Teacups

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Misa Amane had always wanted an imaginary friend. It was completely stupid – a childish fantasy – and she knew it was stupid because wasn't she always that pretty popular girl everybody loved and looked up to?

No.

At school there was no Misa Amane, no silly little child who sat demurely with her hands in her lap letting her mother fix her hair into those cute little pigtails. At school there was Misa-Misa, a sparkly new pseudonym who never sat by herself at home with her arms around her knees rocking back and forth with wide eyes because she was so lonely it hurt – physically hurt - sometimes.

Misa-Misa cut her school skirt short (even though the hem went all raggedy at the bottom and she couldn't bend over anymore because she'd miscalculated the measurements slightly).

Misa-Misa applied eyeliner around her large blue optics in the school toilets (even though it took her ages to figure out how to use the stuff properly and the very first time she'd tried she poked herself in the eye and it went all red and puffy).

Misa-Misa hung out with all the other pretty popular girls and went around in her own little clique (even though she didn't really like the other girls all that much because they were so dull and empty-headed and terribly boring).

Misa Amane, on the other hand, still sat at home letting her mum do her hair up into those cute little pigtails, wanting an imaginary friend of her very own so much her heart could've burst like a balloon. But, try as she might, she could never conjure one up, not the way she thought a real friend would be.

Maybe it was because she was stupid. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because she had no real friends of her own.

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Misa Amane sat staring vacantly into the shadows playing across her bedroom walls, wishing she could be Misa-Misa again so she wouldn't have to feel so sad or alone pathetic. But, then again, Misa Amane doesn't really like Misa-Misa all that much. She was vain and selfish and she may have looked pretty on the outside, but she was so damn ugly within.

Misa Amane sat with her head in her lap and she wished with all her might – eyes tightly closed and fists clenched - that she had an imaginary friend, or even any imagination at all because then maybe she'd be able to kid herself that her parents were coming back.

She started doing her hair differently as well, tying it back into those cute little bunches her mother loved so much. Her mother would've loved her no matter what.

Misa Amane still feels so cold and she can't stand it anymore.

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Rem is a shinigami and she can't love (or at least, probably shouldn't – Gelus was a testament to that). She always assumed she was too intelligent to be reduced to dust and sand and scattered through the wind, but if that's the case then why does she feel the need to do every little thing Misa says?

Maybe it's because Rem knows when she smiles she's smiling because of her and happiness suits her so much better than pain or despair or eyes full of tears.

Misa used to cry a lot but she doesn't anymore. Now she's got her childish tea parties and her games of hangman and her long conversations and her new best friend to fill in the empty space where her parents used to be.

"Rem…" Misa mutters, voice almost inaudible as she serves herself another cup of tea from a chipped teapot – her mother's, she remembers with a sudden ache. But it would ache a lot more if Rem wasn't there at the other end of the table, indulging in her childish fantasies with her. "You're my best friend ever, you know that, and I love you. I love you so much…"

Rem's china teacup clinks against her teeth and the brown liquid goes sloshing onto the carpet.

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a.n: i was gunna elaborate, but decided against it. andddd i see their relationship as more of a best friend one, not a romantic one D the idea of rem and misa having a tea party is kyuttee xD