Don't Let Them See You Cry (Suzu / Misha)

Don't Let Them See You Cry


Misha is having a good day. After all, she woke up this morning. And she had a nice breakfast, classes weren't too hard, and she managed to do okay on a pop quiz in Science.

It's even nice outside. It's beautiful, it is. The sun has almost set by now, but for a while. In the Student Council room. Warm, warm light had been pouring through the window, and she had been with Shicchan and the light, that light had just bathed the Student Council President. Her President.

Misha had seen. Misha had wanted, and yearned and longed.

She hurt. She smiled. And it's all just kind of built up and spilled over and now, now she's crying.

Misha is having a good day, she is. She is. Every day is a good day, every day is a chance to do fun things, she gets to spend every day with Shicchan, she gets to stay by her side. But sometimes... often times, it almost feels like. Almost every day, she hurts, too.

Her face is scrunched up as she walks through the halls of the deserted school building, her face is hot and wet and she could smile, if she bumped into anyone here. She could smile in an instant. But they wouldn't believe it, so she's going to stay here for a while longer before heading back to the dorms. Before seeing so many other people. Before smiling again.

For now, Misha cries. She makes soft, quiet little sobs, she clutches her hands in front of her chest. They're balled into fists, like she doesn't know whether to clench them tightly to give herself strength or to wrap her arms around herself.

She doesn't want this, to cry, to hurt. She wants something else. She wants someone else, and she wants them so much.

Misha resists the urge to bury her face in her hands, to plead and whisper to herself, to tell herself that it will be okay, it will all be okay. Today is a good today. Yesterday was too, and tomorrow, tomorrow will be another one. They're all good days. But... couldn't they be better? Things, couldn't they be just a little better for her?

Abruptly, her steps are halted by her foot bumping into something. Still sniffling, Misha looks down in surprise. There, painted in the fading orange glow of the setting sun, a girl lies curled on the floor. Her thin, somewhat scrawny frame is curved into a semi-fetal position, her modest chest is moving up and down, back and forth, slowly. Misha recognizes the girl as one of her classmates, one who sits in the row in front of her. She has a... sleeping disorder, so this is nothing unusual, and nothing to worry about, which is a relief.

She looks so peaceful.

Misha stares with wet and burning eyes at the girl below her. Her face is the picture of serenity, eyes lightly closed, sea-green hair falling across her features. She... is she having a good dream? A happy dream? She's laying here, on the floor of the main school building, after class and when she should be somewhere else having fun. But she looks... happy. Is she happy?

Misha doesn't want to admit it, wouldn't admit it but she's jealous. It's weird, it's kind of wrong to be envying the students at a school like Yamaku, but that's how it is. That's how she is, and she can't change that.

This girl isn't hurting. She isn't--Misha reaches up to wipe her eyes--she isn't crying. And Misha's jealous, she wants to be like that. She wants to be okay. She wants to be safe, and warm, and--

Loved?

Yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

Misha's expression just cracks all over again, her lips are trembling, her shoulders, quivering. Yes.

Misha looks down again at her classmate. She sniffles one more time, shuts her eyes tightly, repeats to herself that things will be okay. And then she opens her eyes and does something selfish.



Suzu had been having an... interesting uptime. But then she had a downtime, and now here comes another uptime. Number seven. Maybe.

She can't remember what it was that was so interesting, and she can't quite remember why she's waking up in this wing of the school, but as she opens her eyes, she's just glad that her landing was a good one. An easy one, a simple one, the lack of any sharp, shooting pains or new aches, the insistent and rude ones tells her so.

There's... something else, though. Something... unusual. Suzu blinks, a motion like a camera that takes several shots before it finally comes into focus. There are too many arms and legs here. And there's a warmth, a body pressing into her back.

Suzu lifts her hazy head to look, still not awake enough to be sure if she should be upset, or panicking, or anything like that. A girl is laying behind her, is curled around and gently clinging to her. It's Misha, of course she knows her name. Everyone knows her name. And her hair. And her voice. Suzu briefly wonders if her classmate even remembers HER name, but the fact that she's cuddled up to her and fast asleep takes precedence.

Well... Suzu has woken up to stranger sights. And sensations, and in stranger places. So she decides not to panic. And besides, Misha is actually kind of comfortable, she's soft and... has she been crying?

She frowns, notices the still drying streaks that run down the girl's face, then frowns deeper. But Misha's always smiling. She's always laughing, and being so loud that Suzu can't fall asleep even if she desperately needs or wants to. But sometimes she doesn't want to sleep, sometimes she really needs to stay awake to hear this lecture, or take this test, or just listen to her friends dish out the latest gossip. So sometimes, that familiar, painful laughter is a good thing, sometimes it helps.

Misha is like... a billboard for a product you would never buy, but it's still kind of clever so you find yourself liking it. And you drive past it on the way to work every day, and every time you're like ha, there's that billboard. It's still there. Some things don't change. Unless you wake up and they're holding on to you and they've been crying their eyes out.

Suzu decides that she doesn't mind the unusual circumstances. For the moment, she doesn't mind the loud, booming laughter or the ear-piercing translations her classmate often delivers. Nobody should have to cry like that, not... unless they really deserved it. And she knows, Suzu knows that Misha doesn't deserve that. The floor below them is cool, the light that streams through the nearby windows is waning and thin now. But the body next to hers is warm, and soft, and from the looks of it, hurting and afraid.

Misha doesn't deserve that. Here, in this place, this warm and comfy and peaceful place, no one could deserve that.

Suzu lets out a quiet yawn, she glances up and down the hall but sees no one. Still, she twists around and gently pushes the slumbering girl a little bit closer to the wall, out of the middle of the hallway. She frowns again, wipes the last bit of moisture from Misha's cheeks. Then she lays back down, facing her this time, and wriggles back into her embrace, resting her forehead against her classmate's.

Misha mutters something soft in her sleep, it sounds like “...icchan”. But Suzu doesn't think about it, can't think about it. Uptime number seven--maybe--is ending, downtime number a lot is beginning. Lights are going off in her head and the hallway is fading away, but she doesn't mind right now.

Misha's tiny, frail and real smile is the last thing that Suzu sees as she puts her arm around the girl, and then they're both safe, and warm, and sound asleep.






“Don't Let Them See You Cry” is a song by Manchester Orchestra.