For New Year's—2011, hit me with your best.

Dedication: To my readers and reviewers. Listen, you guys. You don't know this, but your words give me confidence. They make my day. They make me smile. They make me proud to be an author here on fanfiction. I want to be here to thank you. Sincerely. Thank you so much. I hope the new year brings you all joy. And yes, I know this oneshot is late.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my ideas. The song used in this oneshot is by The Click Five. I do not own.

Happy Reading.

A Heart For A Heart

By Tsuki's Angel

-Finding Your Other Half-

When you are born, you are given two eyes to see. You're given two legs to walk, two arms to hug, two ears to listen. You're even given two shoulders to shrug.

But why is it that you are only given one heart?

She always pondered this question. The answer to it was quite simple, really—

You had to find the other one.

Mikan always believed in this. And one day, she found it. Her other heart. He held it. He made her smile all of the time. She was happy when he laughed—it was her most favorite sound in the world. He made her want to sing for no apparent reason. She trusted him with everything—even with her own heart.

It was funny, though, how your other half could suddenly vanish, and even though she didn't feel it before she met him, she felt a terrible loneliness. And what could she do but wish to see him again?

. . .

"Hey, Natsume. Natsume."

He didn't wake up. Luca sighed.

"Here," Koko said, "Let me try." He pushed Natsume off the couch he was sleeping on and sat on him when he hit the ground. "Hey! Wake up!" There was a pause. "Are you awake?"

Luca slapped his forehead. "Why are you so stupid?"

Of course, Natsume was awake. And he was seething. "Koko, if you're not off of me in five seconds I'll—"

Koko was sitting on the other couch at this point. "You wouldn't get up," he said defensively.

Natsume stood up and glared daggers at his friend. He should have never let these two sleep over yesterday. "Never touch me when I'm sleeping. It's damn creepy."

"We have practice today, Natsume," Luca said, being rational as always.

"What time is it?"

"It's a quarter past noon."

"We have to get lunch!" Koko interjected.

Natsume shot him another glare. "What time is practice?"

"Around one," Luca said. "At least, that's when we're meeting Mochu."

Natsume yawned. He didn't want to practice. Lately, he has been working constantly, and he desperately wanted a break. Was that really too much to ask? To get one morning to sleep in to his heart's content? Apparently so. He ran a hand through his hair and walked to his room to get ready for the day nonetheless. He hoped that the day would go by fast. But somehow, he knew it was going to be long.

. . .

"Oh! I just love the city!" Sumire gushed. "Don't you?"

"No," Mikan grumbled. "I don't know how you can stand living here. It smells weird."

"That's what happens when millions of cars and buses drive though a certain area." Hotaru said. "You have to take in the fact that there is a lot more pollution here than in the country, too."

"It still smells weird," Mikan complained.

Mikan was clearly upset. And it wasn't just because she was in the city where there were clouds of smoke and cars everywhere. It was because she didn't receive a call on her birthday from him. When he left her all those years ago, he swore to call her all the time. She soon found that he called her less and less. Then one year, he only called her on her birthday. After that, he didn't call her at all. She always hoped, though, that he remembered her birthday at least. She always remembered his, after all.

Sumire seemed to ignore Mikan's complaints. "But the fashion! It's so chic. And the boys—sexy."

Sumire was obviously not convincing Mikan into how brilliant the city was. She still looked angry and had that pout on her face. This girl was truly a country gal. She was the one of the few out of her friends that stayed in that old town, in the end. The rest moved here—including Hotaru. She, Anna, and Yuu still lived in their hometown.

"Some of the 'boys' here are hobos," Mikan said, scoffing. "And they look pretty scary, not sexy."

"Remember why we're here," Hotaru said to Sumire.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, rolling her eyes. She pinched Mikan's cheek. "Our Mikan's finally twenty-one!"

Mikan playfully slapped her hand away and laughed. "Get away from me, Perms." She turned back into a serious expression. "Hotaru, why did you drag me to the city for my birthday party? Don't you know I hate cities?"

Hotaru sighed. "Listen, I know you're my best friend, but it critically worries me how dense you are."

Mikan frowned, "I'm not the one who goes around blackmailing people."

"You know you love it."

Mikan stared at her incredulously. "Love—how can I love it?" She said, skeptical. "It's awful!"

"I find your affection overwhelming. Please stop talking."

