wips. (pt. 1)
Series: Persona 4.
Word Count: 2,918 and counting.
Characters/Pairings: Yosuke/OC, mentions of Souji, Teddie, Adachi, and everyone else.
Notes: uhhhhhh. I have been working on this for... MONTHS. hahahah. I still like it, but, uh... yeah.
Summary: from the beginning to the end, they're something like a train wreck and they just can't let go, because one day they'll be happy.
.
a heart in clumsy fingers.
(One. You are a girl with parents who don’t acknowledge you. You don’t even exist in their peripheral vision. You sit at the kitchen table quietly, and your mother comes in, gets herself an apple, and leaves, shutting off the light although you haven’t moved - just a normal day. )
.
The first time she met the first love of her life, they knocked each other over and all his groceries went flying in the air. She helped him collect everything, and they both apologized at least ten times.
He smiled at her, a movie star’s teeth in crooked lips, and she felt her heart plummet into her toes before it zoomed into her throat. Even after he left, she felt like she needed to vomit or faint, but all she could do was cover her face, trying to hide the flush in her cheeks.
(were her feelings a sign? a subconscious warning? was it normal to feel sick?)
And the second love of her life was slow. Slow, steady and warm. He gradually wrapped her in his arms, pulled her in, and she’s not entirely sure when it happened, but she thinks it probably started on the day they fell into the river and it began to rain. His iPod, cell phone and headphones were ruined, but they were laughing as they pulled themselves onto the grassy banks.
He told her later, that when she pulled him back onto the solid pavement - the way she smiled in the downpour and took his hands, beginning to dance with her clothes and hair clinging to her, twirling and laughing - she had never looked more beautiful.
.
(Two. You are a boy who smiles because he’s terrified of being alone. You laugh but you’re never sure if you mean it. Sometimes, it’s hard to fake and you want to be honest, but at the same time, the mask is too comfortable to break now. You leave it in place because it’s easier than painful change.)
.
“Are you okay?” His eyes are on her face, searching and bright, darting over all her features like he’ll find a clue.
“Yes.” She keeps her eyes on the ground. Step, step, right, left. He doesn’t know what to do, she can feel it in the air, but the questions come easier than anything else he might want to say - feels obligated to say.
“Really?” His hands tighten on the grips of his handlebars as he pushes his bike beside him to walk with her. She’s pale and pinched, and her eyes look too wide, lost, blank, her eyelashes too dark, her lips too white. He’s not sure how to help her, but he’s certain he wants to.
“Yes.” She flexes her fingers in their red wool mittens, exhaling softly to see the puff of vapor pass from her lips. They stop and both watch it for a moment as it rises into the freezing air.
“Ami, you can be honest with me.” He turns and she looks at him to be polite, finally meeting his gentle eyes. “Are you okay?”
She considers it for a moment, turns back to the street. Asphalt is truly fascinating, she thinks. Patterns in the cracks that no one thought about, like a system of veins.
“Yes.”
I’m fine I’m okay yes please and thank you I’m alright
.
(Three. You are the girl, falling in love with a man who always looks lost and sheepish.
You should really be careful, being out after dark. It’s not safe, you know? You don’t know what kind of weirdoes are out around this time. Let me get you home safely. I’ll worry, otherwise.)
.
She sits, looking at herself in the mirror. Her skirt is old, patterned with soft paintings of flowers, and her shirt is a faded pink. Her skin is pale, her lips chapped and her eyes dark. Her hair falls over her face, curls over her shoulder. She brushes it back.
She almost doesn’t recognize herself. Her hair’s gotten several inches longer, the bags under her eyes look like they could be torn in half. Her cheeks aren’t as full, her lips are absolutely wrecked. She thinks she might be thinner, but she’s not sure. Her clothes are loose, almost old ladyish, and her curves seem the same. But she feels weak. Weak, dizzy and cold.
She was valued for her fragility. She was loved for her distance. Before, he would compliment her, say she looked pretty. Then, she could look in the mirror and flush, feel good about herself, notice that, yes, she was certainly attractive. Now, she looked at herself and felt nothing. It was an odd feeling, not a pleasant one.
