Brittle Hearts.

"Are you sure everything is fine?" she asked him. He thought for a while. And then gave her his answer. "Yes".

Having observed him for over a couple of years, she saw someone in him that nobody else did. Or maybe nobody else cared enough to see. She saw someone whose smile had so much hidden but yet so convincing enough for anyone who didn't know him too well. Convincingly positive, that is. She saw a tough person in him, but she also knew as tough as he was, he was also brittle. She knew she can't let him shatter. What is tough generally is prone to shattering. But that didn't mean he wasn't malleable or ductile at all. He was, he really was. For someone as brittle as he was, he was surprisingly malleable. His tolerance was unmatched and his patience was always a notch higher than you would expect it to be. His nature? Generally unfazed. He never showed his anger or frustration or any form of sadness to her. If not for her sweet eye, she would have been under the impression that he didn't even have those emotions in him, boy was he good at convincing he was more than just fine. If only his eyes were as good at lying as his other features were, because she could always see right through him. She never questioned him though, and he, well, he pretended she didn't see right through him. It was funnily perpetually sad. She knew she wanted to help him and he knew he can't be helped. What can you say?

Two years later, he was still as mysterious to her as he was at the beginning of their acquaintanceship. Still as polite as he ever was and still as smiling. What had changed though was she had learnt that he has a story. A story that she had been trying to unveil. He would never not tell her his story. It's just he wasn't much of a storyteller. Whatever he shared was vague but not intentionally. In his mind, he was crystal clear about everything his mouth was saying out. Different perspectives, I suppose.