Chapter Text
*Ding*
Mamoru’s spine straightened at the chime of the arcade doors opening, his fingers tightening on the handle of his coffee cup.
“Motoki-onii-san!!” chirped an achingly familiar voice to his right.
He forced himself not to turn and look.
“Usa! You’re early!”
“I can be early sometimes!!” she objected, a distinct note of petulance in her voice.
“Of course you can,” Motoki agreed, “I just haven’t finished decorating yet.”
Still forcing himself not to turn and look at her, Mamoru instead watched the way her eyes lit up in the polished chrome of the milkshake machine.
“Really?? You were going to decorate?!?”
“Of course! It’s not every day my favorite customer turns fifteen.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Mamoru recognized his knuckles turning white, and momentarily wondered what Motoki would do if he accidentally smashed one of Crown’s mugs in his overzealous grip.
Usagi’s upcoming birthday had been the only topic of conversation around the arcade for weeks. Without even looking at her, Mamoru knew she was currently wearing a pink blouse and white shoes with that tiny green skirt of hers, because he’d eavesdropped on at least a dozen debates over which was the cutest ensemble for her to celebrate in.
What he didn’t know – what he was almost too terrified to even check – was whether she was wearing earrings with that outfit.
The worn velvet jewelry box burned a hole in his pocket, so hot that he was surprised Usagi didn’t feel it from where she stood only a meter or so away from him.
“Well, since I’m early and it’s my birthday, I deserve a celebratory milkshake, don’t you think?”
“Sure thing, Usa.” Motoki reached into the cooler and pulled out a pre-prepared shake. With a cheeky grin, he added a dollop of whipped cream and a cherry, then set the glass down in front of her. “I’m gonna go finish decorating, so just focus on your shake and ignore any brightly colored favors that might suddenly appear around you.” He winked, wiped the counter with his towel, and then disappeared into the back room.
Leaving Mamoru and Usagi alone together.
Okay, Mamoru chided himself as soon as he was sure Motoki wasn’t coming right back. You’re not going to get a better opportunity than this. Just… for once in your life, be nice.
He cleared his throat, swiveling on the chair to finally look at Usagi, her pink lips wrapped around the striped milkshake straw she’d swiped from a nearby jar.
She blinked at him, making no effort whatsoever to stop drinking her shake, and he cleared his throat again.
“It’s, uh, your birthday today, right?”
Her eyebrows rose slightly and she gave him an ‘Are-you-stupid?’ look that would put his own to shame.
“No, Motoki-onii-san and me were just doing a bit. I swear, Mamoru-baka. If someone isn’t talking about astral physics, you don’t even listen.”
He bit his tongue, recognizing that correcting her gaffe would not help his situation here. “No, I just meant…” His hand slipped into his pocket, because words weren’t his forte. He offered the box to her like a sugar cube to a horse, wary that if he seemed too nervous or eager he might lose a finger.
Usagi, however, looked at the box as if it were a snake. “You bought me a birthday present, Mamoru-baka??”
His chin raised slightly at her disbelieving tone. “Don’t let your brain get more full of odangoes than it already is. I found them in a drawer and they reminded me of you.”
She arched an eyebrow, but gingerly took the small box out of this hand. The look she was giving him made him feel quite certain that she expected this to be a prank – perhaps she suspected him of putting a dumpling inside a jewelry box just to tease her – and he held his breath as she cracked the slightly rusty hinges of the old box.
When he’d imagined this moment in his head (embarrassingly often over the last month, if he was being honest with himself), he’d pictured her reacting in a myriad of ways. He’d thought she might jump up and down. Or coo over the shining stones. Perhaps she would gasp, then look at him with shock, realizing for the first time that perhaps there was more to Mamoru-baka than sharp-tongued teasing.
He had never considered silence.
But Usagi stood there, holding the open box in her fingers, and didn’t make a sound. In fact, he couldn’t think of a single instance where he had ever seen her be this quiet for this long before. And, well, when it came to Usagi, Mamoru really only had one setting for dealing with discomfort.
