The Way of the Fanboy (Male Reader x Shikimori)

Tears

Y/n slowly approached the doorstep of Shikimori's home. It was an ingloriously large house in a town of birdhouses; not big enough to be a mansion, but big enough to stick out. Y/n knew very little about Shikimori's actual family. He only recently found out about her brother, and he only knew that her mother was relatively strict.

Y/n recalled Shikimori's label for her mother—"stern, but caring."

It hit Y/n that maybe he should have brought something as a gift for Shikimori to help her feel better. Y/n also began to understand, that once he knocked on the door, he would feel the true dread of Izumi's death.

At first, when Y/n received the news, he could only pretend to be shocked; it was too unbelievable to comprehend. Then after the idea sank in, there was the very guilty thought that Y/n's competition was removed. The shame from thinking of such a thing killed his sleep. Not to mention, the recent aches in his stomach during the night worsened. Then an even worse thought struck Y/n's head—he didn't know the fine details about how Izumi died, but he knew that Izumi was running to Shikimori to try and fix their soured relationship—was Izumi's death his fault?

Y/n had passed his own burning embers to Izumi out of pity, but could those very embers have consumed Izumi whole?

Y/n felt an immense guiltiness, and he almost decided to never show his face to Shikimori. But Kyou convinced him otherwise.

"She needs her friends' help," is what Kyou had explained to Y/n.

Y/n wasn't even sure if he could even consider himself Shikimori's friend anymore. But he swallowed up his feelings about the event and decided to formally express his sympathy for the loss.

He set a straight face and knocked on the door.

There was a long silence, until Y/n heard slow shuffling toward the door.

Shikimori was the one to open the door. "Hey Shikimori," Y/n tried to avert his eyes. "I wanted to see how you were doing after..."

Y/n unintentionally looked down to meet Shikimori's eyes, and he felt his heart split into half like an egg.

It was after school, but Shikimori hadn't changed out of her school uniform and only bothered to remove the tie. Her eyes had lost their ocean gleam and became a deep dark abyss.

"Shikimori?" Y/n's mask shattered, and he couldn't hold back his compassion.

He saw mist form around Shikimori's eyes, as she stared back at him. "Y/n..." she sniffled shakily. Shikimori tried to hold down her emotions in her throat, but her sobs broke out.

She instantly clasped her arms around Y/n and buried her face into his shirt. "I-I should've listened to you, but I just couldn't talk to him!" she cried into his chest.

At that moment, Y/n wanted to tightly embrace Shikimori, but shock and guilt made him stumble backward.

"Shikimori..." Y/n's voice cracked. 

Y/n could feel Shikimori's cries of agony vibrate against his chest. He lightly rested his palms on her back, to give some warmth, but something deep inside his abyss stopped him from embracing her.

But he let Shikimori release her cries into him. For a long while, Shikimori cried and cried.

Y/n suddenly thought of something he heard his father say at a young age—those who cry the loudest, hide their emotions the most.