Mikan couldn't believe her ears. Overwhelming? Affection? No! She was not praising Hotaru. Mikan sighed and decided to let it go. The city was draining her liveliness. She just wanted to go back to Hotaru's place where she was temporarily staying at.

"Where are we going?" Mikan asked suddenly.

"Shopping," Sumire replied. "We need to get you a birthday party gown."

"But I packed a dress."

"That thing is a horrid excuse for a dress," Sumire spat. "And it's yellow. Sorry, Mikan. I know you like yellow, but that is so not your color. It's more Anna's color, if you ask me."

"It's hideous," Hotaru put bluntly.

Mikan sighed and she threw her head back to look at the sky. "Can't you go without me?"

"No," they said in unison.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't even know what color you want—"

"Red," Mikan blurted. Did I just say that? She thought.

Sumire blinked. "Red?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Mikan nodded tentatively. "Red."

Hotaru examined Mikan's reaction and stared her down. Mikan felt severely uncomfortable. Hotaru smirked. "Ah. Red."

All Mikan could think at the moment was how much she loathed the color red. "I-It's my favorite color."

"I thought that was orange?" Sumire questioned.

"It changed," Mikan defended.

"But you've loved orange ever since we were six," Sumire contradicted. "Six. That's a pretty damn long time. I even remember that stupid orange coat you had."

"That coat was memories!"

"So what? Get over it and make new memories!"

Mikan pouted childishly. "Your point?"

"You like orange better than red."

"Red's my second favorite color!" she exclaimed.

"No, that would be pink," Hotaru stated.

Mikan was quiet the rest of the time.

. . .

"What do you mean that you didn't write the lyrics!"

Natsume yawned. "Exactly that. I didn't write them."

The corner of Luca's mouth twitched. "Natsume! We have to debut with a new song in three days!"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Luca," Koko snickered. "Even he knows he screwed up."

"Mochu shouldn't have chosen such a ridiculous time to meet up," Natsume bit out.

"It's not ridiculous," Luca sighed.

Natsume picked up his coat. "Well, if we're not going to practice, then I'm leaving."

Luca grabbed the back of Natsume's collar. "Oh, no you don't. You still have to practice the guitar tabs."

Natsume growled. "At least let me go get some coffee. I'll pass out if I don't get some caffeine."

Luca let go reluctantly. "I better see you in twenty minutes tops. Mochu called and said he was going to be late anyways."

Natsume didn't need to be told twice. He put on his coat and left the studio. The coffee shop he always went to was just around the corner. He crossed the street to the small shop. Natsume's thoughts were clouded. He knew he was forgetting something. Something was nagging him in the back of his mind. He didn't know what it was, though.

"Coffee." Natsume said. "Black."

The lady smiled at him. "Coming right up."

Natsume took a seat and waited to be served. He didn't want to go back to the studio yet. It was so damn boring in there. Unless he was practicing or writing music, he found absolutely no reason to be in that building. And although he was supposed to be doing exactly those things, he still didn't want to be in there.

"Here's your coffee," the lady said. "Hope your New Year's was great!"

New Year's.

It hit him like a ton of bricks.

Oh shit.

Even though he hadn't talked to her in ages, he knew that he screwed up. Big time. His face visibly paled, and he slapped his hand against his forehead. Natsume quickly took out his phone to check the date. January 2.

He missed her birthday. Again.

For once, he didn't know what to do. Natsume was at a complete loss. He forgot the date to her birthday. Didn't he have it programmed into his phone? No. He got a new one last year. Damn, she must hate him. This was the third year in a row.

Natsume shuffled through his contacts list until he found her name. He tossed the idea back and forth through his brain. Should he call her or should he just avoid her for another year to keep up his damn pride?

. . .

Mikan was still silent as Sumire shopped for her. She didn't even give the dresses a second glance. She didn't care. She wanted to go home.

She sighed. "Hey, Perms, I wanna go home."

Sumire glared at her. "You're the one not picking out a gown. There are plenty of red ones over there."

Mikan felt a pang at the mentioning of that color. "I change my mind. I want . . . blue."

"Blue?" Sumire said, looking at Mikan suspiciously.

"Blue." Mikan said. She tilted her head to the side. "Hey, did you notice that if you say 'blue' over and over again, it sounds kinda funny?"

Sumire blinked. "No," she said. "I did not notice that."