Ami turns away from the mirror, goes to her closet and pulls on a hoodie, dark blue and shapeless, and tries to feel warm. It’s almost like she’s forgotten how.
.
(Four. You are the boy who was in love with a girl found murdered, your feelings rejected post-mortem.
A real pain in the ass. Always so eager, so energetic, always getting the wrong idea. What an idiot. Didn‘t he know how much I hated him? He was so annoying. So freaking annoying.)
.
“Uh,” he looks at his friend, “Why are we doing this again?”
“It’s therapeutic.” His friend crosses his arms, looking at him calmly, “Talking helps.”
“I do talk to you.”
“Not about the important things. Not lately.”
“Alright, fine.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’ll talk.”
His friend smiles slightly. “Good. So?”
“…I have no clue where to start.”
“Start with what’s bothering you.”
“A girl, I guess.”
“Okay.”
“She’s… I don’t know, man, this feels weird.”
“Yosuke.”
“It’s Ami.”
His friend frowns, “Ami?”
“Yeah. She’s… I dunno, quiet lately.”
“Isn’t she usually?”
“More than usual.”
“Do you love her?”
A long pause. What a weird question.
“…Yeah. I think I do.”
Souji exhales, deeply, closes his eyes tight.
He knows what his friend’s thinking.
This is a mistake.
.
(Five. You are the girl who loves her parents more dearly than your precious killer or your beautiful victim. You score perfect grades for them, stay quiet, use impeccable manners regardless of where you are.
It’s never enough and you begin to think that maybe it’s just you. Maybe there’s always just been something wrong with you, so wrong that they could never bring themselves to love you because of it. And suddenly, they were never in the wrong. Suddenly, it’s all on you.
It’s all always been on you.)
.
“Ami, you’ll never get anywhere like this.” He’s exasperated, huffing, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. She keeps her eyes on the smooth river water, doesn’t respond. “You know, you need to love yourself or whatever-”
“Before others will love you.” Her voice is quiet, soft, and he almost mistakes it for grass rustling. He scoots closer to her - just so he can hear her better, of course. “I do know that. But.”
“But?”
“People say it like it’s easy, Yosuke.” She looks at him, and he’s struck by how pale she looks now, how the shadows under her eyes look so deeply imbedded into her skin that he doesn’t think they’ll ever leave, how dark her eyes look in comparison. Her bones are more prominent, her cheekbones sharp and her lips chapped from biting. Like a woman wasting away. Like a woman walking in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.
“It can be.”
“No. It isn’t.” She looks back at the river and her eyes are shimmering, wet. “It’s not easy. And it never gets easier.”
.
(Six. You are the boy who can’t stop yourself from falling for anyone who’s nice to you. Girls, boys, it’s never mattered - anyone who shows you kindness has always had to deal with your loyalty.
It’s so hard to get close to people. It scares you, either way. Getting close to someone is terrifying because you think you matter to them. Never being close to anyone makes you forgettable. So you keep trying for that middle - make everyone like you, but keep yourself from getting too close to anyone. It’s good enough for now.
But then comes along a boy with silver eyes and a girl with pale skin and it’s like someone’s pulled the earth out from underneath you.)
.
He’s not entirely sure how he got into this mess, Yosuke thought, as he tried to disentangle himself from the two other boys and the bunch of oranges without squishing anything. One moment he was working, re-stocking the fruits with his friend, sort of talking and sort of spacing out, and the next they were both being tackled by a flying blonde blur.
“You’ll never guess what I saw!!” It exclaimed excitedly, managing to somehow leap up from the pile without a problem, as he groaned, pushing himself to his feet and helping up his friend.
“What’d you see, Ted.” He asked, brushing off his apron.
“I saw a guy hitting on Ami!” The blonde said, putting his fists on his hips, puffing out his chest. “So I walked over and told him that she was taken and to go away!”
“Good job.” Souji chuckled, reached over and ruffled Teddie’s hair. “How’d that go?”
“Well, the guy left! I think. And Ami got really red.” The younger boy grinned slyly at Yosuke.
“Hey - wha - what’s that look for? We’re just friends!” Yosuke frowned, tried to glare and be intimidating, but just ended up putting an orange back with too much force and blushing. He was considering throwing one at the blonde’s face, actually, but he’d get in too much trouble for that if anyone saw to risk it.
