serenity.

THE SUMMER SUN is almost at its peak, and yet she feels her blood run cold every time his eyes meet hers. Of course, the blood coursing through her veins is artificial at best, but that is a story for another time.

              She wonders what he is thinking. He doesn’t say much – he never does, really – but his mind is loud. She knows that much. She knows his mind is loud with ugly things, and that’s why she’s drawn to him. He’s quiet and pensive and quite honestly, a mess.

            His eyes are averted yet again, but the sun’s rays still aren’t warming her. She finds herself trying to read him, to get a clue or two, but instead, she finds nothing. His sights are fixated on something that remains naked to her eyes. That’s how it’s been for the past few days. Him – full of depth, able to see and feel things that she could never see or feel; and her – the shallow nobody.

“Is this really okay?” he asks in a gentle voice that makes her heart break. Is this really okay? he asks. And then silence.

           For a moment, she considers answering him immediately. She has a few thoughts in the back of her head that she can most definitely force out, but saying such harsh things so quickly might be too much for him. He scares her at times, but she enjoys his presence. She wouldn’t want to ruin their relationship with an unnecessarily forward act.

           Instead, she tilts her head up, trying to look at him as much as she could without getting the harsh sun into her field of vision. And then, like a normal person would, she opened her mouth and let the stalling ooze out.

          "What do you mean?”

           She means to say it innocently, as if the question genuinely took her by surprise. However, her speech is far too curt to count as innocent. Too sharp, too monotonous, too empty. Even today, her words are empty. Her head is full, her heart is flooding, but everything she says and does is shallow as ever.

          “Oh. It’s nothing... Nevermind.”

❝ SAY YOU LOVE ME. ❞

                It’s a hasty demand. Too hasty; his voice comes out bitter and domineering, and each syllable sends a chill down her spine. Say you love me. As if she could.

               Project MAYU is doting on his shoulder like some treasured accessory. She contemplates planting a kiss against his cheek – a misguided attempt at affection – but chooses otherwise. She doesn’t like him, and she fears physical contact will shatter her guise. Yes, that’s what this is. Just one big disguise. A ruse.

               “Say it, MAYU. Go on.”

                His hand’s are creeping closer. Closer and closer. From his pockets to his thighs to right in front of her face. He’s going to touch her.

                She winces, and he frowns. Pulls back his hand, too. The ruse goes on.

                “Why aren’t you talking to me?” He fiddles with his chin a little bit. His chin is close to her face, so her anxiousness remains piqued. She’s nervous, but she knows exactly what thoughts are roaming his mind. She knows exactly what it is: MAYU, the machine who could love.

                 Love. What a joke. She can’t even say the words right.

IT’S 3:00AM, & something bad is going on in his head.

                She’s not quite sure what exactly he is thinking, but the expression he makes pains her. It’s an odd mix of fear and pity, and she honestly cannot tell which of the two outweighs the other. If he fears her, then she should show him that there is no reason to be afraid. If he pities her, so be it.

                The way he moves intrigues her. She can see small drops of sweat rolling down his forehead – there are only three, but they leave awfully visible dark streaks  – and she wonders whether or not the weather is getting to him. She knows the truth – she’s the problem, not the weather – but hopeful speculation, naive as it was, had its charm.

                “Are you alright?” she asks quietly. “...Do you need anything?”

                To her dismay, he does not respond. Instead, he picks up his head, glances her way, and averts his vision again. It hurts, but she mustn’t show it. If she shows her pain, it will only fuel his fear. And if not his fear, his pity. Either way, if she was to express her feelings, the sickening expression on his face would only grow, and that would hurt more than anything else. So the rules of tonight’s game are simple: she mustn’t him how much this hurts.

              “I could get you some water maybe...? Or perhaps some tea?”

              Oh, tea. She had gotten quite good at fixing that. Extraordinary, actually. Although she never got a second opinion on her skills, MAYU was confident that if she possessed any talent at all, it would be the way she made her tea. She was near certain that once he heard of how great her tea was – how warm, how cozy, how utterly irresistible – he would perk up and befriend her.

              Befriend. That’s a new thought. New thoughts were often troubling, but perhaps she could dwell on this one a little further. She had never indulged in a true friendship – excluding dear Usagi, of course – but despite this, MAYU had some idea of what it would be like.

             Happiness. Friendship. Warmth. Love.                                        all things impossible for someone like me.

                 . . .                                               . . .                                                                                 . . .

just kidding.