A/N: I don't own Alice Gakuen.

Chapter 8: Coin

As he had fallen asleep around 8pm, Natsume woke up early, at 4am. Very gently, he woke; he felt and experienced his surroundings before his eyes could adjust. Mikan had closed the blinds, and so her room was a little pocket of dusty darkness.

He felt warm in Mikan's bed, feeling the snug next to her, hearing her breath.

Being with Mikan did funny things to him. He felt as if his ribs were cracking from the weight of emotion, but at the same time, he felt incredibly peaceful. It wasn't the giddy feeling he experienced in early teenagehood – it was an overwhelming sense of calm, despite his beating heart.

Turning to face her, Natsume stretched his arm across her shoulders, then slid them down her back and then hugged her waist. Tucking her under his chin, he closed his eyes, with hopes to snatch a few more hours of sleep.

But then Mikan shifted. She gave a small little whine, before she mumbled, "Natsume?"

She was awake too.

"Polka." He replied gently, a smile present in his voice, as she loosened his arm around her so she could peer up at his face.

"Good morning, baby," Mikan said, her voice somewhat both amused and tired.

"I think it's really early. The sun's not up yet."

"We're up." She found his face in dark, and her hands cradled his face before she kissed him.

The feelings from last night came rushing immediately – the taste of forgiveness, love and acceptance, and soon it was too hot under the covers. They undressed, and the slow morning sensitivity soon melted away. They now both understood that emotion and passion were two sides of the same coin when you're in love.

When Mikan came, colours melted, but then reappeared in her mind in flashes – she saw them eating lunch together; she saw them studying together; she saw eating cereal in bed together; she saw them drinking tea together…

Her room was still dark when she opened her eyes; she could hear Natsume breathily pant by her ear and felt his bare chest heaving but it wasn't enough. She wanted to see him; she wanted to see his face when she next kissed him—

Her hand found the switch to her bedside lamp. She turned it on, and a dim light flooded her room. She watched him: first, he winced at the sudden change in exposure, but then his squinted eyes opened as he looked down at her. She was caged between his arms (his elbows were holding him up), and she brought him closer by looping her arms around his neck.

Pressing her forehead against him, Mikan murmured, "We're really good at that."

"Our pre-relationship sex paid off, I guess." Natsume answered smartly, with a grin.

She giggled, before she pulled him down so he didn't need to hold himself up with his elbows. Natsume rested his head on her chest, and she began to stroke his hair. Her hand then travelled down to his back, and Natsume felt her fingers caress the scars on his back: they traced the bumpy lines carefully. He couldn't help but feel self-conscious; sometimes he caught glimpses of the scars on his back in the mirror – he knew his back was not a scenic canvas.

In a soft voice, Mikan asked, "Do you mind if I ask you where you got these scars from?"

Natsume was surprised. "You don't know?"

"Well, I haven't asked you until now."

"I thought you would have asked Mochu or Koko. Maybe even Luca."

She didn't say anything; her fingers kept caressing his back instead, patiently waited for him to say something.

"I was in a fire accident." Natsume quietly said. "I forgot to turn off the stove, and I fell asleep. I was eight, which is why the scarring looks so bad. As I grew, both my scars and my skin stretched in all directions." He took a deep breath before he continued; "I remember the house and all our clothes smelling like firewood for a whole year.

Lightly, she remarked, "I bet you were the bad boy in your year at the tender age of eight, with your scars and smoky clothes."

He smiled against her chest before he rolled over to look at her. "I was."

Her smile then turned a bit sad. "I'm sorry, though. I can't imagine how scary that must have been for you." Her voice was gentle and sincere.

"If I'm honest, I don't actually remember much. I guess I repressed it real good up here." He tapped his temples.

"Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for asking me."

A kiss of thanks was shared.

The outside world seemed to be brightening: the sun was very slowly starting to rise; not enough to shine and illuminate the room, but enough to slightly colour the edges.

"It's raining again," Mikan said, listening to the quiet hum of pitter-patter.

"Yeah…" He pulled her into his arm; they cuddled in bed. Before this, he never really understood nature poetry, but as he listened to the rain with Mikan in his arms, he felt undeniably alive, safe and sheltered – just like nature poetry described. "You know, despite claiming that you're not a small-talker, we small-talk a lot."

Memory flooded her eyes, and her entire face lit up. "Oh yeah!" She laughed. "I did say that." She then shrugged. "I guess you're the exception. I usually can't stand small talk, but I like small-talking with you."

The small, the big: the small-talk; the big-talk; the small, precious moments; the big, grandiose moments; the small short-term promises; the big long-term promises... small and big, either way, meant love to both Mikan and Natsume.

THE END

A/N from 2018: Hello! Originally, this story was to be much longer (I said so in the previous author's note). However, I have decided to end this story here. It feels complete to me, and I don't want to complicate it/drag it out. So, hope you enjoyed it!