Accept
By Shahrezad1
Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue, I stole this disclaimer from someone else but that's about it since Hey Arnold belongs to Craig Bartlett and Nick, while "Resistor" belongs to Brave Saint Saturn, so please don't sue. Thanks much.
Summary: There always comes a point in our lives when we reach a realization. That love is all that really matters in the end.
Two dedications:
To Carlos. This one's for you, Calvimonte. Thank you. You were my Arnold.
And to Hilarie. We love you. You won't be getting rid of us just yet.
Under twenty thousand tons of brick and stone,
She carries all the weight of her own world.
And somewhere deep inside,
beneath the cartilage and bone,
Beats the battered heart of one little girl, alone.
I love her.
And I have for a while now. I can still remember the day I finally realized it. We'd been in science class, seventh grade. The teacher had put in a movie; one Hollywood had just put out regarding the impact of genetics on the future, and a new form of bigotry, based on your DNA. I'd been only slightly interested. Then my eyes had fallen on her, sitting across from me and staring intently at my hands, scarred with hard labor from working in the local flower shop. Feeling someone watching her, she'd looked up and our eyes had met. She'd blushed and turned away.
It was then that I knew.
She is sweet like sugar,
But she is bitter like the broken sugar pot.
Dad says that she could be,
anything she wants to be.
She only sees what she is not.
She reminds me of a bittersweet song I heard once, but can't remember the lyrics to. All I remember is the feeling. That everyone was trying to reach out to the girl, but she'd chosen to close herself off to the reality of those around her.
I've been trying since kindergarten.
But it wasn't until seventh grade that I realized it wasn't just her soul I'd been fighting for, but also my own. I didn't know what I would do without her. The thought itself scares me.
Disbeliever, Underachiever,
Disconcerted with the way things look from here.
Disinclined, Disinterested,
Nothing in your world stays clear.
I like to think she'd miss me if I was gone. Most of our lives I've been her victim. This hasn't changed much now that we're in high school, and sometimes it makes me want to give up. But then she'll do something that gives me hope. A smile, a talking-to, the realization that she's watching me when no one else is looking. Her willingness to be my pity date when I was running for Homecoming King (it was for extra credit, I swear).
But every time I think she's going to let me in, the barriers comes crashing down. I think if I could just manage to get one of those doors cracked open, maybe I could…
With the blanket of security,
and the mighty force of her own will.
Treading water in her pink pajamas,
she is treading water still.
Her home life's gotten worse, that much I know. We don't talk as much as I'd like to. But that doesn't keep me from passing by her house three, sometimes four, times a day. I've seen it and heard it all for myself. And once, on a night I'll always remember, she came out of the house in tears.
I'd only just rounded the corner and she hadn't seen me yet. But I'd seen her, and I would never forget it. Wrapped in warm pajamas and a tatty robe, she'd looked more like a nine year old than a teenager. My mind had stopped, not understanding that she, the epitome of strength…was falling apart before my eyes. My mind rejected what I was seeing and my heart…my heart had ached. In the darkness something wet had fallen against my neck, and it had taken me checking for rain to realize that it had come from me.
I was crying uncontrollably even as she sobbed into the night, my sympathetic tears silent as I shared her sorrow. She for the horror that was her life, and me for my desire to take her from it.
But what could I do? We're both only sixteen. It's hard to see the bright side of things when the one you love is living in shadow.
Hopelessly hopeless,
She is swimming further into the sea.
Thinking she's substandard,
while all the while,
She is beautiful to me.
Footsteps pounding to the beat of millions of people passing each other every day without caring, we go by one another. At school, in class, at the mall, and down the street, our worlds collide and momentarily share the same space, but never connect. If she sees me first, an insult will be passed. If I see her and am not seen in return, I get to watch her. Sometimes she's with her best friend, sometimes alone. The body language stays the same. Leave me alone, I'm fine on my own, and I don't want to talk to you written across her face, she warns the world away. Before losing herself to the inevitable self doubt that follows. Her eyes follow peers and adults alike, judging herself against them and finding herself lacking. Looks, personality, intelligence—she's never good enough.
