Author's Notes: Well, this is a really hectic story, isn't it? I don't tend to write stories in the second person, but I thought I'd take a chance and write one now. I've also never really considered MakiXNico to be a good couple, and this goes beyond my eternal hatred of Nico. I know of the old playground adage: if they're mean to you, they probably like you. To me, I think the opposite. I see two people arguing all the time and think that they're just honestly aggrieved with each other. I can understand why a lot of people are so fond of putting them together (and here I am writing a story that sort of fits into that, so that's sort of hypocritical), but when I watched Love Live!, I just felt that they didn't like each other.
This story is told from the point of Nico. The lines in italics are actually the lyrics to the song "Unstable" by Adema. I thought I'd try writing a story around an actual song, so this is my first attempt at doing that. I know it seems repetitive, but the song actually repeats that chorus even more, so believe it or not I actually pared it down for better consumption. Drop me a review and let me know what you think: if you think this way of writing is interesting or too confusing, or to just tell me that my feelings on Nico are just weird. And, as always, I hope you enjoy!
I wanted to know who you really are. She was an enigma; you could at least admit that to yourself, right? Every time you thought you understood more about her, she would become closed off again, sending you right back to the start. It was frustrating, but at first you weren't sure why. Maybe she was just the best at getting under your skin. You wanted nothing to do with her, but at the same you couldn't stay away.
You'd tease her, prod her, wait for the predictable rise in embarrassment and anger. It may have been awkward for everyone else to watch you two yell and argue every day, but you craved those moments, thinking that this was the only way to make her open up. At some point, she'd slip up and admit something in the heat of the moment, and when it did, you'd never forget it. It was important to document every moment, in case you came up with a breakthrough.
I needed the chance to stitch up my scars. Everyone has problems, you know that. You also know that you have to burden yours alone, as much as you want anything but. The fact that you use half-truths and sometimes outright lies to seem better to your siblings is not lost on you, and it sometimes gnaws silently on the back of your mind. It makes you feel guilty, but you have to brush those feelings aside. After all, you have to be strong, because no one else will be strong for you. You don't expect anyone to. Maybe, even if you're loathe to admit it to yourself, you have insecurities. You'd never project that you did, even for a moment, but they still exist, however faintly. The sense of inadequacy is not one that is easily squashed.
Sometimes you wished that she knew. Of course, you couldn't expect her to know something that she had no way of knowing. How could she know if you didn't tell her? In more bitter moments, that truth wasn't important. It wasn't 'you didn't tell her,' it's 'she didn't ask'. Maybe you see something more there that she doesn't, but you'd never ask, and you know damn well that she'd never admit it, even if it was true. You have no way of knowing if it's true. Maybe it's not.
I'm closer to you than I was in the start. That has to be true. After all, mutual respect had grown over the weeks where once there was nothing but biting contempt. Every time you see a smile cross her face, you can't help but smile as well. It's a rare sight to behold, and you secretly cherish it when you do. You don't know how to proceed from that, though. All you know is that some small, quiet part of your mind knows what you'd never admit, even to yourself: you've fallen for someone who does not have the capacity to feel the same. In a way, it hurts, but you still don't know why that is, or you can't admit to yourself the true reason why it does. Come dive right in and tear me apart.
I'm trapped, and we can't get along. Your feelings are not so easily swayed. Sometimes, when she closes herself off and seems to just disappear, you think the time away will change things, but it never does. Her return only kicks things into overdrive. At one point, you felt the constant arguing linked you together, but now you've come to realize that maybe there is no deeper meaning hidden within that sarcastic wit: maybe she's just angry at you. The conflicts have increased, the yelling has gone up in volume, yet the only tension there is one of nerves, held by your friends as they silently watch on with concern and resignation.
I thought that I was strong. You really felt that if you believed something, it would be true. You believed in your own success, and with the group becoming increasingly popular, that became truer and truer each passing day. However, it unfortunately does not have a hundred percent success rate. You began to flinch at her screams when before you would have served them right back. The daily arguments have become more of a grind, something that no longer brought you any new information to gleam. All you feel you've learned is that she hates you. You no longer have the energy to raise your voice; you just space out instead. Now only one thought remains, stronger than all the others.
We are so unstable.
In bed, I'm strung out from your touch, but I won't give you up. How much you long for something more. It's quite amazing to know something to be true, yet continuously deny it right to your own disbelieving face. It takes talent, that's for sure. You wish it wasn't true, though: it would make things a lot easier. When you two would stretch together, you got a secret thrill from the close proximity. When you would jab fingers against each other in anger, there was a secret thrill of doing something that she would never allow another to do. Maybe you've been looking too much into it this entire time, though. You don't seem like the person who she would confide in. She never has before.
Even after these revelations, you still don't want to quit. It's gotten to a point where you just can't imagine a life without her in it, but the way things have been can't continue. After all, how can you do something that she does not want? It's unbecoming. So you decide to back off, to give her space, to give you both time to breathe. Maybe after some time has passed you both can come to terms and be friends again. That thought brings some contentment to your turbulent emotions. Still, you feel as if you'll never escape how things have been, that they may continue unabated for all time.
We are so unstable.
I wanted to learn about the dark side of you. You were surprised when she hit you. She seemed even more shocked than you, though. It stung, but you were almost numb with shock, so you initially didn't feel it. Her eyes were wide and instantly regretful, and right away you could tell she didn't mean it. Now. When she did it, clearly it meant something. It was all of her anger being channeled into one stinging slap. You weren't even sure what to do, so you just smiled. It felt so phony, yet it appeared so naturally, and you could tell she was caught off guard. Without a word, you began to walk away. Her apologetic screams didn't sound any different from her screams of anger in your ears, and you didn't turn around, as much as you wanted to.