"Well it's much more interesting than anything in this store," Mikan grumbled.

"Oh, shut it," Hotaru said. "Stop moping around because Hyuuga didn't call you."

Mikan's jaw dropped. "I-I was not moping!" She didn't deny that he didn't call her.

"Yes," Hotaru corrected, "you are. If you weren't moping, then you would be flitting around looking at all the different stuffed animals—which is a completely stupid thing to be doing at this age in your life."

Mikan frowned. "Stuffed animals never get old, Hotaru. Never."

"They do when you hit twelve," Sumire said. "Maybe you just age slower."

"Are you saying I'm twelve?"

"No," she said. "I'm saying you're five."

Mikan put her hands on her hips. "Fine then. I'm going home. A five year old doesn't pick out her own dresses for parties."

"Fine then," Sumire retorted. "Go. We'll meet you back at Hotaru's."

Mikan turned around and walked away. She was getting sick of seeing so many frills anyway. She wasn't going to walk to Hotaru's apartment, even though they walked from it all the way here. She stood on the side of a street, where she was attempting to wave down a taxi. She was beginning to feel like they were avoiding her after the eleventh taxi drove past her.

"Damn it! I'm right here! Stop, will you? STOP!"

The yellow car whizzed by like she wasn't even there. Mikan stomped her foot on the ground angrily. She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted like an angry child.

"Not your day?"

Mikan looked back to find a man standing behind her. He had a buzz cut and dark grey eyes. Mikan had never seen him before in his life, to be blunt.

Mikan frowned. "No. Not at all."

"Don't let the cabbies get to you," he laughed. "It's much harder to pin one down when you're a guy."

Mikan sighed. "That stinks. This is why I hate cities. In the country, you don't need a stupid taxi."

"You here on vacation?"

"For my birthday," Mikan said dejectedly.

He raised his eyebrow. "You sound upset. Your friends not throwing you a party?"

"No," she said. "That's the problem. They are throwing me a party—against my will and in this smelly place."

"Well," he said with a grin clearly visibly on his face. "Sorry to hear that."

"No, it's not your fault." Mikan held out a hand. "Mikan, by the way."

"Mochu," he replied, shaking her hand. "And adding to the fact that I'm Mochu, I'm also late for practice."

Mikan turned around and glared at a taxi that was driving towards them. She waved her hand furiously, but the taxi didn't stop. Mikan started yelling very colorful words at the yellow car. That's when it stopped, and Mikan stopped yelling. She grinned.

"And that's how it's done," she said, pretending to dust her hands. She turned to Mochu. "You coming? I'll pay the fare."

Mochu laughed. "You're funny."

Mikan shrugged. "It's a gift."

Mikan and Mochu chatted animatedly while on their way to their destinations. Mikan's stop had come first, so she had just handed the cabbie extra money for Mochu's half, even though he insisted on paying for it.

"Nah," Mikan said. "It's the least I could do. You totally made my day."

"I'll see you around, then?" he asked.

"Definitely," Mikan replied. "We switched numbers, remember? We can have lunch before I go back home."

"Sounds like a plan," he said. "We can have a get-together with our friends."

Mikan agreed and they said their goodbyes. Mikan walked straight into Hotaru's apartment building. She made her way inside Hotaru's place with the spare key hidden under the flower pot and threw herself face down on the couch.

She was lying down in that position for a good ten minutes—ready to fall asleep at any minute. That is, until her phone started to ring obnoxiously. She groaned and took it out of her back pocket.

"Hello?" she mumbled. Her voice was muffled from the couch.

"Hey, Polka, why didn't you pick up the first time?"

Mikan pulled the phone away from her ear like it was burning her. She lifted her face off the couch, but did so too fast and fell straight to the ground with a loud crash. Her foot banged against the coffee table and knocked over Hotaru's bamboo plant. Her very expensive bamboo plant, mind you.

"Oi! Did you fall down the stairs or something?"

Mikan, still in shock, answered, "N-Natsume?"

"Who else could it be? Don't you have caller ID?"

Mikan forced herself to form comprehendible words. "No! I-I mean, yes! Wait—why are you calling?"

"Tch," he said. "Does it matter?"

Mikan frowned. "To me it does."

There was a long pause on the other end. Mikan was beginning to fear he hung up when his voice appeared. "Listen, I know it's kinda late, but happy birthday, Mikan."

