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Harumi wakes up to the sound of Lloyd’s voice. She blinks groggily, adjusting to the dim lighting of the garbage center that seems to be Lloyd’s hideout.
“Rumi,” she hears, and she hates how he sounds almost relieved, like he didn’t just corner her in the middle of an alleyway hours ago. “Harumi, I know you’re awake,” he says.
She scoffs. Harumi feels her hands tied behind her back, the rope’s friction burning her wrists as she struggles against the binding. The chair scrapes against the floor, making her attempt to escape obvious.
“Don’t bother,” Lloyd says drily. “Nya triple knotted it.” He sounds so sure of himself, and Harumi wants nothing more but to kiss the stupidly smug expression written across his face. No, actually, she’d rather sock him in the face. She’s definitely more into the latter option.
“I like how you think that’s enough to keep me down,” Harumi retorts. She meets Lloyd’s gaze defiantly, jutting her chin out.
“You’re pretty arrogant for someone who’s tied to a chair.”
“Oh, you think I’m pretty?” Harumi tilts her head, eyeing Lloyd. She registers how his face flushes, noticeable even in the dark. She knows exactly what effect she has on Lloyd; she knows that he doesn’t pose a real threat. She’s got him wrapped right around her finger, exactly where she wants him. (Not literally, though. Obviously.)
“What?” He looks like a deer in headlights. “That is not what I said, and you know it.” A pause. He doesn’t meet her gaze, looking at the floor when he says, “But yeah, kind of.” Harumi’s caught off guard. “That’s not new, though. You already knew that.”
“You’ve never said it to me before,” Harumi breathes. She can feel her heart in her throat. Maybe she doesn’t have the upper hand. He looks terribly sincere, which only adds salt to the wound. Her chest rises and falls with panic; she doesn’t care about Lloyd. Her visceral reaction to his words bothers her more than she’d like to admit. “Why would I know that?” Her voice has regained its usual snark, but it lacks any bite, dripping in uncertainty. She tries not to let it show on her face.
Lloyd takes a cautious step towards her, like she’s a caged animal. Like he’s afraid. Afraid isn’t quite it; Harumi realizes his hesitation is more rooted in distrust. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I’ll say it now, though. You’re beautiful. I’ve always thought that.”
What about me is beautiful? Harumi wants to ask, but that’s borderline desperate, so she stays silent. Lloyd seems to read her, though. The unfortunate thing about Lloyd is that Harumi is quite transparent around him. She tells herself that he knows nothing about her, but the disappointing truth is that he knows her better than anyone, so where does that leave her? What do you see in me that no one has ever seen before?
“Everything about you just is. Your hair, your eyes,” he offers. “The way you’re so sure of yourself, even when you’re wrong. It’s kind of overwhelming in an interesting way. I like the way you tuck your hair behind your ears when you’re nervous, too.” He sighs. “You’re beautiful, Rumi, and I miss you.” Us. That part goes unspoken, but Harumi can hear it loud and clear.
Lloyd’s so earnest it’s nauseating; she’s never been on the receiving end of a feeling so raw and unadulterated. Harumi won’t call it love – that’s not what it is; it’s some convoluted version of the feeling made up of smoke and mirrors, and Lloyd was stupid enough to fall for it. That’s all it is. But she feels this sick feeling churning in the bottom of her gut, her guilty conscience chewing away at her.
“What do you want from me?” she implores. “You don’t mean that.” You can’t mean that. I’m still going to hurt you once I get out of here. I’ve already hurt you. It’s a never-ending cycle.
Lloyd meets her with a level gaze. “I think we both know that I do.”
“What would that change if you did?”
Lloyd shrugs. “I dunno. Nothing, maybe. Whatever you want it to change. The choice is yours, Rumi.”
“Stop calling me that,” Harumi practically snarls. It’s merely another of her many masks: a name she’s so far removed from that she barely thinks of herself as that.
“Fine. Harumi. There, happy?”
“Very.”
“Okay, Harumi. There; I’ve put myself out there. I think you’re beautiful and I miss what we had and I know it would never work.”
