The Truth About the Girl With the Broken Smile [Ouran Host Club] (Editing)

Broken

                I slid onto a bench and stared up at the sky. Pastel pinks and oranges cast themselves along the horizon tainting the soft clouds in their colors. I sighed, easing back on the palm of my hands. I tried Dad several times on his cell, but he refused to answer. I could picture him in a stuffy old room filing through sheets of paperwork and sketches. He was always so busy; he barely had time for me. His only daughter.

                “Beautiful day.” Someone stated. I did a slow turn to face Tamaki. I gave him a weary smile, offering the open place on the bench. He nodded and sat. “We overwhelmed you back there, didn’t we?”

                I chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it, yes.” I agreed. I stared down at my hands. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m this skittish new girl who’s no fun what-so-ever.”

                “I never said that.” He said carefully. I eyed him. He seemed to be telling the truth, but that didn’t stop the guilt from pinching my stomach. I vaguely remembered a time when I was fun. But who was I now? “India, I think you’re a lovely girl. But there’s something wrong with the way you smile.”

                 My mouth gaped wide open. Who was this guy? He glanced up, making eye contact with me. His indigo eyes scanned me for some truth, but I was unable to give him any. “Something, wrong?” My mouth went numb. Around every corner, I found myself being cut down. Ouran High School proved to be more tricky than I’d originally thought. Dad was wrong. I wasn’t ready for this.

Not.

At.

All.

                “Yes, something about your smile is broken. I asked Kyoya and he agreed, but he has no records on what happened to you before you came here. All he has is a name and a face.”

                I gave him a blank stare. I could guess what he was hinting at, but I wasn’t quite sure where he wanted me to go. “I don’t know what to say.” I breathed. “What do you want me to say? That I’m broken?” I felt rage licking at my insides. I wanted to scream. “Do you want me to admit that I’m pitiful and lonely? Do you want to fix me? Is that it? Am I a broken toy?”

                “India, I never said that.” He said defensively, hands out in front of him, smile slipping. “Please, Princess, don’t take it the wrong way.”

                “Don’t call me Princess.” I growled. “And my name is Indie, not India.”

                “Indie.” He repeated. He still didn’t grasp that he’d struck a nerve. I wasn’t ready to talk. I couldn’t. I hated that he called me broken, he didn’t know me. He didn’t know my story, just like I didn’t know a thing about him. “Indie, I’m so sorry. Haruhi is usually so good at this, I’m sorry. I just hate that you’re going through this alone.”

                A smile twitched at the corner of my lips. He meant well, that much was clear. He was just an idiot. I patted his shoulder. “Thank you. I mean it, you’re sweet, but some things you just need to give time. I, my friend, am one of those things. When the time is right, I’ll tell you. Maybe.”

                “Maybe?” He asked hopefully. I laughed.

                “Yeah, maybe.” There was a pause; neither of us knew what else to say. I stirred. “So, may I ask you a question?”

                “Of course.”

                “Earlier today, one of the twins went nuclear on me. What did I do?”