drummer?"
"He was flirting with me, it was polite to flirt back," she shot.
"And ruining the practice is part of your etiquette too?"
"Do you have a problem?" Mimi quirked her eyebrow. "Watching people flirt? Is it a visual pollution to you?"
"I'm angry you ruined my practice," he fired. "I don't care if you flirt with a giraffe."
"You are mad," she sighed. "Again. What did I tell you the last time?"
He matched her sigh, adding extra octaves to his. "Why don't you go away?"
"I'm waiting for you." She said, surprised.
Yamato strummed a string. "I'm going to be late. Go without me."
"Fine," Mimi crossed her arms. "But just so you know, I'll just go and wait at your motorcycle. So I might as well stay here with you."
A snappy retort was at the tip of her tongue, but she clamped her mouth shut. Mimi resolved to huffing and looking at anything but him to show her anger. Yamato ignored her, as he had a reckless relationship with the whole idea of girls and he wasn't feeling particularly nice to her at the moment. And he was tired, his heavy hands weighing down his efforts with its reluctance to cooperate.
After ten minutes of nothing spoken and him still toying with his guitar, she spoke up.
"You didn't play the song."
He wiped his wet hands on his shirt, playing for time. "Which song?"
"You know," Mimi played with the bottom of her shirt.
His voice was soft. "The band didn't like it."
"What?" she exclaimed. "That's impossible. It was really good."
Yamato thought about it, and he had to hide a smile as he answered her. "They said it's boring."
"No," she sat up. "It is one of your best songs. I play it every night before I go to bed."
"So it's like baba black sheep."
"I don't mean it that way. It's just, I like it so much I need to listen to it before I sleep, because if I do, I'll feel nice. It's one of those really nice songs. Like last night, I dreamt I had a double cheeseburger for breakfast."
"You're dreaming about food," His forehead creased. "I think you should stop your diet. You're looking a bit thin nowadays."
"I like cheeseburgers, okay," the apples of her cheeks reddened. "The song is just very you."
Yamato didn't have anything to say, so he quitted teasing her. He strummed his guitar once, twice. "So you like the song?"
Mimi made a face. "Yamato."
He looked up at her, expectant.
"I'm in love with it."
"So you're not mad anymore?"
"Not right now," he murmured. "Take my bag."
She carried his bag in her arms. While she was rummaging in his bag for snacks, she mumbled, "I promise I won't ruin your practice again."
It significantly cooled him. "It's okay."
He nearly didn't catch her next words. "Just don't ever not tell me you're having a practice."
"I forgot," he apologised, without looking at her.
When Yamato was done switching off all the lights and shoving used plastic bags under the sofa, they left the basement together, with Yamato shouldering his guitar case and Mimi carrying his ever-faithful backpack. It was snowing heavily when they got out. Mimi rubbed her gloved hands together, shivering.
"Where's your motorcycle?" she asked quietly.
He let out a soft bark of laughter. He didn't stop until they reached his motorcycle. Mimi ignored him as she saddled the seat, the backpack in her lap. "Can you shut up?"
Yamato reached down and scooped a handful of snow. He smeared it on his face, his teeth chattering at the cold. Then he tapped his cheek pointedly.
Mimi glared. "Fine. And don't ever forget to tell me whenever you have a practice."
She gave it a kiss. Satisfied, he revved the motorcycle. "Are you hungry?"
"If you're buying, yes."
She held on to his back tightly as they disappeared into the night.
He didn't mean to stop, hoping to catch up with Taichi, but a blur of pink hair tugged at his vision and he peered into the classroom, curious.
It was Mimi, alone in a sea of empty desks and chairs. She had her back to the window and the sun, thus her face was mostly in the shadows. Her fingers flew across her notebook, not taking notes, he noticed, but drawing long circles and scribbling names. Yamato closed the distance, scooped her hair, twisted it to form a wild braid and placed it on her back.
Mimi looked up, her eyes dreamy. "Hi."
He nodded, looking at her scribbles.
"I'm sketching boredom," she offered him a pencil. "Nice cap."
"It's Taichi's. He left it." Yamato took the pencil and drew a cat. "Hey."
"Mm?" she scrawled across his cat, blacking it out of sight.
"This is going to be the stupidest question I'll ever ask," he admitted. She looked up, expectant. "It's just something Taichi said."
"What did he say?"
He groaned and leaned his face against the desk. "Never mind."
Mimi leaned into him. Her warm breaths brushed his cheeks. There was a small, playful smile at the corner of her mouth. She was wearing the school's hoodie and it was pulled down just enough to show her collarbones and the top of her cleavage. When she leaned into him, he swore at himself for catching a glance at her creamy skin. "What?"
Yamato gave her an annoyed glance but didn't answer.
"Fine," she paused, and then continued. "Hey, what was your first kiss like?"
He groaned, the extra loudness of it done deliberately.
"It's just a question," Mimi rolled her eyes. "Come on, tell me."
Grumbling, Yamato thought about the first time he kissed a girl. After a while, he came up with the perfect word to summarise the experience. "Wet."