Mikan didn't know what to say. Tears sprung into her eyes and she didn't know whether they were angry or sad or happy or all three. "I hate you. I hate you so much. Stupid Natsume." She sniffed, and she could almost see the look on his face that appears whenever she cries. "I hate you."

"Well, then." His voice audibly softened. She liked it that way. "I miss you, too."

"Are you ever going to come back home?" she asked tentatively. "Or are you going to stay in the city?"

" . . . I can't answer that."

"Of course you can't," she said bitterly. "You couldn't even say goodbye."

"You know why I had to leave," he explained. "I had my career . . . and I couldn't just leave them."

"Yeah," Mikan said. "I understand . . . but I still wish I could see you." There was another long silence. Her voice was down to a whisper. "I better get going."

"Mikan, I—"

She quickly turned off the phone before she could hear him say those three words. If he had said them, and she had heard them, they would simply be her undoing.

. . .

Natsume had stayed at the coffee place longer than Luca had told him he was allowed to be. But when he got back, Mochu still wasn't at the studio. In the short hour he was there, though, he managed to write down some lyrics that he thought were pretty decent for the song.

At the studio, he tweaked the lyrics while Koko tapped on a cymbal with his drumstick annoyingly. Natsume wanted to chop his head off. He ran a hand through his ruffled hair.

"Natsume?" Luca said. "Do you have the lyrics written down already?"

"Does it look like it?" Natsume said, waving the already completed lyrics in his face.

"Right," Luca said. "Only you could write a song in an hour."

"I already had the notes to the song," Natsume said. "The lyrics came from sudden inspiration."

"What suddenly inspired you to write your song on a napkin at a coffee place?" Koko asked skeptically. "Let me read them!"

Before Natsume could snap at Koko, Mochu came in suddenly. He threw the door open to the studio they practiced at. He looked disheveled with snow in his hair. His face was red from the cold.

"Sorry!" he said. "Taxis are impossible in this weather!"

"Let's just get started," Luca said, shaking his head.

Natsume grumbled as Mochu set up his guitar. They practiced. Natsume lazily strummed chords on his guitar and Koko kept the beat with his drums. He sung the lyrics he wrote and he found that they worked perfectly. He just hoped they reached her somehow.

. . .

A weekend was here and Mikan felt nervous for her own party. Hotaru and Sumire did not fail to find the perfect dress for her. The gorgeous red bubble dress suited her small figured flawlessly. Mikan was glancing at the clock every minute, feeling sick. She didn't want to be the center of attention.

"Look at you," Sumire said disgustedly. "You look like you're about to get married to some guy you don't even know." Mikan ignored her. She looked at the clock again. 8:10PM. "You know, it's just a party."

"I'm not good at partying, Sumire," Mikan said, nervous. "I can't dance."

"You don't have to," she replied. "Just be yourself and have fun."

Mikan felt a little better. "Thanks."

Hotaru came in suddenly with her car keys and clutch. "Come on, you two. We need to get to the hall before the guests arrive."

"Let's get going then," Sumire said, pulling Mikan off the couch.

Mikan followed them out into Hotaru's car. Her foot tapped restlessly as she sat in it. She told herself to calm down, but it wasn't happening. She finally gave up and let herself look out the window. She saw the hall they were hosting the party in. It was nice.

But Mikan soon found that the outside was nothing compared to the inside. It was absolutely humungous.

"Oh my god," Mikan said. "T-this isn't going to work."

"Don't worry about anything," Hotaru said. "Just don't spill wine on that dress."

"W-wine?" Mikan said. "I have to drink wine?"

"You don't have to," Sumire said. "There are soft drinks, too."

Mikan watched as Hotaru and Sumire told the decorating crew the last of the decorations. At around nine, people started flooding in. Mikan checked to see if she knew all of them. She did. They were all mostly friends from work or some high school buddies. Mikan felt herself warming up to the atmosphere as she saw her old friends.

Earlier she had called Mochu as a last minute invitation, but he unfortunately was busy. He told her he had to perform with his band for somebody. She was sad that her newest friend couldn't come to her party, but she understood.

So why was it that she saw him drinking punch at the table?

She walked over and tapped on his shoulder. "Mochu?"

He turned around and his eyes widened. "Whoa! Mikan? Why are you here?" He threw his arms around her in a warming hug.

"Um," she said, laughing a bit. "It's my birthday party?"

