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No book he would ever read would teach him what exactly to do whenever this occurred. He had heard her crying for more than hours at this point, sobbing like a baby when they got separated from their mother. But this sob was something else—it was quiet at first, and then it became more heart-wrenching as time passed on. This was the first time anything of the sort had happened to him; he had never heard or seen her cry, up until now. But there she was, at the edge of a hill, far away from their house, bawling uncontrollably. Not even his noise-canceling headphones could disguise the sound of sobs heard throughout the night. She was heaving each breath she took, sounding as though she were going to pass out in any second.
“Hey.” He stated in his signature monotone voice.
She jumped in response to hearing his voice, but didn’t dare turn around, “S-Sorry,” She apologized, “I went out here because I know how much you hate n-noise… and I didntwanttodisturbyou…”
“It’s fine,” He shook his head, “I just want to know what’s wrong.”
“I… w-was assigned to write about m-my past experiences…” She started off calmly at first, before another wave of tears overcame her. She then slowly pointed to a multiple pieces of paper right next to her, her entire arm shaking with a mixture of fear and desolation. “Y-You can read it… if you want…”
He picked up the pieces of white parchment, reading each and every single page, feeling his heart drop down deeper into the floor as he progressed, his expression remaining blank and his eyes widening throughout several parts. There were little to no things that could ever make him shred an ounce of concern in his mind. He didn’t care about much, nor did he express any sort of desire to learn about the thoughts or opinions that others had of him—or themselves, really. But the sounds of her heart-wrenching sobs and suppressed breathing combined with the horrid, terrifying stories that washed over her like a relentless tsunami managed to make a lasting impact on the man who was known for not caring about much. It was like an unwelcome hand grabbed his heart and twisted it around, yanking his heart strings, threatening it to rip it out if the distressing sounds and sight would not stop.
He admired her for her complex style of thinking as well as her analytical points of views in regards to literature, as well as the reports she wrote. She certainly did open up his mind to things he hadn’t thought about before. But this—this was completely soul-crushing. He wished he would have been there for her, to protect her from all of the harm she had endured. Being made to re-experience your hardships all for the sake of a grade… he heaved a sigh, unsure of what to say. The rustle of the papers could be heard as he set them down.
“I’m s-sorry, Alhaitham,” She choked, “I promise I’ll be quiet after I’m f-finished writing...”
He made a small grimace, his fists clenching tightly into his palms. Hesitantly, he gently grasped her hands, holding them in his, then pulled her in closely, his left hand moving to hesitantly rest on her hair, the other holding her back unsurely. Her arms wrapped around his back, holding him as though he were a stuffed bear.
“I’m sorry,” He stated, making unsure caresses to her head, “Those things should have never happened.”
“It’s okay… not your fault,” She sniffled, grateful for his unusual yet welcomed words, then she managed to squeeze out a “I love you Alhaitham,” before sobbing once more.
“I… love you too…” No matter how many times he heard it, he still could not get used to saying it. Those words were foreign to him, far too perplexing for even the most intelligent of scholars to understand. Though he loathed all sorts of noise, he hated the sounds of her crying the most. They tugged at his heart strings, making him notice that he cared about something that wasn’t other than his books and knowledge after all these years. His hands gently detached from their positions, moving slowly towards her face to hold it as gently as one would hold a fragile, delicate teacup. With hesitant movements on his thumbs, he wiped away the storm of tears she wept, softly brushing her hair out of her face. His face inched closer to hers, his lips gently kissing her softly. The two remained that way for a moment, indulging in what was once unknown to them prior before meeting each other. Then, he separated, whispering in a low voice, “…You can finish tomorrow, it’s getting late. It’s no use pushing yourself this hard once you’ve already reached this state.”
She only nodded as a response, picking up her pieces of parchment whilst shakily heaving a sigh.
“Let’s get you to bed,” Alhaitham gave a gentle, low murmur, picking her up tenderly, “You must be tired.”
She made a small noise, quietly mumbling, “Thank you, Alhaitham… I love… y…”
“I love you too.” He replied, going inside their shared house. He set her down on a soft bed, taking away the pieces of paper from her and placing them on her desk, before pulling the sheets over her and watching her quiet, tranquil self head off into the land of dreams. There was something so serene about the way she slept; about the way all of the anguish from her face suddenly disappeared to form a relaxed, calm expression. It was a beautiful face of peace, tranquility…
“Don’t cry anymore,” He whispered, trailing his fingertips across her right cheek, “It’s okay to, but not for too long…”
After a while, he got up and turned off the lamp light, proceeding to head out the door, glancing at her sleeping form once more before silently heading out,
He made a promise to himself that day; a promise where he would protect her from all sorts of harm, a promise where he would try his best to never hear those devastating cries and sobs ever again, a promise where he’d see her bright smile despite the harsh world around them. That promise would be one of the only things in the world he truly cared about, along with her, the person his cold self cared for the most.