“Objection!” Teddie cried, pointing a finger at him dramatically, “You totally have a giant crush on her! I would know!”
“I - wh - I do not!”
“You do! I read your journal!” Teddie grinned like he was pleased with himself, putting his fists on his hips again.
“Dude! That’s not cool - just - why would you be proud of that?!” Yosuke grabbed him, holding his head in a half-nelson and noogieing him as hard as possible. “You’re such a little punk!”
“Hey, ow, no, that hurts!” The smaller boy flailed his arms, and tried to push himself away, but Yosuke still had about ten inches and muscle mass on him, so it was a futile effort.
Eventually, though, Souji, silver eyed hero, stepped in and pulled them gently apart, allowing Teddie to fix his hair, huffing, “Well, you do like her. Everyone knows.”
“Ted, even if I did, it’s not something you need to go advertising.” The brunette frowned. Ami would probably be awkward around him later. Great.
“There’s nothing wrong with people knowing.” His friend turned his silver eyes to Yosuke, calm as ever. “Is there some reason you wouldn’t want anyone to know?”
“Wh - dude, are you listening to yourself? I’m not going to be okay with everyone in this town knowing who I have a crush on!”
“So you do like her!” Teddie pointed dramatically yet again, getting excited, “You do!”
“Yeah, okay, fine, I do! Happy now?! Geez.” He turned back to the boxes of oranges, glaring at them as if they’d done something wrong instead of the hyperactive blue-eyed boy who was now hopping around crowing over his knowledge of this fact prior to Yosuke’s admitting it, much to the amusement of his so-called best friend. And now he was blushing. Great. Just great.
None of this would end well.
.
(Seven. You are the kind of girl people would call weak-willed. Soft-spoken. Quiet. Forgettable. The secret side of you - that side everyone keeps hidden, your shadow - screams at them, calling them idiots, bastards, assholes, shitheads, other words you don’t want to hear. And you deny her existence because, for some reason, acknowledging that you hate, genuinely despise, everyone who’s ever looked at you with sympathy or disregard is the most difficult thing you could ever do.
Even though you do. Even though she’s right. Even though she holds the toughness you need to make it through, you ignore her, block her out, with all the strength you have without her. Her shrieks still come through to you, how she berates you and curses everyone around you, her hatred seeps through all the walls you’ve tried to put up.
She’s breaking through little by little, and she terrifies you. When she bursts out, she’s real and in front of you, and she grabs you by the hair and laughs in your face, smacking you to make you see she’s right. She steps on your throat, smiling and her eyes glow gold, but her laughter sounds a little bit like sobbing and you can’t speak.
When you accept her, she becomes your strength. You find your voice and heal the bruises she gave you, and work to accept the feelings she - you - held at bay. And it starts with a silver-eyed boy who tells you that love and hate are only a chemical apart.)
.
“It’s not true.” Breaking the silence between them, he put down his pencil, touched his bangs and ran his fingers through his hair. Ami stopped, looked up at him. They had been studying together, although they were really just studying next to each other, because neither one of them was really speaking.
“What isn’t?” She thought he had noticed something wrong in one of his textbooks or in his notes, so she wasn’t prepared for his answer.
“That people don’t love you if you don’t love yourself.” He turned to look at her while somehow still looking past her, silver eyes distant. “It’s not true at all.”
She shook her head, at a loss for words, although she agreed.
He shrugged, probably noticing how puzzled she was, and elaborated, “Yosuke mentioned a conversation you two had a while ago to me last night. I’ve been thinking about it, I guess.”
Oh. She remembered that one, she thought. Ami nodded, finally laying her pencil flat on the table. He gave her a small smile, looking almost tired. There was a lot of pressure on him, and she felt bad that he spent so much time helping her and the others, but he would never let them apologize. He always brushed it off with a, “It’s no trouble,” or something similar, although lately, he seemed to relax more with a, “I want to help. I don’t mind.”
“Why did he mention it?”
“I asked how you were.”
“Oh.”
She paused, and he looked back at his notes. Finally he spoke up again.
