Disclaimer: Doesn't own Kaori Naruse's manga (or anime) Pretear. But I DO OWN THE SONG. NO PLAGERIZING!

Warnings: Possible OOC-ness, and definite angst. Not for those who despise either.

Shoulder to Cry On

Kyuubi Tenshi

She wanted to cry… just a little more. She wanted to break… just a little further. She wanted to let herself drown in sorrow… just a little longer.

This feeling was so uncommon. She hated it with all her being, but sometimes she just had to let herself be. It overrode her, suffocated her, killed her, but she had to let it be. Her pain had never been erased, even with the coming of the Leafe Knights. It had been forgotten then. Her battles had erased the sorrow that made her want to die to make it stop. When she fought, she could forget.

Even now, the tears, free of sobs or whimpers or any sound to herald them, ran unchecked down her cheeks as she stared lifelessly at the blooms she had planted with her mother as such a small child. No matter how hard she tried… no matter how hard… the flowers could never replace the soft embrace her mother had given her when she was small. They couldn't kiss her bruises and scrapes to make it all better. They couldn't tell her everything was going to be okay when she had a fight with one of her friends or family. They weren't her mother.

Her pillow was cold and damp against her cheek as she rolled over to look out the window at the late winter night, the moon riding high in the sky and whispering words of tragic loneliness to her ears that he, too, could understand the pain she felt. A faint smile passed, though it merely flickered and lighted on her face like a butterfly's shadow. Then she felt it. An all-too-familiar presence.

Hayate.

It seemed her could feel her sadness; otherwise, he would not have dared to do what he did next. He crawled up on the bed behind her, and stayed there on his hands and knees, looking at her for a moment. A single hand, scarred by battle and calloused from work, lifted to breach the salty streams that made their way down her face.

"Himeno, you shouldn't look like this. It doesn't suit you," he murmured faintly. He pulled back a little, hurt, when she did not respond. She failed to even move, or look at him. Ruby orbs fixed on the window, and on the flowers that sat on its sill. What could he do? There were a very few times that he had seen her sad at all, much less know what to do when despair was pulling her beyond his reach. Then, just barely, her fingers trembled. "Himeno, please tell me why you're so upset; I'll try and understand."

She continued to stare blankly out the window, and snow began to fall. Just a flake or two at first, but it was soon surrounded by thousands of its brothers and sisters on the mortal earth. They would dissipate, and melt. Yet… they would meet again. Water was always, always accepted up into the clouds, and they would fall and meet again, whether as rain or snow, they would live again. More tears.

She wanted to cry. She would never see her mother again. She had the right to cry. Her mind was numb from pain, so dull, that it could barely process what the Wind Knight was doing behind her. That hand, so rough it bit at her skin when he touched her, wove up to grasp her shoulder and pull her back into a gentle embrace. She could feel his chest rise and fall behind her; she could feel the way her body fit perfectly next to his, but she could only feel these. Her mind, no, her heart would not allow her to understand. And suddenly… suddenly, the pain eased, if only just a little. She could remember a song that her mother used to sing when her father was upset.

You never cry, or show your sadness; you always hold it in.

Until there is a silent night encasing you within.

Then teardrops fall like rain;

Silent and mournful, they soak into your pillow.

Sometimes the weakest hands are the best shoulders to cry on.

Another day, another hate; they scorned you again, didn't they?

I know I'm small,

But sometimes the weakest hands are the best shoulders to cry on.

I've never seen your tears; I know I have it good.

Your story, I won't say I can identify;

'Cause I know I can't,

But still, I'll be a shoulder to cry on.

Hayate listened as she murmured the faint lament, and he could feel her pouring pain out to him on those words. He pressed on her shoulder and turned her to face him. Faded crimson met with royal blue, and he pulled her closer, resting his head on hers, and her head on his shoulder. His fingers combed through her hair lovingly.

"Hayate…" He startled a bit when she spoke, her voice rough from the tears she shed, but he didn't pull away. He simply waited. She shifted just a bit closer.

"Hayate… can I cry?" she asked him softly, all tone leaving her voice a mere whisper to be caught by sharp ears. Closer was she drawn against him. Softly did he speak. His hands slid under the edge of her night-shirt, biting her skin as always but warming her cold skin. Eyes trailed to meet, and held. A soft smile, one just for her. A blush; only for her.

"Always."

A soft kiss. His lips trailed over her skin, and he kissed away all traces of her tears, his breath warming her neck and cheek from their cold. Remnants glittered on her eyelashes, but he would not move his hands from her to wipe them away, and followed suit, his lips brushing the from her eyes. They tasted bitter, but the look on her face was oh so sweet. He kissed her again, lips moving against hers delicately, as though beneath his passion she would break, as though porcelain were of tougher stuff than she. His hands wrapped further up, pulling her even closer still, and her hands toyed a bit with his hair. At last, he released her mouth, and rested her tiny form against his protectively once again. She shivered, and he rubbed her back against the chill.

"Hayate… stay a little longer?"

He was silent, but he did not leave while she was awake, for he was there as she drifted to slumber in his embrace. Though he was gone in the morning, she did feel much better. Most girls like her would've been afraid of sleeping with a man so intimately, yet she was unafraid; she wouldn't have been afraid with any of the knights. They were as they said; knights. Their honor and chivalry were unsurpassed. Himeno allowed her eyes fall shut a minute, reliving the feelings he had given her the night before. Certainly, he had made the sorrow go away. She turned to look at her clock on the nightstand and saw a small white piece of paper, neatly folded, there beside it.

Smiles are beautiful on you. I'm sure your mother would agree. I'll always be a shoulder for you to cry on, Himeno, but please, smile for me?

She did smile, recognizing the hand-writing on the note as Hayate's. Walking to the window, she could see down into the garden, and there he was. And for her, he smiled, for her, he blushed. It seemed that always… always, he would be that shoulder.

Her shoulder to cry on.

Owari

AN: There you have it. This was my second Pretear fic. Enjoy, REVIEW!