Ruinous Warmth

A chilling wind blows through the halls.

Dejectedly lowering her hand, a girl looks on as the dove that had previously sat on the windowsill flies away into the gray skies. A single feather flutters down in its wake, and the urge to capture it comes to her. She reaches for it, but it manages to spin and slither just shy out of her grasp. With a defeated sigh, she returns her hand to her front, grasping her bag, and resumes walking down the long halls of the high school.

Her footsteps lightly echo throughout the deserted walkway. The bulk of the school's student body is down at the cafeteria and its outskirts, with the rest scattered on the fields and main halls of the school. A bite of loneliness gives her a light shudder, despite the layers of uniform she was under.

I'm sorry...

A light apology voices in her mind, not exceedingly repentant or sorrowful, rather simply a default utterance she's used to give when nothing else comes to mind. Not exceedingly, but she's still not in her best mood.

The turn of the year had shifted something in the young woman. Something so maddeningly immaterial and nondescript it drove her to a fist-clenching, deep-breathing frustration at times, completely uncharacteristic of her. Well, she thinks it was the turn of the year, but in reality she just started really noticing it then.

It started with a fading enjoyment in her hobbies and duties. Each time the animals at the shelter came up excitedly to her, each time she watched her favorite shows, and even each time she managed to work out a happy glimmer in her pet's eyes... Each time, she enjoyed it a tiny little bit less. She figured it was simply her growing accustomed to them, or maybe even the natural progress of time taking its toll on her.

Like a distant coin drop, she felt a light pulse of anxiety at that thought. Although she was technically already one, the image of "the adult world", as her earlier years called it, didn't really hold much interest or joy for her. She was fine with what she had.

Had being past tense, of course.

Unnoticed by her, little by little, she started reaching further out each time an animal turned away from her. Sighs became deeper and deeper, and she held onto her pillow a little bit longer, a little bit tighter every day. And yet, the feeling of utter... meaninglessness? Uselessness? It was hard to describe. Hard to describe, but not hard to suffer from.

She tried what she could. She tried diving further in to her pastimes. Staying longer with the rescues. Attempting to create art or stories. Talking to her rabbit deep into the night. She even tried to learn guitar! But in the end, it was fruitless. Every time, she felt unfulfilled. She didn't understand what she was doing wrong, or what she actually wanted for that matter. It was as if those things that once gave her day-to-day life meaning slowly but surely stopped connecting with her at her core. It came to the point that, one particularly stressful evening, her pet snapped at her. He bit her arm, struggling wildly to free himself from what she thought was just an affectionate hug. He scampered out of the house in a flash, and she would find him, a couple of weeks later, among the animals at the shelter, unwilling to return to her. The caretakers would explain to her about how rabbits need their space, and how she shouldn't force him to be with her, and all manner of things she thought she clearly understood. Worried about the rabbit's reaction to her, she'd later agree upon, they withheld custody of it from her.

No recourse or hope apparent, she even turned to her friends, the growing despair she felt overcoming her adversity to burdening others with her issues. This would only turn out to reinforce that adversity.

Sorry...

The apology comes more genuine this time. It's not that she dislikes them, or that she doesn't appreciate the time they spend together, but...

They tried, they really did. Bless their hearts, they'd been giving it their all for her. They tried to be there for her at every step, tried to help her find out what was ailing her (blindly guessing at everything from her family to her body to her social status to her beliefs), tried to distract her from it all, but all in vain. With every meeting, every project, every night spent together, every outdoor hour they pulled her out of her silent home for her sake, it not only drove that enigmatic stake deeper in her heart, it showed her just how far away they all stood from her. All of them had places where they belonged in. Whether it be with family, peers, or on their own pursuits, she could imagine them living healthy and fulfilling lives five, ten, even twenty years into the future. Unlike her, they all seemed to have a place that called to them, a road to follow, while the one she thought was hers was slipping away. Not only that, but she knew that they could at least get a glimpse of that feeling in her eyes.

They tried to hide it from her, but she could see their winces. Small sighs in disappointment. Tiny grunts of frustration. Defeated shrugs. Worried glances when they thought she wasn't looking. It all just made her mad at herself for not just... getting fixed. She felt terrible for feeling terrible, an ungrateful notion towards all their care. Felt terrible for making everyone worry about her, making it so they thought she needed them to spend so much effort on her. It all felt so wrong. She eventually started to separate from them at school. It was an insidious effort; Whenever they had their attention on her, she would just sit and bear it. She couldn't hide her dour mood, but they didn't need to know her discomfort towards them. So everyday, every time, she looked for an opening to excuse herself. If they tried to pull her back in, she would not resist, but if she could just manage to escape their notice, to feign ignorance that she kept spending more and more time alone, she could keep a semblance of innocence towards them and their well-intentioned efforts while not slowly being driven mad by them as well. If she could just pack it all in, and smile through it, no one else needed to sting her with those dreadful, distressed stares...