I know. I know it would never work. It wasn’t real, and you’re a fool. But the more she dwells on it, there’s a traitorous voice in the back of her mind prodding at her, begging her to take this chance to see where she can get with him. “Okay,” she says, thinking. Lloyd is silent, giving her room to speak, as if to say go on.
She observes him as she grasps for the right words to say. If she’s beautiful, he’s ethereal. His hair’s growing out, extending past the nape of his neck. Harumi wonders what it would be like to run her hands through it; to have him whining and writhing under her hands, hair mussed and lips swollen and face red from exertion – no. She composes herself, breathing hard and straightening her back.
“What are you thinking about?” Lloyd asks, quiet.
You.
“I’m sorry, Lloyd,” she says, and Harumi finds that she means it. “It’d never work, you’re right.” He looks disappointed but unfazed – like it pained him to hear, but he was anticipating it. “There’s nowhere for us to go from here.” She knows it’s true. “You’re not going to change, and neither am I. You’re the Green Ninja, and I’m –”
“– the Quiet One,” Lloyd finishes for her. “Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, I know.” His expression is indecipherable in the dim. He turns away from her.
“Your father is still going to try to destroy you. I’m still –”
“You’re not incapable of change, Ru – Harumi.” She notices the slip, but doesn’t comment on it. He looks back at her, fully facing her this time. She feels exposed, bare. “There’s always a chance to change.”
She shakes her head. Lloyd is painfully naive. “You can only change those who are willing to.”
Lloyd frowns. “And there’s the issue! You’re so stuck in your ways that you won’t even try to do better!”
“Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t want to do better? That I like this?”
“Oh, please. You’re so bitter, there’s no way you like being angry all the time.” He steps towards her, till there’s barely any distance between them. Harumi’s stomach drops, eyes flitting from his lips to his unwavering gaze and back again.
He’s right, but she won’t say that. She is overcome by her anger and it has made her shortsighted. Her anger is an ugly thing, rearing its head, all vicious and jowls drooling, waiting to pounce. Itching in the discomfort of stillness, waiting for another chance to sink its teeth into flesh, white canines stained red. She’s forgotten what it’s like to be overwhelmed with an emotion other than pure blinding hatred; her tunnel vision is limiting her worldview, spiraling and spiraling till all there is is rot.
“I’m not something for you to fix.”
“I’m not trying to fix you,” Lloyd tells her, pleading. He reaches for her hand but instinctively draws back when he remembers.
“But you are.” She begs him to understand that all she is capable of is hurting him. Whatever disillusioned perspective he has of her lacks permanance. “You can’t do that to me.”
Lloyd cups her face, his touch feather light. She allows herself to lean into it, aching. She’s so tired. A part of her wishes she could give into Lloyd, but she’s too far in to stop now. Besides, her parents, she has to get revenge – but would they be proud of who she’s become? She doesn’t have long to dwell on the thought before Lloyd speaks again.
“I know.” He keeps saying that – he says that he knows, but does he really? Harumi tamps down a flicker of irritation. Then: “I’m sorry.” It’s genuine, she knows.
“I have to go,” he whispers, voice cracking. “The others – they’re gonna wake up and it’s Nya’s turn to take watch over you –”
Harumi understands. For now, this is enough.
He hasn’t moved away yet, savoring the moment. Harumi wonders if they’ll ever be like this again, if she’ll regret saying no to him. She knows she’ll see him shortly, where he’ll pretend this interaction never happened in hopes of saving face with the others. He’ll probably look at her like a kicked puppy; he always does when she’s blunt with him.
But he eventually pulls back, breathless and flushed from proximity. Harumi wants to tease him about it, but she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks, so she opts against it. (Yeah, that upper hand she thought she had? Definitely non-existent.)
“I’ll see you, Lloyd.”
She watches him go, ignoring the disappointment that wells up in her chest, a chasm splitting her wide open.
(When morning comes, she’ll tell herself it was enough, that whatever she gets with him is enough. But the gnawing cavity in her will indicate otherwise.
No, it’ll never be enough.)