You twirl around him, your blonde pigtails flailing, and whipping gently against his body inches away from yours, but still too far away. So, so far away.
You order another chocolate milkshake from Motoki, ignoring the sparks that seem to fly up your arm just because your sleeve is touching his.
His usual barbers today don’t get to you. You ignore him because that’s easier than looking at him and imagining his mouth on yours, kissing you and pressing your body hard against his, his hot breath on yours, little trails of saliva connecting you.
When your drink’s ready, you grab it a little too hard, and move swiftly back to your booth in the back of the arcade.
This is what going mad must feel like, you think idly, sipping your drink in a slow, pleased mood that your body doesn’t feel, and looking at the back of Mamoru-baka’s head. The shiny, black locks that make your fingers drum irritably upon the table, wondering if they’re as soft as they look.
~*~*~*~*~*~
You’ve reread the same sentence about fifteen times now. You feel her sitting there even though she’s eight booths away from you. Quantum Physics is doing nothing to hold your attention, instead your mind keeps drifting to sinful thoughts about too tight skirts and blouses, and how a preview of ivory skin seems to taunt you from rolled up sleeves and crossed legs.
Oh, yeah, you’re definitely going to the Special Hell.
~*~*~*~*~*~
It happens before you even have a chance to blink: all you see is a blinding light before you feel yourself being lifted up into the air and tossed back against an inconveniently placed oak tree.
A groan escapes from your lips, your head and back throbbing with undeniable pain and then…nothing.
~*~*~*~*~*~
A scream is wrenched from your throat before your legs swiftly move you toward the limp body on the ground.
The battle’s still going on around you, but you don’t pay any attention to it. You pick up the girl gingerly, the body warm but lifeless beneath your gloves. She’s bruised, her sailor fuku tattered at the edges, and small cuts and dirt adorn her once pristine face.
You don’t remember moving, but all at once, you’re running toward your apartment, with Sailor Moon still pressed up against your chest. You wonder vaguely what you’re going to do once you reach your home. She’s unconscious and should go to the emergency room, but the more logical part of you says that’s out of the question; she might de-transform while there and that’d just add whole lot more troubles onto her plate.
So, you keep on running and leaping through tall buildings in the dark of night, your heart speeding in what is probably not an advisable speed, but you reach your apartment before you know it.
You come in silently through the open balcony door, and lay the sleeping girl gently on your sofa.
De-transforming, you go into the kitchen to look for the washcloth and some ice, and try to remember all the stuff you read about treating people with concussions.
It’s going to be a long night.
~*~*~*~*~*~
You open your eyes and immediately have to close them again. The brightness of the room makes white stars dazzle behind your closed eyelids.
Your head, amid the throbbing and the headache that pounds along your forehead, is cold for some reason. You reach over it to find a big lump sitting there that’s cold and wet. Your eyes, gradually, adjust to the light and you find yourself in a strange place.
You sit up in a panic, immediately wincing at the dizziness that overwhelms you. This makes no sense; you have no idea where you are or how you got here. You lie back down to ease the nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach. Concentrating on the surroundings around you, you hear faint water running somewhere.
Trying to squash down the panic, you try to assess the situation. You’re still in your sailor fuku so that means your real identity as Usagi Tsukino, the perpetual underachiever of Juuban High, is still safe. How safe you are from this moment on, however, you aren’t so sure about.
Suddenly the water shuts off and a door opens in the hall. You close your eyes, thinking that fake sleeping until you figure what the heck is going on is the safest route to take so far.
~*~*~*~*~*~
You step out of the shower, refreshed and awake. Your patient had kept you up the whole night, having to apply and reapply the ice molding to her skull every two hours. You don’t know if she’s going to wake up (you hope), or what.
The thing is you care about her, deeply; yet you also seem to have developed feelings for a certain odango-head as well.
