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On any other day – another perfect tropical day, not a cloud in the sky and the sun painting everything with a pretty golden light – the restaurant would be nothing but bustle, jabbering voices overlapping into a wild cacophony while Hanamura rushed around to keep everyone’s plates full, late arrivals and early departures filtering in and out, the smell of coffee and fresh fruit and yesterday’s chores and sweat and friendship – and more – thick in the air.
Today, the restaurant was almost dead silent. Pots and pans were gently scraping in the kitchen – a far cry from Hanamura’s usual chaos. Morning birdsong floated through the open windows on the ocean’s salty breeze. Wind rustled palm trees outside. In the distance, the waves lapped against the shoreline.
And a chair was creaking and scraping, echoing into the silence, as Mikan fidgeted like she’d never fidgeted before. The messy bun she’d pulled her ratty hair into was living up to its name, her sundress looked too hippy and flowy and floral for someone as dour and wound-up as her, and nothing could remove her miasma of unease and neglect.
She was trying her best to make herself look like she deserved someone reserving the whole place at breakfast, but even though they hadn’t even really had the date yet, Mikan already felt the need to apologize for it.
Before she could run out of the restaurant and feel terrible about wasting his time, the kitchen door swung open and– oh dear, here he came, plates and a coffee pot precariously balanced, smiling in that self-satisfied way of his, the stubble on his face sparkling in the morning sun.
“Order up!” Hinata chuckled– giggled. It was the tail end of summer on a tropical island, and he still insisted on wearing a thick turtleneck and jeans, both black and both well-worn. How he didn’t burn up in it (and the rest of his wardrobe, full of dark button-ups and denim) Mikan would never know, and frankly a part of her was always worried he’d get a heat stroke.
But another part of her thought he looked incredibly cozy, like a walking hug, and handsome. Very handsome – very beautiful, whatever the difference was. He drew her eye, so masculine – his full jawline, his strong chin, the clear bulge of his muscles through his turtleneck – and feminine – his dark lashes, his full lips, the gentle delicacy of his smile – and everything in between. He had dark circles under his eyes, stubble on the border of rugged and scraggly, and a slight fatigue weighing him down – less than Mitarai, less than Komaeda, less than even her – but he was still handsome, still beautiful, and just attractive, just the kind of person who could so easily draw Mikan in and make her want to drown in him.
There were others on the island that turned Mikan’s head – stunning Pekoyama, elegant Komaeda, pretty Mahiru, wild Ibuki, rugged Tanaka, fairytale-beautiful Sonia – but none like Hinata.
And Mikan had met him with an ill-fitting dress and bad hair.
Hinata set down the coffee pot first. “I’m still kinda surprised you like it black,” he chuckled.
Mikan wrung her hands together. “I-I j-just don’t like s-sweet stuff that much…”
Hinata sat the dishes down before taking a seat across from Mikan and fixing that– oh, that look on her, sending heat racing to her cheeks. He’d gone with an American breakfast – coffee, sausage, eggs. His mouth was moving and he was probably explaining something about the meal he’d prepared (for her, for her, he’d cooked breakfast all for her) but it fell on deaf, red-tipped ears.
“Th-thank you…” she mumbled as she poured herself a cup of coffee. Hinata had already started scarfing down his share of the breakfast, but his eyes – mismatched, stunning, gorgeous – never left Mikan. His look was tender, but it still made her want to crawl out of her skin. What sort of expectations had he built up in his mind about her, and how was Mikan failing to live up to them?
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
Mikan nodded, part of her knowing what Hinata was really asking. She still had nightmares sometimes, but not as often, and at least she wasn’t sleepwalking anymore. He smiled widely at her answer. He’d been so concerned about her recovery after she woke up, and as far as she knew, she was the only one he still fussed over. Anyone else would be annoyed by that, but…Mikan knew who she was. She knew what she did in the simulation. She’d fuss over her – she’d think she was a risk to just leave alone.
Or maybe Hinata just thought she needed the support, that if she wasn’t tended to she’d just break.
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”
“Y-you s-seem…l-like maybe y-you didn’t sleep well…”
Hinata scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. “Just a late night. You know how it is…”
And Mikan was suddenly wondering whether, if she pulled down the collar of that turtleneck, she’d find hickeys.
