You are, as ever, alone in your room.

The wrench that you're basically known for rests in your left hand, and your little screwdriver sits within your right. This screw that you're presently glaring at has been particularly annoying and has taken you quite awhile to loosen. Once more, you take your right hand and stick the screwdriver's tip into it, turning and turning until your arm becomes sore.

You finish up with that clock quickly after the difficult screw comes out obediently like it should. You almost smile to yourself because of your accomplishment, before you catch yourself in the act and remember about your brooding and serious façade. Smiling would be completely uncharacteristic of you.

The setting sun casts an orange glow on the room. The papers and books scattered across the floor become painfully obvious, and you scowl, making a mental note to try and tidy the mess up tomorrow. Given your luck, Ace would probably bring you a fresh potato sack full of clocks dripping in blood and they would leave you no time to do so.

'She was supposed to be home early today,'you think, scrunching up your eyebrows and sipping your freshly brewed coffee, flustered. Ouch! You wince, as the hot liquid burns your mouth. The pain makes you drop your mug and the wrench you forgot you were still holding. Coffee spills down your coat and drenches the front of your cream-coloured undershirt, while your wrench falls onto your foot.

Thinking of her makes you nervous.

That is pretty much evident, as it led to all the crazy mistakes that you just made. Normally, it would be so easy to keep your cool and be careful and precise.

When you see her, now, that is a whole other story.

Nervous doesn't even begin to describe how you feel when she's right there in front of you…

Like she is now.

She cocks her eyebrow, taking in the scene.

If you had anything else in your hands, you'd drop those too. But you only have so many hands…

"I'm back, Julius! Um… Sorry I'm late, I went to pick up groceries but I saw Ace on the way! He told me to give this to you," she says, raising the rough sack with objects threatening to protrude out of it, clutched tightly in her right hand.

You stand there for a moment, hoping that the brown of the coffee earlier doesn't stand out too much against the dark of your coat's fabric. Within moments, you realize that she's offering the bag to you and feel stupid for standing there dumbly when you take it from her. Your fingers, still covered in coffee, brush against hers lightly.

Alice looks like she's about to tease you, when you turn around abruptly.

"O-Oy… You can go now… I have stuff to do."

You say, in your usual, standoffish way. Quickly, you wish that you could take it, along with everything you've ever said coldly to her, back. You begin walking towards your desk, when the sound of her voice makes you halt.

"I could wash your coat for you, you know…"

What she says catches you off guard. You didn't even think she would notice anything, because the only light in the room came from the dim lamp upon your desk. The moment becomes slightly awkward, as you ponder how she possibly noticed.

"How… Did you know?" You say, suddenly having the courage to turn around and look at her in the eye. A second later, you decide that all the courage you had left you. You decide that down at your shoes is the best place to look.

"Huh? O-Oh, I uh," she stammers nervously, a blush creeping up to her cheeks, "it's just that your fingers were sticky… A-And I saw the stain. On your shirt, I mean…"

Your cheeks redden, too.

Adamantly, you say, "I'll take care of it."

The universal solution for every problem that exists.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see that her little, delicate fingers curl into a tiny fist, and then unfurl again.

She laughs, a tight and unnatural sound, "It's okay Julius! I can do it, really! It'll take me a few minutes."

But you can't afford to let her do things for you. You can't let her take care of you, ever, because you need to be the one to take care of her. She's so tiny and fragile and breakable. You remember that time when she came home with scrapes on her knees. "I'm okay!" She said, but you saw the blood dripping down her leg and bandaged her wounds until they were completely hidden by white.

That was the only thing that would give you peace… Her, knowing that she could depend on you. Knowing that you were perfect and didn't need her help. The fact that your problems didn't weigh down on her shoulders made you sane.

"Julius… Look, it's okay if you need me to do it!"

No it's not.

Of course it's not.

You sigh as if you're exasperated. The bag of clocks makes a cluncking noise when you put it down on your worn, wooden desk. You sit down on your chair and notice the notes you've jotted down for yourself on a piece of coffee stained paper.

9 clocks to go.

"Why can't you just let me help you sometimes?"

Her trembling voice makes you forget about your duty and look up at her immediately. She's staring down at the reddish-brown carpet and her hands make tiny fists again.

"I would, but there's nothing you can help with."

You say it emotionlessly, pulling the potato sack to you and sticking your right hand in it. You rummage around, pulling an especially bloody clock out.

"Yes there is! You're always like this… Why is it so bad to depend on me?"

The breath you were going to take hitches in your throat, but you take another one and open your mouth, "Alice, why would I need to depend on you if there's nothing wrong?"

"This is wrong." She says, looking at you.

You contemplate talking to her and looking into her eyes like you mean what you say, but you can't bring yourself to do it.

She continues what she was saying bitterly, "You know why this is wrong? Because I want to help you. I really do… You just always push me away."

"Why do you want to help anyway?"

"I love you, is that not a good enough reason?" She asks simply, as if it's the most shocking thing in the world.

The silence in the room allows you to hear the heels of her shoes slowly but surely click clacking across the floor. You even hear it when she steps on a piece of paper and rips it by accident. She lowers herself so that her eyes are level with yours. You can feel her breath on your cheek.

Finally, you can't ignore the fact that maybe your method of loving her was wrong, because her perfect teal eyes scan your face, curious, and more importantly, expectant. They linger on your lips, and you notice that her own part ever so slightly.

"Julius," she breathes.

You're no match for her. She doesn't say anything more, but you see your mistakes as if they're suddenly crystal clear. They come crashing down on you like a rude awakening from a dream. Loving her in that soft, careful, and hesitant way of yours wasn't always the best. Maybe for you- you were always scared of receiving. You wanted to give and give and give to her, until you had nothing left. You always thought that she didn't have much to give, so it was unfair to take.

You didn't know that Alice Liddell wanted a fiery storm to carry her away. She wanted your fingers, rough from the cold, wintry weather as well as from tinkering with clocks daily, knotted in her hair. She wanted your lips to steal her breath away. She wanted you to love her like you could, but just wouldn't.

She just wanted you.

She had so much to give you, but you didn't know.

Not until now.

You take a deep breath, as if it'll prepare you for what you're going to do. Then, you pull her face gently to you and kiss her with as much fire as there is within you. As soon as you do, you can feel her smiling against your lips.

A/N: Gah! So, I can't believe I haven't done this in my other fics, but thanks for reading How to Love Her! :')

As well, thanks to everyone who has reviewed the stuff that I've written! You guys are the best!

HARHAR. Yeah, so, I hope you liked it and stufffff! X'D -awkward-