Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice.

Author's Notes: It's a day too late to acknowledge Natsume's birthday, but here it is. Likewise, I do realize I'm about 5 years too late to the writing scene in the fandom. It's pretty eerie scrolling through old forums or old stories and wondering who's still around. I've been around for years as a reader, but not a writer, so I guess here is my time to contribute.

Unedited as always.

Inspired in some ways by Justin Timberlake's "Mirrors."

He had lost track of the days he'd been gone; how long did that mission take? He wasn't sure of anything anymore. Dazed, disoriented, and steadily seeping blood, it was an achievement by itself to even manage to trudge to his room.

At 10 years old, Natsume Hyuuga felt as though he had lost his grip on reality, each day a repeat of the same pain and heartache and fighting.

What was the point of living anymore?

Waiting patiently in his room, examining him with frightful and sympathetic eyes was one reason: Ruka Nogi, his best friend.

Ruka knew about the missions, about the contempt Natsume had for himself, about the disgust at his own reflection, about not seeing a future for himself, about everything. He tried so hard to persuade Natsume to share the burden, but Natsume simply couldn't; he just couldn't bear the thought of dragging his best friend down with him.

Natsume already felt guilty about letting Ruka know about the missions, knowing he would stay up just to wait for him, having him clean up what blood he could. Natsume was sick of it.

He was exhausted and bandaged and in need of an ice bath, but Ruka refused to let go of the brighter side of things; he was still an optimist despite the darkness he had seen.

A lone cupcake appeared in front of Natsume's graying vision, an unlit candle taunting him.

"You know what day it is. I know you hate acknowledging this day, but we should try to celebrate."

Of course Ruka would think that.

Fury and repressed violence bubbled inside of Natsume, and he thought about knocking the stupid, idiotic, foolish cupcake to the ground, but that silly notion was brushed aside by the hope in Ruka's voice. He couldn't betray Ruka like that.

Using the tip of his finger, he lit the singular candle, its glow illuminating Ruka's gaunt face, forced into a smile. Ruka must have reflected Natsume's own wariness about the small celebration, unable to ignore the fact that each birthday merely marked another year of anguish and nothingness and despair; another year stuck in the Academy.

"Happy birthday, Natsume."

He awoke to the muffled sound of an alarm underneath a pillow. He had told her it was a stupid idea to set an alarm since they both would be worn out from their lovemaking the previous night; it was ridiculous to expect them to wake up on such few hours of sleep.

Nonetheless, she had set the alarm, and against Natsume's expectations, she had woken up.

Hearing her shuffle out of bed to the bathroom, he was a bit confused and tempted to open his eyes, but he felt so lazy and so content. He refused to get up from their bed and opted instead to gather all the blanket she was not using to cocoon himself further. Although he had an Alice that constantly maintained an internal fire within him, he could still appreciate the warmth.

A couple of minutes later, she returned to their room and actually jumped onto their bed, effectively startling and waking Natsume, who still did not want to open his eyes.

"Good morning," came a sing-song voice as he felt her lie back down and tugging some of the blanket back to her. Like a plant to the sun, he naturally turned toward her voice.

"And where did you go?" he murmured groggily, his voice still not fully awake.

"I went to go brush my teeth so you wouldn't complain about my morning breath." He felt a wave of minty freshness hit his face, tickling his senses. He actually did appreciate the effort, but he couldn't let her know that right away.

He scrunched up his nose. "Still stinky. Are you sure you even know how to brush your teeth, Polka?"

A long time ago, she would have been infuriated by his implication, most likely would have stomped her feet and yelled at him, but honestly, after years of being together, she was simply used to his teasing.

"Better than you, smelly breath." Mikan crinkled her nose just as he did, and then laughed, placing her head close to his and reaching out with soft fingers to brush his hair back.

Finally, he opened his eyes, and he saw the light: Mikan Sakura-Hyuuga, his wife of three years.

Mikan smiled at him as she snuggled into the blanket more, pulling it up to her chin so all he saw was her goofy, happy face and her brilliant eyes looking at him; in all truthfulness, the sight of her made him breathless.

"Happy birthday," she whispered. She leaned in closer to him, and he wanted to, too, so he plopped his head centimeters away, their noses almost touching.

God, he loved her. In all her morning glory, Natsume took his sweet, leisurely time looking over the face he had spent many mornings waking up to. He familiarized himself once more with her expressive brown eyes, the curve of her soft cheek that he liked to kiss, the planes of her face dotted with freckles, the thin pink lips that were usually curved into a wide grin.

