Love/Hate (Lemon GarouxReader 🍋)

Tell Me (Sweet Little) Lies

You stay still for a moment, not daring to move, part of you still not quite believing, too afraid to believe, how well that went. Afraid that it's just a fluke, or a dream, or... But another part of your mind is sure, begins to feel the warmth of tentative, growing confidence. This is no fluke.
Your eyes wander over the pages of the physics practice test. You flip the papers over, seeing your writing, your calculations, neat and organized, not the usual scribbled and crossed out mess your tests resemble.
Garou...You feel his body against yours. He says nothing, waits for you with affectionate patience to decide what to do, arms around your waist.
Garou...
How did he do it?
He waits. Wants to know what you're thinking and feeling. The feel of your body in his arms tells him a lot, but he wants to see your face. See it for himself. Did he help? Did he manage to do something right?
You feel a light blush cross your cheeks and softly touch your hands to your face, as if trying to make it disappear, before you dare to turn around.
"I..." suddenly you can't look him in the eye and you don't know what you were going to say, feeling a little embarrassed for getting so emotional. You're just still stunned by this sudden new experience. "I did it," you finally manage quietly, eyes wide with surprise and excitement.
He feels like he'd been holding his breath, especially when you looked away, but now breathes a happy sigh of relief instead, his grin returning.
"I mean...you did it," you say, getting all mixed up. "I mean you and I-"
"No," he cuts you off, his voice quiet and kind, before you turn into a blushing mess. You had it right the first time. "You did it."
You stay silent for a moment, thinking, your little fist under your chin.
"It shouldn't be like this," you finally say, looking at him again. "It's...it's stupid. I should be able to do this by now. I'm just so..." you can't even find the words
He can hear your frustration, but more so your embarrassment. In some ways you two are very much alike, believing that you should be able to do everything, on your own, without any help from anyone... And for some unfathomable reason, you are both much more understanding and kind to each other than you are to yourselves.
"Smart?" he suggests helpfully with a little wink.
"If I was smart I'd be able to do this stuff," you say.
"That ain't the same thing," he says.
He understands now, understands so well after your tearful words, your words that maybe let on more than you intended. Your anxiety has nothing to do with being smart or not, and is no reflection of your intelligence. You have people you're terrified of disappointing, and until recently he had no idea what that might like, what that feels like, the only person he never wanted to disappoint being himself. But you're stronger than you know...
"That ain't the same thing," he repeats, his voice a little softer, looking right into your bright eyes.
The way he looks at you...it feels...different. Intense and concerned and warm. This look...it seeps into your very being, making your heart beat just a little faster, a little harder. Why?
You don't have anything to say, staying completely still, lost for a moment in those glowing, amber eyes.
Finally you remember yourself and quickly look away, the blush quickly creeping back into your cheeks.
You look at the time, the evening having fully fallen around you, the bright night sky outside, and hug yourself, rubbing your arms, suddenly feeling the oncoming chill, this furisode beautiful but not enough to protect you from the changing autumn weather.
"I'm going to make some tea," you say, sliding off his lap, trying to conceal your reluctance at doing so. "Do you want some?"
"Why not?" he gives a content shrug and follows you into the kitchen. Doesn't remember the last time he had tea.
You fill the little trusty electric kettle and switch it on. It may be old, the brand name all but rubbed off, but it still works perfectly fine.
While the water comes to a boil, you take the clip out of your hair and slip out of the ornamental kimono, draping it carefully over the back of the couch. You catch Garou watching you carefully with a sort of quiet curiosity out of the corner of your eye.
The coming of age ceremony, that's not for another two years, so for you to have this furisode... He wonders. It's most likely not yours, or rather, wasn't yours. But he feels it's not his place to ask.
It must have been quite a surprise for him to find you dressed like this, you think as you slip your sweater back on and you can't blame his interest.
"It was my mother's," you say, trying to keep your voice calm and even, your back to him as you pour the hot water into mugs and dip the green tea sachets into them, making them bob around on the surface a bit, getting all the flavour out.
Even without seeing your face he can tell that this is not an easy thing for you to talk about, the way your shoulders tense up a little, the subtle tightness in your voice. He doesn't want you to talk about anything upsetting, anything bringing back bad memories. Listens, but says nothing, not wanting you to feel like you have to talk.
You set the cups down on the table and take a seat across from him, folding your legs under you, getting comfortable.
"You don't have to-"
"It's fine," you say, and you really mean it. It's been so long. "I...think it helps to talk about it." You pause for a moment and take a deep breath, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. "It was just after Ryo turned two..." you begin.
And you tell your story. You tell him everything that happened. Every event, every detail you can remember, as if you're afraid you'll forget if you don't say them out loud, tell them to another person. Your words just keep coming, your hands becoming more animated. You've never told anyone besides Tsukiko this much before. And he sits there, and listens to every word, because this is your story, and your life. Because this is part of you.
The story you tell him, it's raw and painful. Too many downs and not enough ups. Not nearly enough. There are some things he can relate to, knows exactly what you went through, and others are new and alien to him. Some of your experiences, he wouldn't know what it's like at all. But he feels he understands you better all the same.
You make sure to make it clear throughout that things are much better now for you, and for Ryo and everyone involved but he can't help but feel a faint sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the memories of your first two years of knowing each other coming back. The memories of what he had said, Tsukiko's admonition for making you cry. If he had known all this back then...If he had known... Would he have done things differently? Been better? He'd like to believe that yes, he would have, because the alternative makes him feel somewhat sick.
He listens to you, carefully and intently and in the back of his mind he wonders if you'll ever ask about his life, if you want to know about his past. He hopes you don't because there's nothing important there to tell, no story, just a stupid pathetic kid who should've known better, should've been stronger. And less trusting. An agonizing lesson learnt over and over until it stuck. A past that's best forgotten.