Disclaimer: I do not own . I do own this plot, however.
Warnings: Some Language, Trigger Warnings (Depression)
I have no idea where this came from. One minute I was rereading old fanfics and the next thing I knew it was five am and I had this all typed up and ready to go. So, uh, yeah, enjoy? Hopefully?
Turn that frown upside down, Meiru-chan.
A smile is one's best accessory, Meiru-chan.
You look so beautiful when you smile, Meiru-chan.
Smile, Meiru-chan. Meiru-chan, Meiru-chan! Smile for me! Smile!
Smile-
Smile-
smile.
…..
Her lips curl at the edges, pink skin stretching and cracking to show the blinding white beneath. A crinkle adorns the corners of her brown eyes, lashes spreading over soft cheeks, dimple dipping in and out of her blushing face.
"Rockman and I will definitely catch them this time, right Meiru-chan?" Netto's excited voice sounds piercing to the growing tiredness within her. "We're the best Net Saviors out there!"
They are older, wiser. The childish softness of their faces have given way to high cheekbones and squared jaws. Shrill voices have lowered to more even tones, sarcasm and wit taking the place of naïve giggles. They have grown, and yet, they are off chasing some new evil the same way they had seven years before.
"Of course, Netto-kun. But then again, if you were truly the best, you would have caught them the first time, ne?"
A chorus of laughter from the group and a shout of indignation greet her surly comment.
"Good one, Meiru-chan!"
"She does have a point, Netto."
"That's what you get for getting so cocky!"
She smiles.
There are four smiles returned to her, and in their eagerness, she does not notice the one that frowns.
….
You know what I've realized, Meiru-chan?
What is that, Netto?
I've realized that our group works so well together because we all bring something different.
Oh?
Yeah! You see, Dekao is the brawn. Yaito is the borderline genius, borderline crazy one. Tohru is the rational one. Enzan is the brain. I'm the leader.
And what am I, Netto-kun?
See, you're the one that keeps us all together. You're the happy one, Meiru-chan.
…
Her hand doesn't shake as she draws a thin black line across her eyes; just above her row of lashes and far below the crease of her lid. Steady fingers drag a thinly coated brush up up up against long lashes. With gentle flicks of dainty wrists, a brush dusts her cheeks with pink.
She enhances and perfects and prays to God that they can't see the defeated girl that lays behind the mask she has painted, that they can't see the panic in her broken smile.
Color lines the sensitive flesh of her lips. A swipe of her tongue over pearly teeth clears them of any stray lipstick streaks. In the dim light of her bathroom, she imagines the red stains against her pale skin almost look like blood.
Her hand does not shake. But perhaps her lips waver.
….
Some have their swords, some have their fists, some have their words. But she-
She has her smiles.
She doles them out one by one, pretty lips curving a pretty picture.
Some think there is nothing more harmless than a smile, but she knows better.
She knows that smiles can kill just as well as any bullet, that smiles grip and pull and drain in a way that goes unnoticed to all but the one killing.
She knows that smiles are a slow killer.
There is nothing more dangerous than a silent death-
And everyone knows that a smile requires no sound.
…
A hand around her wrist stops her before she can follow everyone else into the crowded restaurant. A gust of warm air pushes against her face as the door closes behind Dekao's broad back.
Confusion briefly sweeps across her frost-bitten features before she begins to lift her lips into that signature smile at the man who has stopped her.
But the smile freezes on her face as her blank gaze meets his ice-blue eyes. His brows are drawn, stare sharp and assessing. She notices that he has not let go of her wrist.
"Something you needed, Enzan-kun?" She attempts to revamp her smile but finds that it falls short once again under his scrutiny.
Snow falls gently around them, and she watches it settle in his already-white hair, watches it stick to his dark grey coat.
She's beginning to think they will stay standing there until the snow piles over their heads and they are nothing but frozen statues, but then he's dropping her wrist and brushing past her into the heated diner.
It is only thanks to the muted hush of winter that she catches his softly uttered words.
"The eyes are the window to the soul. And your eyes are sad."
…
Netto had said that Enzan's weapon was his mind, but Meiru disagrees.
His weapon is most definitely his eyes.
They glitter an ominous shade of blue, and they leak an understanding that she cannot stomach.
Some think that eyes are the most vulnerable of the features.
But she knows better.
