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A moment of your time

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A click of the remote, and the world stops.

The chatter and noise which always followed behind both Mental Out and the Railgun, that chatter which had violated the solemnity of Tokiwadai's library, stops.

The space is silent. Peaceful. A true garden of leaning, filled books and statue-shaped humans and all of the knowledge contained within both. But none of that is of interest to those who remain.

The metaphorical pin is dropped by Misaki, a tired sigh flying through her lips as she lowers herself to the floor, gently folding her knees towards her chin as she takes a seat upon the cold, marble floor.

"Mikoto-chaaaan!" She cries out, crocodile tears welling in the corners of her starry eyes. "I need a pillow to rest on, already!"

"Yes, yes..." Comes the response of one Misaka Mikoto. The words are not a tired acceptance of consignment to ones fate, but an endeared understanding of the one she loves. The willingness to indulge Misaki in her desires in that small space of time which they can truly share.

Misaki allows her body to fall sideways. As expected, her head comes crashing down in to fabric, a radiant body warmth muffled beneath. She would never tell a soul, but this cushion is softer, more luxurious than any designer brand or artesian work of furniture.

The first thing that almost forces it's way past the Queen's lips is complaints. Stale, everyday gripes, about how everybody depends on her, how she has to look after even the people who would do her harm to maintain her current life… But all of that melts away as a hand comes to rest upon her crown, gently stroking those golden threads of hair. Her worries and insecurities melt away, seeping in to the marble flooring.

Her vexation quietens, Misaki is left with only one other thought: "I wish we could stay like this forever."

Mikoto chuckles. "You could always unfreeze them. Show the world what you're really made of."

Misaki has no response to this. That particular discussion had already run its course. She must be the Queen Bee, surrounded by an armour of superficially disposable pawns. Not the girlfriend of Misaka Mikoto. To allow that is to invite uncertainty – weakness – in to both of their lives, to allow themselves to becomes pawns to any dark force that would work against them.

Perhaps, if it were only Misaki that ever found herself swept in to the rigmarole of the less palatable aspects of Academy City, she would allow herself the weakness. But a threat against Mikoto's life... Or rather, for Misaki to become a bargaining chip to dangle before Mikoto, to force her in to disagreeable actions?

Misaki would not have it.

So they remained there, upon the floor of the middle school library. Every moment together was to be cherished, every movement of fingers through hair to be savoured, every little squeeze of each others hand or deep gaze in to one another's eyes was to be buried deep within their minds, never to be forgotten, always available to be called upon to brighten their darker moments.

Misaki clung to Mikoto’s waist, an oddly contorted hug. “I don’t wanna.”

“Come on, Misaki.” Mikoto’s hand wrap around Misaki’s arms, gently prying the honey-dipped girl off of her waistline. She’s strong, far stronger than her small frame would make one think. But she’s gentle with Misaki. Even these moments, where they must part once again, are filled with the cherished memories of simple pleasures, of skin against skin and all the little noises one makes in the mundane movements of the body. These sensations are private to them, and them alone.

“I love you.” She says.

“I love you too.” She replies.

They separated, taking on the sane positions and poses they held just a minute ago, their pantomime of rival Level 5s ready to be acted out once again.

Mental Out clicks her remote once more, and the world resumes.