Author's Note: Just a classic Mimato Christmas story, and a little gift to the Mimato community. Also, is there anyone else out there who thinks that Knife of Day should sound like The 1975 and that their songs are for Mimi? (Lol I don't care if you think otherwise sorry). Happy Christmas! I tried my very best for this not to be sad.

here's a face
to forget
that you are lonely

.

.

"We're only waiting for Takeru and Jyou-san now, right?" spoke Taichi as he opened his can. He took a toothpick, pierced through a roll of sashimi as he popped it to his mouth. Too cold.

"Senpai said he'll be here soon," replied Sora as she looked up from her phone.

"Takeru, too. He said the train's just moving slow because of the snow," added Hikari.

"Why? Where did he come from?" asked Taichi, who went in for another roll of sashimi.

"Yokohama," replied Hikari, smoothing her skirt. "He said he visited a friend."

Soon enough, there came silence among them; fortunately, not the awkward sort. It was as if everyone could feel each other's stress and fatigue from their own busy lives. Most of them were already in college, having part-time jobs as part of 'growing up'.

Yamato closed his eyes, feeling rather tired and drowsy. He hadn't had enough sleep; been only relying on Red Bull for the past thirty-six hours. It was great for the band to be on-demand again (always is during Christmas), though he wished he had physically prepared himself for the season, and thanks to his cold-hearted professors, he swore to himself he's developing an anxiety disorder.

Now, given such circumstances, if he had his way, or if in anyway today had turned into a bad one, he would immediately ditch this party for some snooze; but since this was going to be their first Christmas party where Kido Jyou would finally attend, he decided to sacrifice four-or-five hours of his day.

"Oh yeah, did any of you bring paper plates?" broke in Koushiro as he looked up from his tablet. Yamato opened his eyes, and was greeted with his friends giving each other nervous looks.

Sora broke into a nervous laugh. "Hehe.. Taichi, there's a konbini just across the building," she prompted. No, even she wouldn't want to go out in the cold.

"No way," replied the brunet, shaking his hand vigorously. "I feel like I'm about to have the flu or something right now."

As usual, the redhead felt offended for having been denied of her request-slash-command. "Taichi,"

"Ahh, it's okay Sora-chan," volunteered Hikari, already sensing that another argument might break in if the conversation between her brother and Sora prolongs. "I can go."

"Don't," came in Yamato, already standing up from his seat as he scrummaged through his bag. "I'll go down. I need to buy something else anyway."

Hikari sheepishly smiled, knowing there's no point in being modest and generous with Takeru's older brother. "All right Yamato-san."

The blond took his wallet with him and threw in his headphones back as he left the room. He closed the steel door behind him; it had already been years and he still can't get over the fact that Koushiro owns an office now – let alone running a start-up abroad.

He dug his hands in the depths of his pockets as he went to the elevator, slightly humming along with the British rock songs that were streaming on his player. He refreshed his mind with memories of his gigs from today and yesterday, wondered how long he's going to keep up with the band. Sure, they're irrefutably a critical success – but it had been three years now and they're still underground. It was the third time he rebranded his band, having changed their band name thrice this year.

Maybe he wasn't just as passionate as he was used to, or maybe I'm getting too old for this band-thing now, he thought to himself. It was inevitable; his attention was no longer just for music after all.

The trip to the convenient store was nothing but uneventful – mindless and uninterested with his surroundings, zero fucks given to Christmas carolers that couldn't even be in-tune with the songs. He took some paper plates with him and paper cups (which were also missing, but no one else have noticed), and then a cup of coffee for himself.

I'm absolutely going to sleep the whole day tomorrow and the day after that, he told himself as he sipped from his cup. He looked around, saw couples sharing coupley-things like scarves, sweaters, and jackets, making him scowl in disgust.

Which reminded him: as for his love life –ugh – he was certain he's better off without having one at all.

"Yamato!" He was crossing the street when he heard someone call his name. He immediately lost track in the middle of the pedestrian lane.

He turned around, knew that voice very well; he just couldn't remember to whom it belonged to. Searching for a familiar face, he jumped out of surprise as someone tugged his coat from behind. He turned again to see – and when he did – he dropped his konbini espresso, his half-closed eyes fully opening as he saw her, completely forgetting that they were in the middle of the road.

I spoke too soon.

He almost choked at the spitting image before him. The girl was wearing a pastel-green bonnet, a pink knitted scarf and a serenity-blue woolen coat to match. She laughed at his expression. "Looks like you won't need coffee after all,"

He narrowed his eyes towards her, making sure he wasn't just seeing things. "Mimi?" I am definitely awake, he reminded himself. Whatthefuckareyoudoinghere?

"Well hello to you too, Ishida," she pouted playfully, crossing her arms. "Are you going to the party as well?"

He wasn't hearing anything she was saying, too occupied with taking in her presence; as well as trying to answer his own questions.

"What are you doing here?" he asked instead.

