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The next time I cry, I take my bracelet off first.
But this time, I hurt myself. Because he wasn’t there Because I deserved it.
But now, he found me. The other one, the one I can’t trust.
Tsukasa.
“Hey, hey! Why are you crying? And you’re bleeding.” He sounds curious, but I know better. I shift away from him, snapping my head to the side. He’ll use this against me.
“I’m fine.” I force it out through gritted teeth, heart rate still not back to normal. He hums, putting a finger up to his mouth.
“I’m pretty sure fine people don’t pull out their hair like that. Do you have a disorder or something?” I flinch, looking back up to glare at him. He holds his hands up, tilting his head at me.
“I’m not here to hurt!” He laughs, spinning around in the air so he’s looking at me upside-down. “I just wanna know why my brother’s sweetheart is crying alone in the hallway across the school from him.”
I huff to myself, pulling my knees up to my chest and angling myself away from him.
“You don’t need to know me.” I set my head on my knees quietly, feeling the blood dry on my scalp and into my hair. He’ll see it if I go to the bathroom. How sad.
I feel him touch the top of my head gently, with a strange tenderness only Hanako had touched me with. I close my eyes, refusing to move into the touch but unable to move away. So, I let him. I let him pet my head like I’m a strange cat. I let him massage some of the blood out silently, till he hits one of the patches.
I cringe away from his touch. It hurts, who wouldn't? But he shushes me, resting his palm over the spot he touched.
“Sorry.” I open my eyes again, blinking at him. He looks.. genuine. Like he really didn’t mean to.
I nod quietly, acutely aware of my knees pressing up into my cheekbones. He gently lifts my head, guiding me to lay in his lap with my head against his chest. I don’t fight him, curling my fingers into his kimono. It’s soft.
“..don’t make me move. Please don't make me move.” I shut my eyes, hiding my face in his chest. He rests a hand on the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair.
“I won’t. Don’t tell him, okay? This has to stay between us.” He murmurs it into my ear, and I nod without question. He’d be so mad.
“Good girl.” I freeze as an involuntary shiver runs down my spine, and I hide more forcefully in his chest. I feel rather than hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t stop playing with my hair or holding me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your little secret. It’s okay.” He speaks so softly, and almost against my will, I relax into his arms.
‘He’s awful. I shouldn’t.. be doing this. I shouldn’t be letting him touch me like Ha- him. It’s not fair.’ I nuzzle into him, giving up on fighting him. ‘But he’s so gentle. He doesn’t want to hurt me. Even if he does, would it.. really be so awful to die here? Being loved? Why do I feel more loved with him than I do Hanako?’
“It’s okay, you know.” He starts talking, soft and loving. “I don’t mind if you come see me. I’m not as bad as they make me out to be.”
‘He’s so soft, and comforting.. I don’t wanna leave. Not ever…’ I don’t fight his touch, finally letting myself lean into him fully. I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t help it.
But I'm heavy, I'll hurt him- no, he's ripped a wonder apart without breaking a sweat. He'll be fine. I hope.
“You’re so sweet, you know?” He tilts my head up towards him a little, meeting my eyes. He doesn’t look like the kind to hurt someone for no reason. He looks… kind.
“You’re kind, and funny, and smart, and I don’t think you should really be here. It’s like no one really notices how your mind works. You excel in visual problems like counting Mokke, but you struggle with numbers.” He smiles a little, and I feel my heart skip a beat. He’s so.. Cute.
“It’s cuz they’re dead, right? The numbers?” He blinks at me, and I stay silent. I nod after a few moments, and he beams at me. “They don’t have life in them. I have a similar issue, it’s okay!”
I hide my face in his chest, bunching up his kimono around my face. ‘That’s not fair. You can’t just… be so loving and kind and gentle and not even seem bothered by it.’ I feel him pet my hair again, smoothing it over. He’s so warm- I thought ghosts were supposed to be cold. But it’s okay. It’s like everything’s just okay with him. Nothing really matters other than us.
And it’s comforting. It’s comforting when he murmurs a quiet lullaby in my ear, when I feel a blanket around me, and when he squeezes me in a hug.
“It’s okay, little lamb. I’ll be here when you wake up.”