I no own Beyblade. Just my OC and plot.
It was odd seeing the girl like this. Depressed. Blank. Lifeless. Her golden eyes normally shining were dull and stared at nothing.
He could tell that apart of her had died with him. Her brother. Her best friend. The only thread to her sanity had been obliterated when his heart had stopped. Now she only existed; there was no life in those eyes.
He hated it.
He hated the fact that everyone inched around her like she was breakable, like she would fall to pieces at any moment. Couldn't they see she was already broken, already in pieces? What he hated even more was the fact that she was trying so hard to remain strong. She was trying to pick up the pieces but couldn't seem to grasp them. He wanted to help but he knew, like everyone else, that she would appreciate it.
But he couldn't stand to see her suffer like this. It was hard enough watching her move from day to day in a haze while trying to appear normal for her friends. Her team.
Even the less intelligent ones were picking up on her fragile state.
But this wasn't what brought him out tonight. This wasn't what had him standing beside her, his shoulder just barely brushing hers as they looked out over the moonlit lake from the cliff. Their spot, she had called it once after she had made him promise not to tell anyone.
He was looking at her without really looking at her. He was looking at the dullness of her golden eyes, the blankness of her face. It was as if she wasn't aware of him being there. The only thing that seemed unchanged by her grief was how the moonlit turned her silver hair to almost white.
"I'm sorry." He didn't say he was sorry that he couldn't help her. He didn't say he was sorry for what she was going through. He didn't say he was sorry because he hadn't been there to help her save her brother. Somehow he knew that he didn't need to.
She smiled then, the first in a long time. It wasn't happy or thankful. It held a sad, wistful property to it with a hard edge. A slight spark returned to her eyes.
"Don't be." She spoke low, barely a whisper. She didn't say don't be sorry because it was her problem. She didn't say don't be sorry because she didn't want or need his pity. She didn't say don't be sorry because in the end she would be fine. Somehow, in those two words, he understood it all.
Somehow, Bryan understood, even as the first tears slipped from Angel's eyes, that he had helped her begin to pick up the pieces.
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