05-20-2021, 03:18 PM
Ryatah
— there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree?
She is still confused by what he says, is struggling to wrap her mind around what he says he had wanted her to be and what she had imagined he wanted her to be—she is used to being wrong, so that is nothing new. But no matter how she tries she cannot get his words to match with his past actions, and she can feel the frustration and exasperation beginning to tighten in her chest. “You only ever came back to me for one thing, and it’s the same thing you can get from anyone else,” she begins, and though her voice wavers with the ache in her throat it remains otherwise neutral, doing her best to not feed his own irritation further. “Which means that is not why you always came back and you were too stubborn to admit it.”
There is so much more that she could say, and for a moment, it seems like she is going to. The brief silence is taut with her unspoken words, how she wants to tell him that she would have done anything to make it work between them if it was what he wanted, and how he also could not fault her for moving on once he made it so clear that he didn’t want anything else.
He steps away from her, then, and as someone that has spent her life overanalyzing every move someone makes towards her, that single step feels like an entire ocean is suddenly between them. She does not know all that he wars with inside of himself, but she sees such a seemingly simple action and magnifies it to find all the hidden meanings her mind could possibly conjure—that he cannot stand to be close to her, that the harshness in his voice comes from a disdain for her that she will never be able to reconcile.
She is not surprised when his gaze grows even sharper, but she still wilts beneath it.
It stings to hear him say that she would be better off forgetting him, and her jaw tightens as she swallows away the bitter taste of tears that touch the back of her tongue. She is quiet for a long moment, but in the silence that builds there is the electric buzz of her racing thoughts, until finally she cannot keep from asking him in a pained whisper, “Were you happier when you didn’t remember me?”
There is so much more that she could say, and for a moment, it seems like she is going to. The brief silence is taut with her unspoken words, how she wants to tell him that she would have done anything to make it work between them if it was what he wanted, and how he also could not fault her for moving on once he made it so clear that he didn’t want anything else.
He steps away from her, then, and as someone that has spent her life overanalyzing every move someone makes towards her, that single step feels like an entire ocean is suddenly between them. She does not know all that he wars with inside of himself, but she sees such a seemingly simple action and magnifies it to find all the hidden meanings her mind could possibly conjure—that he cannot stand to be close to her, that the harshness in his voice comes from a disdain for her that she will never be able to reconcile.
She is not surprised when his gaze grows even sharper, but she still wilts beneath it.
It stings to hear him say that she would be better off forgetting him, and her jaw tightens as she swallows away the bitter taste of tears that touch the back of her tongue. She is quiet for a long moment, but in the silence that builds there is the electric buzz of her racing thoughts, until finally she cannot keep from asking him in a pained whisper, “Were you happier when you didn’t remember me?”
there's something wretched about this, something so precious about this, oh what a sin —
@[Ashhal]