a/n: So long since I updated... sorry... I guess this story is nothing new, the idea is probably used before, and I feel like I'm betraying myself since I'm obsessing with finding something fresh and completely new. But I just found this quote my Emma Racine deFleur and it just made me think of Natsume and I just had to write it out. Enjoy...
---
:A Gift from a Broken Angel:
An angel lost his wing,
Crooked he did fly.
-Emma Racine deFleur
Once again, the mask sat upon his face, hiding the scars and wounds that lie beneath. Once again, he stood there, no sound escaping his lips, no movement seen from him. Once again, no one could hear the cry from his mind, and the breaking of his heart.
Once again, he was alone.
Natsume Hyuuga was used to the pain now. The curse placed on him because of the power he didn't want… and the emotions he couldn't control. His hand that trembled within his pocket was numb from pain. He couldn't feel it anymore. That's right. He didn't need to feel anymore.
Ruka was by his side, but he was alone. He had built a wall around himself, blocking and avoiding all that could hurt him. Yet it wasn't enough. There were cracks in the wall, and again and again he found himself wounded. It was all but enough to make the infamous Black Cat withdraw from the world. The world of pain and darkness.
No more could he feel happiness, nor could he hear the laughter and see the smiles. He lived in pain. He lived in anger. He lived in loneliness. He lived in darkness.
He hated.
He hated the world that hurt him.
Hatred ate him away, pain engulfed him, and anger blinded his eyes.
He hated.
But perhaps someone could see. Perhaps someone could learn to love this broken angel, in which whose heart had turned to stone and ice; the angel who could not love anymore. Perhaps one in a million, there will be someone who could mend his heart and wipe away his hatred, bring light into the darkness in which he lived in, and not hurt him.
This broken angel with a wounded wing could not fly. Blinded in the darkness, trapped in the wall he had built himself, he could see nothing.
Out of one in a million, perhaps another angel would appear and guide him out of the trap he had built himself and teach him to fly.
And perhaps, that angel was already there.
"Natsume, are you okay?" The crimson eyed boy barely looked up, for he knew who stood before him. As though still oblivious of the fact that he was ignoring her, the brunette softened her tone and inspected his injuries. Natsume did not mind. His face hidden behind his mask, he forced his eyes to stare straight forward, refusing to look at her. The only thing he liked about the mask was that it helped him hide his expression. And this was certainly a positive fact, for he cringed when the hand in his pocket started to burn with pain. He tilted his head ever so slightly to look at his hand, and he found the wound in which he had hastily wrapped with cloth before class, start to bleed. He stuffed his hand further in his pocket, but this movement was immediately caught by Mikan, our sharp eyed brunette.
She caught his hand and pulled it out of his pocket. For a second, Natsume considered jerking it back, but then just gave up and let her take his hand. Mikan gasped at the wound and concern flooded into her honey brown orbs. She sat down in front of him and started unwrapping the messy wrapping around the wound. Natsume did not speak, just watched her clean the wound as best as she could with a damp handkerchief and start to wrap it again with a new one. Natsume watched in fascination. Who knew this usually clumsy girl knew how to take care of a wound?
Mikan seemed to read his thoughts, and she said, "I did this a lot when I was little. Without my parents around to help me out, I had to learn how to do a lot of stuff. And of course, this is one of the things I had to learn; especially knowing the fact that I'm clumsy. A few falls and breaks will have to teach you something. But of course, at the beginning my skills were as bad as yours." She smiled, indicating the way Natsume had taken care of his wound. Natsume couldn't help but feel a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips. But perhaps it's because of his rare use of facial expressions, his face felt stiff and awkward when he attempted to smile. It was as if his face could only scowl and frown.
But of course, what was he talking about? It wasn't as if she could see the smile anyways, his face being hidden under a cursed mask. At this thought, his face returned to the unhappy expression it held before.
After Natsume's hand was neatly wrapped, Mikan stood up, preparing to leave. She picked up her stuff, chattering about random things that Natsume could care less about, but he didn't utter a word. Perhaps something that occupied the silence was good.
Finally, before she left, she reminded Natsume to wash his wound with clean water and go to the clinic for some medicine. Then she gave him a cheerful smile and walked away.
Natsume watched her go, and then his gaze returned to his hand. His hand looked so strange and foreign. Of course, that was because of the pale pink handkerchief the colour of Sakura blossoms wrapped around it. It looked so feminine and out of place around his hand.
He stared as his hand, raising it up in the air, and then tilting it, watching in fascination with different angles.
