Author's Note: Hello! This will be a drabble collection for Mimato Week 2016 over Tumblr. It consists of days 2-6, plus a bonus fic. You can also find my works for this week over there. I hope more fans participate to it, it's definitely going on! Here's for Day 2: "Firsts". Cheers!

One Week of Danger
If this is a dream, let us not wake up

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The day does not want to cooperate. The snow, though they only came in flurries, sends chills down to his spine, the little hairs of his skin standing up. It does not help that she is beside him, her head leaning on his shoulder as they sat on a park bench, watching the cold night grow darker, street lights getting dimmer.

Even more so, when she grabs his head to kiss him out of the blue. It feels very surreal, hypnotic; it made his stomach churn.

It's not like he hasn't felt the butterflies before, to be honest. He has kissed girls prior to Mimi, too. There was nothing new about the way he kisses her now, nothing special with the songs he wrote for her compared to his former – all love songs are cheesy, no exceptions – but certainly, there was something that bothered him. Something new, something he hasn't thought before.

His kisses become hesitant as he tries to find his words; she feels it too, but she continues on, not allowing him to pull back. She sends the same electricity through him, but this time it is more intense. It was the first time a kiss overwhelmed him so much, enough for him to want to say those three words he kept delaying.

Three words, just three words, as you've rehearsed, he reminds himself. He never worried about it back then, nor he wondered about the sincerity of saying them, nor if the kisses do actually mean anything but love. For once, he feared that these kisses might just be as empty as the night.

But right now, being completely aware of his fears, with a sound mind and ready heart, he manages to say it anyway: "I love you."

She was not his first, but she is someone who's going to be more. Someone more than just another love, or a first, or second love. Maybe his last.

He said it in midst of their kisses, but she doesn't reply back and just kisses him more, her lips and tongue, brushing on his, gently yet passionately. She tries to drown him, drown his three words back to his mouth – for she has not said those words to anyone before.

She had kissed many a boy, sometimes out of fun, sometimes out of convenience, mostly out of desperation to feel loved; and Yamato knows about it very well. He also knows that it wasn't the first time she had heard of someone tell her those three words. She is used to receiving them, actually. Unfortunately, all of them meant something else.

The seconds were growing, and the more the moment she remained mute, the likelier he was pulling away from her, keen for her response. But she doesn't let him, and clutches to him tightly on his shoulders, presses on his lips harder with all the fear of finding out in his eyes what his 'I love you' really meant.

Does he mean it, or does he mean it just so he could have me? she laments, for she had her own experiences, when boys really don't mean what they say, when they go after her kisses instead of her affection.

She doesn't notice that he has already pulled away, her eyes stuck on the snowflakes that fall on her bare, cold hands, trying to realise what this all meant. She finally looks at him eye-to-eye, fear meeting fear.

She wasn't his first love, and he wasn't her first kiss, and it comes with a list of not being each other's firsts; but this was the first time, that whatever they were feeling – love – it feels very, very real.

It did't matter anymore whether he meant his three words, or if he meant something else. She wants nothing more but the warmth of his skin and his lips to make her heart, her body, very much alive. She says it to someone for the first time, that maybe, just maybe, his love is just as true as hers.

She says it with her eyes. "I love you, too."