She does it hard enough that her phone slips out of her hand and clatters to the floor once more. She doesn't pick it up and doesn't bother to try and get rid of that stupid app. She just curls up tight, face pressed to her knees, and tries to calm down and put a smile back on her face before anybody gets home. She's done it before plenty of times. She can easily do it again.
This time, though, she doesn't get so far as even washing her face before Miyako arrives. She sees Ai's face soaked with tears and snot and everything else that's ugly and asks what's wrong in a voice so soft and so tender that it makes Ai wants to throw up. She spends the rest of that evening crying in Miyako's lap, the open-mouthed and unashamed wailing of a child who hasn't yet learned to be embarrassed of the enormity of her own feelings. Miyako says nothing but she strokes Ai's hair in slow, steady sweeps, the same way Ai would do to Aqua or Ruby and somehow, it's enough. She doesn't go to bed that night — she cries herself to exhaustion right there on the sofa. She thinks Ichigo tucks a blanket around her and squeezes her shoulder uncertainly but after that, she doesn't remember anything at all.
By the end of the month, they find her somebody to talk to. After everything that's happened, the name 'Hoshino Ai' does a lot to cut through red tape. She feels sick and ashamed at the prospect of needing a doctor to poke around her head and tell her all the things that are wrong with her, but she makes herself imagine what would happen if she had a meltdown like that in front of Aqua or Ruby and it's enough to force herself to go to the first session.
Things are easier after that. Not 'easy'. Easier. She talks about a lot of things she doesn't talk about at home and that she's never really talked about with anybody else. She spills her dirtiest, most wretched secrets and nobody tells her she's filthy or rotten or wrong. You did your best. You've been working so hard. the doctor tells her and eventually, despite herself, Ai starts to feel like she might believe it.
It's two months after the strange phone call that Ai opens the app again. For some reason she hadn't been able to bring herself to delete it, so she'd squirreled it away in a folder off her home screen. She tells herself she doesn't know why, but really, she knows perfectly well: it'd been the tremble in that man's voice as he'd apologized to her. His wish that she live well and the promised silence that had followed.
It'd been one of the rare lies she'd told her doctor and the niggling guilt it had left her with. ]
Kotobuki-sensei asked me about you today. Oh Well not you exactly but I'll start again.
Kotobuki-sensei is my
SOUL#55891 is typing... SOUL#55891 is typing... SOUL#55891 is typing... SOUL#55891 is
She's a doctor I talk to. She asked me what made me so upset back then The day you first called me And I didn't really know what to say So I told her I didn't remember And she said that was OK I don't know why I lied But telling her about you felt icky And I was scared she'd think I was cr I was scared she'd think I was making it up But I guess it doesn't matter now I don't even know why I'm saying all this You're probably not even there but You said "live well" And I don't know if I am yet but I think I'm going to do my best to try
no subject
She does it hard enough that her phone slips out of her hand and clatters to the floor once more. She doesn't pick it up and doesn't bother to try and get rid of that stupid app. She just curls up tight, face pressed to her knees, and tries to calm down and put a smile back on her face before anybody gets home. She's done it before plenty of times. She can easily do it again.
This time, though, she doesn't get so far as even washing her face before Miyako arrives. She sees Ai's face soaked with tears and snot and everything else that's ugly and asks what's wrong in a voice so soft and so tender that it makes Ai wants to throw up. She spends the rest of that evening crying in Miyako's lap, the open-mouthed and unashamed wailing of a child who hasn't yet learned to be embarrassed of the enormity of her own feelings. Miyako says nothing but she strokes Ai's hair in slow, steady sweeps, the same way Ai would do to Aqua or Ruby and somehow, it's enough. She doesn't go to bed that night — she cries herself to exhaustion right there on the sofa. She thinks Ichigo tucks a blanket around her and squeezes her shoulder uncertainly but after that, she doesn't remember anything at all.
By the end of the month, they find her somebody to talk to. After everything that's happened, the name 'Hoshino Ai' does a lot to cut through red tape. She feels sick and ashamed at the prospect of needing a doctor to poke around her head and tell her all the things that are wrong with her, but she makes herself imagine what would happen if she had a meltdown like that in front of Aqua or Ruby and it's enough to force herself to go to the first session.
Things are easier after that. Not 'easy'. Easier. She talks about a lot of things she doesn't talk about at home and that she's never really talked about with anybody else. She spills her dirtiest, most wretched secrets and nobody tells her she's filthy or rotten or wrong. You did your best. You've been working so hard. the doctor tells her and eventually, despite herself, Ai starts to feel like she might believe it.
It's two months after the strange phone call that Ai opens the app again. For some reason she hadn't been able to bring herself to delete it, so she'd squirreled it away in a folder off her home screen. She tells herself she doesn't know why, but really, she knows perfectly well: it'd been the tremble in that man's voice as he'd apologized to her. His wish that she live well and the promised silence that had followed.
It'd been one of the rare lies she'd told her doctor and the niggling guilt it had left her with. ]
Kotobuki-sensei asked me about you today.
Oh
Well not you exactly but
I'll start again.
Kotobuki-sensei is my
SOUL#55891 is typing...
SOUL#55891 is typing...
SOUL#55891 is typing...
SOUL#55891 is
She's a doctor I talk to.
She asked me what made me so upset back then
The day you first called me
And I
didn't really know what to say
So I told her I didn't remember
And she said that was OK
I don't know why I lied
But telling her about you felt icky
And I was scared she'd think I was cr
I was scared she'd think I was making it up
But I guess it doesn't matter now
I don't even know why I'm saying all this
You're probably not even there
but
You said "live well"
And I don't know if I am yet but
I think I'm going to do my best to try