[ toko: use this chance to show us who you really are mikoto two days later, biting people and torching bridges,
but that's then and here's now, listening to Toko suspend judgement, neither blaming nor forgiving him. How could she, besides? She doesn't know the full circumstances of what happened, and neither does he.
He lifts his hand, touches his fingers to the incriminating words on his chest for a moment. Then he reaches out and takes her hand, if she'll let him. ]
[It's only W1 surely we will find time to forgive him (next time he's got a baseball bat)
It's very difficult for Fukawa to initiate contact of any kind. For much of her life no one was willing to touch her, and the slightest gestures — or promises thereof — had ballooned into great and terrible things. Even now she's despairing that the first boy to try holding her hand isn't Byakuya-sama.
Maybe Komaru is rubbing off on her. She just can't stand looking at that desperate face, friendless and frantic. He could try to hurt her. Kill her, even. you don't know him what if it's right what if it's a trap what if you die and you don't get to save anyone at all
What she does know is that feeling of being cornered. The fear of the slander being right. Paying the price for things you never meant to do. Blood on your hands and only your imagination to explain how it got there. How could anyone trust someone who was so clearly a curse? Don't they hate you? Don't they want you dead? Wouldn't you be better off dead, you disgusting psycho bitch?
Fukawa takes a breath, and lets him have her hand. He calls her "chan" and her gut roils. Too familiar, way too affectionate even on a good day and she should be cussing him out for it.
She doesn't.]
D-don't thank me y-yet, you big idiot. Who knows if c-covering it will even work.
I'll thank you again when it does. This one's for listening to me, and for not pushing me away.
[ squeezes her hand, which, btw, now that he's got he's never letting go of ever, like he's terrified of losing the one person he's got on his side right now. it'd be nice to just stay here, like this, in the dark where nobody can see besides a thousand fish, but they'll both have to leave sooner or later, face the real world. ]
The costume department has lots of different types of clothes. Let's look for something with thick fabric, or, or maybe if it's baggy enough the words will be harder to see.
It makes her uneasy, this sort of gratitude. She doesn't like people, people don't like her. Him looking at her like she's some beacon of hope puts pins in her gut. Maybe it's partly positive? A pain of growth, muddled among so much roiling nerves. She'd like to do the right thing.
He squeezes her hand and she shivers.]
D-don't — ugh, don't be s-such a sap. You're so annoying.
[She won't comment further. It might give away too much, or dispel whatever freak magic she worked by copping out. Her eyes flick to the horrid wall of seamen, still watching them in perfect stillness.]
F-fine. L-lets just get out of here, those freak fish are gawping at us like a b-bunch of voyeurs.
[Costume department. That's a bit of a walk from here. Let's hope no one catches them while they're at it.]
he just laughs quietly about being called a sap and annoying, but these are going to be added to his collection of tattoos later fyi. it's the first time, though, that he's been able to sort of explain himself and have the other person accept it- whether or not they believe him- and treat him no different for it. amazing. he feels almost giddy from the relief, and he's going to ride this high as he swings their hands a little as they escape through the aquarium away from the seamen.
... he does want to say something, but he glances over at her and then looks away, deciding against it. glances back... never mind. ]
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mikoto two days later, biting people and torching bridges,
but that's then and here's now, listening to Toko suspend judgement, neither blaming nor forgiving him. How could she, besides? She doesn't know the full circumstances of what happened, and neither does he.
He lifts his hand, touches his fingers to the incriminating words on his chest for a moment. Then he reaches out and takes her hand, if she'll let him. ]
...Sure. Thanks, Fuka-chan.
no subject
It's very difficult for Fukawa to initiate contact of any kind. For much of her life no one was willing to touch her, and the slightest gestures — or promises thereof — had ballooned into great and terrible things. Even now she's despairing that the first boy to try holding her hand isn't Byakuya-sama.
Maybe Komaru is rubbing off on her. She just can't stand looking at that desperate face, friendless and frantic. He could try to hurt her. Kill her, even. you don't know him what if it's right what if it's a trap what if you die and you don't get to save anyone at all
What she does know is that feeling of being cornered. The fear of the slander being right. Paying the price for things you never meant to do. Blood on your hands and only your imagination to explain how it got there. How could anyone trust someone who was so clearly a curse? Don't they hate you? Don't they want you dead? Wouldn't you be better off dead, you disgusting psycho bitch?
Fukawa takes a breath, and lets him have her hand. He calls her "chan" and her gut roils. Too familiar, way too affectionate even on a good day and she should be cussing him out for it.
She doesn't.]
D-don't thank me y-yet, you big idiot. Who knows if c-covering it will even work.
no subject
I'll thank you again when it does. This one's for listening to me, and for not pushing me away.
[ squeezes her hand, which, btw, now that he's got he's never letting go of ever, like he's terrified of losing the one person he's got on his side right now. it'd be nice to just stay here, like this, in the dark where nobody can see besides a thousand fish, but they'll both have to leave sooner or later, face the real world. ]
The costume department has lots of different types of clothes. Let's look for something with thick fabric, or, or maybe if it's baggy enough the words will be harder to see.
no subject
It makes her uneasy, this sort of gratitude. She doesn't like people, people don't like her. Him looking at her like she's some beacon of hope puts pins in her gut. Maybe it's partly positive? A pain of growth, muddled among so much roiling nerves. She'd like to do the right thing.
He squeezes her hand and she shivers.]
D-don't — ugh, don't be s-such a sap. You're so annoying.
[She won't comment further. It might give away too much, or dispel whatever freak magic she worked by copping out. Her eyes flick to the horrid wall of seamen, still watching them in perfect stillness.]
F-fine. L-lets just get out of here, those freak fish are gawping at us like a b-bunch of voyeurs.
[Costume department. That's a bit of a walk from here. Let's hope no one catches them while they're at it.]
no subject
he just laughs quietly about being called a sap and annoying, but these are going to be added to his collection of tattoos later fyi. it's the first time, though, that he's been able to sort of explain himself and have the other person accept it- whether or not they believe him- and treat him no different for it. amazing. he feels almost giddy from the relief, and he's going to ride this high as he swings their hands a little as they escape through the aquarium away from the seamen.
... he does want to say something, but he glances over at her and then looks away, deciding against it. glances back... never mind. ]