"Natsume, I thought I would find you here." Natsume dropped his hand quickly when he heard the voice. Ruka Nogi approached him with a worried look on his face. Natsume swiftly stuffed his hand in his pocket, avoiding his eyes. But Ruka's eyes moved just as fast. His gray blue eyes slid towards his friend's hand and stayed there for a long time. Then they snapped back to Natsume's masked face, his eyes clouding over. There was an awkward silence as they regarded each other.
"That's Mikan's handkerchief." Ruka said, with an inquiring note in his voice.
Natsume moved his head ever so slightly into a nod.
"She came here?"
Once again, he nodded.
"She took good care of your wound."
Nod.
"I see."
Now it was just small talk.
There was a strained silence, and it felt as if they were both holding their breaths, as if the air there was suffocating.
Finally, Ruka looked away and gave Natsume a forced smile. "Well, take good care of your hand." He hesitated. "Mikan is very worried about you."
It was as if it were a test. A test for Natsume. But he just silently nodded. Ruka gave him a skeptical look, and then slowly left. Natsume listened to the gentle thuds of his footsteps down the halls, until they faded and disappeared.
Natsume stood up and looked at his hand again, the handkerchief so oddly pure and cheerful around his hand. Just like that girl.
Mikan is very worried about you.
Even if he denied it, he couldn't help feel a very small flicker of hope dance in his heart, as small as it is.
Natsume washed his wound carefully, watching the icy cold water trickle between his fingers and swirl down the drain. Then he dried his hand and reached for the first aid cabinet. He started bandaging his hand again, but it just ended up a complicated mess. For some reason, he refused to give up, and he tried again. He failed again, but it looked better than before, and so he continued. Again and again he tried and tried, even though failing, but improving.
Finally, he managed to wrap his hand in what seemed to be an appropriate and neat way. He looked at his hand, feeling somewhat triumphant, and he cleaned up the mess he made and started to return to reading. But then the handkerchief caught his eye and he picked it up. A little of his blood stained it, but it was still looking clean and cheerful. Perhaps it was the colour. But it sure reminded him of that girl.
He decided to wash it and return it to Mikan later. But as he carried it to the sink, he noticed that the handkerchief held a faint fragrance of oranges. Oranges? He stopped on his tracks and held it a little closer to his face. Definitely oranges. He thought of Mikan and a smile shadowed his face. How suitable.
He started washing it, but noticed that the blood wouldn't come out. He washed and scrubbed, but the stain was there. Finally, he sighed and gave up. He would just have to buy the girl another one. He hoped she wouldn't mind.
And so, folding the handkerchief neatly and placing it aside, the Black Cat made his way to Central Town.
"He's not as bad as he looks. Maybe just a little shy or a bit confused." Mikan explained to her friend Hotaru. Confused… where did that come from? Mikan shook her head and once again displayed a cheerful smile. Then the upbeat brunette continued chattering, until Hotaru threatened her with another of her inventions.
It was more than effective, and Mikan just sat quietly and watched her friend work.
Finally, Mikan got tired of watching and told Hotaru that she wanted to go outside. Hotaru just gave her a dismissive wave and said that she should've done that long ago. Mikan just laughed, used to Hotaru's cold demeanor. But she knew that Hotaru cared deeply for her and she told her that she'd be back.
Mikan left her friend's laboratory and wandered aimlessly until she finally got outside. She strolled to a nearby Sakura tree and looked up at it admiringly. The blossoms were especially beautiful this year.
Suddenly, a strong wind whipped up, and the Sakura blossoms fell from the trees and swirled around her, and her umber coloured hair immediately escaped from its pigtails and followed the wind. Now, it didn't move in the way that you would probably imagine in a cheesy romantic movie, but in a very messy way that made our brunette cry out loud.
She struggled to pull her hair out of her eyes, as well as picking the blossoms from her clothes and hair. But her hair wouldn't listen. There was a reason why I almost never put my hair down, she grumbled, sighing at her rebellious hair.
"A little trouble?" Mikan turned and saw the masked boy standing just a few inches from her, and she was surprised. She didn't even notice his presence. She just nodded and continued her attempt to untangle her hair. The Black Cat was now, perhaps, slightly amused. A tiny smirk could be seen from underneath his cursed mask, but only if you peer close enough.
Finally, she succeeded to untangle her hair as best as she could in the most respectful way she could manage. It was still slightly a mess, but it was only what Mikan could manage for now. Then she turned her attention to Natsume and beamed a smile at him, slightly embarrassed. No, she wasn't embarrassed that her hair was a mess and she had to awkwardly untangle it before one of the major heartthrobs in the academy, but embarrassed that she hadn't noticed him arrive and ignored him while she untangled her hair. Thus was the conscience of our kind hearted tangerine.