Jamming his hands into his now-empty pockets, he shrugged his shoulders and opened his mouth: “Like I said, they were taking up space in a drawer and I needed to find something to do with them. Besides, I haven’t been able to escape all the ridiculous birthday chatter for at least the last month, so Motoki would have given me shit if I didn’t give you something. It’s not like I could use the excuse of not knowing the date.”
She continued to stare down at the polished orbs in the box, and the combined years of scrutiny by overbearing teachers and exacting orphanage staff was the only thing that saved him from fidgeting.
She finally tore her gaze away from the box and met his eyes with hers. “They-they’re beautiful. Thank you. Only…”
Something in his chest seized at her hedge. Had she already received a pair from someone else? Did she not want them if they came from him?
“…Why would you have pearl earrings hidden away in a drawer somewhere? Are you sure you didn’t accidentally take a pair that belong to your mom or something?”
Now, his chest twinged for an entirely different reason.
“No,” he said slowly. “I’m certain these don’t belong to anyone else.”
“Oh.” Her frown was slight, but it annoyed him all the same. This whole stupid gesture was supposed to make her happy, not upset her.
She sucked in on her cheek and, eyes following the lines of her face, he noticed that she was not, in fact, wearing any earrings.
“You know… Pearl is my birthstone.”
Though he had not made that connection, a dusty old file folder flashed in his mind – all the old paperwork he’d been given on the day he’d aged out of the orphanage system, including two birth certificates, one of which was dated June 14th, 1953.
“I guess they must have been meant for you, then.”
The furrow between Usagi’s eyebrows had transformed her frown from something sad into something quizzical. “This is… surprisingly nice of you. So, is this part of some sort of body swap deal?”
Mamoru felt his lips quirk up slightly and he shook his head.
“Alien experimentation?”
Another head shake.
“Okay, then it’s gotta be demonic possession.”
He couldn’t help his small guffaw. “I think you mean some other kind of spiritual possession.”
“Nope. I have experience, and most demons are nicer than you.”
He snorted and shook his head. “No demons. You can be early sometimes, and I can be nice sometimes. I believe the term is ‘layers.’”
“Psh, as if you actually believe I can be early to stuff.”
He tilted his head, nodding his chin at her. “I’m currently witnessing it with my own eyes. Believe it or not, some people are capable of changing their opinion when presented with contrary evidence.”
Her eyebrows rose, and he leaned towards her for the kill.
“So, are you?”
She rolled her eyes, and Mamoru’s insides warmed as her skeptical look morphed into something almost friendly. “Okay. Maybe you are capable of being nice. Some of the time. But I’m still calling this a weird fluke.”
Before Mamoru could respond – her smile really made it unfairly hard to think – Motoki reappeared from the back with a bushel of balloons. “Oh no!” he exclaimed, clapping his free hand to his forehead. “I didn’t even think about the fact that I left you two alone!”
“It’s okay,” Usagi said, taking another long sip of her milkshake. “Mamoru’s actually being nice for a change.”
Motoki’s eyebrow arched up, and his eyes flicked between his two most frequent customers. “Is this… some kind of elaborate birthday prank?”
Mamoru picked up his coffee cup again, mostly to have something to do with his hands. “Motoki, you wound me. I’m perfectly capable of being nice.”
“Yeah, he just chooses not to be most of the time,” Usagi added on, crossing her arms against the counter primly.
“Alright…” Motoki began tying the balloons to various pieces of furniture, pausing only to give Mamoru a meaningful look. “If you two want to declare a birthday truce, I’m on board. This just had better not backfire and spoil the party.”
Mamoru held up a hand. “I swear,” he said, and Motoki nodded.
“Damn straight. Now come help me with these streamers.”
Mamoru shook his head affectionately and slid off his stool, coming over to help Motoki string up assorted colors of crepe paper in the rafters of the arcade.
He glanced back across the room in time to catch Usagi slipping the small pearl earrings into her ears, and drew in a shaky inhale.
With some luck, he’d made a little progress, maybe even convinced her to stop hating him. Now, he just had to figure out how to prove to her that he could be nice more than some of the time.