His eyes widened even more. "Shit. What are the chances we were performing for you! I was just told we were performing for somebody's birthday!"

Mikan laughed. "I can't wait to meet your band."

"You're gonna love 'em," he said, putting down his drink. "The singer's a bit depressing, though. But if you get on his good side, he should warm up to you."

Mikan laughed. "If he's anything like this one guy I dated, then I'm sure I can handle it."

Mochu grinned. "So, you're what? Twenty? Twenty-one?"

"Twenty-one." Mikan smiled.

Mochu raised your eyebrow. "You're gonna like the song. A lot. That guy I was telling you about earlier dedicated it to some girl he knew."

"Aw, how sweet," Mikan said. A really fast paced song blared through the speakers.

"Hey, do you want to dance?" Mochu asked.

Mikan jumped. "Um, uh . . . no."

"What? Why not?"

"I don't . . . can't dance." Mikan said. "I look stupid."

"You can't be that bad," Mochu said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I can," Mikan said. "I don't know how to move my arms or hips and I don't know where to step. It's so complicated."

"Then I'll teach you," Mochu said, taking Mikan's hand. "It's not hard, I promise."

Mikan looked at him hesitantly. "Mochu, I . . ."

Mochu laughed. "I won't let you fall. I promise."

So she took his hand.

. . .

Natsume glared at them. So many questions ran through his head. Why did it have to be Mikan's birthday party? Why did he agree to do this? And why was Mochu dancing with his girl?

"Natsume," Luca said. "Chill. They're just dancing."

Natsume ignored him. They looked a bit too close to be just dancing. It didn't sit well with him. After Mikan tripped for the fourth time, they gave up on the dance. At that point, Hotaru had pulled her away and Natsume was ever so grateful.

Koko came bustling into their conversation with news of his own. "We have to get up on stage. We're gonna start to perform." Natsume grunted and stalked off towards the stage. "Err, I'll get Mochu."

"You do that," Luca said.

Natsume looked off into the crowd. He found that the party was full of a lot of familiar faces. Natsume stared at her from the stage. Mikan was busy talking to Hotaru and some other girl he didn't recognize. He clenched his teeth. Well, at least now she would hear the song.

"Hey, Natsume," Mochu said, grabbing his guitar.

The girl Mikan was talking to pointed at Mochu. Mikan looked over at the stage and her face visibly paled. A look of recognition crossed her face. And in a second, their eyes met. His red eyes clashed with her hazel ones. She tore her gaze away. Did she really hate him?

Natsume turned to his band mates. "Let's get this over with."

Mikan was on the other side of the room and she was flipping out. Natsume was here. She looked at Hotaru and saw that smirk on her face. Her jaw dropped. She planned this out! Mikan started to put two and two together. The singer looked to be Natsume. He was the only one who looked to be 'a bit depressing.' She had caught sight of Luca and Koko. She knew them, but wondered why she hadn't seen them at the party yet.

If Natsume was the singer, that meant he wrote the song for some girl he knew. And if Mikan was willing to bet, she would say that girl was her. Now the only thing left to find out was what was the song? She was about to find out. She back up out of the crowd until she was sitting at a table, out of sight. She would hear the song, but she was not ready for him to meet her right after.

Hey, you.
I know I'm in the wrong . . .
Time flies when you're having fun
You wake up
Another year is gone
You're twenty-one

I guess you wanna know
Why I'm on the phone
It's been a day or so
I know it's kind of late

But Happy Birthday

Yeah, yeah whoa
I know you hate me
Yeah, yeah whoa
Well, I miss you too
Yeah, yeah I know
I know it's kind of late
But Happy Birthday

So hard when you're far away
It's lame, but I forgot the date
I won't make the same mistake
I'm so to blame

So now you know
Don't hang up the phone
I wish I was at home
I know it's way too late

But Happy Birthday

Yeah, yeah whoa
I know you hate me
Yeah, yeah whoa
Well, I miss you too
Yeah, yeah I know
I know it's kind of late
But Happy Birthday

It's not that
I don't care
You know I'll make it up to you
If I could
I'd be there

Yeah, yeah whoa
Yeah, yeah whoa
Well, I'd miss you too
Yeah, yeah I know
I know it's kind of lame
But Happy Birthday

Yeah, yeah whoa
I know you hate me
Yeah, yeah whoa
Well, I miss you too
Yeah, yeah I know
I know it's kind of late
But Happy Birthday

To you

Mikan was trying to hide a smile by the end of it. It really was sweet. Song writing was all he ever really was.