It's times like those I fight my own lack of self-restraint, aching with every fiber of my being to just wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. So that she'll never feel unloved again.
But you can't fix a person like you can fix a broken watch, Grandpa's voice will remind me, people have to fix themselves.
Yeah, yeah.
Disbeliever, Underachiever,
Don't you shed another tear.
Little sister,
Broken heart resistor,
It's not like that over here.
It's not fixing that's needed—there's nothing wrong with who she is. It's healing. But he's right that she needs to take the first step. Because even if people can't heal themselves, they have to at least want to be healed. To let others in, to help them mend themselves, stitch by stitch. The scars will fade with time.
She is strong and silent,
She is blunt and shrewd.
She thinks that nobody loves her,
If she only knew!
How much we all have missed her.
We are praying for you,
My little sister.
Her insults are music to my ears. It pains me to say that, but it's like being on a roller coaster ride, or eating spicy food. Every day is a risk, and spending time with her leaves you winded and worried. But you're left savoring every moment, regardless.
So many times I've heard her belittle her own personality, comparing it with other, more pleasant ones. She'll never realize that it isn't them that I care about, but her. The bitterness is never fully hidden within her voice, the self-loathing a mark of her own loneliness. She thinks she'll never be cared for, never loved. Yet every night I think of her, and every free moment is filled with her eyes.
She'll never know how much I love her. And I'll never stop.
Disbeliever, Underachiever,
Disconcerted with the way things look from here.
Disinclined, Disinterested,
Nothing in your world stays clear.
Disbeliever, Underachiever,
Don't you shed another tear.
Little sister,
Broken heart resistor,
It's not like that over here.
It's not Valentines day. Nor even Christmas, Halloween, or April Fools. Instead I'm recognizing the day I will forever cherish. And today, I finally have the courage to do what I've been working toward for four years.
School's out, and yet she's still here. She was put in detention for punching Brainy again and, taking advantage of the situation, I'd waited. Finally she reaches her locker, long blonde hair pulled back in a severe ponytail to match her angry expression. She doesn't see me; I'm in a doorway several lockers down. Tiptoeing, I make my way behind her, gathering the courage to speak as she closes up shop.
She finally whirls around, and with it her open palm. The slap resounds through the hall, matched only by the look of horror that fills her features.
While she hadn't seen me, she'd definitely heard that someone was there. And calling upon all the power of a girl angry with the world, she'd reacted automatically.
Ashamed, she didn't even try to apologize, but to run. I'm faster, and with my left hand I grab hers and pull her back to face me, her back to her closed locker. Face aching, I smile and softly brush my fingers against her cheek. Sent into shock, she is frozen before me for the second time in our lives. My arms pull her into a hug, her head tucked against my shoulder.
Then I whisper words dear to my heart, as dear as the girl who permanently resides there, "nice bow. I like it because it matches your shirt."
She is frozen in shock, then like a dam breaking, falls into my embrace, sobbing and saying my name again and again. Not nicknames, not curses upon her lips, but my name alone, her hands tightening on me like she'll never let me go.
What she doesn't know is that I'm the one that'll never let her go. No matter the troubled times, the insults, the sorrows, or hardships. She can push and push, but I won't budge.
Helga, I promise that you will never feel unloved again.
Little sister,
Broken heart resistor,
It's not like that over here.
--
AN: This one had to be written. I needed a break from Sunny Side Up, both emotionally as well as creatively (which isn't to say I have stopped writing it, just that I feel bad about not posting anything for a while). And the feelings I've written into this are mixed with some I've felt for a long time. The movie incident really happened, as did two versions of the pity dance date, with two different guys.
But…this one-shot isn't about any of that. It's about the feeling, the realization. Only love matters. Love and kindness from others, and the love you feel for those dear to you. Share it before it's too late. Share it before they become too self-doubting to believe; before you both move away. Share how grateful you are they were a part of your lives, or have become a fixture in your life right now.
Love is what matters.