"For the Christmas party," she answered in a cheerful tone. She raised a curious brow, noticing he seemed very out of it. The last time she saw him (over her webcam), she swore there weren't bags under his eyes, nor did he have hollow cheeks. She waved a hand on front of his face. "Are you alright, Yamato?"

Yamato blinked a few times, realizing he had been blank. He looked around, finally getting in touch with reality – that they're in the middle of the road, and he had dropped his coffee (damn it). "Ah.." He took her by the wrist, dragged her to a safer, less-crowded corner of the street.

"It's been a while," he greeted formally, giving his best effort for a genuine smile. "I honestly didn't know you were coming,"

Mimi giggled, in the very girly way that made the eleven-year-old inside him flutter. In an instant he had realized he was about to face the same dilemma he had since he met her. Fuck.

"I didn't expect anyone to know, except for Koushiro-kun," she replied, her eyes scanning him from top to bottom. Well, at least he's still good-looking, she noted. "I thought it'd be nice to surprise everyone,"

He raised a brow. You sure like surprises, thought Yamato, staring at her waved caramel hair. I wish you were still wearing your hair pink.

"You look weird, Yamato. Are you still eating?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look like you've been on coke."

He was taken aback. Very uncalled for. "Excuse me?"

"Excuse you," she replied with a sarcastic smile.

Then and there he remembered why things came to this with her. Annoyed, Yamato turned his heels, hastily walked away from the girl as he headed back to Koushiro's office. Mimi followed him from behind.

"Oh come on, I was just playing with you," chuckled Mimi as she caught up with him. "Are you not happy to see an old friend?"

"Let me think about it," he replied coldly. "I don't remember us being old friends."

Mimi gaped; shocked that he would still bring it up to this very day. "Don't tell me you're still bitter about that? That was ages ago,"

"You meant a year ago," snapped Yamato as he glanced to his side, couldn't help but feel more annoyed. "Well you never really fixed things with me, Mimi.. nor respect any of my feelings."

It was a complete 360 of things.

Unbelievable, she thought irritably, throwing him a dirty look as she adjusted the eco bag she was carrying. It was becoming bothersome and heavy. And here I thought we've moved on.. "Well you're such a Grinch."

"A what?" He was frustrated that she was doing it again, remembering those late nights where she threw in words he couldn't understand, while she expected him to know them. Five minutes and he was having enough of her English jargons. Ugh.

"A Grinch," she repeated, her expression turning sour. "You're being the most anti-Christmas person right now, Yamato."

Yamato groaned as he stopped walking. She was doing it again. He ran a frustrated hand across his hair, and then letting out a sigh. She did have a point (only on being the most anti-Christmas person), but then again, he was dealing with her – her of all people. He turned to her, who was waiting for him to speak.

"Okay Mimi, let's start clean," he said, again faking a smile. "I am happy that you are here," he added, while patting her head like a child and taking her bag from her arm. She would have thanked him, if he wasn't being such a jerk (that's what she thinks, at least). "Now let's pretend that fooling me, and you not apologizing for it has never happened."

He's doing it again, she thought, as her face glowered. She noticed that he was again being notoriously passive-aggressive.

"Oh quit it," she snapped, unable to control her emotions. "You don't even know the whole story because you don't ever listen," It was true. It's been a year and he still hadn't given her a chance to explain herself.

"Look, if you don't like the fact that I'm here, just pretend I'm not around," spat Mimi, feeling really hurt. "I came for everyone, and I just want to have a good time and I don't want to ruin the party."

Well you sure have already ruined it for me, he resented. He couldn't believe she still had that effect on him – from a schoolboy with a crush to a bitter almost-lover. "Okay." He replied coldly.

"Okay."

No more words were spoken as they walked to Koushiro's office, despite both being overly-conscious of each other's presence. The elevator was empty, and only the two of them occupied it, with a Christmas Kenny G song to go by. It was long enough to last them thirty-two flights up.

This is so unfair, this is so unfair! exclaimed Mimi in her mind as she felt the butterflies in her stomach flutter around. She wished to have patched things up with Yamato, to rekindle their lost friendship (or whatever they were back then) during the party, but the idea was already becoming a long-shot.

"Yama-kun," she finally spoke. "How are you?"

He glanced to his side, almost lost himself when he heard her use a familiar nickname. How could you, even, Mimi, he cursed under his breath, knowing fully well that he was still not over her. He inhaled deeply.

"I'm all right." he replied, his voice calmer and a bit gentle. Just a bit. "I'm kind of busy nowadays."

"With what?"

"College. Band. Part-time." He wanted to keep his word short and terse as possible, knowing that anything extra would make him fumble with words.

Okay, I give up. Mimi's curiosity turned to disinterest, sensing that he didn't want to talk. "I see."

"How about you?" he asked, with no hint of enthusiasm.

"College, too." Replied Mimi, leveling with his 'coolness'. She glanced at the blond beside her, tore her eyes away when she felt her cheeks go warm. He was really cool, appealing, and attractive – tch, even with the smug look on his face – and it intimidated her. "That's all, actually."

