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Misato watched the last of the brown liquid go down the drain and tossed the can over her shoulder. She didn’t look down as the can clattered against the pile. Misato might as well have burnt the money that she had bought all of this with, but in her defense, she couldn’t let herself get emotional today. Getting emotional meant being vulnerable. Being vulnerable meant reaching for the cans, and then, her phone, her finger groggily dialing the number.
Of course, she thought bitterly as she turned around and poked at a crushed can with her toe, he had to be in the city when it was the one time of the year that she was an utter mess.
No- she shouldn’t even be thinking about him. She shouldn’t be thinking about either of them.
A clumsy hop and she cleared the jump over the pile of cans, and frowned at the window. She had drawn the shades. In a way, it felt like the world was mocking her by making sure that there would be a full moon tonight.
His arms were struggling to carry her and yet, he still pushed on through the snow, his breath getting weaker and weaker. All she could do was stare at the full moon above. Underneath it, she felt so fragile...
No, no. She couldn’t think of that. Something else, something else. Anything but that.
His arms wrapped around her. It was so romantic under the moonlight. As she stared past his eyes, at the moon above, she couldn’t help but feel fragile.
What was wrong with her? It’s sickening, but once the thoughts started to flow in, the comparisons never stopped.
They both walked the same way. They both talked that same way with their easy drawl. She missed that about them.
No, she hated him. She hated both of them.
Misato hated how they both made her feel. She hated how she chased after both of them, and one would merely brush her aside, only to show emotion at the very last minute. The other would give her the time of day when she’d let herself succumb to it, but oh, was he just as willing to brush everything over and be just as emotionless when she would turn to leave after morning came.
Did they know that about her? Did he know that about her? Surely not, because they’d all be staring at her with the same look of disgust that her reflection in the window had.
When had the curtains been drawn back? How had her hands acting of their own accord to pull the shades back?
And why was she crying underneath the moonlight?
Misato doesn’t know. She didn’t think she can ever put it to words. All she knew that she was sobbing as she clutched the silver cross to her chest (and oh God, was she wearing those cross earrings that Kaji had gotten her to match?)
Eventually, the tears stopped. There was a pause as she finally raised her chin weakly to stare at the moon.
The night was still young. There was still time, it seemed to say.
It would be ridiculous and say that she was under the moon’s spell, and yet Misato could think of no other reason as she stumbled around until she reached the phone.
She didn’t have to even look at the numbers this time. As her fingers brushed over the buttons, her eyes passed over the cans, and she bitterly noted that she couldn’t even blame it on being inebriated.
No one would ever ask her, though.
She passed the last button and the request goes through. A ring, and then, another.
Her father never picked up the phone whenever her mother called him. He was too busy, his assistants used to say to her.
But Kaji?
The call was answered by the third ring, just as Misato expected. She wondered if he had been expecting the call as well.
“Katsuragi.”
Kaji never disappointed.
“Kaji.” She crooned, all the while hating herself for it, “I heard you were in the area and....”