Anniversaries really sucked.
Year after year, she tried telling herself that it was time to stop dwelling over it, that it was a bit ridiculous to be feeling this way after so long, but the emotions always came back around to leave her feeling depressed and antisocial all over again. Asuka hadn't asked questions when Jane left the apartment after work that night, heading to the nearest and cheapest bar she could find to indulge and drown out the pain for awhile. There was a small establishment just a few blocks away that sold 100 yen shots of bottom shelf alcohol. It wouldn't go down smooth, but it wouldn't break the bank either.
The bartender hadn't said much, just asked what she was feeling that night once she planted herself in a seat. He didn't comment on the bill of six scotch shots, nor seem to judge when she stumbled out of the barstool and staggered towards the door to find a much quieter place to wallow in her own sorrow. No doubt Jane was nowhere near the most exciting patron he'd served.
The streets were alive with the city's nightlife, bright lights and groups of friends out to have a good time. Not too keen on having an audience to her drunken breakdown, she made her way back to her apartment complex and jabbed the elevator button for the roof, knowing that none of the other residents ever bothered utilizing the lounge area this late. It was nice enough, but most of the time, the wind made it just uncomfortable enough to forgo.
The elevator doors opened, and she was relieved to see that it was indeed empty. The wooden deck furniture wasn't anything special, and other than being an excuse to put 'rooftop lounge' on the apartment's website as a featured amenity, it didn't do much else. Jane collapsed into the chair closest to the edge of the roof's ledge, and leaned her cheek against the stone. It was cold, freezing in fact, but didn't lessen the inebriation.
Wrapping her jacket tighter around herself and ignoring the start of the tears falling down her cheeks, she closed her eyes. The wind whipped at her hair, tied up in a ponytail. Several strands fell loose from the tie and irritated her face. Her hand reached up to brush them free, but they only blew back into place. It itched and she scrubbed at her face with the heel of her palm.
Time passed. Jane couldn't begin to guess how much time, but night had fully fallen by the time she'd actually realized it. The world spun when she blinked at the moisture in her eyes. Her sniffling had morphed into wobbly whimpers, and choked back cries that were too much to hold back. The sort of pathetic crying that Jane hated. But her drunkenness pardoned it this once.
Somewhere, she heard a voice. Tinny and barely loud enough to distinguish. Jane looked around, then down at the street below to try finding it, but she couldn't discern the source of the noise. It called out again, and she finally patted at her jacket to feel the phone nestled in one of the pockets. She withdrew the device in shaking hands, and realized with a sinking heart that a call had been in progress for over 45 seconds.
With Mic, of all people.
"...ello? Jane? Are you there?" He called, clearly confused as to why she hadn't responded.
Panicking, she ended the call, setting it on the table beside her and covering her eyes in embarrassment. Not now. Not today. All the jostling around must have caused it to pocket dial without her knowledge.
The phone buzzed with an incoming call. She hit the ignore button. He'd probably know that she'd intentionally declined to answer, but she was too distraught to much care. Dragging the hero into all of this seemed like the opposite of what she'd hoped to accomplish up here on the roof.
Her phone buzzed again. A text this time. He probably figured she wouldn't answer if he tried calling once more.
Are you ok? Thought I heard crying. Do you need help?
Jeez. She'd worried him. Now, if she didn't answer, the blonde wouldn't let it go until he knew she was ok. Her thumbs tapped out a somewhat coherent reply, hoping that it didn't sound like she was too drunk or distraught.
Im fine. sorry I didn't mesn to call.
It didn't sound like it from my end. Please tell me what's going on.
nothingg. just stuff.
Jane, please. Where are you right now?
on the roof. plrase dont come
The phone began to ring with an incoming call. Accidentally thinking it was a text notification, she hit the answer button without thinking. He must have heard her sniffling from the other end, because he immediately started talking before she got a chance to hang up.
"Jane, please tell me you're safe and not going to do anything to hurt yourself." He said urgently, sounding as if he was running somewhere. "Where are you?"
"I told you the roof." She said in a near mumble, rubbing at her face as another wave of emotion came forth. This wasn't what she'd wanted to happen at all. No, no no... "Don't come...please."
"What roof?"
"'m not telling you...I don't wanna talk to you." She murmured in despair. Had she been more sober, she might have registered the growing panic in his voice.
"I'm serious, Jane. Tell me which roof. I need to make sure you're ok."
He was pushing this. And she was quickly losing the will to fight back. It was too exhausting, and her head was in a million places at once right then and there. She must have gone silent for several seconds as she thought it all through.
"Jane?"
"My apartment..."
"Send me the address, alright?"
Just the thought of typing all that out sounded too much, and her eyes closed with a heavy sigh. "I'm too drunk..."
"Which apartment complex, then?" It sounded like he'd shut a car door, and it nearly startled her.
"Shinju Hills..." She muttered, pausing for a long second before remembering that there were several buildings associated with it and he'd need more than that to find her. "...building G."
"I'm close by. Don't hang up, ok?"