“But it isn’t true. People can love you even if you don’t love yourself.” He smiled to himself, but it seemed distant somehow. “People can adore you even if they don’t know you.” Turning towards her again, his darkness melted. “People love you, you know.”
Shifting in her seat, unable to meet his eyes, she nodded.
“The real problem is that you’ll never believe in other people if you don’t love yourself. You don’t think that… other people can love you, if you don’t love yourself.” He reflected on that for a moment, then continued, “People who hate themselves can’t see anything to like about themselves, obviously. So they never trust people who try to convince them they’re beautiful.”
Ami couldn’t think of a response, so her mouth formed a soundless ‘o’. There was nothing to say in response. What could you say? No, you’re wrong? She shook her head to herself. She and Souji continued to look at their notebooks, but the numbers and equations were fuzzy and she didn’t trust herself to keep working.
.
(Eight. You’re a boy who plugs yourself into music because it’s the only thing that helps you cope with yourself. You listen in an attempt to reach some kind of peace. Sometimes, it works. Most of the time. But sometimes, no amount of music in the world helps you, and those are the situations you flounder in. You don’t know what to say, what to do, and it freaks you out.
Like the first victim, the upperclassman you thought you might really like. Like what to think of that silver eyed boy you call your best friend, despite not knowing anything about him. Like now, when you’re freaking out that you’re falling in love with a girl who might not be able to keep herself together for much longer. It’s the last thing you need to be doing, but you can’t stop yourself.
Love songs blare out of your headphones, sad songs, screaming rock songs, and you still think of her and wonder what the hell it is you think you’re doing. You’re helping her. You’re helping her because your stupid best friend went home, because she needs you. She needs you. Somehow, that’s the scariest thing. You love her and she needs you. But neither of you would take the first step-don’t tell me if I’m dying ‘cause I don’t wanna know-because it’s just too scary-skip to the next song.
She smiles like some kind of cheesy cliché, and it makes you feel like someone’s twisting your gut into a pretzel. You’re not entirely sure if it’s the right reaction or not. You skip to the next song and hope it’ll take your mind off of her. It doesn’t.)
Word Count: 2,918 and counting.
Characters/Pairings: Yosuke/OC, mentions of Souji, Teddie, Adachi, and everyone else.
Notes: uhhhhhh. I have been working on this for... MONTHS. hahahah. I still like it, but, uh... yeah.
Summary: from the beginning to the end, they're something like a train wreck and they just can't let go, because one day they'll be happy.
.
a heart in clumsy fingers.
(One. You are a girl with parents who don’t acknowledge you. You don’t even exist in their peripheral vision. You sit at the kitchen table quietly, and your mother comes in, gets herself an apple, and leaves, shutting off the light although you haven’t moved - just a normal day. )
.
The first time she met the first love of her life, they knocked each other over and all his groceries went flying in the air. She helped him collect everything, and they both apologized at least ten times.
He smiled at her, a movie star’s teeth in crooked lips, and she felt her heart plummet into her toes before it zoomed into her throat. Even after he left, she felt like she needed to vomit or faint, but all she could do was cover her face, trying to hide the flush in her cheeks.
(were her feelings a sign? a subconscious warning? was it normal to feel sick?)
And the second love of her life was slow. Slow, steady and warm. He gradually wrapped her in his arms, pulled her in, and she’s not entirely sure when it happened, but she thinks it probably started on the day they fell into the river and it began to rain. His iPod, cell phone and headphones were ruined, but they were laughing as they pulled themselves onto the grassy banks.
He told her later, that when she pulled him back onto the solid pavement - the way she smiled in the downpour and took his hands, beginning to dance with her clothes and hair clinging to her, twirling and laughing - she had never looked more beautiful.
.
(Two. You are a boy who smiles because he’s terrified of being alone. You laugh but you’re never sure if you mean it. Sometimes, it’s hard to fake and you want to be honest, but at the same time, the mask is too comfortable to break now. You leave it in place because it’s easier than painful change.)
.
“Are you okay?” His eyes are on her face, searching and bright, darting over all her features like he’ll find a clue.
