Snippet #1448345

She was staring at him. She was staring. It was impossible for him not to notice. Haizen watched her through the curtain of messy brown hair, thankful that it somewhat obscuring his vision. He didn't want to stare back, couldn't bare facing her while tears welled and spilled from her chocolate eyes. Solemn embarrassment shone in his mismatched eyes. Those eyes, so young, filled with a maelstrom of emotions: pain, confusion, sadness, and yes, anger. An anger that he grew accustomed to showing around anyone else. And he tried so hard; keeping people away was a reflex, a defence. The only thing he truly knew how to do. Now, he fought the urge to keep such inappropriate emotions at bay. They weren't welcome. Not right now, anyhow. Haizen kept hold of her fingers with his own, still slowly pulling them up until they rested safely in front of him and away from the dangerous shards of clay. Everything felt wrong. Holding her hands as if she would plunge them onto spikes, was also wrong. Haizen couldn't remember the last time he held someones' hand, or if it had ever happened. Had he held his mothers' hand? Fathers? He didn't know. Yet, he didn't retreat.

With scraps of his own stuttering heart, Haizen didn't move away from her and kept his shaky hands in front of him as if he was a beggar—with her bloodied hands held captive. His eyebrows knit worriedly as he finally shook the mess of hair from his sleepy hair, to look at her. Even if he didn't want to. A small murmured word in the back of his mind: coward, caused him to raise his eyes. There was something familiar bristling behind her sorrowful gaze, something he could connect with. Certain unexplainable emotions; anger, frustration, annoyance, all because she was shaking and she felt vulnerable. It might've been the first time he realized how angry she was at herself. Weakness was the absence of control, it was the worst thing one could suffer asides from betrayal. Both of which he was familiar with. And she hated displaying those to him, to anyone, for that matter. His own throat tightened uncomfortably, choking any comforting words he couldn't even find back down into his gullet. Never was he good at these situations. Never had he even been in this type of situation. Muffled laughter rose through his open kitchen window, the indication that the morning runners were slapping their sneakers against the cobble stone in front of his home. Already, it was morning.

As soon as Haizen met Bella's gaze, he fought the ungentlemanly urge to tear his eyes away. Remaining tears twinkled at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill but teetering on the edge. He could tell she was holding everything in, and when her question sputtered from her lips, his eyes widened. Why? Just before he was about to ask her: why, what? It was answered. A plenitude of questions escaped her mouth, causing Haizen to rock back on his heels in surprise. In doing so, his hands dropped away from hers and he huffed quietly, regaining some of the oxygen he'd been laboriously holding in. Bella's face flushed with heat, drastically looking more drained than before. He eyed her through lidded eyes before his mouth formed a thin line. Another blush coloured his features and he looked towards the oven, anywhere to escape her fevered gaze. “It's how things are, it's what was decided a long time ago,” He finally said, clearing his throat lightly. “I helped you... I helped you because—...” Haizen faltered, dropping his hands to his sides. “No one deserves to be alone, not even me. People don't know. We're not normal.”

The brunette combed his fingers through his hair, looking back towards Bella. “Now, are you OK?” His worried eyes danced against the sunlight peeking through the rice-papered shades. “That's why you have to go there, to the Sohma house.”