It then occurred to her why he was so anxious to see her and be there. She supposed it was mostly her fault for the way things had transpired, and her reluctance to talk or tell him where she was didn't help either. the alcohol had prevented her from putting all the dots together as to how it all looked from his perspective. "I'm not gonna jump off the building, Mic..."
"Good to hear, but now that I know you're drunk and obviously upset, I think I'd still like to keep you company for a bit."
"What if I don't want company?" She asked, but figured she knew the answer anyway.
"That's too bad, because I'm already on my way." She could hear the smile in his voice, perhaps trying to cheer her up. She couldn't help the twitch of a smile in reply, but it was overshadowed by her already melancholy mood.
He hadn't been kidding when he said he was close. Within a few minutes, she could see a taxi pull up alongside the road next to building G, and the blonde hero stepped out, his phone held to his ear. He looked up, spotting her leaning against the ledge, and hurried towards the ground floor entrance.
The roof's door opened, and Mic put away his phone as he stepped out. Hair down and dressed casually-still remarkably fashionable and expensive-looking, of course- he sat in the chair across from her and gave her that worried expression. If he was tired due to the later hour, he didn't show it. Jane no doubt looked a mess, her face blotchy and puffy from the crying. What a contrast. Yuck.
"You thought I was gonna jump off a roof?" She couldn't help but ask, and he gave a shrug.
"You called and all I could hear was crying. Then you kept telling me not to come to you and I could tell you had been drinking. Kinda looks bad, don't you think?" He said with a grimace, and she conceded his point with a small nod.
"I didn't mean to worry you. I didn't mean to call either."
"I know, but it's cold out. Why are you up here crying?" Was his question, smiling at her a little. She could tell he wanted her to cheer up a bit, but she wasn't in the mood for being cheered up.
"Wanted to be alone..." She said. "I don't like being drunk in front of other people..."
"Can you tell me what's going on?" He asked gently, but she shook her head and looked away. "Why not? You're really upset."
"Nothing happened..." She answered sadly, trying to wipe away at the forthcoming tears. "I'm just...sad."
He cocked his head and leaned forward a few inches. Getting to the bottom of this was like pulling teeth. "What's making you so sad, Jane? I'm not leaving until I know you're feeling better."
Always the guy trying to make things right. Normally she'd appreciate that quality from him, but tonight it just sort of made her more upset.
"Stop...being a hero." She retorted in a choked sob, gently pushing at his chest, and he only chuckled.
"That's like asking me to hate music." He replied, then shrugged when he saw she still wasn't reciprocating the amusement. His voice took on a less jovial tone. "Besides, it looks like you might need one right now."
Several seconds passed before he reached out and lifted her chin with a tap of his finger. "Talk to me, Jane. Please. I don't like seeing you sad."
The brunette made the mistake of looking him in the eyes again. Those intelligent and kind eyes that she couldn't look away from. At times like this it was easy to forget he was a celebrity. He looked so remarkably human. A pauper in prince clothing, if you would. As if he'd completely understand anything she told him and relate. He sat there patiently, no trace of frustration or irritation as he looked at her. Just genuine concern and whatever it was that made her feel like he cared.
He'd rushed all the way here, on his own precious time, just to make sure she was alright. In the cold, windy weather. Just to see her. A rich celebrity-no, she corrected herself. A friend.
Her tears began anew, and she let them fall, too tired to keep holding up the illusion that she was feeling ok. Her body shuddered with sorrow, and she leaned forward, resting her forehead on his chest. Her sobs muffled against his shirt, but he didn't seem to mind, instead scooting his chair a little closer and wrapping his arms to rest on her back in a comforting fashion.
Despite the cold, she felt a warmness in her chest. The comfort in his arms was something she hadn't expected. The words started pouring out before her brain could fully catch up.
"I m-miss her so much..." She mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear through her crying.
"Who?"
"My sister." A wracking sob went through her before she could continue. "She died..."
"Jane, that's terrible..." Mic said in response, pulling her a little tighter into his chest. "I thought you said nothing happened."
"N-not today. This was...years ago." She explained. "Her quirk mutated, or something, and it turned into cancer, and...and she was only 16...b-but she was my best friend and I miss her so much..."
"I'm sorry you had to go through all of that." He replied quietly, letting her cry into his shirt for a time. Her head finally shook.
"I'm pathetic. I should be over it by now..."
"What? She was your sister, you're allowed to grieve for as long as you need to." He said in a surprised tone. She felt his cheek settle on her head as he spoke. "It doesn't matter how long it's been, she clearly meant a lot to you, so don't feel ashamed of being sad about it."
"I guess..."
"What was her name?" He asked, and she sniffled a few times before answering.
"Monica."
"What was she like? Will you tell me about her?" He asked evenly, and Jane shrugged at first.
"She...she was always happy. Stereotypical teenage girl, I guess. She liked boys and makeup."
"So...just the opposite of you?" He guessed, and she let out a huffed laugh.
"Yeah...we were two completely different people." All the crying had sobered her up a little, just a little, but enough for her to clearly realize that she liked the smell of his cologne. It was incredibly calming. "My mom used to say that one of us must have gotten switched from birth."
