[That raw honesty is unexpected. Every single word reaches her heart in a strange, yet familiar way. He's picking at a wound she didn't realize was still open and it's not his fault-he doesn't know. The truth's pouring out of his mouth and she doesn't need to feel the falling petals on her fingertips to know that. She can see it his eyes, hear it in his tone-there's a serious edge to his voice that didn't exist earlier. Like he's really trying. Like he's determined to reach her heart and-
She hears every word. Understands what he means. Gets that painful realization he's speaking aloud when he talks about being left behind because that's what happened, what just happened to them, what's going to happen to them and continue to happen to them because this isn't life isn't permanent. That's been proven time and time again.
He doesn't want her to end up like him, but she is, in some ways. In the way that makes her heart ache whenever another person she loves vanishes in the night, like they were never here at all. Like the only part of them that ever existed was the dusty guitar propped against the door or the unmade blankets inside a makeshift treehouse.
Like the empty hammock that used to have someone in it and-
The memory of drinking cocoa in someone's lap and-
He doesn't want her to be like him, but-
She doesn't want him to be like her.
She doesn't want him to feel that choking sensation in his throat when he thinks about that loss for too long or have to blink his eyes over and over and over because they're hot and it feels like something's stuck in his eyelashes and-
He keeps saying he can't read her heart and for once, she thinks he's lying.
Her fingers twitch against the side of his face, the urge to change the topic being stifled in her throat and she doesn't know if it's the flowers blooming or because her own thoughts have lingered on the past for too long.]
That kind of thing-I was like that. Before here. With Seto. It made me happy to just stay by his side, but-
[She tries to swallow and taps her fingers against his cheek. Tries to keep them moving because it feels like the truth. It is the truth. It's something like the truth because she's never said it before.]
It's very hard to do that now. It's-
[She taps, and stops, and taps and-]
Hard. Because it makes me very sad when you're gone and now that they're gone. Even if if I was very happy and I'm still happy when I think about it, this kind of thing-it's 'love,' I think. Something like that. And I don't want it to go away.
[Because even if it hurts, its hers. Her own memories might be causing it, but it's because there was so much to love while they were here and she can't turn it off. Doesn't want to turn it off. Knows the ache and pain of heartache can twist someone-can make them cruel and cold when they're alone with those bitter thoughts, but-]
We don't have to alone now. Your heart will stay warm with all those good memories, even if it makes you very sad too. Even if you want them back. It's okay.
[And that incessant, irritating tapping against his cheek stops, but she doesn't pull away. Not one bit.]
It's okay to be like you. You're not bad. Your heart isn't bad. And I think you love a lot of things too.
no subject
She hears every word. Understands what he means. Gets that painful realization he's speaking aloud when he talks about being left behind because that's what happened, what just happened to them, what's going to happen to them and continue to happen to them because this isn't life isn't permanent. That's been proven time and time again.
He doesn't want her to end up like him, but she is, in some ways. In the way that makes her heart ache whenever another person she loves vanishes in the night, like they were never here at all. Like the only part of them that ever existed was the dusty guitar propped against the door or the unmade blankets inside a makeshift treehouse.
Like the empty hammock that used to have someone in it and-
The memory of drinking cocoa in someone's lap and-
He doesn't want her to be like him, but-
She doesn't want him to be like her.
She doesn't want him to feel that choking sensation in his throat when he thinks about that loss for too long or have to blink his eyes over and over and over because they're hot and it feels like something's stuck in his eyelashes and-
He keeps saying he can't read her heart and for once, she thinks he's lying.
Her fingers twitch against the side of his face, the urge to change the topic being stifled in her throat and she doesn't know if it's the flowers blooming or because her own thoughts have lingered on the past for too long.]
That kind of thing-I was like that. Before here. With Seto. It made me happy to just stay by his side, but-
[She tries to swallow and taps her fingers against his cheek. Tries to keep them moving because it feels like the truth. It is the truth. It's something like the truth because she's never said it before.]
It's very hard to do that now. It's-
[She taps, and stops, and taps and-]
Hard. Because it makes me very sad when you're gone and now that they're gone. Even if if I was very happy and I'm still happy when I think about it, this kind of thing-it's 'love,' I think. Something like that. And I don't want it to go away.
[Because even if it hurts, its hers. Her own memories might be causing it, but it's because there was so much to love while they were here and she can't turn it off. Doesn't want to turn it off. Knows the ache and pain of heartache can twist someone-can make them cruel and cold when they're alone with those bitter thoughts, but-]
We don't have to alone now. Your heart will stay warm with all those good memories, even if it makes you very sad too. Even if you want them back. It's okay.
[And that incessant, irritating tapping against his cheek stops, but she doesn't pull away. Not one bit.]
It's okay to be like you. You're not bad. Your heart isn't bad. And I think you love a lot of things too.