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She claws her hands through her hair, pacing, pacing, through the pouring rain, under the rain, the same thought echoing through her brain again and again
Why him? Why Alan, of all people?
She couldn’t afford this. Couldn't dare even risk it, even if he accepted her and why would he? Why would he?
Of course her stupid emotions had to pick the boy she's meant to hate, the boy she's bullied since childhood.
Chosen him, of all people, so that whenever she looks at him her mind is at war on whether to smash him to smithereens or destroy anything that had laid a hand on him. Locate his pulse point to make sure he's alive, or rip it to shreds and watch him bleed out at her feet.
And of course her brain latches onto the simple things of him, like how he looks peaceful in his sleep, or how careful he is with precious things. They way he ruffles his hair when he's nervous or embarrassed or happy.
And the small, whispering echoes of happier times. Of pages and pencils and fabric. Of laughter and secret jokes and smiles… and gods his smile.
His smile that hasn't changed though high and low, through anything.
She's brought back to reality when she manages to yank her hair hard enough to bleed, and she slowly feels the warm crimson life-sap seep ever so slowly through her wet and bedraggled hair.
She forces a smile
Conceal. Smile, pretend everything was normal. Don’t feel it.
She walks back to the apartment with a false spring in her step, maniac smile on her face.
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He can't sleep .
He's trying, he swears, but he just can't.
He twists around to face the other side, trying to force the thoughts out of his head.
He shouldn't care about her- but he did.
He cared about Moka.
He wondered what had happened between her and her father that drove them apart, made her... what she is now.
He wonders
He remembers how sweet she was before.
How she lit up whenever she talked about something, or how she cried when a dress didn't turn out how she wanted it to.
He remembers the jagged scars on the underside of her wrist, and her promising that she would stop.
Swearing so, if he'd just stay with her
And now she's a maniac smile.
Now she's manipulative and withdrawn, and he wonders what would have happened if he'd protected her better.
Wonders if she's gone back to cutting herself, wonders if she remembers her promise.
Wonders if he could have changed it.
If he'd just-
But no, he can't change the past.
He hopes he can change the present.
Hopes he can rescue Moka from her father, from herself.
Hopes for his sake and hers.