#midotama

happy holidays and a happy new year to you all! as a gift i bring you another angsty midotama video lmao

Midori watched the grey sky drizzle for hours, the chill from outside starting to seep through her window. Shivering, she reached for the pale pink sweatshirt that she had thrown across her bed earlier, promptly forgetting about it. Now, she pulled it over her head, sinking into the warm fleece lining. More comfortable, she turned her attention back towards the gloomy weather outside her window. Midori couldn’t decide if it was mocking her or sympathizing with her. Not that it mattered much anyways. Whether the universe was trying to cheer her up of beat her down, it wouldn’t change what had already happened.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Midori picked up her phone from where it sat on the carpet beside her. The screen sparked to life, seeming bright in comparison the the dreary rain she had been watching. Catching her eye, the small clock at the top read 10:18 pm. It was getting late. Midori didn’t want to bother Tamako if she was already in bed, but she promised herself she would talk to her today. Even if she had to call, if she didn’t have the courage to talk face to face, she needed to talk to Tamako. Ever since she and Mochizou had gotten together, Midori had done her best to put on a smile and hide the dark clouds that loomed overhead. It was getting easier to hide the puffy eyes and the dark rings beneath them too. While Midori wasn’t really one for too much make up, she was grateful it could cover her sorrows.

She was happy for Tamako. She really, honestly was. But, it wasn’t enough to soothe the deep ache splitting her heart in two. Though, Midori knew she only had herself to blame. She had pushed Tamako to confess her feelings. She had been trying to be the bigger person, to do what was right for Tamako’s happiness, even if it meant quietly smashing her own feelings beneath the heel of her shoe. Midori didn’t realize at the time quite how much it would hurt to shatter her own heart. Maybe some part of her had believed that Tamako wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t run to Mochizou, wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings. Maybe some small, desperate part had still believed that Tamako could love her, as more than just a friend. But, with her hopes dashed and her best friend swept off her feet with new love, Midori was alone with her pain and melancholy.

Still, she knew she couldn’t keep going the way she was. Hiding and pretending, putting on a happy face when she felt like crying, only worked for so long. Everyday when she went to bed, she felt more and more tired. The exhaustion of smothering her feelings was starting to ache deep in her chest and settle heavily in her heart. Sleep didn’t come easily either, mind turning with things unsaid while her bottled emotions resurfaced. And when she finally did get some rest, a certain black-haired girl filled her dreams in fantasies that would never see reality. Lingering kisses and tender touches, bare skin and roaming hands, warmth and brightness and a spark like Midori had never felt before. Sometimes she woke to dampened cheeks and a sore throat. Other times, it was a longing hunger settling in her bones, tangling in her lungs, so intense it threatened to suffocate her.

Pulling in a long, slow breath, Midori pushed back against the butterflies in her stomach and picked up her phone. If she didn’t call soon, she never would. Scrolling through her contacts, Midori’s finger stopped and hovered over that familiar name, the one she had called and texted the most over the years. She swallowed her nerves and insecurities, clicking Tamako’s name and raising the phone to her ear.

She counted each heartbeat as the tone rung in her ear, sounding again and again. Finally, on the last ring, Tamako picked up and static hummed on the other side of the line. Breath catching in her throat, Midori waited until she heard Tamako’s voice, quiet and sleepy.

“Midori? What’s up?” Tamako questioned, voice cheery and curious despite the weariness that clung to the edges of her tone.

Heart quickening its pace, Midori took a deep breath, forcing her lips to curve up into a smile even when no one could see her. “Hey, Tamako?You’re supposed to talk to your best friend about crushes and love and heartbreak, right?” Midori asked quietly, keeping a lightness in her tone. It was easier to ignore the hurt pulsing in her chest if she kept everything breezy and casual, like it wasn’t important, like it wasn’t crushing her.

For a moment, the line was quiet, only the sounds of rain pattering against the roof and her own heartbeat reaching Midori’s ears. And when Tamako spoke, Midori didn’t like the seriousness in her voice. “Did something happen?” she asked gently.

“I guess you could say that,” Midori replied with a weak chuckle, hating that Tamako could pierce her false happiness so easily.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tamako asked, voice kind and gentle and tender. She was so genuinely sweet that it hurt, somewhere deep down in Midori’s chest.

Fingers curling in the fabric over her heart, Midori swallowed nervously. She didn’t want to talk about it. She really didn’t, but it was eating away at her heart. The darkened emotions, the hurt, the sadness, the jealousy, they were drowning her and she didn’t know what else to do. “I guess,” Midori responded feebly.

“I’m happy to listen, then,” Tamako said kindly, and Midori could almost hear the gentle smile in her voice.

Before, the world had felt so cold. The rain pouring down and the wind sweeping through the streets filled the air with a damp sort of chill. Midori couldn’t seem to shake the heavy cold in her bones or the icy fingers wrapping around her heart. The world seemed to be fueling her sorrow, giving the sky its own misery to spill down to the earth. But, now, about to spill her secrets, her love and heartbreak, everything felt too hot. The cold melancholy that had been plaguing her heart was swallowed up by anxiety and shame. Nerves swirled in the pit of her stomach and heat rose up to singe her cheeks pink. Even the tips of her ears were hot, flush blazing across the pale skin.

“Um, Tamako,” Midori started, stopping to clear her throat and swallow. Her mouth felt too dry and, all of a sudden, the right words were so much harder to find. She had thought about what she wanted to say to Tamako, but it was all gone. Now that Midori knew she was listening, everything she had planned to say disappeared in a wisp of smoke. “You know what it feels like to love someone, right?” Midori asked, taking in a breath through her nose in attempt to quell the nervousness in her stomach. Of course, she knew the answer, but it still seemed like a good place to start. Tamako loved Mochizou. It was unquestionable. She loved him in a way totally distinct from the way she loved Midori, or Anko, or anyone else.