She’d been so surprised when Hinata came to her with his explanation that he had Ibuki’s blessing (“She said… Well, she said some dumb lyric, but what she meant was that she didn’t mind me…finding people besides her.”). A part of her still didn’t believe it, and a part of her was still trying to work out how this was supposed to make her feel. She’d been so genuinely happy for Hinata and Ibuki when they started dating, but she’d been jealous too. Ibuki didn’t believe in keeping things private, and whatever feelings she’d had for Hinata beforehand were only made worse by the constant reminders of the…things Mikan could’ve been doing with him.
But now…she had what she’d wanted. Hinata was here, and he was looking at her with those pretty eyes, and she couldn’t even really enjoy it because she knew what he was used to, and that wasn’t Mikan.
“How are things with you and the girls?” Hinata asked.
Mikan knew he didn’t mean every girl on the island – she, Mahiru, Ibuki, and Hiyoko had taken a long, tough look at each other in the mirror after returning from the Future Foundation outpost, and it had taken a lot of work (and a lot of yelling and tears and forced apologies and backsliding) to achieve the peace they’d finally found. It wasn’t perfect – and Mikan didn’t think she’d ever be best friends with Hiyoko – but it was so much better than what they’d had.
Before she could even answer though, Hinata – or the other one – read the answer right off her face. “Tsumiki, if Saionji is still bothering you, please know you can come to me,” he said. “I mean, you can go to Mahiru, but… Just, come to me if you need to.”
His voice was so soft. His words were so gentle. At the mention of Mahiru, Mikan couldn’t help but think of how tender Hinata usually wasn’t, to all those wild nights he spent onstage, scream-singing and yelling and laughing raucously and– and moving against Ibuki with such a deliriously happy grin on his face, drenched in sweat, bold eyeliner making his mismatched eyes pop. Mikan couldn’t help but think of the person Hinata had become on Jabberwock – unrestrained, open, sloppy sometimes, louder than life, bold, snappy, free…
And happy. Even on his bad days, the days that broke Mikan’s heart, he was still happy – happy on the island, happy with his people, happy with his band, happy with Ibuki, happy with someone who could match his energy and give him the reassurance, comfort, and joy he deserved after everything he’d gone through.
And here Mikan was, making Hinata offer to be a shoulder to cry on because her friends maybe weren’t perfect. Here Mikan was, making him cook her breakfast and talk all gently with her because he knew she’d shatter like glass under the slightest pressure. Here Mikan was, restrained and closed off and tense, timid and shy, too demure for her own good, still locked inside her own head after everything that everyone had done for her–
She staggered to her feet. She blinked and felt tears beginning to gather. “I-I’m sorry, I… I don’t think we should…” Hinata blinked up at her. Shock and sadness were all over those pretty eyes, and the sight alone made Mikan want to sit back down – and make her tear off her skin for being another bit of pain Hinata didn’t deserve. “I-I’m sorry f-for making you d-do all this b-because you…p-pity… I’m sorry, I’ll go–”
And when she turned to leave (and hole herself up in her cottage and cry her eyes out) she felt fingers close around her wrist – not tightly, not aggressively, not with hunger and force and want, but a soft, pleading touch, light as a feather. Hinata had stood. He wasn’t that much taller than her, but Mikan felt puny compared to him.
“Tsumiki.”
She wanted to wrest her hand from his grip. She wanted to tell him the truth that she knew, that Mikan Tsumiki was just a broken, pathetic, wretched little thing that people could only love in the same way that someone loved an injured, starved puppy (and even then, at least a puppy hadn’t killed millions of people).
But his voice was so soft, so gentle that it made her want to cry even more.
“I’m not doing this out of pity,” he whispered. “Why do you think I would?”
She allowed him to sit her back down in her chair. Instead of taking his own, he knelt in front of her, looking up with a gaze she couldn’t meet. Mikan kept her eyes down. Hinata hadn’t let go of her hand.
