02-28-2021, 03:49 PM
She could have been something stronger, Basilica. She could have been the sort of woman who fought for the things that she believed in. But her eyes are burning with tears and the heart twinges and spasms in the cavern of her chest and she is surprised how much it exhausts her. So, for a time, she merely stares at him and makes no effort to hide the hurt in her lilac eyes. The betrayal. The confusion.
She had not known how friends could break your heart, too.
Or that healing was powerless against this kind of hurt.
There is a peculiar kind of quiver in her lips as she stares at him. As he tells her that he’s doing this for her and she doesn’t understand but she doesn’t ask either. Because he won’t tell her. Because they’re not friends. They don’t tell each other things. Or, at least, he doesn’t tell her things. She can’t help him, although she would have given anything to try if he would have let her.
He thinks that the problem is in him but she understands that the problem must be with her.
She swallows thickly, lashes fluttering, and finally nods numbly.
She does not say goodbye. She cannot say goodbye. She just looks at him a beat longer. That same handsome face, anguished. Perhaps, someday, she will be able to remember the shy smile he’d shared with her when they were children. Back when he’d let her believe they were friends.
For now she will remember him like this. Stoic. Rejecting her the same way her father had.
She turns from him and she does not look back, not even as the darkness descends.
She had not known how friends could break your heart, too.
Or that healing was powerless against this kind of hurt.
There is a peculiar kind of quiver in her lips as she stares at him. As he tells her that he’s doing this for her and she doesn’t understand but she doesn’t ask either. Because he won’t tell her. Because they’re not friends. They don’t tell each other things. Or, at least, he doesn’t tell her things. She can’t help him, although she would have given anything to try if he would have let her.
He thinks that the problem is in him but she understands that the problem must be with her.
She swallows thickly, lashes fluttering, and finally nods numbly.
She does not say goodbye. She cannot say goodbye. She just looks at him a beat longer. That same handsome face, anguished. Perhaps, someday, she will be able to remember the shy smile he’d shared with her when they were children. Back when he’d let her believe they were friends.
For now she will remember him like this. Stoic. Rejecting her the same way her father had.
She turns from him and she does not look back, not even as the darkness descends.
@[aureus]