“Of course I do,” Tamako said, tone brightening some. “There are so many people who are precious to me,” she added, making Midori’s lips turn down at the corners. Friends, family, close bonds, that wasn’t what she was talking about. Love, true love, romantic love, those were different. “But, you’re talking about Mochizou, right?” Tamako asked.

On occasion, Tamako shocked Midori with how perceptive she could be. Typically, she came across as a happy-go-lucky airhead, a bit ditzy but sweet all the same. While Midori knew there was more depth to her childhood friend than that, it still came as a surprise when she could pick up on the subtle things that even Midori may have missed. She supposed it came from her desire to make everyone smile. She was always watching, always interacting, always learning about someone new. So, when it came to how people were feeling or what the right thing to do or say was, Tamako was almost always spot on.

“Yeah,” Midori replied, reaching a hand up to brush a few strands of hair back behind her ear. “For a minute, just think about how you feel when you’re with him. What does it feel like?” Midori asked, voice hardly more than a whisper. Honestly, she didn’t want to think about Tamako spending time with Mochizou. For years, the two of them, all alone together, had been her worst nightmare. She’d tried to protect Tamako from him, though she was never sure if it was for Tamako’s sake or for the sake of her own selfish desires.

“Midori!” Tamako whined, and Midori could almost picture her face going red on the other side of the line. “That’s embarrassing,” she protested, pout clear in her voice. Despite herself, Midori mustered a quiet chuckle. She could always leave it to Tamako to lighten the mood or make her laugh or feel better when things were getting heavy.

“You don’t have to answer. The important thing is you know that feeling,” Midori replied, feeling a little less nervous than she did before. Her heart was still beating quick, though, reminding her of things that needed to be said. “Now, think about how you’d feel if he loved someone else and you couldn’t be with him,” Midori said. Toying with a loose thread at the hem of her hoodie, Midori waited while static crackled quietly in the silence.

“That would be... awful,” Tamako finally answered, voice heavy with emotion. After another few beats, Midori faintly heard Tamako let out a harsh breath, pushing the air from her lungs in a rush. “I’m not sure I could bear it,” she added, her tone serious and weighty. “Did that happen to you, Midori?” Tamako asked, so genuinely sympathetic it hurt.

Just like that, with a kind and honest question, with her heartfelt sympathy, Tamako shattered Midori’s composure. Anxiety quickly turned to heartache, moisture pooling in her eyes. Throat closing up with emotion, Midori tried to force down all the pent up hurt that had rushed through her at just those few simple words. A deep ache throbbed in her chest, pulsing in time with each beat of her heart. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bottle it up anymore. She couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“Yeah,” Midori choked out, voice sounding small and fragile in her own ears. Sniffling, she scrubbed at the tears that were starting to spill down her cheeks, hot and messy. She hated it. It was so cliche, crying to her best friend on the phone over a lost crush. She hated herself for letting it happen. Though, her tears just fell faster, not caring about cliches or self-loathing or rational thoughts. It hurt and she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Who was it?” Tamako asked quietly, a mix of supportive comfort and thinly veiled anger in her voice. No doubt, Tamako would be angry with the person who made her friend cry. She just didn’t quite realize who the source of Midori’s tears was.

Between heavy breaths and stifled cries, Midori mustered the resolve to answer Tamako. “It’s you, Tamako,” Midori replied, voice breaking. “It’s always.... it’s always been you,” she said through her tears, curling in on herself. She just wanted to curl up and sob until her tears were spent. She wanted to cry herself to sleep and forget the world for a while. But, that wasn’t how life worked.

The only answer Midori got back was a harsh thud, Tamako’s phone hitting the ground. Taking the chance, the small moment of reprieve, Midori took in a deep breath and held it, wiping the tears from her eyes and willing them to stay away. She needed to stop crying. She needed to talk to Tamako, to really talk to her without having to gasp out broken thoughts and feelings between sobs. Steeling herself, Midori took in slow, shallow breaths, keeping the tears at bay while Tamako picked up her phone.

“I’m so sorry, Midori,” was the first thing to come across the line as soon as Tamako had a grip on her phone again. She sounded flustered and upset, but still sympathetic and kind. “I don’t want you to get hurt and-“ Tamako started, launching into a worried ramble, but Midori cut her short.

“Don’t feel bad,” Midori sniffled, mustering a weak smile. Her eyes were still stinging and felt too hot. “I let Ooji beat me. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Midori said, swallowing down her bitter thoughts and whispers of what if. “I just needed to get it off my chest. It was crushing me,” she said with a quiet, watery laugh, trying to make light of the situation. It never worked, but she couldn’t help but try.

“Midori...” Tamako said gently, voice low and soothing, if not pitying.

“I just need you to be my friend right now,” Midori replied, trying to force a bit of cheer into her voice. She didn’t need the Tamako that loved Mochizou. She didn’t need that Tamako that she had fallen in love with years ago. She just needed the Tamako that had stuck by her side through the all of the tough times. She needed her best friend.

And so, Tamako did what a best friend was supposed to do. They talked and laughed and cried until the dark clouds disappeared. They shared memories of the past and hopes for the future until the rain was gone. It wasn’t until well into the morning that Midori finally hung up the phone. Pale rays of sunshine were starting to peer over the horizon, brightening the tired and dreary world.