“I-I…” she blubbered. “Y-you’re…s-so… I-I’m…just…n-nothing like I-Ibuki-chan…” Hinata’s mouth opened to argue, but Mikan couldn’t stop. “S-she’s…bold and open a-and bright and y-you don’t have to b-baby her or make her feel t-taken care of… I-I’m just…s-so pathetic… Y-you deserve her, o-okay? N-not s-someone y-you have t-to feel s-s-sorry for…”
Mikan sucked in a shaky breath. Her words sounded so unpleasant, so vile, because they were true, they were true, she knew they were true…
Hinata was quiet for a long time, clearly thinking out his next words, his eyes going cold a few times because it apparently took an Ultimate Debater to work out how to pretend he didn’t also think– know Mikan was pathetic–
“I do feel sorry for you,” he began, and even though that awful little voice whispered hate in Mikan’s ear, his gentle, heartfelt tone made it a little quieter. “I am so, so, so sorry for everything that’s happened to you. I don’t even know half of it, but what you’ve told me, no one should ever have to go through any of that – especially not someone like you. I am so sorry the people in your life failed you.”
He rubbed her knuckles softly, brow furrowed in something between anger and sorrow. “I wish I could take it all away from you. I wish you’d never had to go through the things you did. But…”
Hinata chewed his lip. He looked up at her, and his other hand twitched for a second before it came to rest against Mikan’s cheek. She felt herself sinking into the warmth automatically.
“But that’s not what defines you. Especially not to me.” His voice was firmer. “You’re not pitiful, or damaged or broken or anything like that. When I see you, I don’t see your pain. I see the girl who treats everyone kindly. I see the girl who never hesitates to take care of us when we’re sick or injured, no matter how gross we are. I see the girl who’s way too into weird medical facts, and who’s so adorable when she gets excited, and who stops herself from talking too much even though everyone loves how passionate she is. I see the girl who can’t stop laughing when she’s with her friends, and I see the girl that loves her friends more than anything, and I see the girl that everyone loves because she’s a sweet, dependable, thoughtful, kind, strong person. I see the girl who everyone loves, because she was practically made to be loved. I see the girl with the biggest heart on the island, the girl who cares so much for everyone else that it hurts, the girl who I’ve never doubted for a second loves us.
“I see all that, and I see the girl I fell for – Ibuki or no Ibuki.”
Mikan was crying now. She wasn’t wailing in sorrow, and she didn’t feel like the shards of her broken heart were tearing up her insides – instead, she felt so full of warmth that she might burn. Her heart felt so full, and she grabbed Hinata’s hand herself and held it so tight, suddenly afraid to let him go, suddenly wanting this moment to last a lifetime, to last forever. Fat tears streamed down her cheeks, and she watched them drip onto Hinata’s hand, sparkling in the morning sun.
And then he rose up, and his lips pressed right on the mole beneath her eye, and he murmured against her skin as he kissed her tears away, “I don’t care that you’re not Ibuki. I don’t pity you. I care about you, Tsumiki. I care about you.”
She blubbered, trying her best to put all her feelings into words, before giving up and doing the only thing she could – the thing she’d wanted to do for a long, long time:
She lunged at Hinata, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him into a desperate kiss, and everything exploded into light.
He was so warm. His lips were rough. He was here. The force of it made him gasp against her lips and Mikan was terrified she’d gone too far for one horrible second, but then he was kissing her back, sighing contentedly– longingly out of his nose, his breath almost as hot as Mikan’s whole body felt. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer, and she fell to the floor, kneeling right in front of him as she kept on kissing him. As he pulled away for a second to breathe and then went right back to kissing her, a wet smacking noise made Mikan blush somehow hotter, lightning going through every nerve in her body.
Was she even on Jabberwock anymore? Who was she? The only thing she was sure about was that she never, ever wanted to stop feeling Hinata’s lips on hers.
Eventually, she pulled away for her own breath, panting, and rested her forehead against Hinata’s. He chuckled – a dark, husky sound that made Mikan feel warm all over again. “You don’t think this is a bit much for a first date?” he teased, and Mikan felt the love in his voice.
“Sh-shush,” she giggled. His eyes were so close, and she could see the little ring of brown around the pupil of his green eye, the ring of stark white in his red one, and the sheer warmth and adoration in them both.