"Honestly . . ." Mikan mumbled to herself.

She remained in her seat, fumbling with the tablecloth. It took her awhile to realize that someone had sat down right next to her. It was Natsume. Lovely.

"You hung up on me."

"I know," Mikan replied. "I didn't know you'd be here. Or that you were in Mochu's band."

"We picked him up here," Natsume explained. "He's really good."

"He is," Mikan said. "You are, too."

"I missed you, you know," he said, leaning back on his chair. His knee brushed against hers. Mikan's gloved hand lay on the table. He took it in his hand and squeezed it. "It was a surprise when Imai called Luca up and asked me to perform here."

"Why couldn't you call me at least?" Mikan asked. "I thought that that at least you'd do that."

Natsume let out a deep breath. "I was so busy . . . and I got . . . distracted with work."

"You forgot and that's that," Mikan said, pulling her hand back only to have Natsume grab it again.

"I know," Natsume said. "I'm sorry." He looked back at the party. "Here. Follow me."

Natsume led her to the far end of the hall, where nobody could interrupt them talking. Mikan kept her gaze on the ground.

"Did you at least miss me?" Natsume asked.

"Of course," Mikan confirmed, her grip now tightening on his hand.

"We could work something out," Natsume said, placing his free hand on her cheek. "I could visit you back at home whenever I can. We could—"

"Natsume," Mikan interrupted, "I don't want to leave you again."

Natsume stiffened. " . . . I can't go back. You know that, don't you?"

Mikan seemed to be a bit reluctant at what she said next. "You don't . . . necessarily have to. I want to stay."

Natsume frowned. "No, you don't. You hate it here."

"Not anymore," Mikan said quietly. "You live here, Natsume."

"You'll miss it back there. You'll be homesick."

"I can't be homesick if being by your side is home. It's not the same back there without you."

"Why didn't you come sooner, then?"

"Because I didn't know you were in the same city as Hotaru," Mikan admitted. "I thought you were so far away and that I could never reach you."

Natsume looked at her. She pulled her hand back and clung to him. Natsume lightly rubbed her back while he held her. He kissed her hair and pressed his cheek against the top of her head.

"We'll work something out," Mikan said. "We will."

And just like that, Mikan was whole again. She knew everything was going to be okay. She wasn't leaving him again. Her other half found a way to her. They were like magnets. They attracted. At that point, she had found her other heart once again.

-One Year Later-

Mikan placed one of the last cardboard boxes down in the house. She placed her hands on her hips and breathed a sigh of relief. Natsume came in shortly after her, placing the very last box down on top of hers.

"Well, that's it," Natsume said. "Welcome home, Polka."

Mikan smiled and threw herself him, throwing his balance so that they both ended up on the floor. Mikan couldn't be happier. Somehow, they had found a very nice home to live in that was in the less crowded part of the city. It was close enough to Natsume's studio, and to Mikan's new job.

"Ouch," Natsume said, rubbing the back of his head.

Mikan rolled her eyes and got off of him. "Stop being a baby."

Natsume sat up and pulled Mikan so that her back was flush against his front. Mikan squeaked. "Hm . . . speaking of babies . . . how about we have some of our own?"

Mikan raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Maybe we could later." She leaned back against him and stretched. "Right now, I'm tired."

Natsume held her tighter. "I'm serious."

"So am I," Mikan replied. She turned her head to lightly peck his cheek. "Later." She jumped up and ran to their new kitchen.

Something about the way she said it made Natsume think that this 'later' was going to be very soon. And he was okay with that. He followed her into the kitchen. Mikan was already preparing lunch. He leaned against the door frame and soaked in the scene that lay before him. It was just . . . perfect. He wouldn't change it for the world.

"Hey," Natsume said. "One more thing."

"Hm?" Mikan said, facing him. She placed the plate on the counter.

"I love you."

Mikan smiled gently. "You're amazing." Natsume sat down on a stool on the island counter. Mikan sat across from him. "I'm so lucky I found you." She took his hands in hers. "Never let go, okay?"

Natsume looked into her eyes. "You know I won't."

"We'll always be together," Mikan said. "Forever."

Natsume threw her a crooked smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way."