AN: Written in the middle of a Gurren Lagann marathon that lasted well into the morning. My sleep-deprived self is even worse at writing than normal, but she's much more productive.
This is the first fanfiction I've ever written, but unlike many other first-time fanfic writers here, I really don't care if you pick this apart in reviews, or if you submit a review consisting only of the words "LOL" and your choice of a synonym for dicks. I already know that this is total shit, though, so you really don't need to restate the fact.
**********
She leaves her house feeling uneasy.
She'd prefer to be excited. Though going to a baseball game with her parents isn't exactly the most unique experience ever, she could at least have something to talk about with her friends at school the next day.
Still, something tells her this is different, that this is somehow separate from any other baseball game.
She tries not to let it affect her as she drives to the stadium.
**********
When she arrives to the game, the feeling hasn't gone away. If anything, it's gotten stronger.
She climbs up the stairs to her seat, focusing on her steps, trying to keep her mind off of the thoughts eating away at her. She doesn't notice the sea of people sitting in the stadium with her until she herself is seated.
It's the exact moment when her life changes, she'll realize later.
Every single person across from her, in front of her, behind her, wherever they may be, is here to watch this baseball game. They'll go to work the next day and mention it to their coworkers. They'll impress the other kids at school just by being able to say that they were there the night Team X beat Team Y.
She's still in shock when she asks her parents how many people are in the stadium with her.
That shock won't ever really fade away.
**********
As she leaves her home once again, she remembers that night.
She remembers how she returned to her house still in shock, still numb.
She remembers pulling a calculator out from her parent's desk drawers, and doing the math that would further change how she lived.
Her teachers always said she was good at math. They would praise her for that, along with her skills in almost every other subject, telling her she was an above-average student and a team player.
Though she'd never admit it, she misses those comments. They're different from the ones she gets now, remarks on her apparent difficulties with forming friendships and her antisocial behaviors.
The school faculty doesn't understand that she doesn't want any friendships. She's had enough of living a typical life. Unless her classmates are out of the ordinary, she wants nothing to do with them.
She needs someone to liven up her life, she thinks, because she can't do it herself. She knows that she's a boring person. She's average. She's all those words she now dreads. Ordinary. Normal. Commonplace.
Dull.
She knows this, and yet she keeps striving to find others who are different. The question of why someone different, someone extraordinary, would speak with her for more than a fraction of a second is always at the back of her mind.
She pushes it away with the same motions she's used to push away others for quite some time, now.
Actions embedded in her brain.
If she ever were to tell him that she thought of herself as normal, he would laugh right in her face. He'd laugh at her, and she wouldn't completely understand why, but she'd join in eventually.
She'd do that because it's easier to laugh with someone than to be laughed at, right?
Not because it makes her happy enough to laugh when he's laughing, right?
Of course, she doesn't know him at this point.
She will shortly, though.
**********
She reaches the school she travels to every day without fully realizing it. Her feet followed the path despite her mind being occupied.
She likes that, but she's not sure why.
She's feeling exhilarated as she begins to lift herself over the barrier separating the school from the road. There are other emotions there, but she's locked them up for a long while, and she doesn't plan on unpacking them soon.
Someone interrupts her.
Yet another moment she'll be able to pinpoint as life-changing, though in a different way than before.
He's useless, she thinks.
It's easier for her to think that. She isn't quite sure if she should thank him or apologize to him, or perform some unknown ritual to allow him to be properly compensated. These common social occurrences have become foreign to her.
She starts to talk with him. Strangely, he agrees with her about her beliefs – wishes – whatever they really are.
He speaks like he's familiar with her already. She doesn't know if that's rude or not. She can't be entirely sure what is and isn't inappropriate behavior.
She's looking forward to high school just a little bit more, now.
**********
Her introduction to the class isn't specially prepared or nervously presented. To her, she's simply stating facts. She's disappointed that no one in her class stands out.
She starts to wonder if she made the right choice of schools. She's not particularly worried about her future; she's more concerned that he might not be here, that he might never have gone here.
The regret fades when the boy in front of her turns around and speaks. He talks to her like how he talked to her, and he doesn't seem to be mocking her or trying to ask her out.
It's a refreshing experience.
He's just as much of an idiot as the person she met that night, the person she forced her work onto – the person who, despite her shouted orders, despite their age difference, despite never having met her before…despite her dullness, carried a on conversation with her, however short it may have been.
Slowly, he blends together with this new person in her head. He continues to talk to her, and she continues to give her concise, often downright mean answers.
Soon, she drags him into her world.
Eventually, she won't be able to live without him.
It's not because he means anything to her, right? He's simply a subordinate, and high-quality subordinates are hard to find.
It's not because he'll follow her wherever she goes, whether she asks him or not, right?
Sure, she dragged him with her to that old, ramshackle room, filled only with dust, the scent of crumbling old books, and the small girl acting as a permanent fixture to the space. But he came back, didn't he? Day after day, he came back.
From time to time, she would overhear him talking with the others in the room, wondering why he of all people was here with them.
She never thought he meant that he was a relatively normal human being, while the others were more extraordinary than she could imagine.
She never had to spend enough time searching for an answer to come to that theory. In her mind, the answer was straightforward, and yet it seemed that he would never arrive to the same conclusion.
Further evidence of his stupidity.
He was the first to talk to her. Even she could see that her introduction, while simple, was different. It was weird. It had to be. Otherwise, she couldn't keep up her act. They would see that, underneath the pretense of her eccentricities and bizarre antics, she was just like any other dull, uninteresting girl.
It also served another purpose. If she seemed strange, hazardous even, her classmates wouldn't bother talking to her, assuming she was more trouble than she was worth. She could give her act a break, and not have to worry about being abandoned once it was discovered that she was more boring than a lecture on handball.
He'd laugh at that, too. She'd take comfort in knowing that he thought the idea of her being boring was laughable.
He would be right, though. She wouldn't know that for a long time, until she realized that she hadn't been putting on as much of an act as she had thought.
Until she remembered that people can change.
That she had indeed changed.
Despite her intended off-putting first impression, he spoke to her, in that familiar sarcastic tone she now found reassuring.
He hadn't stopped talking to her since.
He may not have been a supernatural being, but that was enough for her.
**********
She collected people, choosing them if they fit into her mental archetypes on sight. She grew closer to them, too, but they seemed…replaceable.
He didn't.
She could find another moe doormat of a girl, couldn't she? She was attached to this one like a child clings to a favorite toy, but if this doll was dropped somewhere it couldn't be found, she could cope.
She wondered if he was attached to the doll, too.
She wondered if he was there for the doll, but not her.
There were other transfer students that could show up. If this one had to leave, it would certainly be possible to find a new one. This one, she liked. She could tell that this one liked her back, maybe more than necessary.
She thought it was polite that this smiling transfer student kept his feelings to himself.
She enjoyed how he displayed his feelings plainly on his face. He was easy to read.
He wasn't polite. More like brutally honest.
She enjoyed that, too.
The bookworm, prepackaged with the room, might be harder to replace, if only because she was there when they intruded, before she began searching for other members, and yet she matched her criteria perfectly.
Sometimes he would gaze at the bookworm's unchanging face, simply watching as the silent girl scanned the text below intently.
She wished he would stare at her in that fascinated way.
He never would, of course. He always had a stupid look on his face, whether he was ecstatic or morose.
That moron's face could cheer her up no matter how sullen she was.
What he was doing would never matter. He could be angry, angry at her, even, but the mere sight of his face was enough for her.
It meant he was there.
With her.
It meant he would always be there with her.