“Yes.” She keeps her eyes on the ground. Step, step, right, left. He doesn’t know what to do, she can feel it in the air, but the questions come easier than anything else he might want to say - feels obligated to say.
“Really?” His hands tighten on the grips of his handlebars as he pushes his bike beside him to walk with her. She’s pale and pinched, and her eyes look too wide, lost, blank, her eyelashes too dark, her lips too white. He’s not sure how to help her, but he’s certain he wants to.
“Yes.” She flexes her fingers in their red wool mittens, exhaling softly to see the puff of vapor pass from her lips. They stop and both watch it for a moment as it rises into the freezing air.
“Ami, you can be honest with me.” He turns and she looks at him to be polite, finally meeting his gentle eyes. “Are you okay?”
She considers it for a moment, turns back to the street. Asphalt is truly fascinating, she thinks. Patterns in the cracks that no one thought about, like a system of veins.
“Yes.”
I’m fine I’m okay yes please and thank you I’m alright
.
(Three. You are the girl, falling in love with a man who always looks lost and sheepish.
You should really be careful, being out after dark. It’s not safe, you know? You don’t know what kind of weirdoes are out around this time. Let me get you home safely. I’ll worry, otherwise.)
.
She sits, looking at herself in the mirror. Her skirt is old, patterned with soft paintings of flowers, and her shirt is a faded pink. Her skin is pale, her lips chapped and her eyes dark. Her hair falls over her face, curls over her shoulder. She brushes it back.
She almost doesn’t recognize herself. Her hair’s gotten several inches longer, the bags under her eyes look like they could be torn in half. Her cheeks aren’t as full, her lips are absolutely wrecked. She thinks she might be thinner, but she’s not sure. Her clothes are loose, almost old ladyish, and her curves seem the same. But she feels weak. Weak, dizzy and cold.
She was valued for her fragility. She was loved for her distance. Before, he would compliment her, say she looked pretty. Then, she could look in the mirror and flush, feel good about herself, notice that, yes, she was certainly attractive. Now, she looked at herself and felt nothing. It was an odd feeling, not a pleasant one.
Ami turns away from the mirror, goes to her closet and pulls on a hoodie, dark blue and shapeless, and tries to feel warm. It’s almost like she’s forgotten how.
.
(Four. You are the boy who was in love with a girl found murdered, your feelings rejected post-mortem.
A real pain in the ass. Always so eager, so energetic, always getting the wrong idea. What an idiot. Didn‘t he know how much I hated him? He was so annoying. So freaking annoying.)
.
“Uh,” he looks at his friend, “Why are we doing this again?”
“It’s therapeutic.” His friend crosses his arms, looking at him calmly, “Talking helps.”
“I do talk to you.”
“Not about the important things. Not lately.”
“Alright, fine.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’ll talk.”
His friend smiles slightly. “Good. So?”
“…I have no clue where to start.”
“Start with what’s bothering you.”
“A girl, I guess.”
“Okay.”
“She’s… I don’t know, man, this feels weird.”
“Yosuke.”
“It’s Ami.”
His friend frowns, “Ami?”
“Yeah. She’s… I dunno, quiet lately.”
“Isn’t she usually?”
“More than usual.”
“Do you love her?”
A long pause. What a weird question.
“…Yeah. I think I do.”
Souji exhales, deeply, closes his eyes tight.
He knows what his friend’s thinking.
This is a mistake.
.
(Five. You are the girl who loves her parents more dearly than your precious killer or your beautiful victim. You score perfect grades for them, stay quiet, use impeccable manners regardless of where you are.
It’s never enough and you begin to think that maybe it’s just you. Maybe there’s always just been something wrong with you, so wrong that they could never bring themselves to love you because of it. And suddenly, they were never in the wrong. Suddenly, it’s all on you.
It’s all always been on you.)
.
“Ami, you’ll never get anywhere like this.” He’s exasperated, huffing, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. She keeps her eyes on the smooth river water, doesn’t respond. “You know, you need to love yourself or whatever-”
“Before others will love you.” Her voice is quiet, soft, and he almost mistakes it for grass rustling. He scoots closer to her - just so he can hear her better, of course. “I do know that. But.”
“But?”