He looked at her as though somehow, during the night, she had changed, but she hadn't. He took the time to once again accept this, she, was reality, and it was the precious reality he had.

Mikan let him search her face as it gave her the time to slow down and truly appreciate the view of Natsume Hyuuga in the morning with his brightening eyes, comically short eyebrows, relaxed face, strong nose, and prominent jawline. He was so precious.

"You are so precious to me," she cooed at him, half serious and half joking. Reaching out once more, she let her fingers run through his hair before she let them dance on his skin, down the side of his face, across his cheek, to his lips.

He watched her, and she watched him.

Taking his hand out from under the blanket, he held Mikan's fingers to his mouth and gently brushed them with his lips. Her fingers were a little cold.

With her other hand, she wrapped her fingers around his that were still holding on to her and brought them to her lips so she could kiss his fingers. Everything he did, she did.

Mikan was his mirror; he could see the other half of him reflected within her, his better half maybe. Whatever small happiness graced his life, Mikan took and intensified so even the most trivial thing mattered. Mikan took him, a ten year old monster, and she made him feel significant and worthwhile and happy and hopeful.

He would be an idiot to let such a magnificent creature leave. It had taken him a while to recognize how much brighter his life was with her in it, and while he initially tried to push her away, to prevent them both from falling even further, she had fought her way through the thick darkness to him, and seeing her made him want to fight for them, too. Then it was so easy to stop resisting her and her smile and her light when he knew he loved her and they belonged forever. She cleared the misery and sorrow from his heart and settled herself in there, occupying the vacancy that had always been in his heart.

The last free hand settled for stroking her arm, feeling her skin and the little goosebumps that popped up; her hand was real, her arm was real, her shoulder was real, her neck was real.

And as he leaned in to kiss her, she most definitely was real.

And because she was real, he was real.

They spent another hour in bed; holding onto each other, talking, kissing, laughing. They only did this special ritual on rare, momentous occasions, and every birthday of Natsume's was something to celebrate.

And as he sat in the dark kitchen, facing a handmade cake of his favorite flavor with many candles on it, hearing the slightly off-key chorus of his friends, seeing his loving and adoring wife laugh at the scene as she recorded it for posterity, Natsume had to agree that it was worth celebrating; his life was worth celebrating.

Sure, he still had nightmares that worried his wife when he woke up shouting and clutching her tightly. His anxiety spiked whenever he encountered a too-empty space like alleyways or stores; he liked to have people around, especially Mikan, to ensure him that it wasn't an ambush, nobody waiting in the shadows to attack. He refused to attend any masquerade event and distrusted anyone wearing a mask. His past still affected his present.

But...

Natsume worked a simple governmental 9-to-5 job with great benefits (especially the dental plan because Mikan still loved to eat too many sweets), an understanding boss, decent amount of vacation days, and no dress code. No more running around in the dark, no more using his Alice.

He saw his Academy classmates frequently, almost too frequently for his taste. His best friend, Ruka, was happy and living his own life as an animal rescuer. Imai didn't interfere with his marriage and had toned down her blackmailing ways. His father and his sister were independent and free and content with their lives. Aoi lived in the city as a graphic designer and was currently in a serious relationship with Youichi, which Natsume had begrudgingly accepted after some time. The others were scattered across the country and across the world, but always made time to come to the reunions that his wife and her adoptive father, Narumi, organized every year.

And his wife was the best damn thing to happen to him, and he let her know that he loved her every single moment they were together. In very simplified and blunt terms, their sex life was thriving, and Mikan never had a serious complaint about where she was in life.

And now, because of her, several years after he thought he would meet a pitiful end, Natsume Hyuuga was surviving.

Natsume didn't want to die anymore; he wanted to live and live a life that was all his own, controlled only by him and sometimes Mikan. His mind was clear, though he had come to terms with the fact that his hands would never be clean. He was real and present and here.

"Make a wish, Natsume," whispered Mikan, coming behind him with her hands on his shoulders to give him a kiss on the cheek. She had passed the video camera over to Hotaru, who was watching the scene with a slight smile instead of a smirk.

Natsume blew out the many candles, a cheer arising from his friends, as he wrapped one arm around Mikan, who began to cut the cake.

Some people would consider his life far from perfect, but for a boy who thought he would die at age ten, it was better than anything he could wish for.

you are, you are the love of my life