You bring me down like a bottle of pills. You've felt low lately. It's coincided with the fact that you've become more honest with yourself. Not with others, of course, but hey, it's a start. There have been some concerned texts, a couple face to face talks, but you've never betrayed yourself. Everything's fine. Really. You hope you fooled them, but you aren't even able to fool yourself, so maybe that's some major false hope. An idea struck you one day, but it was a stupid idea: you decided to remove every trace of her from your life that you could. Any pictures were taken down and hidden away, and her phone number was deleted from your contacts. That actually brought tears to your eyes to do that, but you ignored them. This was something you had to do to get better, even if right now it was making you feel so much worse.
I hate the way that you're making me feel. The emotional pain is intense at times. There aren't many times you can unleash all of your rage, all your unhappiness, because of how often you're around people. If it's not people at school, it's your group members, and if it's not them, it's your siblings. Vocal privacy is almost non-existent some days. On a day you were able to slip away from your friends, you hid away in an alley and screamed at the wall, letting out as much anger as you could, even punching the wall in a fit of rage. That wasn't a great idea, and it wasn't worth the physical pain now throbbing in your knuckles. Somewhat embarrassed, you wipe off the blood and head back home. It makes sense that red would be the color of anger. There had been nothing but red on your mind for a long time now.
The two of you don't ever speak. It isn't one of those petty middle school fights where each participant forces another person to relay messages to the other like an angry postal service. There's just no communication at all, and everybody notices. You can tell from their stares, but you're too proud to acknowledge anything is wrong, and too embarrassed to ask if anyone knew what she was thinking. She doubted that anyone knew anyway. The icy wall that's grown between you two is taller than you ever thought possible, and your friends are getting frozen out as a result. Performances are suffering, and you know that someone will force you to talk. If it was affecting their routines, then it was no longer just personal.
I keep coming back. I never get ill. When you and her were brought together into the same room, you didn't even put up a fight: you had already known this was coming. She clearly also knew what this was about, as she wouldn't look at you or anyone else, instead fixing her gaze on the wall. Only two of the group were there to talk to you two, and you figured it was because having the entire group there would automatically end any chance of getting words from her. Your other assumption turned out to be right, as Nozomi was there to talk, while Eli stood to the side to make sure it didn't end violently. It was uncomfortable, and your voice was unnaturally quiet when you were addressed. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to tell them all what was really going on in your mind, so you lied. Everything was fine. It even sounded fake to you.
The looks on their faces were enough to show they didn't believe you. You wouldn't budge though: everything was fine. She was even more firm, completely dismissive of the whole enterprise and insistent that this was a waste of time. Somehow those words hurt you too. When did you become so vulnerable? It was Eli who lost patience first, and she came over and told you two that your little rift was hurting group harmony. This wasn't going to end until you made up. When you risked a glance over at her, she was staring right back at you. You could see exactly what was going on in those violet eyes: she would fake it to get this over with, so you would have to as well. The two of you shook hands and promised to work on your differences. You put as much honesty as you could into those words, as you truly wanted things to go back to the way they were. You could tell she was lying. You would never leave, though. No matter how much it hurt.
I'm trapped, and we can't get along. The next two weeks are less frosty, at least to everyone else. The only tension remaining is firmly in your mind, as you've doubled your efforts to appear friendly and somewhat cocky; your style. It feels like you're even fooling the ones who were most suspicious. You wonder if you're fooling her, though. She certainly fooled you.
I thought that I was strong. You've never felt weaker in your life. Every day takes so much effort, it almost doesn't feel worth it. You want to talk to her, to try and make things right again, but you can't bring yourself to do it. Looking at her makes all resolve drain from your body, and now you try your hardest to look anywhere but at the one who makes you feel so wrong.
We are so unstable.
In bed, I'm strung out from your touch, but I won't give you up. You want to throw away these horrid feelings and never look at them again, but you know how impossible that is. They're entrenched firmly in your brain, in your heart, and nothing but her hands could pull them loose. Not like that would ever happen. Somehow her number is no longer memorized, and the desire to text her at all times of the day has been replaced by a fervent need to remember so you can return to agonizing over whether or not to text her. It's a vicious cycle.
We are so unstable.
I'm trapped, and we can't get along. You're standing right next to her at practice, and you just want to spill all of these feelings that are tearing you apart from the inside out, but instead your mouth hangs open like an idiot. I thought that I was strong. By the time you realize this, she's noticed, and she's staring at you. "It's rude to stare." The first thing she's said to you in who knows how many weeks, and it stirs something inside of you. Anger.
We are so unstable.
And you're arguing again, yelling at each other like you'd always done. Everybody's staring, but you don't care, and it appears she doesn't either. You don't say anything you had actually wanted to say, however. Things suddenly seem normal. In bed, I'm strung out from your touch, but I won't give you up. This was what you wanted, for things to go back to normal. Of course, you know that it will never truly be normal. That tension is there, and it's not likely to go away anytime soon. Another major argument could send things back into the exact same place it was just seconds before, but you can't get yourself to stop, to try and make things right. All you wanted now was normalcy, and that's now what's happening. Even if she was shouting at you, she was still talking to you in a messed-up way.
We are so unstable.
Who knows how long this can last. Maybe it'll last forever, or just another afternoon. All you know is that you want nothing more than to talk to her again, and through arguing, the walls start to crack. It's not healthy, and you know it's not, because you feel terrible every night. If this is the only way you can be close to her, in a way nobody would consider 'close', then you would weather that pain just to keep her in your sights for one more day. Things would never truly be normal again, but you'd take anything at this point. You'd do anything for someone you love, right?
We're so unstable.
We're so unstable.
We're so unstable.
We're so unstable!