Silence again, and the elevator was incredibly slow that they've only reached the fifteenth floor. Yamato hid his hands in his pockets, let out a sigh. I guess she's really staying there for good, he thought, remembering what they talked about last last summer.

"What are you taking?" he asked, after a very long pause.

"Media studies," she replied abruptly.

Another silence, and another Christmas song played in. Yamato took a subtle peak inside the eco bag he was carrying, taking note of the glittered and frosted Christmas wrapper Mimi used for her gifts. He was definitely the only one who didn't bring anything – apart from the paper plates and cups. And he swore he saw his name on one of her gift tags, too.

"Yamato," she spoke at last, though she still wasn't looking at him. "Why are you still angry at me, really?"

"I thought you were really serious that time," he replied sheepishly as he looked at the laces of his boots. "But I guess it's not the same for you.. and I get it, I get it.. I just.. I wished you could have told me." He knew she could do better than a relationship with a sixteen time-zone difference. He knew, and he knew that she could have it better.

"But I was serious," she immediately defended herself. "But in the end, you seemed as if you no longer felt the same," Mimi remembered that phone call conversation clearly, that time she asked him if he could wait for her. "I asked you, if you think we can work out.."

"You said it's impossible." She added, her voice smaller. To think, she would have actually traded her upscale and well-adjusted life in New York to go back to Tokyo, so they could be together after she finished high school. It didn't help that he was almost always out of reach with his phone, too.

He turned his head, for the first time looking straight at her face. "I didn't say it's impossible, I said it's going to be hard," he replied, his voice becoming stern. He didn't remember much of it, but he was always certain of the words he said.

"I never said I didn't want to try." Because I did, he thought, recalling those empty months of waiting for her, until he learnt (from Takeru, of all people) that she had just enrolled herself in an Ivy League school.

Of course he didn't want to hold her back, and he didn't resent her for choosing Brown – or was it Columbia? – over Todai or Kyodai (or him, if he was even a choice to begin with), but he wished she gave him the heads-up to call the whole thing off. He only started to sense her disinterest when she started becoming almost always unavailable, while evidently (thanks a lot, social media) having a good time with her friends at Times Square every Sunday.

"You could have called, or just messaged me that you weren't going to come back anymore," he added. "That you didn't want to, anymore."

Mimi looked down to her shoes, hiding her face with the curtains of her hair. "Well, it really came off to me that you no longer wanted to try."

Yamato let out another sigh, realizing they've been going in circles with this 'small talk'. "Think what you'd like, Tachikawa." he replied in defeat.

The elevator stopped at twenty-ninth, and so did their conversation as they both anticipated someone to come in. The door opened, revealing no passenger, just an empty hallway.

Nothing made Mimi sadder than the fact that they actually missed their chance over something silly – a miscommunication. For one thing though, he was right – had they actually went on with the plan, it was still going to be a hell of a struggle. The way they talked earlier proves that much.

"You said and I quote, 'I'll kiss you the first thing I see you,'" she reminded as soon as the door closed and went two flights up. He blushed, didn't expect she'd remember in verbatim (not to mention, how cheesy it actually sounded).

He didn't say anything in return. It was obvious that they were both still not over each other; he just didn't know if it was still a good idea to try again, as 'what-ifs' and 'maybe's' start to plague his mind. He was growing anxious and more cynical day by the day, and here she is, in the most perfect timing - his very own, colorfully dressed Christmas ghost – disturbing this supposedly uneventful day of his, playing him along with her bold words and her.. uh.. games. No - he argued to himself. Mimi was never capable of mind games. It's probably just my anxiety, he reckoned.

He didn't want to go back to lovelorn land, but he had to admit – her being here and all – he was liking every bit of it.

They went out of the elevator, walked down the empty hallway to the farthest corner, where Koushiro's room is. Mimi was pondering over the same thing. She wanted to dismiss the idea, but then realizing they have never really 'tried' anything in the first place. She looked at his hand, strongly urged to slip hers with his. She bid goodbye to the idea when his hand curled into a fist, taking it as a sign that he was very guarded around her.

She gave a long sigh, watched the fog of her breath immediately fade. She gazed at her shoes and glanced at his, realizing that their footsteps were in-sync. If only he showed any sign that he was still just as interested as she is, she lamented.

They reached the doorstep, but neither were about to ring the bell or knock on the door. Not yet, thought Mimi, mustering the courage she had left.

"I'm still waiting for that kiss, you know," she whispered, her bitter tone fake enough for him to distinguish. "you owe me a date, too."

"Let me think about it," he replied with all his might to be nonchalant, withholding his smile.

She turned to him and leaned in, her cheeks matching the color of her scarf. He leaned in as well, and closed his eyes when she did. Her arms found their way around his neck, his on her waist. He smiled against her lips and held her closer, filling in the emptiness, warming the chill in his heart; could no longer pretend he didn't miss being hers.

Author's Note: Forgive me if I have committed offenses with my writing, I assure everyone that I write with love. Happy Holidays everyone!