Work Text:
Sometimes, Maki touches her scars.
Not, like, consciously or anything, most of the time. (There was a time when she would do that a lot, back when she hated her scars and couldn’t stop thinking about them, but she’s past that now.) Usually, she finds herself brushing her fingers up and down the uneven scar tissue when she’s nervous, or anxious, or just really wants to get out of a situation.
She doesn’t know why it is, really. It’s just that… feeling the weirdly smooth texture of the skin, and the bumps like hills and ridges under her fingertips… It's oddly calming. And Maki can’t really explain it, but… it grounds her, somehow. It keeps her mind from wandering, spiralling into that strange cloud of white noise that threatens to swallow her every time she’s around too many people or when she has to comfort someone and she doesn’t know how. It reminds her that she’s here, and she’s okay, and she’s (most likely) safe.
She gets questions about it occasionally (usually from the likes of Miu or Kokichi, because they’re nosy like that), that she doesn’t really think she wants to answer. Which is reasonable, she thinks, because if someone’s going, “Hey, Little Miss Assassin Bitch! You getting off on your scars again?” she must be doing something wrong.
… Not like that’s relevant now.
She’s here in Kaede’s apartment, sitting across from the pianist at the dinner table, exercise books spread out in front of them. The two of them are studying together because Maki is, surprisingly, not that great at math. Kaede, on the other hand, while having a slightly better grasp on the concepts, lacks the focus to sit there and work at algebra for more than fifteen minutes without going to drum out a new piano melody she just thought up and… get completely lost in the process. So, the two of them decided they’d probably work together quite well.
And it’s going okay, for the most part—Maki’s been able to keep Kaede in check, whether it’s with genuine questions she has, or simply fetching the pianist from the practice room whenever she’s in there longer than ten minutes. And she thinks she’s getting the hang of how to find the equation of a circle from three points on a coordinate plane. (Which is stupid, by the way. Maki doesn’t think she’s ever going to need this knowledge.)
It’s just that she’s been having a little difficulty focusing on her work, which doesn’t usually happen—Maki’s normally quite good at tuning out distractions. But when they’ve been working at a particularly tricky problem for just a tad too long…
… Kaede starts to hum. And it doesn’t really seem all that deliberate, in the way that one would hum the tune of a song they liked, or like if she were trying to compose something on the spot. Instead, the pitch of her voice floats up and down rather arbitrarily, sometimes lingering on a note for a bit longer than is natural (to Maki’s untrained ears, perhaps) before moving on.
It doesn’t really seem to be interfering with Kaede’s concentration either. In fact, her focus currently seems to be directed more towards the page in front of her than on whatever melody she’s humming, or the vaguely rhythmic drumming of her left hand fingers on the table. Which is a curious thing, Maki thinks—when she’s doing a math problem, she has to put every bit of her focus into it to actually be able to work the numbers in her head.
She normally wouldn't bat an eye, but… it’s charming, somehow, listening to the pianist’s voice softly lilting, her fingers tapping like a light rain on window glass.
Maki can’t help but stare, transfixed, slowly putting her pencil down and telling herself she’s earned a break anyway, because god, Kaede’s voice is pretty. (And so is, like, her whole face. Those purple eyes of hers are some type of magic.) The way her brows are furrowed makes the image even more endearing, eliciting a soft chuckle from the brunette.
“Oh, was I disturbing you?” Kaede asks, glancing up at the sound. Maki shakes her head. The blonde smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I tend to do that sometimes. I usually don’t even notice it unless someone tells me. It’s just that we’ve been sitting here for longer than I’m used to, and this question is hard, so I suppose the humming’s helping me concentrate better.”
Maki quirks her eyebrows in response, because boy, does that sound familiar.
“So this happens a lot when you’re studying?”
“Yeah, pretty much. You probably didn’t notice because we sit at opposite corners of the classroom, though. Kirumi’s asked me to tone it down a few times, but I just can’t help it, or else I get too distracted to listen in class! Oh, and my mom says I start humming like this when I get nervous, too.” Kaede puts her pencil down on the table. “I can move to another room if you want me to, though!” She stands up, already getting ready to gather her study materials.
“It’s fine, Kaede, sit down,” Maki says hurriedly, Kaede leaving being the complete opposite of what she intended. “The humming’s nice,” she adds, because screw math. She can study more tomorrow—the test isn’t for another three days anyway.
Honestly, Maki’s secretly relieved at what Kaede just said. If her humming and finger-drumming is anything like the brunette’s own anxious mannerisms, it’s… normal, then. And, like, Maki knows that theoretically, two people is a terrible sample size on which to base a conclusion, but this doesn’t really seem like that kind of deal. This seems like she can finally stop worrying about whether she’s being weird when she’s just trying to live her life.
And that’s kind of nice, Maki thinks, smiling inwardly as they continue on with the problem (screw straight lines and circles). She knows full well she won’t be able to accomplish much for the rest of the afternoon, given the way Kaede’s now twirling her pencil gracefully and effortlessly between her fingers, but… that’s okay.
She’ll allow it, just this once.