As Mamoru Chiba, you are crazy for Usagi Tsukino, but as Tuxedo Mask you lust after Sailor Moon. You think you could love both of them, but you don’t think either of them could love you. One doesn’t seem to be able to stand you, and the other…well, you don’t quite honestly know what the other one thinks of you. But would it really matter? The point is they can’t want you as much as you want them, which is strange in itself because the desire to be with them overwhelms you so suddenly every day, but you don’t know where that desire comes from. Well, that’s not quite true, you do know where it comes from, but it’s only a superficial desire, not the kind of thing that true love is built on, the kind of thing that bears fruition after years of companionship and knowing each other. You just lust after them physically.
You get changed quickly, eager to go back to her side, and continue your vigil. Leaving her alone on the sofa for long periods of time unattended probably isn’t the best idea.
~*~*~*~*~*~
You hear shuffling coming into the room, but keep your eyes closed. Your heart is pounding nervously, and you have to concentrate to keep still.
The pressure of something cool and soft touching your face surprises you, making your eyes fly open.
Familiar, intense dark-blue eyes gaze back at you, and you’d jump or something except you’re still feeling lethargic enough that even thinking about moving an inch is too bothersome.
“You’re awake,” the handsome man before you says. Surprise is coloring your face; what are you doing in Mamoru-baka’s home? How did you end up here of all places?
“Uh, where am I?” You end up replying slowly, voice hoarse and brain slow in forming the words.
“My home. I’m Mamoru Chiba, by the way.”
“How did I end up here? The last thing I remember was…” And here you trip up because everything seems as though you dreamed it and you have a hard time recalling the blurred images in your mind.
“It’s okay, don’t strain trying to remember. You hit your head pretty hard and got a concussion. My friend, Tuxedo Mask, brought you here last night so I could look after you.”
“You’re friends with Tuxedo Mask?”
“Yes. But, more importantly, how do you feel? I really think you should go to the hospital to get checked out. I would have taken you straight there last night, but Tuxedo Mask was afraid your identity might get revealed when you were unconscious, and if you were in such a public place. He didn’t want that to happen.”
You’re astonished to hear that, especially considering the fact that Tuxedo Mask must think of you as a clumsy fool who needs saving all the time. You’d certainly think that if you were him.
You let a small smile appear though the inside of you is figuratively jumping up and down in ecstasy. Tuxedo Mask cares about you, sure it’s to a small degree, and it’s probably because he knows how important it is for you all to keep your identities as super heroes of Tokyo safe, but at least it’s something. More than you expected really.
And something else you have never expected to see is how Mamoru-baka keeps staring at you with a concerned face. (But then he doesn’t know who you really are, your mind chides; he’s looking at Sailor Moon, not Usagi.)
“Uh, I don’t think that’s really necessary. I feel fine, just a bit of a headache.”
“Are you sure?” He leans toward you, and all of a sudden he’s in your personal space; you can smell the shampoo from his freshly washed hair, the scent invading your nose and driving you mad with desire.
“Yes,” and before you know what you’re doing you close the last few inches of space between you, your lips softly touching his.
Usagi, Sailor Moon, Usagi, Sailor Moon, you don’t care who he’s worried about for the moment because you’re both one person, one and the same, and if he can care about a strange superhero suddenly occupying his sofa, then, just maybe, you can make him care about the real you, the real you who he knows as Usagi.
~*~*~*~*~*~
The surprise is what you first feel, the soft pressure of her lips on yours, her hesitation, and the chaste kiss that she initiates. Then something takes over you, a desire from deep within that scares you because you have never felt like this before and it’s exhilarating.
Your tongues now start wrestling, your hand on her head pushing her closer, her arms clutching at your back. Things quickly become heated; your heart beating what is most likely not an advised rate, and your lungs screaming for air, yet you keep on kissing her passionately. This might be your last chance before everything goes to hell, so why not take as much advantage of it as possible in the moment.
You break apart after what seems like an eternity, your breathless state in sync rhythmically with hers.
