➳ C O N T I N U E : @sturdywilled.
【 When she’d lowered herself here, she’d done so because she wasn’t expecting anyone to find her. How long has it been, now? An hour? Two? She’s lost track. The crying hadn’t started until but a few minutes ago, when it all had grown too much to bear, and the dam that she perpetually shoves emotion and weakness behind had given way. She swipes olive-toned thumbs beneath either eye, shrinking them back into her sleeves with a soft huff of relief when she discovers that the tears to stain the pads of her fingers are clear and untouched by ebony. Her mascara is far sturdier, clearly, than herself. Despite the difficulty it’s been faced with, it hasn’t buckled.
She can’t stand the fact that she’s not the same.
Notwithstanding of his kindness, Maite’s first reflex is to berate herself. While outwardly silent, her mind is tormented by a flurry of angry, Spanish-speaking wasps that buzz on and on about how pathetic she is. Mocking coos of “¡Pobrecito!” and “¡Lastimoso!” run rampant and knock against the throbbing walls of her skull, stinging with enough force that she feels it necessary to rub at her temples for relief.
She’s asked him to stay, but almost wishes that she hadn’t. At least if she were alone, nobody would be there to witness her being the princesa of a self-thrown pity party. Nobody would be there to think about her in the same way she thinks of herself.
But he holds none of the contempt that her cruel brain inflicts upon her. He’s even easing his jacket off his shoulders for her, offering it in all earnest despite the way she sees his flesh quiver from the CUTTING wind.
“No, no,” she hoarsely interjects, and lifts her hands when he holds the garment out to her. “I’m used to the cold. It was like this back where I used to live, so...you should keep it. But, uh, thanks, for the record. That’s sweet of you.”
Maite’s words taper off, falling into a hush as she ponders what to say. How to justify this. The frost coating the grass beneath her is lifted using her quirk as she fights to find words, balled up into a sphere of cold water that begins to bubble while it warms. The one part of her not so accommodated to the weather is her hands, and so that hot water is bunched up around them to thaw her icy skin. “I can do the same for you, if your hands are cold,” the girl mutters. Her head bows downwards a bit, pointedly, towards the hands she’s wringing in the hot water. She continues after a bit, as an explanation: “I’m supposed to start at the school today. I transferred, so it’s all set up. It’s just...hard. Being here alone, I mean. I don’t know anyone and my mom is back in the States. That’s why I’m crying like a little bitch.” A rueful chuckle descends from her lips. “I know I have more opportunities in terms of schooling here. I really do. I just don’t even fuckin’ know where to start.” 】