Eyes are the most difficult weapons to master, but once tamed, they become more fatal than any smile.
She knows now that eyes can unmask any secret.
She knows that where smiles are excuses, eyes are explanations.
There is nothing more dangerous than one who knows how to turn a weakness into a strength-
And everyone knows that Ijuuin Enzan wields his weaknesses like a sword.
…..
They're trapped.
It's nothing new. Hiccups such as this are usual when it comes to their crime-busting antics.
She knows that Netto and the others will discover them soon enough and she will be able to escape this slow silence.
She sits across from the young prodigy that she has learned to become wary of, knees drawn to her chest in the stone-cold room. Their battery-dead PETs sit uselessly between them, and the bolted door to the room looms over them like an unfortunate promise.
She refuses to meet his gaze, even as she feels it on her face like a tick burrowing under her skin.
Instead, she studies the blue of her veins running up and around her thin arms, traces them like a lifeline she refuses to release.
"Netto should find us soon."
She nods, carefully vacant eyes trained dutifully on the space between his dark brows.
"Itako isn't especially smart or strong so it shouldn't take long for the others to subdue him."
Her bright hair tickles her chin as she bobs her head up and down again.
"Are you okay?"
Another nod, another evasion of those keen sapphire orbs.
"Meiru, be honest."
She begins to nod again before the sharp crack of a palm slapping stone startles her.
"Dammit, Sakurai, stop giving me that smile!"
Her bewildered eyes finally reach his own narrowed ones. There's an anger twisting his face that she has only ever seen a handful of times before; times when an investigation goes sour and Netto begins to unfairly shoulder the blame himself.
It throws her off.
She hadn't even been aware that she was smiling.
He stands, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.
"No, you don't get to give me that smile. I'm not like the others. You already know I won't fall for that. You already know that I see straight through your bullshit, so why won't you just let it go?"
His foot moves as if he wants to start pacing, but it grounds itself on the stifling floor and his form goes rigid.
"I don't-" Her voice catches, eyes wide. As the burning behind her eyes becomes nearly unbearable, she does not try to speak again.
She sees Enzan's jaw muscles flex agitatedly once, twice, before he releases air from his nose. Those clear blue eyes soften until the crease on his forehead disappears and the skin around his mouth loosens.
Her own jaw tightens reflexively against the raw feeling closing around her throat, choking her. She watches him kneel down in front of her, watches his lips part, feels his breath ghost over her cheek.
"You don't have to fake anything around me. I wish you knew that."
A fist squeezes around her heart and her mind screams 'just smile smile smile it away' like a mantra she can't quite ignore.
"Whenever you're ready-"
The door is knocked down before he can finish.
…
Just smile smile smile-
…
A month passes.
He doesn't stare at her anymore.
In fact, he rarely even speaks to her.
She tells herself that she is relieved.
…
-smile it all away.
….
If the others notice the mounting tension, no one mentions it.
A sardonic part of her laughs.
Of course it had to be the two stubborn ones of the group.
….
Happy happy happy, be happy, always happy, you aren't sad, you aren't broken, there's nothing wrong with you, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay
Okay-
Okay-
okay.
…..
There's a girl watching her.
There's a broken girl staring at her with blood red lips and white teeth and pink cheeks and dark lashes and loose hair and liner across her lids.
Meiru hates this girl.
Her hands grip the sink, knuckles fading white.
The girl blinks, and suddenly Meiru has never wanted to scream so much in her entire life.
She yanks at those loose strands of hair until they are tied haphazardly at the nape of her neck. And then she jerking the faucet on and scrubbing at the mask she has painted so meticulously.
The pads of her fingers smear the red of her lips until little streaks stain the corners of her mouth. Her knuckles rub relentlessly at her eyes, pushing until stars burst at the back of her lids. Black drips like morbid tears down her cheeks, collecting at the tip of her chin, only to fall down down down the drain in a cloud of grey.
Her hands work and work and work until stray pieces of hair stick to the dampness of her face and the skin of her face is flushed pink.
The stream of water turns to a trickle and then stops altogether, the drip drip drip of water falling from her nose and chin to the sink the only sound filling the silence.
She is breathing hard, chest heaving with the effort it takes to not collapse against the cool marble counter.
Slowly she raises her eyes from the drain to the new girl before her.
