Doll (MikaYuu)

♦36♦ - The Commence

When the alarm went off at 4 AM, the memories were still fresh in my head, like I had just walked out of a movie theater. Mika flinched slightly, sighing as he lazily let go of me in the sleepy position we had to turn it off. A smile came to my face - probably the only time that would happen this early in the morning. He squinted as he briefly rolled through the bright screen of excited texts from his concomitants. Who was I kidding, it was the team. He set it back on the nightstand, nuzzling back into me for a moment. I smiled, running my fingers through his bedhead. It's like he remembered what he was waking up for, looking up at me with a tiny smile which I returned. I was flying to "The City of Love" with my love.

Just a week ago, I definitely would not have expected this. In fact, the entire idea that Mika and I actually worked together was slipping my mind the more time I spent with him as a person. I was just living like it were just the two of us just trying to make it somewhere, which it was partially. I couldn't believe we got this far so quick.

Three months, it'd been. Three months since I met Mika. Now it was the middle of August.

That seemed to be the only thing that stuck with my mother when I told her I needed all my security info to fly. The conversation went something like this:

Mom: What?! Didn't you just meet him like a month ago?

Me: Three, actually.

Mom: And you still didn't get me an autograph yet?

Me: I promise I will, soon, Mom. I know how much you like--

Mom: What did you call me for?!

Me: I need my passport and stuff!

Mom: Where are you going?

It was stressful. She was jealous. That was about it. We compromised on souvenirs. My father and I compromised on photos of "babes." Mom was not pleased. My parents were easy.

I learned later that we were flying out for work. This wasn't some grand romantic proposal or anything, although that would've been amazing. I had no idea I was that kind of guy, honestly. Guess who got an invitation for appearance at a fashion show?

That's right, not me. Mika was returning to home base to meet his worshipers, which meant I had to sit through hours of him reviewing his French and slight anxiety.

"The first I went, my proprietors were so judgmental on how I spoke," he told me with a sigh that day, flipping through his language book. "The girls were kinder to me."

"Because your French is sexy," I joked, wiggling my eyebrows.

"You do not even know what I am saying half of the time."

"Are you insulting me?"

"No."

"Then I'm not worried."

"..."

"Come on, say something in it."

"No."

"Mika... Talk some dirty French to me."

He studied in private from then on.