Her giggles were almost out of control. "Really?"
"It was raining."
Her laughter subsided, almost suddenly. "Oh. That's kind of, sweet."
Yamato shrugged, his lashes drooping. "Senior girl."
There was a silence for a while. They busied themselves with drawing various animals, rainbows and obscure pictures and crossing out each other's drawings. After satisfyingly drawing cracks in Mimi's heart, Yamato spoke up.
Mimi shrugged. "My friends were talking about boyfriends. They kind of laughed at me."
"About my first kiss." She didn't elaborate.
"How was it?" he attempted casualness and it worked, luckily.
She took a while to answer. Partly out of embarrassment. "Not yet."
It perked his interest. "Huh."
"Really," Mimi stared at him. "I have never kissed a boy. I have kissed a girl but it was one of my dolls."
Her pencil jabbed his arm. He let out a hiss of pain, rubbing the spot where she'd jabbed him. Her stare had a kind of intensity to it that made him clamp the swearword at the tip of his tongue.
"It's true, idiot. Don't make fun of me."
"I'm not an idiot," Yamato said angrily. "That's hard to believe. I've seen you with so many boys."
"Like the one you blew off for me?"
"You didn't seem so sad to leave him."
"How can I stay with him and leave you?" she said, incredulous.
"You chase boys," he sneered. "It'd be very easy, I'm guessing."
"He's just a boy," she said softly. "You're my friend. I don't know him well, but I know you. I'd rather hang out with you. It'll always be you first."
"You stole that line from me."
They glared at each other for a moment. Mimi, taking a deep breath, broke away first. "I've never kissed anyone before. I think kissing is chewing each other's lips."
He relaxed visibly. Yamato whistled. "So you really have never kissed anyone before, huh."
Mimi's cheeks flushed. "Why does everyone think I have done everything?"
"You're," Yamato tucked his hands into his jeans' pockets. "Always with a guy. So, yeah."
She drew a stick girl next to his stick man. Her stick figure had stars for eyes. Mimi leaned in to draw grass and flowers around the tree, her hair falling over her face. Yamato thought her hair smelled like the girl who sells oranges near their school. It was pure coincidence that she voiced his thoughts and announced her intention to visit the orange girl. They packed up her things and left the classroom together.
When Mimi was buying an orange from the girl, Yamato stared moodily at her mouth. He'd never really thought much about specific parts of her. Yet he was thinking about her mouth and chewing and what she'd said about him always being first when she bounced to his side and offered him a slice of her orange.
He let her push it into his mouth. Tasting its juiciness, he took a moment to swallow it before he opened his mouth to speak. "You know the song?"
Mimi knew. Too busy swallowing her orange slices to answer, she bobbed her head once, twice.
"I've thought about it." He watched as she ate another slice. His mouth watered.
She gave him a slice. "So you're going to talk to your band about it? Because you know, you should. I really think so."
"No," Yamato tipped his cap at her. God. Even Hikari, who he barely met, was on his case about the song. "It's the name."
Her eyes brightened. "Is 'Pink' in?"
He ignored her. "Chewing Lips. Sound good?"
"Boy, you stole my line."
"I'll get you an orange."
"Good." Placated, Mimi glanced at him. She licked the juice from her hand, the cold air quickly drying her fingers sticky. "So why did you write the song? I mean, what is it about? Is it about me?"
"Yes," Yamato glanced at her bright eyes and careless smile. "It wasn't then."
She was kidding with him, but when he didn't crack a smile or laugh, Mimi looked away from him. He didn't catch her mutters, but he took a guess.
"So you like me?" He said it softly, very gently. He said it that way so she wouldn't take it wrongly and think he was playing with her, as he was most of the time.
It was nearly impossible to look at his slow smile and not feel her cheeks heating to boiling point. Her hands rose and busied themselves with her hair. He watched her hands, thinking he could fit three of those into only one of his hands. She stopped, looking away. Playing for time and a good answer.
"Yeah," she murmured. "I like you."
An 'okay' was all he said. That, and his little finger linking with hers. It was unexpected and she still felt surreal about it, but it was very, very nice to hold on to his hand.
"I told you I've never kissed anyone." She said, partially to break off the silence, partially to make him do something.
A shrug and a smirk were all she received. She thought the smirk meant he still couldn't believe it and it was funny to him. It maddened her, incessantly. When he gave her finger a tug but she refused to budge, Yamato shrugged again and let go of her hand.
Mimi watched in disbelief as he walked ahead of her. Quickly, without much thought, she ran to him and placed her hands on his chest. When Yamato looked at her, she grabbed his cap, pulled him down to her and pressed her lips to his. His felt supple and soft at her touch, making her wonder. She felt his sharp intake of breath on her mouth, and it exhilarated her.
As quickly as she had grabbed him, Mimi pulled away. She grinned openly at his expression. There was a bounce to her steps as she walked ahead of him, nibbling an orange slice. Yamato was left feeling disgruntled and used, but he could not deny the warm glow which had spread from his chest to other parts of his body.
Thank you for reading it! If you can, please leave me a review. Thanks again. :))