Let's hear some CrashRock now, eh? It's about time my second favourite pairing of all time got some love.
Well, consensual love, anyways.
Rock looked over at the ginger sitting across from him. He frowned and drew his brow together. Crash was sitting in a mass of their papers, various studies colliding in what could only amount to a mess as he tried desperately to draw something useful from each. Soft green eyes darted from paper to paper frantically. He raised a finger to his mouth, parting chapped lips and gnawing on the pale skin. He fidgeted as he reached over and tried to grab the notebook they were using for notes. Crash flipped it open, missing the page he had left off on no less than five times before he managed to scrawl something onto the paper. Their project was only due in a week, but then again they had gotten the entire semester to finish it.
Rock could tell that Crash was feeling the pressure as scratch marks appeared on his forearms. He reached over and placed a hand gently on his hand, ceasing its movement. He looked up and met his eyes, silently asking. "Sorry," the ginger said. He pulled on the hem of his shirt instead, though it didn't take long before their conversation was interrupted by the sound of his chewed down nails raking across his skin, marring the porcelain covered in light freckles. Another look, another apology. Rock was getting tired of hearing him say 'sorry' all the time. THere wasn't even anything for him to be sorry for.
He pushed the papers aside, not really caring that they piled on top of each other and that quite a few fell on the floor. He scooted closer to the other, smiling as he took one of the green-eyed teen's hands. He pressed their intertwined fingers against his cheek before letting them drop between them. They worked like that for a while, Rock reading the passages aloud so that Crash could write them down.
But it still didn't keep Crash from worrying any less. The next day the shorter of the two found him sitting in the library, looking awkward in his reading glasses that he was supposed to wear but didn't because he thought they would make people laugh at him. He was gripping a book tightly, the green cover worn by the hundreds of hands that had turned its pages. It wrote "THE HUMAN MIND" across the front in large gold letters, the kind you see in old novels and books that are much too boring for most people to read.
"Crash, you're overworking yourself. Come on, let's go home." he grasped his hand, pulling him gently away from the papers and the leather-bound studies beck to his house, taking refuge in soft blankets and large windows. It was the same the next two days, and his mental state had regressed from anxious but working to a complete wreck. fiddling with fingers became wringing his hands; rubbing his arms became violent scratching and gripping too tight. Crash's arms were raw, and as much as it worries Rock the ginger refused to talk to anyone about it. He had just then begun to talk to Rock about his feelings, his insecurities, let alone a stranger who knew nothing of him.
That night when the brunette came back from fetching more food for Rush, he wasn't even surprised that Crash was in his room. He was hunched over the desk, a calendar hanging above it with 'two days' written on it in large red marker. It would have made him laugh had the sight of Crash so distressed hadn't made him feel horrible instead. He said his hello's, leaning over the other's shoulder and watching him work.
He quickly retreated, however. He had almost forgotten the other's disdain for being watching, whether it was work or him simply tending to a task. But when breaths became heavy and genuine pain overtook his expression Rock excused himself.
The brunette quickly returned, the door closing quietly. He approached his quietly, placing a stapled paper several thick on top of his notes. A warm cup of hot chocolate was placed next to it, the scent comforting and making his stomach yearn for it. Crash found himself looking at the paper as he was held around the waist. "I've got you something better to do with you hands." and he could almost hear the gigglesnort in the brunette's voice as he said so.
Crash's eyes widened, pale white hair falling in his face as e read the title of the paper; "The Perplexing Truth of The Mind: A Comprehensive Study of Anxiety and Self-Esteem"
"Y-You finished the paper...?" he murmured. Crash's eyes widened a bit.
"Pulled all-nighters for the past week."
"I..." he turned around as best as he could in the chair, gripping Rock tight. It may have been a smaller deal to Rock than it was to him, but the simple fact that Rock cared enough to have next to no sleep for an entire week just to do something they both were supposed to finish had meant so very much to him. "...Thank you, Rock." He repeated this like a mantra, thanking him for all that he had done. Rock just kissed the top of his head and told him to drink his hot chocolate before it got cold.