Natsume felt himself take a step forward and take a Sakura blossom out of her hair. "It suits you." He found himself whispering. Mikan looking up at him with wide eyes. After a second, she blinked and smiled. "What?" Natsume dropped his hand, letting the flower fall from his fingers and get carried off by the wind. Natsume just shook his head. There was silence, and then Mikan's eyes trailed towards his hand, which was stuffed in his pocket.
"How is your hand?" Mikan questioned, with concern in her eyes.
"It's fine." He answered briefly, but offered his bandaged hand for her to inspect.
"Wow—you actually wrapped it yourself?" Mikan exclaimed, but was then embarrassed at the skeptical tone in her voice.
For once, Natsume wasn't angry that someone doubted him. Instead, he felt a sense of accomplishment and he smiled. Yes, he smiled. "Yes, yes I did." He replied.
"That's great!" She said honestly with a happy smile. "Where are you going next?"
"Central Town." He said.
"Really? I haven't been there much. One star allowances do not exactly make me wealthy." She laughed, and continued chattering on about being a One Star, Central Town, and her friends, anything she thought about at that moment.
Natsume just listened, and he was very surprised when he found that both of them were heading towards Central Town, walking side by side. He continued to listen, and he found that he was actually at ease with this girl, and soon he just relaxed. But it felt a bit odd, since in the past, he had always been the 'leader', if you could say that. People followed him. He was never the one to follow or walk together with someone. Unless you count the few times in the past with Ruka, but now it felt like a distant memory.
No sooner were they in the bustling streets of Central Town. Mikan now stopped talking, and she was running everywhere, looking in fascination at the Alice enhanced products the stores offered. She seemed to be off in her own little world, acting like a small child, wanting to touch anything she found interesting. Natsume found this amusing, but said nothing, and just followed her.
Mikan was not very pretty—she was average and plain-looking, Natsume observed. But he liked her facial expressions. They were exciting and amusing to watch. She was average, yes. She was plain, yes. But she wasn't boring. She was anything but boring. She was full of surprises and smiles.
Being with her, Natsume almost forgot what he came to Central Town for. He took a look at the girl, and then slipped away quietly. He headed for a store, and with his allowance that the academy gave a generous amount of, he walked down the displays, wondering how there can be so many selections of just a mere handkerchief.
He sighed, but decided to be patient, for once. He just kept on looking, stopping a few times to consider, then moved on. When the store clerk offered some advice, Natsume just gave him a glare that sent him trembling in the corner. For some reason, he wanted to decide himself.
He thought of Mikan. What would she like? They were classmates for a long time, sure, and he had vague recalls of her talking to him, but he couldn't be sure. He also recalled burning her and her yelling at him a few times, but he couldn't be sure of that either. He decided to let it be.
Natsume frowned, as he couldn't find a handkerchief that looked like it suited Mikan. But then he found that he was getting angry at himself. What was he doing here? Why is he thinking of something as stupid as to what suits her and what doesn't? It's just a handkerchief. Why doesn't he just grab one and leave?
But something nagged at him at the back of his mind, and he continued his search.
Finally, Natsume spotted a sunny yellow handkerchief bordered pink, with Sakura petals and blossoms on it. He remembered himself telling that girl that Sakura blossoms suited her. He wondered where that came from. He let his thoughts wander, until a girl tapped him on the shoulder and asked him if he had made his selection.
Natsume blinked, then looked at the handkerchief in his hand, and then nodded. The girl walked to the front of the store, and Natsume followed her. While he waited, the girl commented, "It's a nice choice you made there." Natsume looked at the girl, and she was nodding towards the handkerchief he had chosen. He just shrugged. But perhaps he was feeling just a teeny bit proud.
After he left the store, he went to find Mikan. She was staring in awe at a display in a store window. She turned around when he tapped her on the shoulder, and her face brightened. "Natsume! I was wondering where you went." Before Natsume had any chance to respond—which he actually wasn't going to, she held up a small box. Natsume looked at the box, as if saying, 'huh?' Mikan laughed and opened the box, revealing some candy inside—Howalon. Natsume identified what it is, though he never tasted one before. Ruka and some of his classmates have eaten it, but he refused when they offered him some. He never really had much of a sweet tooth.
