Midsummer Ambedance - A Free! Fantasy AU

The Evening of May the Sixteenth

He opened the door and she was stood there, crying. Her sleek red hair softly ruffled, though usually tied up nicely in a bun, was hanging loosely around her slight shoulders. Tears streamed down her delicately slim cheekbones and over her chubbed out cheeks, then arched over her soft, undefined chin and trickled down her neck. She looked at him with watery ruby eyes, searching for some sign of empathy as she cautiously seized his shirt.

How indecent of her to come to him so late, so unexpectedly, especially in a silken slip that barely covered her shaking knees. Her feet shuffled awkwardly and she shivered involuntarily, most likely not to the cold. She could not control herself around him, she hated having to be meek and quiet and respectful. She hated how no matter how longingly she looked, eyes filled with so much love and caring and understanding, she could never get past him. He put up a wall with no door and she could never hope to break it down. He never loved her. He never would.

She knew it. Which is why she stood so afraid now, regretting her spur-of-the-moment decision. She slapped herself in her mind, scolding and reprimanding her stupidity. She flinched from the mental pain, and again when he moved closer and reached out, reluctantly pulling her close. She allowed herself a few seconds of bliss as she felt her angry warmth spread across his chest and she placed her fingers atop his shoulder blades. He tensed at her touch and she knew it was over. He still held her reassuringly, but he did not return the passion. He was rigid, with either fear or disgust, unmoving, expression unchanging. He was freezing cold in the dark corridor, a block of ice in comparison to her. When she clenched her fists she heard a slight whimper.

"What?"

No reply. He stood staring straight ahead into the abyss, into the void, the unforgiving cavern of space, perhaps searching for the words to say before it got too awkward.

"What?" It was him who asked this time. She looked up.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you crying?" There is a question mark, but it was more like a statement or a demand than a question. He seemed like he couldn't care less whether she answered or not. It was to soothe her thoughts. Before they got too crazy.

"I saw someone in my room," she began frantically. "A man. Tall but I couldn't see his face, he didn't speak, he was just stood there staring. Oh god, it was so scary!"

"Okay."

She felt her face burning with frustration rather than anger. What would it take to get this bastard to speak? To show some damned emotion? "What do you mean? He could have killed me!"

"He wouldn't have," he said. "He wouldn't kill a noble's daughter who was so heavily guarded he would have been impaled with the first scream. You were imagining it."

She stared straight into his cold, unfeeling eyes with a poisonous brew of longing and hatred boiling inside her. She hated him, she hated him so much, yet she adored him and everything he did, everything he was, everything he had, everything he said. She loved him, and it hurt to know he didn't love her back. Slowly, slowly, she released her arms and stepped back. She wiped the final tear from her watery ruby eyes and smiled bravely.

"Well then, I guess that fixes that. I'm sorry to wake you up." The boy looked deep into her but found no sign of anger. She put on a good front. He admired her for that, at least. She began to walk away, the carpet muffling her light steps. As she was gaining speed, he leaned out of the doorway.

"Kou."

She jumped at the sound of her name, stifled a smile before turning back to him.

"... Sleep well."

She gave a low, exaggerated bow and tilted her foot back, toe arching over the carpet.

"And you as well, my fiancée."

And then she left.

He sighed a deep, exasperated sigh. He tried to like her, to love her, he really did. But it was just impossible. Something that many people did not know was that he did possess feelings within himself, but those glowing blues orbs in his eyes hid them extremely well. Too well. Feelings he had, but love was something he could never develop for someone like her. No matter how hard he tried.

Sighing once more, he turned around, back into his bedroom, exhausted. Thankingly, the Prince, Haruka, retired for the night.