It’s awkward, both of you staring at each other, trying to assimilate the situation into logical squares in your minds.
“Uh.”
“Um.”
“What was that for?” You ask, once your breathing comes back under control. It feels like the safest thing to ask at the moment.
“I don’t know, uh, look I’m really sorry I did that. I’ve no idea what came over me.”
And now she looks ashamed, head hanging low, her eyes deliberately not meeting yours. Well…damn.
“It’s okay, it’s not that I hated it per se, just…wasn’t quite expecting it.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” You get up, twitchy and a little confused. Okay, a lot confused. Beautiful girls in short skirts don’t just kiss you out of the blue, no matter if they have suffered a concussion or not.
“I’d better go. I’m sure the other girls are worried about me.”
She flings the blanket away from her body and bounds out of the apartment through the open balcony door.
You follow her, up to the rail, and watch as she disappears into the horizon. Your feet want to follow, yet you stay firmly in place.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Things are even more awkward now than they were a few days ago before you acted like a lunatic and kissed the man you supposedly hated, but are madly in love with you don’t know what to do with yourself.
You’ve been avoiding him, hoping to keep encounters to a minimum long enough so that whatever is making you crazy can have a chance to go away and never come back.
Currently, you’re hiding behind the booth farthest away from the entrance, and therefore, from him. Thankfully, you don’t have to wait long before he takes his coffee and goes back outside.
When you go back to your place at the stool at the bar, Motoki looks at you funny.
“Usagi-chan, are you by any chance avoiding Mamoru?”
You laugh nervously, “Motoki-san, you’re so funny! Ha, ha, ha, why would I, ha, ha, ha be avoiding Mamoru-baka?”
Motoki shrugs and goes back to wiping the counter down.
Things can’t go on like this for much longer.
~*~*~*~*~*~
There’s a sakura tree outside the bedroom window that, in the wintertime, collects snow and icicles, burdening its thin arms with coldness, and that blocks partial sunlight from getting into the bedroom when it blossoms in the spring and summer.
It’s your favorite spot in the whole apartment, especially now when the pink petals have blossomed. Looking out your window, the tree creates a picturesque scene like that of a painting, the serene, tranquil atmosphere of the earth coming alive in its colors and forms.
You pull up the big lounge chair up to the wall, and plunk yourself down with a book in hand, and tea on the floor.
You don’t remember closing your eyes, but all of a sudden you’re opening them to see that the afternoon has gone away only to be replaced by twilight, the room bathed in eerie lights and shadows.
You run your hands over your face, still tired- if that were even possible- when you hear a small sound- a sigh near the doorway. Your hands freeze where they are sliding down and you peer into the darkness, trying to adjust your eyes.
“Who’s there,” you ask softly, wondering if it’s safe to transform into your masked alter ego; if you can’t see them surely they can’t see you either.
There’s silence before a voice- a familiar one- startles you from contemplating fighting things in the dark.
“It’s only me.”
You’re surprised, to say the least.
“What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know. I just…had to come.”
You move out of the chair, closer to the lamp, turning it on to see Sailor Moon standing there next to the doorway.
“I have to tell you something. Please don’t interrupt me, no matter how much you may want to, otherwise my weakness might consume me and I’ll never get the courage again.”
You nod, wondering if you’re dreaming because only in your dreams would this be happening.
“I want you. I really, really want you. I can’t go a day without thinking about you in some way or shape.” She looks flushed, and you want to say something, you have your mouth hanging open, but nothing wants to come out.
You really must be dreaming because nothing like this could ever happen in your reality.
“That’s all I wanted to say.”
She turns away, hand gripping the door open, and something pushes you forward.
“Stay,” you grip her wrist gently.
And she looks at you with astonishment, but lets go of the door anyway.
The wind whistles by and shakes the sakura tree outside; the smell of warm spring air, along with something else, something indescribable, but essential nonetheless, drifts lazily in invisible dust, permeating the space.
Something that defines the need and want in all of us.