“Shush.” She kissed him again. “Shush.” And again.
And again. And again. And again.
And maybe it was a bit much for a first date, yes. It wasn’t typical, but neither were they, and whatever it was, Mikan preferred it.
They stayed just like that for a while: kneeling in the middle of the restaurant, hugging tightly, drinking in each other’s warmth, perfectly happy, safe, loved – and loving.
He should’ve wandered off a while ago, but instead Kazuichi was just sitting on the stairs, munching on what he’d managed to sneak out of the restaurant before Tsumiki and Soul Bro got all emotional. He was still close enough to hear though. Shit, he was crying into his fucking eggs. Hinata was too fucking sweet. Kazuichi wanted what Tsumiki had.
(But, like, y’know, with a girl. He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t gay)
“Kaz-chan,” someone hissed from downstairs. “Kaaaz-chan.”
He wiped his eyes and peered down. “Ibuki-chan?”
She stepped out of the shadows, dressed down for once in just a tank top and shorts, eyes sparkling with mischief and curiosity. “How’s it going?”
Kazuichi grinned. Ibuki used to scare the shit out of him (and to be honest, her solo music still kinda did) but he was so, so happy to have her in his life now. She was quickly becoming one of his favorite people, not least because she really, genuinely gave a shit about him. He was loved and nothing was gonna change that. Shit, he was gonna cry again. Shit.
“It’s going! Y’know, just chillin’, havin’ some breakfast–”
“I meant with Mikan-chan and Hajime.”
Oh. Never mind. Fuck him apparently. “I-I think it’s goin’ good. They’ve mostly just been talking.”
“Mostly?”
“Heard some kissy noises.”
Ibuki grinned so fucking big, so bright it nearly blinded him, and punched the air. “That’s my Hajime-chan! Go get some!”
“I can’t believe you’re okay with this.”
“Huh? Why?”
“I dunno, it’s like…” Kazuichi took another bite of egg while he considered his next words carefully. Once, he’d said bandmates was a stupid name for a relationship and he woke up the next morning with a broken drumstick in his bed. “You just seem like…y’know, the jealous type. Like you’d never wanna share him.”
Ibuki was quiet for a second. Her eyes narrowed. She frowned, almost pouting. Kazuichi hated when she got all serious like this. She had such bad Resting Bitch Face.
“Ibuki…” she began, tilting her head as she apparently worked out her own thoughts. “Part of me doesn’t want to share him. Part of me hates it when he pays attention to anyone else. But… You know, we’re…the only people on Earth who understand each other. We’re all just…here, and we’re here together, and we all care about each other so much, so…it doesn’t feel bad to share him in that situation.”
Shit, that was deep. Kazuichi nodded.
Then Ibuki smiled, a bright blush coming to her cheeks. “Besides…anyone who gets a chance with Mikan-chan is… Mikan-chan’s the color of passion, y’know? If someone gets the chance to wrap her in rubber, Ibuki’s not gonna stop ‘em!”
Kazuichi groaned. He hated it when Ibuki randomly burst into English. Even after months in Jabberrock, his grasp of the language was still shaky at best. “Is this some kind of sex thing?”
Oh fuck, Ibuki was foaming at the mouth again. “Whoa, here it comes; That funny feeling again…”
And she wandered off, still mumbling to herself. Kazuichi went back to his eggs, thankfully not filling it with tears this time. He listened for a second and didn’t hear Tsumiki or Soul Bro upstairs anymore. Maybe they’d used the other stairwell to leave the restaurant. Or maybe Hinata had grabbed Tsumiki and climbed out the window with her using the Ultimate Spidermonkey talent or something. Either way, he was free to head upstairs and use a table, but…honestly, he was okay with the stairs.
He thought about what Ibuki had said. Here, and here together. We all care about each other so much. They really did, didn’t they? Kazuichi certainly cared about everyone a lot – shit, sometimes he’d cry at night thinking about how much he loved everyone, but did he love them or love them? A few of them, definitely not, but others…
Kazuichi kept eating, ignoring the sudden image of Soul Bro talking to him like he’d talked to Tsumiki.