“People say it like it’s easy, Yosuke.” She looks at him, and he’s struck by how pale she looks now, how the shadows under her eyes look so deeply imbedded into her skin that he doesn’t think they’ll ever leave, how dark her eyes look in comparison. Her bones are more prominent, her cheekbones sharp and her lips chapped from biting. Like a woman wasting away. Like a woman walking in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.
“It can be.”
“No. It isn’t.” She looks back at the river and her eyes are shimmering, wet. “It’s not easy. And it never gets easier.”
.
(Six. You are the boy who can’t stop yourself from falling for anyone who’s nice to you. Girls, boys, it’s never mattered - anyone who shows you kindness has always had to deal with your loyalty.
It’s so hard to get close to people. It scares you, either way. Getting close to someone is terrifying because you think you matter to them. Never being close to anyone makes you forgettable. So you keep trying for that middle - make everyone like you, but keep yourself from getting too close to anyone. It’s good enough for now.
But then comes along a boy with silver eyes and a girl with pale skin and it’s like someone’s pulled the earth out from underneath you.)
.
He’s not entirely sure how he got into this mess, Yosuke thought, as he tried to disentangle himself from the two other boys and the bunch of oranges without squishing anything. One moment he was working, re-stocking the fruits with his friend, sort of talking and sort of spacing out, and the next they were both being tackled by a flying blonde blur.
“You’ll never guess what I saw!!” It exclaimed excitedly, managing to somehow leap up from the pile without a problem, as he groaned, pushing himself to his feet and helping up his friend.
“What’d you see, Ted.” He asked, brushing off his apron.
“I saw a guy hitting on Ami!” The blonde said, putting his fists on his hips, puffing out his chest. “So I walked over and told him that she was taken and to go away!”
“Good job.” Souji chuckled, reached over and ruffled Teddie’s hair. “How’d that go?”
“Well, the guy left! I think. And Ami got really red.” The younger boy grinned slyly at Yosuke.
“Hey - wha - what’s that look for? We’re just friends!” Yosuke frowned, tried to glare and be intimidating, but just ended up putting an orange back with too much force and blushing. He was considering throwing one at the blonde’s face, actually, but he’d get in too much trouble for that if anyone saw to risk it.
“Objection!” Teddie cried, pointing a finger at him dramatically, “You totally have a giant crush on her! I would know!”
“I - wh - I do not!”
“You do! I read your journal!” Teddie grinned like he was pleased with himself, putting his fists on his hips again.
“Dude! That’s not cool - just - why would you be proud of that?!” Yosuke grabbed him, holding his head in a half-nelson and noogieing him as hard as possible. “You’re such a little punk!”
“Hey, ow, no, that hurts!” The smaller boy flailed his arms, and tried to push himself away, but Yosuke still had about ten inches and muscle mass on him, so it was a futile effort.
Eventually, though, Souji, silver eyed hero, stepped in and pulled them gently apart, allowing Teddie to fix his hair, huffing, “Well, you do like her. Everyone knows.”
“Ted, even if I did, it’s not something you need to go advertising.” The brunette frowned. Ami would probably be awkward around him later. Great.
“There’s nothing wrong with people knowing.” His friend turned his silver eyes to Yosuke, calm as ever. “Is there some reason you wouldn’t want anyone to know?”
“Wh - dude, are you listening to yourself? I’m not going to be okay with everyone in this town knowing who I have a crush on!”
“So you do like her!” Teddie pointed dramatically yet again, getting excited, “You do!”
“Yeah, okay, fine, I do! Happy now?! Geez.” He turned back to the boxes of oranges, glaring at them as if they’d done something wrong instead of the hyperactive blue-eyed boy who was now hopping around crowing over his knowledge of this fact prior to Yosuke’s admitting it, much to the amusement of his so-called best friend. And now he was blushing. Great. Just great.
None of this would end well.
.
(Seven. You are the kind of girl people would call weak-willed. Soft-spoken. Quiet. Forgettable. The secret side of you - that side everyone keeps hidden, your shadow - screams at them, calling them idiots, bastards, assholes, shitheads, other words you don’t want to hear. And you deny her existence because, for some reason, acknowledging that you hate, genuinely despise, everyone who’s ever looked at you with sympathy or disregard is the most difficult thing you could ever do.