She catches herself gripping her bag tight enough to make her knuckles white. Taking in a breath to calm herself, she practically feels her stance deflate in resignation.

Her parents weren't much help either. Her demure nature clearly inherited from them, they were apprehensive about forcing themselves upon her personal life, despite being able to see hints of her emotional descent. Hints were all she would allow, as she made sure to essentially keep them at arm's length about the issue. If she couldn't decipher the source of her issues, how could she begin to explain her problems to them? It would only serve to spread her gloom, and besides, with their aging bodies and worrying after Zephyr and his escapades across the ocean as an exchange student to take their time, there was no room for her own troubles.

She was an adult, after all, and adults take care of their own business. Even if she was only a senior in high school, and the thought of battling with her confusing feelings alone into the future only filled her with dread.

It was on that thought that her gait was slowed to a stop, her long reverie of reflection interrupted by a light gust of cold wind, blowing in from the open doors to the hall's balcony. The darkness of the day seeming to reflect upon her morose mood, she feels beckoned by the scenery outside. The high wall of the balcony obstructing the view of the fields, and nothing but endless grays filling the skies, it almost feels as if the space beyond these gates is its own world. While almost humorous to entertain such a thought, it still pushes her onward, if only to detach herself in her mind briefly. Stepping "outside", predictably, nothing but a light shift in brightness and temperature occurs. However, a quiet sound and a shadow in her periphery alerts her to something more.

With a fright, she notices a boy sitting on the floor against the wall. Recollection rides through her mind as it tries to pin down his identity, though she had trouble doing so. She knows he's on her year due to his uniform that mirrored hers, a white blazer with a dark blue shirt, different from their underclassmen. Her train of thought fades away to distress in the second it appeared, thoughts of intruding on someone else's search for solitude multiplied by her own dread of having to suddenly converse with someone in her current state resulting in a wave of shivers going down her spine.

As another second passes though, a new sort of panic shocks through her, as she pays more attention to her hearing and looks closer upon the person practically crumpled on the floor. His legs are splayed haphazardly on the ground. One of his heels digging into the bookbag half open beside him, seemingly thrown without care against the wall. His shirt is partially pulled up, revealing red marks in his skin, in streaks and bumps, most likely self-inflicted. Her gaze finally turns to his face, although his eyes are covered by his hands. Nose dribbling, streaks of tears flow out from between his fingers, as they seem to fiercely grip and dig into his scalp. His face is reddened in spots, and twisted into a pitiful grimace as he shakes and hiccups, making a visible effort through clenched teeth to keep as quiet as possible.

Her panic shifts from one side to the next, blanking on what she should do. She wants to get away, both to run from him, and to get someone else to help him. Her fear spikes ever higher, and she feels herself losing control from the stress. However, it takes a third overly-long second to realize she isn't falling unconscious. In fact, it seems her body had moved in the brief flash of darkness, though surveying in which way pushes her fright to new, heart attack-inducing heights.

In the short moment she lost awareness, she had dived to her knees, tights scraping on the tiled floor, and scooped up the weeping boy. One hand slipped under his back to pull him up and hold him tight against her, the other running through his dark green hair as she pressed his head to her chest, snugly resting her head on his. Although she was internally screaming at her actions, her mien betrayed nothing but sympathy and kindness as she gently cradled and hushed him. He seemed to be in similar shock to her own mind, his hands hanging behind her and his breathing stopping short.

Several unsure seconds pass, her inner mental breakdown building to brand new levels in the meantime, before he crosses his arms behind her back, hands gripping at her as he desperately holds on to her, his stuttering, now barely silent cries redoubling as his tears soak into her sweater vest. His leaning into her manages to put a stop to her rising terror, as something within her just... releases. Like the discovery of an oasis in a vast, burning desert, or light of a sunrise after a dark, long and stormy night, a feeling of relief and euphoria rushes through every twist and corner of her very being. Her mind completely relaxes as waves of that blooming warmth wash over her, hands contently and lovingly stroking at her charge.

Her soft shushing fades as the boy's whimpers peter out, breath stabilizing. She gently pulls him with her as she sits. His grip on her softens, but never leaves, making her placid smile widen. Her eyes droop almost sleepily as she feels him shift slightly before settling upon her. Her head is swimming, mind completely stupefied and smothered in the moment, and the two lay entwined, feeling each other's heartbeats as the moment extends to a minute, then two, then five, then fifteen...

The shrill, loud ringing of a bell over head gives them both a harsh start. Numbness follows as her mind races to catch up on just what she had been doing for the last half hour of lunchtime. Her teal eyes fall upon the boy's yellow ones, as if to confirm with him, despite not having even shared a word of dialogue the entire time. Her intense shock and reddening face mirrored on him, as well as the resonating beats between them, serve as confirmations to her. With a yelp, they practically jump off each other, Fluttershy snatches her bag away from its discarded place near them, and she sprints away like a terrified gazelle, hands pushing into the front of her skirt.