Disclaimer : Maid-Sama belongs to Fujiwara Hiro
— One Shot —
003# - Try
"Don't fall,
Unless you do into my arms."
—
—
"You don't have to try so hard."
She gazes up, her face struggling to hide a semblance of shock when all he sees is a flick of sadness embed in her eyes. She blinks it away, laughs a little.
"What are you talking about, stupid?"
The little smile she gives is a futile attempt to appear unfazed by what he had just told her.
He keeps staring from where he stands — near the classroom window pane. Even with all the distance between them, he can feel her internal fight, her uneasiness.
He sees the way her eyes slightly redden and puff, how she shallowly breathes — with her mouth, instead of her nose because when she cries, it always becomes stuffy.
"Don't force yourself, go home, Pres'."
She ignores him for awhile, still scribbling haphazardly on a report. The distant noise of late clubs practice on the field reverberate to them and fills the exhausting silence.
It is heavy for both of them. That silence.
Eventually, she sighs. "I have paperwork to do. Don't wait for me, go home, Usui."
Heavy. The overwhelming tension.
"Why do you push yourself so hard?" He asks, a bittersweet smile playing on his features. She grits her teeth, her hand gripping the pen harder.
It is hard for both of them.
He pushes her harder. Makes it harder. For both of them.
"Let me help, Ayuzawa," he suggests, as he strides towards her. Leaning on the desk, his elbows props on the hardwood. Everything is hard.
His eyes are level to hers and he searches. He searches for her gaze. But she only looks down, her hands are tense, slowly tearing and crumbling the paper apart.
— Why is it so hard?
"Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?" She lets out in a harsh whisper. Her voice breaks a little more with each words. The hardness cracks, cracks and breaches open a rift in her heart. They both know it, but they can't do anything to stop it.
"Why?" An accusation on her part. She stands up, her palms slamming on the desk. It is alike to the end. Even outside, no more shouts, no more sounds. Only the weariness of the situation hovers. Only the sound of her heart shattering remains. "Why?! Do you want me to break right in front of your eyes?" She claims with distress. What he hears is a long sorrowful lament. And it hurts.
Hurts. Breaks. Shatters. His heart has never been intact around her.
His fingers slide down her cheeks, brush her hair. He even tucks a stray strand behind her ear.
Another whisper, a declaration on his part. "You know how far I'd go down with you. For you."
She peers up at him, the amber of her eyes dull and irresolute. "It's not your issue," she replies, and once more she takes her try at deception. She laughs a little, but closes her heart much more. "I'm totally fine, leave me alone."
His fingertips smears the stream of tears running down her cheeks. The breach cracks open.
"You're fine," he slowly repeats.
She nods and places her palm upon his, holding it tighter to her. Holds onto him for he is her life line.
"I'm totally fine," she sobs and chokes on her tears. He slowly pushes her chair away from the desk and eases her into his arms. He holds her against him, and his fingers sink in her hair, smoothing down the strands.
They are so alike, without even realizing it. Both are so stubborn, both are blind. Yet, they won't fail to save one another.
"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" he mirrors her earlier statement.
Why does she have to take it all upon herself?
"Because I have to be strong." Her answer fanes upon his throat. He presses her head into the crook of his neck.
"What for?" He murmurs.
She breaks in his arms. It hurts.
Still, he collects the piece, and put them back together. Always.
"For everyone else."
Silence lade the air as she lulls in the safety of his hold. He leaves a lingering kiss on her forehead, then severs the stillness that surround them in a low murmur.
"What about you?"
His voice makes her weak. It makes her realize how weak she is. She once swore to protect him, they both took the oath to protect themselves. Yet, she breaks it; she hurts him with her own pain. She drowns him with her tears, stabs him with her denial.
She doesn't want to share her pain with him.
She pushes back, stares at him. The telltale sign of her breakdown paints her face with tender agony.
"I don't care about me," she voices back.
He holds her gaze for a while, intent and focused. He swims in what pools in her eyes. She doesn't care about herself, but she cares about him. They are so alike.
They are both crumbling, and they are both picking up the shards they leave in their wake. They mend each other's crushed hearts as they break it.
His eyes closes and he pulls her back in his embrace, his palm in her hair. An heavy exhale escape his lips as he does so.
"What about me?"
She frowns. "What about you?"
"Because I do care about you. So what about my feelings?" His voice is so low, barely audible. It slides in the silence but she hears it all. She's unable to answer. His plea sings in her senses endlessly.
When you break, so do I. It has always been this way.
He tilts her head and leans in, their forehead touching as their noses brush. Their eyes meet; amber and emerald. They melt together. His palms cups her cheeks, his thumbs grazing her damp eyelids as she closes her eyes. They revel in each other. Every sound is muted, but she still hears her own ragged and shallow breaths. And above all, she makes out the words that flows out of him.
"I care about you." He whispers quietly, his lips moving against hers.
And though she isn't much of a crybaby, hot tears still well into her eyes. The pain she had blocked throughout the week painfully floods out and squeezes her lungs. It constricts her heart, blood thrumming in her head.
A week ago, her mother deceased.
Today, she was finally grieving.
—
Author's note:
It's hard to know when someone breaks. Unless you witness it, right in front of your eyes. Their voice, their touches. The spark in their eyes.
But how to put the pieces back together?
We all wonder...
Thank you for reading!