[ Like her heart, foolish thing that it is, is hers. She loves it for that reason even when it's trying to choke her out and put holes in her body because it wants to leave and make a home in someone else, live with them. And it's such a wild thing. It barely listens to reason if it hears it at all. The fact that she's already living with Lewin isn't enough. It's insistent and it trips and falls all over itself about him at the worst times and it's hot and passionate, not weathered and changed like the seasons through years and years. Jumping into her throat, dropping into her stomach, hurling itself against its cage until her bones feel bruised and sore and she aches.
"It isn't love," she'd only just typed, but she isn't sure about that and she hates being uncertain for any lengthy period of time. Ranpo had said he knew exactly how she felt about Lightning, so how the hell didn't she? How'd -- and her fingers are twitching -- she miss this? She looks at her hand and wonders for a brief moment if she really did. Because she knows. From the very beginning, she wanted to hold onto that hand of his. Grasp his other, train both his eyes on her, chase this, take this as far as she can as long as she can. She wants him, she always has. She does. Enough to reject the honeyed words of a puppet, to fight, to chase him down, to stop him when he snaps, to promise to keep him from smashing this boring world to pieces even as she clutched at that tiny bit of distance she established when that doll first told her that he didn't, couldn't care. He doesn't, she knows, but she does and even now she wants to chase this, all of this. To know him more and more, be with him. If it wasn't love then, that it could be now, is that really so surprising?
And just like that she hears a certain master detective's words in her head again.
"Ignoring it won't make things better. There's never going to be a 'better time' to address it with someone like him."
But it's not so simple, she thinks. Because neither she, nor Lewin are most people and that is something to be considered before her heart's urging. She'll clutch that pitiful distance a little more tightly, a little longer in the face of these feelings because there are things she needs to know, figure out.
Hn. ] But I suppose it's fine if I should happen to care a little.
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[ Like her heart, foolish thing that it is, is hers. She loves it for that reason even when it's trying to choke her out and put holes in her body because it wants to leave and make a home in someone else, live with them. And it's such a wild thing. It barely listens to reason if it hears it at all. The fact that she's already living with Lewin isn't enough. It's insistent and it trips and falls all over itself about him at the worst times and it's hot and passionate, not weathered and changed like the seasons through years and years. Jumping into her throat, dropping into her stomach, hurling itself against its cage until her bones feel bruised and sore and she aches.
"It isn't love," she'd only just typed, but she isn't sure about that and she hates being uncertain for any lengthy period of time. Ranpo had said he knew exactly how she felt about Lightning, so how the hell didn't she? How'd -- and her fingers are twitching -- she miss this? She looks at her hand and wonders for a brief moment if she really did. Because she knows. From the very beginning, she wanted to hold onto that hand of his. Grasp his other, train both his eyes on her, chase this, take this as far as she can as long as she can. She wants him, she always has. She does. Enough to reject the honeyed words of a puppet, to fight, to chase him down, to stop him when he snaps, to promise to keep him from smashing this boring world to pieces even as she clutched at that tiny bit of distance she established when that doll first told her that he didn't, couldn't care. He doesn't, she knows, but she does and even now she wants to chase this, all of this. To know him more and more, be with him. If it wasn't love then, that it could be now, is that really so surprising?
And just like that she hears a certain master detective's words in her head again.
"Ignoring it won't make things better. There's never going to be a 'better time' to address it with someone like him."
But it's not so simple, she thinks. Because neither she, nor Lewin are most people and that is something to be considered before her heart's urging. She'll clutch that pitiful distance a little more tightly, a little longer in the face of these feelings because there are things she needs to know, figure out.
Hn. ] But I suppose it's fine if I should happen to care a little.