He was going to refuse again, but the eager and hopeful look on her face stopped him. He wavered a little, and then finally reaching into the box. But then, he remembered the mask and reached back. "I can't." He said simply, pointing at the mask. Mikan looked, slightly disappointed, but then brightened her face and put on a smile. "I understand." And she put away the box, apologizing for her insensitivity for not realizing. Natsume didn't say anything.
Then he reached into his pocket and brought out the handkerchief and handed it to her. She looked at it, and then smiled at him. "That's an odd handkerchief for you to be carrying around, Natsume." Natsume felt his cheeks grow warm under the mask, and for once he was thankful it was there to conceal it. He just placed it in her hands and said, "It's yours." Mikan looked at him in surprise at the simple statement, and she said, "It's not mine." Now Natsume felt frustrated. She was kind of dense.
"It's a gift." He said slowly. Mikan felt her cheeks grow warm, and even though his face was hidden behind the mask, she could feel him looking at her as though she was slightly retarded.
"But you didn't have to." She said, still not accepting it. Natsume sighed and said, "I couldn't wash the blood off the handkerchief you gave me, so I got you a new one. It's a replacement." "Oh." She said, as if finally comprehending.
She accepted the gift and marveled how pretty it was. "Wow, you chose such a nice one. Now I might not ever use it!" She laughed. Natsume found a flicker of happiness as he saw the sparkle in her honey brown orbs.
After that, they started to return to the academy. Mikan continued to chatter, just like when they were going to Central Town, but Natsume tuned out this time. He let his thoughts wander again, Mikan's voice serving as a background noise. He noticed that it was getting late, and he tilted his head towards the darkening sky.
Night time always suffocated him. It was the time when shadows of pain lurked in his mind, and when loneliness would engulf him. The moon… the moon gave him different feelings.
If the moon was clear and bright, he felt as if the light was harsh, and it penetrated his mind and thoughts. The pure moonlight seemed to suffocate him. The purity demanded the truth; and the way the moonlight shone on him—burned him—made him feel naked and bare. He felt exposed—he could only see the truth—he could only see the blood that stained his hands.
If the moon was partly concealed by the dark clouds, he only felt lonely. The moon was like everyone else, and people only saw part of him. The clouds blocked them out; no one could see him completely. And yet the moon shone brightly; everyone was happy except him.
And if the moon was completely concealed and no where in sight, he felt as if the dark clouds against the night sky was the wall—the trap he had built around himself. He could not step outside this boundary. He couldn't see—he refused to see the world outside the wall, and instead he trapped himself within his own trap. Suffocating. His soul dying.
"Natsume?" The Black Cat turned and met a pair of honey brown orbs. And there, under the moonlight, Mikan stared innocently at him. Just like the moon, full and clear, that hung above, she was pure. Again, he felt suffocated. It demanded the truth.
The truth.
"Are you okay?" Mikan asked. "You're trembling." She looked at him, alarmed. Natsume didn't speak. Mikan took his hand and said, "Come on, I think it's because of the cold. Let's get back." And she turned and started walking, her hand still grasping his. He followed her.
For a split second, under the moonlight, innocent Mikan looked like an angel. And it felt as if she were leading him—guiding him from the darkness.
An angel.
Natsume, with the other hand, reached out. He almost touched her, but then took his hand back and crushed his fingers into a fist. Mikan was pure. Innocent. She had to stay away from him.
She could fall into darkness herself.
He let his fingers fall loose by his side. Then, he reached his hand out again. This time, he pulled her into an embrace.
Mikan was obviously shocked, and his name fell from her lips. Natsume did not speak. He just buried his head into her soft umber hair, her body pressed close to his. She held a faint fragrance of tangerines. And then, his lips brushed ever so gently over hers, and then he let her go.
Mikan's head was spinning, and her heart was pounding fast. When she returned to her senses, she turned around, and all that was left was the night, silent around her, and the moon, shining fully and ever so brightly.
Natsume sat on the tree, watching Mikan look around in confusion below.
He felt cool air breeze past his warm face, and the next thing he knew, his mask fell onto his lap. He picked it up, his fingers running over the surface of the mask. The curse had worn off. Until next time.
He then placed his fingers on his lips, and then let his hand fall to his side.
A gift from a broken angel.
a/n: Ah... now that's out of my system, I can continue on in peace. To say seriously, I'm really not satisfied with this story. I think ideas and events are running amok, and they're just all over the place. And the ideas and storyline is so old... -sigh-... but I just had to write it out myself anyway. Call me stubborn. -le gasp- now I'm becoming a critic for my own story.
I hope you liked it, and please review!
... And now I'm going to read another story and become a critic for that instead...