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A long, drawn-out sigh.
And a thump.
Maekawa practically dove onto her bed, for once her own and not Shishikura's. Her eyes looked dull, lifeless, empty, her mouth agape yet silent. As much as she tried, not a coherent, rational thought could muster in her head. All that could be found was pessimism, hatred against her own existence. It was new. Sure, it hung around in the very depths of her mind, but it was never this clear. Never this... unavoidable.
Useless. That was a word Maekawa had always used to describe herself in her own head, but it had never felt so true.
Useless, fragile, weak. What are you when you have no dignity, no self respect, no independence?
The girl fruitlessly tried to fight the tears that yearned to leave her eyes as her hands gripped her sheets. But how could she say they were her hands to begin with? They moved, sure, but she never felt anything. Hugs, holding hands, dancing around the room with Snowball... she never truly felt it. As confident as she was in herself, there was always this feeling, the yearning scratching and grabbing inside her head. Just let me be normal.
She felt the tears push and break away from the eyelids that held them captive. Maekawa cried. She cried and sobbed like a kid. A kid who didn't get what she wanted. A kid who wished she had a different outcome, a childhood she deserved. The aching sounds ruptured from her throat like a storm that built for days and days and had finally given way for a hurricane. Just stop. Just let me live. Let me be normal.
A squeak echoed through the room. Maekawa looked up, gripping her pillow like it was a life-saving flotation device. At her doorway stood the familiar face the girl grew fond of - Shishikura Osamu. The boy immediately walked closer to Maekawa with a look of concern on his face,
"M-Maekawa are you alright? I heard you crying so I knocked but you didn't hear me."
Maekawa stuttered out a weak response, "Y-Yeah I'm good Snowball. It's all fine."
"Is it though?" The white-haired boy questioned, beginning to sit on her bed next to the girl, "You didn't even come back to my room so that was worrying enough..."
Maekawa was about to let out another defence, another reason to keep Shishikura away from her feelings. But she couldn't. Her eyes welled with tears, flood gates cracking and breaking behind her eyelids. She let out pained sobs that she had held back for God knows how long. She was weak. She was Useless. Her companion wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders, bringing her in to cry into his chest. She gripped his jacket tight, her sobs getting louder despite being muffled by the fabric on the boy's chest. Shishikura's hands dragged through Maekawa's long, wild hair, gently separating knots while holding her, delicately shushing away her negative thoughts.
"What's the matter, Maekawa? Tell me about it." The shorter of the two looked into the other's eyes with love and care.
"I-I just... I'm useless, Snowball. I mean, look at me. I can't do anything on my own, I have one functioning limb, what fucking use am I to anyone?!" She felt her heart crack like a dropped piece of fine china that had withstood one too many ounces of force.
Shishikura looked at her carefully. He never knew just how much she was hurting underneath the façade she always wore. Maekawa Azusa was a confident woman who could do anything she set her mind to. Maekawa Azusa wasn't the type to break down, at least Shishikura assumed. He quickly realised how wrong he was, taking the girl into his arms once more, letting her tears fall.
"I'm sorry, Snowball... I should be the one helping you..."
Was she? Sure, both of them were used to Maekawa being the knight in shining armour, protecting Princess Shishikura from harm. But never once did Shishikura find himself holding Maekawa and letting her ache. He... didn't mind it, honestly. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her close to his chest like his most prized possesion.
"Shh shh... I got you, Maekawa. You're okay, you're safe." The words echoed through the girls body, numbing the harsh thoughts that had just stabbed right at her confident, seemingly-bulletproof ego. Sure, it wasn't perfect. It still hurt. She was still fragile, yes. But she had a purpose. She knew she had a place, she wasn't truly useless.