If it was a matter of breaking down Anna’s walls, James had various tools that he could try and use to destroy them. But he wouldn’t dare do that. Anna had erected those defenses for a reason and he would not destroy them and leave her vulnerable, leave her bare, exposed and susceptible to attack. Before, he never would have thought that Anna could be vulnerable to anything. She was tough as nails, coated with this thick armor that James thought would never get any chinks in it, let alone be torn off completely. If those walls were the only thing protecting her from the outside world, so be it. But he could only imagine what she was doing to herself in there, what kind pain she was putting herself through. His only hope of getting through to her at this point was to climb the walls rather than destroy them. But to be let in when he got to the top, Anna was going to have to let her back into that fortress of hers. And it was quite clear that she wasn’t ready to do that. James would not push. If Anna were completely alone, he might but he knew that for whatever reason, Anna hadn’t pushed away everyone. She appeared to be fine around a few people, including Victoire, and for James, right now, it was enough to know that she wasn’t alone.
That didn’t stop the sting, however, from being pushed out of her life as abruptly and harshly as he had been. But he refused to be selfish with this. This was not about him; this was about Anna. What she needed and he trusted her to hold to the words that she was giving him. It was more than he had been expecting to be quite frank. It just pained him to see her like this, to see her grip falter, her breath come out harsh, her whole body to appear to radiate an excruciating pain. There was so much he wanted to say in that moment. It wasn’t your fault, couldn’t have been your fault. Anna had to not blame herself for the tragedy that befell Bora, but he knew that those words would offer no comfort the way that Anna was composing herself now. It was clear from her body language that she was putting up a strong front, but on the inside, she was shattered. James couldn’t empathize with her. His siblings were still alive. And Lily and Albus, while he was protective of them, were not fragile. Did not rely on him in the same way that Bora had learned on Anna’s strength. So he couldn’t imagine what she was going through, couldn’t understand.
So he held in a lot of what he wanted to say and instead reached forward, hand cupping the side of Anna’s face and part of her neck, smoothing her hair with his thumb. “You don’t owe me an explanation. This isn’t about what I deserve. That’s not why I’ve kept reaching out for you despite you pushing me away. I just…I know that you deserve more than you’re allowing yourself to have, but I know that it’s easier for me to say that when I’m not in your shoes.” His own breaths timed evenly, he let his hand slide to her shoulder. “I can’t offer you words of comfort, though I want to. All I can do is let you know that, when you’re ready, I’ll be here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be waiting for you to let me in. On your own terms. I hope to have something better to say to you by then.” Glancing away briefly before turning back to her, he breathed out a slightly shaky sigh. “But you have to tell me what it is I’m meant to do until then. If there’s anything I can do to help you get to that right place that you want to start stepping toward.”
‘Stand still, look pretty.’ It was a phrase trotted out far too often in her childhood, and one Anna never developed a fondness of. God, things would be so much easier if she just followed those two commands. When it wasn’t explicitly stated, it was said in other ways. ‘It hurts me to hurt you,’ her father would lecture, refastening cufflinks that shone like his little girl’s tears. It was written in her mother’s perplexed frown as she dabbed concealer onto the squirming daughter, punctuating her disdain by pushing a little too harshly on a fresh bruise. The words were bright, neon signs of terror reflecting back at her in Hei’s eyes. If anything, it all made Anna want to fight harder.
Anna refused to grow up to be just another marble statue like the rest of them. It was a source of pride. To be considered a work of art, a prized possession on display. It was supposed to be a glorious mold that you had to contort to fit. Elegant, smooth curves. Polished and perfect. Hard. So hard, and so cold. The rest of her family stood stoic as pristine, pale sculptures ... and then there was Anna. If she was cut and chiseled from the same slab of stone, Moon Ahn Min sure did not resemble the rest. While they stood like shiny white soldiers, Anna was cracked and colorful. From bruises to deep black eyeliner, from blood red lips to pink scars, from colorful hair to even more colorful tattoos - Anna was far from an ugly duckling. No, she was a different monster altogether - a black sheep.
It’s a true shame that someone that once so full of life was not much more than a low burning ember, and the few times she still did glow, she was a wildfire lighting everything in her path. For a phoenix to rise, it had to burn. Christ, she wanted to torch it all. She wanted to explode and collapse, burning everything and anyone that had wronged her in the past. She was setting herself up for a volatile explosion of chaos and destruction, but had yet to work out a plan to keep the innocents from choking on her ashes, the smoke, and the fall out. There was not much keeping her together, but her muffled heart still screamed loud enough for James to notice. The only way to save others from herself was to push them away, yet here he was, refusing to let her go. She had already lost Bora, and had lost Hei’s affection years before that. She wasn’t willing to hurt anyone else, to cause any more pain than cutting them out of her life. It was for their protection, yet James was blind to the protective barrier. No, he wanted to hold her even closer, to protect her, without giving a thought to looming disaster and resulting shrapnel. It was almost laughable, just like what shortly follows.
A hand reaches out, and Anna braces for impact. Tensed. Flinching. Recoiling. She sucked in a sharp breath, anticipating her father’s palm connecting with her cheek, leaving a prominent, ugly welt in the shape of a hand print. It didn’t come, and she nearly wishes it did. She had calculated a myriad of outcomes. She knew how to react and fight back. She knew the countless ways to escalate it into screaming matches and duels that ended up with dead siblings. Anna had built up her walls and drawn out battle plans, mapping out every twisted scenario and situation she might face... all but one. Anna had failed to factor gentleness and compassion into the equation, as they seem to consistently evade her. A delicate stroke took the place of another countless blow, but it left her just as s c a r e d. James was not staying away, and it broke her heart all over.
She wanted to scream, to let venomous words fly off her tongue. She wanted to paint him the twisted, bloody family portrait of what happened that night. It was her typical pattern, her typical defense mechanism. She would scream then puff out her chest or stomp out the door, expletives following her down the corridor. Instead, she stays in her place. She sucks in another breath and grits her teeth, but her eyes stay locked on the floor, the dust in the corner, anything but those sympathetic eyes trying to search hers. Anna slowly lifts a hand to pluck his from her face, but she doesn’t relinquish it. No, her knuckles turn white as a sob pierces the tense quiet. A few more follow in quick succession like gunshots warning of what’s to come. A few tears escape as she begins to unravel, along with a choked whisper. “D-don’t leave me.”