"Did she have brown hair like you?" He continued, and despite not knowing why he wanted to know, she kept talking.
"Yeah, but she dyed it blonde when she was 14. Then, well...after the chemo treatments, she didn't have any. I was gonna shave my head for her, but she made me swear not to."
"Why not?"
"Said she didn't want me looking like her." Was her half-hearted laugh. "We'd been different all our lives, and she didn't want me changing that just because of the cancer, I guess."
"Monica sounds like she was a great person." He commented.
"She was." Jane nodded mutely, then chuckled a little under her breath. "The worst taste in music, though. But I didn't mind listening because it made her happy that we could still spend time together. It was one of the only things that kept her going...towards the end."
Coherent enough now to understand that she was essentially spilling her heart out in a drunken fit, but honestly baring her grief to him felt much less painful than what she'd assumed. Maybe the alcohol helped a bit with that. Leaning away from him to wipe away her tears, he let go of her back and waited as she schooled herself back into a semblance of composure.
"You listen to that music because it reminds you of your sister." He finally guessed, his tone conveying that he'd put together the pieces. "That's why you don't care what others think of it, because it means something important to you."
"Yeah." She wiped away a few more tears, face stilly itchy and wet, but she'd managed through the most of the emotions so far. It ebbed a degree, allowing herself to calm down. "I have a lot of memories of me and her from those songs."
Mic looked abashed, then gave her a slanted, rueful smile. "Sorry I mocked them when we first met."
"S'alright. You didn't know." She replied, not bothered by it. Her shoulders rose in a shrug, and her mouth widened in a half-hearted smile. "But there you go. My big secret. You earned your answer."
"Guess I did. Just wish it wasn't so painful for you to tell." He said earnestly. His smile widened then. "And hey, if it's the alcohol talking and you'll regret it in the morning, I can pretend like it never happened. Say the word and I'll do it."
"No." She muttered. "It's fine. It actually feels kind of nice...to tell someone about it."
"Doesn't your roommate know?" He asked, quirking a brow.
"Yeah, but I've known her since high school. I meant someone new." She clarified, wrapping the jacket around herself again. "Just...please don't go telling other people, ok? I don't like talking about it all the time. It brings down the mood."
"You think I'd do that?" He asked, eyebrows raised in slight offense.
Her head shook quickly. "No, but...sorry. I keep assuming the worst in you, and that's not fair. I just don't trust people in general to keep things to themself."
He didn't seem too mad about it, and only gave her a smile.
"My lips are sealed, Jane." He promised, holding out his pinky expectantly. She looked at the offered finger, then back up at him, until her own pinky reached out and wrapped around his. They held them that way for several seconds, silence passing, before reluctantly letting go.
"Thanks, Mic."
"Of course."
Jane was still sad. No surprise, her grief wasn't going to magically go away now that Mic was here, but she found that the edge was much easier to tolerate with someone there to keep her company. Maybe it was a good thing that she'd pocket dialed him when she did. Turns out he was a good hero after all. Not that she doubted that to begin with but...it definitely served as a blatant reminder.
A particularly hard pound of her head make her sigh. "Not to be rude, but I'm gonna have the worst headache in about half an hour from all this crying and drinking, so I think I'm gonna go lay down."
He grinned, standing from his seat and straightening his jacket. The wind had messed up his hair, so he gather it with one hand and smoothed it back how he liked it. "Maybe take it easy on the alcohol next time."
"Yeah, yeah. No need to tell me twice..."
"Let me walk you to your door." He offered graciously.
She laughed a little, rising from her own chair. "I live two floors down. It's not like I'm gonna get lost."
"Hey, now. You could pass out in the elevator. Then what are you gonna do?" He explained in amusement, and she shook her head, but a smile still plastered on her face.
"Alright, Present Mic, I'll let you rescue me again, but that's enough hero-ing for one night."
"I'll try to refrain, for your sake." He joked casually, opening the door to lead them back inside.
The ride down 2 floors was quiet, but Jane felt surprisingly comfortable standing next to him after what had transpired. Somehow, it felt like it had brought them closer than before. His hands were in his pockets, and he leaned against the back wall, looking forward. He caught her staring up at him from the corner of his eye, and gave her a wink.
Jane rolled her eyes, hoping that the alcohol had already turned her cheeks red so a new blush wouldn't show through, then instantly regretted it because it made her headache worsen. The elevator slowed to a stop and the door pinged. They opened to reveal her floor, and she made a left to find her suite several apartments down the way.
Mic was only a step behind her, and she turned when they reached her front door. "I'm pretty sure I can make it to my bedroom without help, so I'll leave you here."
"If you say so." He said with another wink, then gave her shoulder a squeeze. "See you later, Jane. Text me if you need anything, ok?"
"I will." And she meant it.
"Goodnight." He called, waving as he disappeared around the corner again. She watched him go, wondering when on earth she'd start feeling like she knew what she was doing around him.
ns 15.158.61.39da2