This girl-this girl is different.
Drenched, limp strands of hair hang around her face. Water soaks the collar of her shirt. She has bloodshot eyes, a small patch of freckles over the bridge of her nose, raw skin, and neutral lips.
Meiru does not know what to think of this girl.
"You want to know why I smile the way I do?"
She doesn't know when he arrived, if he had witnessed her half-crazed actions, and she can't quite bring herself to care. All she knows is that he is here now-and now, she is ready.
"You want to know that badly? You really want me to tell you?" Her voice shakes in a way she hasn't been familiar with in years.
He doesn't say anything, but his gaze reflected just over her shoulder in the mirror goads her on.
"Fine. I'll tell you since you clearly think you deserve to know."
Her hands shake. She lets them.
"Everyone expects me to be this positive, happy, optimistic person all the time and I-I-I just can't take it anymore." A smile twists her lips, but this time it is raw and it is cruel and it is so so real.
He doesn't look away.
"Everyone wants me to be the perfect one. Everyone just pushes me into this box that says I can only be one thing and one thing only and if I'm anything else I'll be a failure. Everyone expects these-these inhuman standards of me that I can't ever possibly measure up to. Everyone expects me to be perfect and I just-I'm so-"
She sucks in a ragged breath, lets out an equally ragged laugh.
"And the worst part is, it's not really even 'everyone' who is expecting all of these things. It's just me. It's me."
A shudder racks her shoulders. When she speaks, it's in a whisper that sounds more numb than sad.
"It's me. I'm the one who needs to be perfect. I'm the one who expects me to be happy all the time. I'm the one doing this to myself and I…"
She stares endlessly into brown eyes. She can't tell if the droplets trailing down her face are water or tears.
She's vaguely aware of him moving to stand just behind her. He still hasn't said anything. She's glad.
"And I don't know why."
She says it with reverence, like a secret she was waiting to reveal on her deathbed. A part of her feels like she is on her deathbed.
"I don't know why. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why I'm like this."
Now she knows it's tears slipping silently over her cheeks.
"There isn't any reason for me to be like this. I've never had a hard life, I've never lost anything or anyone substantial to me. I just- I don't understand why I'm like this and it is so. Goddamn. Frustrating."
She wonders if he thinks she is selfish.
"I'm just-I… I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so-"
The words stop coming. She waits for him to turn around, to walk away and call her crazy. He waits for him to hate her the way she's hated herself. She waits for him to dig his fingers into the open wound that is her heart, the wound she has now completely bared to him, and twist.
When strong arms gently pull until her forehead is pressed against a sturdy chest and his chin rests at the crown of her head, something in her breaks.
Her shaking hands fist into the soft material of his shirt and she just. Lets. Go.
…..
You're not okay.
And that's okay.
….
"Enzan…"
"Hm?"
"Thank you."
….
Just breathe breathe breathe-
….
"Hey, Meiru-chan!"
"Yes, Netto-kun?"
"I've changed my mind."
"About what?"
"About what you are, who you are to the group."
"And what is that?"
"You're the one that keeps us all together. You're the loving one, Meiru-chan."
…
-in out in out in out.
…
Her mouth curls at the edges. It is small and her teeth don't show, but there is a sparkle in her eyes and a warmth in her expression that makes up for the lack of pink on her cheeks or red on her lips.
She isn't quite whole, and she isn't quite healed, but she's discovered a strength within herself that she didn't know she had.
This time she won't forget.
This time she won't need saving.
Because this time-
She'll save herself.
…
You're not okay.
Not yet.
But almost.
…..
Author's Note: Honestly, I'm really, EXTREMELY proud of this oneshot. I don't know, something about it really gets me going. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Of course I had to include my personal OTP of Meiru/Enzan. However, my selfish obsession wasn't the only reason I chose Enzan as the instigator of this story. I chose him also because I think that he would have been the most likely person to understand what Meiru was going through, and that he would've been the most intuitive of the whole group to her inner struggle. I hope it was made clear that the rest of the gang was not simply ignoring Meiru's struggle, but that they genuinely had no clue that she was even struggling to begin with. With my own personal encounters with depression, I've found that some people hide their depression extremely well. Meiru happens to be that kind of person in this fic.
I literally live for reviews, so if anyone's feeling generous, hit me up! :)
Thanks for reading!
MI3