hello! this is my first WoH fic, so i'm kinda nervous x_x this has spoilers for dr;ae, as vague as they are (i think), so proceed with caution! this is unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine - this fic is partially inspired by headcanons i've seen on the lovely ministarfruit's blog, and a tiny bit from some of the works of galaxyaqua (i'd highly recommend giving their stuff a read!)

reviews are always appreciated. title from hamlet bc i love that play to pieces.

• mage •

—twelve years old

Your love for Monaca was ice in your veins, freezing you from inside. This was the first time she'd wrapped her arms around you and kissed you deep, but it wasn't the first time she'd chilled you to the bone as she did now.

And you'd chosen to ignore the cold, so cold it hurt.

You'd chosen to love her, to turn a blind eye to her behaviour as she got her fill, to take her criticisms and insults until

it all

"I never expected anything of you!"

came crashing

"No one had ever expected anything of you, Nagisa! Maybe you just thought they did!"
down.

"Risk your life for Monaca's sake!" she'd declared, clasping her hands together with a smile on her face that didn't reflect the coldness in her eyes, a smile unlike any other that you had seen on her before.

By the end of it all, she'd left you frozen solid.

That was the nature of whatever your relationship was - you gave and she took, back and forth, push and pull, until you had nothing left to give.

• hero •

—sixteen years old

Your love for Masaru was like moth to the flame, heating your skin and thawing any existing trace of Monaca.

Masaru was warm - a nudge to your shoulder or a brush of the hand as your veins thrummed under your skin.

Truth be told, most of your relationship was purely physical - you did have a strong emotional bond, but that didn't provide as much comfort; for you, at least.
After all, you were still learning trust.

It was fine for the most part; You and Masaru balanced each other out, and it was good - you would lay there, Masaru's hands and legs pressed to yours as the you found comfort in the warmth radiating off of him.

However, sometimes Masaru got out of control - you'd spend just a little too much time together, Masaru would get just a little too worked up, and then it burned - Masaru would dig his hands into your hips and shoulders - not too hard, of course; fingertips searing you as much as the feel of Masaru's lips across your collarbone, up your neck and along your jaw.
It was satisfying, but it hurt nonetheless.

And so, that was the nature of your relationship - you had to work hard, to keep close, but not too close; to embrace each other, but not to consume.

• fighter •

—seventeen years old

Your love for Kotoko was fleeting, at best; even less than the brush of shoulders or a quick caress.

Yet, this was fine with you - you knew that one touch could go awry and send Kotoko into a shivering, sobbing mess. So you knew, you knew to keep your distance; she could touch you, and you could not give anything in return.

It hurt, and yet you knew that you couldn't do a thing about it.

As you sat there, perusing some novel given to you from Togami, - like you always do each afternoon - she would waltz over and wrap her arms around your shoulders, grin stretching her face - and you had to take it, had to fight to keep your hands on your lap as she chattered about everything and anything.

You ached to return her gestures, to brush your hand against her cheek, to entwine your fingers with hers ; and within the confines of your relationship, you knew it was impossible.
In fact, knowing was all you could do, really.

• priest •

—nineteen years old
Your love for Jataro was simple - you were push and pull, back and forth, in constant synchronisation and yet, it was a different feeling from what you felt with Monaca.

It was almost comforting.

It took a while for Jataro to really come out of his shell - even now, comments about his face were strictly forbidden.
He hung around you more than he did the others, but that was just fine; Masaru and Kotoko had each other for company, and they enjoyed that routine - even if neither of them were willing to say so.

You knew Jataro trusted you more than the others; as much as he rambled on about being hated, you knew he preferred your presence to Masaru's and Kotoko's - "Weeell, I don't mind if they hate me," he'd said, and you fought to stop Jataro from shifting his sleeves up to his face. "I-I mean, no one can accept a face as hideous as mine…"

You'd wanted to tell him how wrong he was, but at the memory of the last time you'd done something like that, you remembered it would be best to leave it - and so, you soon fell into a pattern; Jataro would hang around you, clinging to your arm as you listened to his ranting, and you would remind yourself that your time was enough to keep him at ease.

And your relationship with Jataro was simple like that; not many words were needed - silence and comfort on your part, affection and words, words, words on his part,

And that was just fine.

• warriors •
—twenty one years old
Their love for you was something you had come to appreciate over time.

Despite their ages, Masaru, Jataro and Kotoko still acted like children; you didn't blame them, of course.

They were trying to preserve their youth in their growing bodies in an attempt to keep a grip on reality.

It wasn't always perfect.

Sometimes Jataro went silent.

Sometimes Kotoko woke up in tears.

Sometimes Masaru threw punches and kicks at the already battered wall.

And all you did was watch; sometimes, your love couldn't do a thing.

However, their love could;

You could never shake the expectations you'd placed upon yourself; couldn't shake the expectations that they had of you.

At least, the expectations you thought they had - Monaca's voice was still there.

And sometimes, when it got all too much, they were always there;

Jataro would have his hands around your arm in a tight grip as he smiled at you with uncertainty.

Of course he was uncertain, it was to be expected.

Masaru's forearms would around your shoulders, grin stretching his face, "I'm the leader, and leaders make sure no one is hurt!"

He wasn't really the leader, but you never told him that.

Kotoko would sit by you and offer one of her pillows to hold, her eyes staring at you with something wise past her years.

Maybe when people experience things too mature for their own good, it gives them wisdom beyond compare

But you ignored the negative thoughts that plagued you; you couldn't, wouldn't afford it.

You couldn't stand to hurt those whom you loved.

And this was your relationship - you all had a lot to work on, and a lot to fix; but you were mending each other, slowly.

Maybe one day, the thoughts won't come back.