Disclaimer: I would be sitting here, thinking of a witty and funny line to put instead of a disclaimer, but I'm not, so there.

Written by: Tearless Sonnet

Home Sweet Home

She hated it when they had spats. He got so angry and she got so upset. She'd cry for hours after them, burying her head under mounds of soft throw pillows and allowing herself a cup of tea to make her feel better.

They hadn't been dating long, and already they were finding their relationship difficult to handle. She hated that it was so difficult to handle. Sometimes her love for him was replaced by hate, and she'd never want to see him again, but then he shows up uninvited and she loves him again. She hated how he could make her forget everything else but him and she hated how much she cared when he wouldn't speak to her for days.

They had another row early that morning. Another thing she hated was how insignificant and petty their fights were over. This time they had fought over the remote. It was unbelievable, she knew, and so unworthy of their time wasted on that. But she couldn't help it. Other times, their fights soothed the fear that she would grow tired of their boring, dull relationship. The arguments made their bond, if not closer, lively. But sometimes their fights weren't so playful. Sometimes they were so terrible she had huge eye bags in the morning and sore red eyes.

It was late in the afternoon on a Saturday and she was curled up on the sofa, watching reruns of Friends. She hated how she always felt so lonely when he wasn't there, and how cold she felt without his arms around her. A snuff box faithfully by her side, she watched and blew her nose and laughed and cried some more. Never had she felt her emotions in such a disarray. And she had stupid Natsume Hyuuga to thank for that.

The phone rang from the kitchen and interrupted her pity-fest. She got to her feet slowly and picked it up.

"Hello?" she said morosely.

"What the hell did he do now?" She felt a sad smile curl on her lips.

"Hello to you too, Hotaru." She pulled a chair by the counter and pulled herself up on it, knowing this chat would be a long one.

"Don't play games with me Mikan, what the hell did he do?"

She imagined the furious look on her best friend's face right now, her handmade gun settled comfortably in her grip. "It's nothing. Nothing happened."

She heard a unfeminine snort on the other line. "Bullshit."

"Hotaru!" she reprimanded at the foul language. "And really, it was nothing."

"Don't give me that," said Hotaru grimly. "I know you, Mikan. Now, tell me, what did he do?"

Mikan sighed, tracing circles on the cold marble counter. "Wefoughtoveraremote."

"What?"

She sighed again, regretting ever getting up this morning. If she knew it would have been such a bad day, she would have rather been in a coma. At least she could dream that she and Natsume weren't quarrelling, and that everything was okay.

"We fought over a remote," she grumbled.

Hotaru Imai, on the other line, began spouting such colorful language that Mikan had to cover the receiver, wincing. "Was that really necessary?" she said.

"You should know better by now! Hyuuga has a short temper. And over a remote? Are you shitting me?"

She didn't bother commenting on this, but she did cringe. "Look, I—"

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing. Probably sitting at home, watching reruns of Gossip Girl or something and blowing your nose on rolls and rolls of tissue. Sorry to ruin your pity parade, but you've gotta stop." She paused for a moment, letting Mikan sink all of this in.

"Friends," she said, "but you've got the gist of it."

Hotaru sighed. "As much as I don't like him, Hyuuga's meant for you. So stop being lazy and go after him. Okay?"

"But—"

"Okay?"

"Okay," she gave in.

"Good." Hotaru hung up.

Mikan sighed, putting the phone on the receiver. Go get Natsume—not in a million years. She would wait for him to crawl back to her first.

Sorry Hotaru, she thought, but all I've got left is pride. I won't let him take that away from me, too.

The phone rang again, and she put up her hands in surrender, groaning and picking up the phone again.

"What?" she said grumpily.

"Polka?" said a husky, familiar voice.

"Oh, look who it is? Natsume frickin' Hyuuga."

On the other end, Natsume sighed. "Look, I know you're upset—"

"Upset?" shrieked a furious Mikan. "You had me crying for hours last night, you jerk!"

"Crying?" He sounded surprised. "I'm sorry, just—"

"Oh, you're apologizing now, are you? Well too bad, I won't hear it."

Natsume rubbed his eyes in strife. "Hey, just calm down—"

"I am calm!" Mikan nearly broke the glass of water in her hand, which she didn't remember getting.

She could just see him raising an eyebrow so skeptically at her that she grit her teeth and counted up to nine. Ten was so overrated.

"Sheesh woman, don't get your knickers in a twist."

Okay. Count up to 100. 1. . . 2 . . .

"You are the most disgusting, stupid, ugly, irrational, phony, idiotic, mean, cruel, cold, revolting, ghastly, hideous man I have ever met! I can't believe—"

"Come home."

She paused in her rant. "What?"

"I said, come home," said Natsume firmly, with all the authority he could muster in his voice.

"You think you can tell me what to do? And besides, I am home," she retorted icily.

"We both know home is where the heart is. I am your home. Come home."

She suddenly felt so tired, like her voice couldn't handle shouting anymore. "Just, shut up, Natsume. Shut up."

"I know what I did was stupid. I'm apologizing already. I should have told you how I felt sooner. I would have too, if I wasn't such a damn coward."

Her voice grew softer, so soft that she wasn't sure if she said it or if she thought it. "What are you saying? Are you telling me that I'm your home?"

"Yes," he paused. "And I'm homesick."

Mikan glanced at her reflection in the marble exterior, catching a small smile curling on her lips before she could stop it.