Even though you do. Even though she’s right. Even though she holds the toughness you need to make it through, you ignore her, block her out, with all the strength you have without her. Her shrieks still come through to you, how she berates you and curses everyone around you, her hatred seeps through all the walls you’ve tried to put up.
She’s breaking through little by little, and she terrifies you. When she bursts out, she’s real and in front of you, and she grabs you by the hair and laughs in your face, smacking you to make you see she’s right. She steps on your throat, smiling and her eyes glow gold, but her laughter sounds a little bit like sobbing and you can’t speak.
When you accept her, she becomes your strength. You find your voice and heal the bruises she gave you, and work to accept the feelings she - you - held at bay. And it starts with a silver-eyed boy who tells you that love and hate are only a chemical apart.)
.
“It’s not true.” Breaking the silence between them, he put down his pencil, touched his bangs and ran his fingers through his hair. Ami stopped, looked up at him. They had been studying together, although they were really just studying next to each other, because neither one of them was really speaking.
“What isn’t?” She thought he had noticed something wrong in one of his textbooks or in his notes, so she wasn’t prepared for his answer.
“That people don’t love you if you don’t love yourself.” He turned to look at her while somehow still looking past her, silver eyes distant. “It’s not true at all.”
She shook her head, at a loss for words, although she agreed.
He shrugged, probably noticing how puzzled she was, and elaborated, “Yosuke mentioned a conversation you two had a while ago to me last night. I’ve been thinking about it, I guess.”
Oh. She remembered that one, she thought. Ami nodded, finally laying her pencil flat on the table. He gave her a small smile, looking almost tired. There was a lot of pressure on him, and she felt bad that he spent so much time helping her and the others, but he would never let them apologize. He always brushed it off with a, “It’s no trouble,” or something similar, although lately, he seemed to relax more with a, “I want to help. I don’t mind.”
“Why did he mention it?”
“I asked how you were.”
“Oh.”
She paused, and he looked back at his notes. Finally he spoke up again.
“But it isn’t true. People can love you even if you don’t love yourself.” He smiled to himself, but it seemed distant somehow. “People can adore you even if they don’t know you.” Turning towards her again, his darkness melted. “People love you, you know.”
Shifting in her seat, unable to meet his eyes, she nodded.
“The real problem is that you’ll never believe in other people if you don’t love yourself. You don’t think that… other people can love you, if you don’t love yourself.” He reflected on that for a moment, then continued, “People who hate themselves can’t see anything to like about themselves, obviously. So they never trust people who try to convince them they’re beautiful.”
Ami couldn’t think of a response, so her mouth formed a soundless ‘o’. There was nothing to say in response. What could you say? No, you’re wrong? She shook her head to herself. She and Souji continued to look at their notebooks, but the numbers and equations were fuzzy and she didn’t trust herself to keep working.
.
(Eight. You’re a boy who plugs yourself into music because it’s the only thing that helps you cope with yourself. You listen in an attempt to reach some kind of peace. Sometimes, it works. Most of the time. But sometimes, no amount of music in the world helps you, and those are the situations you flounder in. You don’t know what to say, what to do, and it freaks you out.
Like the first victim, the upperclassman you thought you might really like. Like what to think of that silver eyed boy you call your best friend, despite not knowing anything about him. Like now, when you’re freaking out that you’re falling in love with a girl who might not be able to keep herself together for much longer. It’s the last thing you need to be doing, but you can’t stop yourself.
Love songs blare out of your headphones, sad songs, screaming rock songs, and you still think of her and wonder what the hell it is you think you’re doing. You’re helping her. You’re helping her because your stupid best friend went home, because she needs you. She needs you. Somehow, that’s the scariest thing. You love her and she needs you. But neither of you would take the first step-don’t tell me if I’m dying ‘cause I don’t wanna know-because it’s just too scary-skip to the next song.
She smiles like some kind of cheesy cliché, and it makes you feel like someone’s twisting your gut into a pretzel. You’re not entirely sure if it’s the right reaction or not. You skip to the next song and hope it’ll take your mind off of her. It doesn’t.)