Extending a hand of friendship is not as easy as Lie would like to make it seem. It is no longer resentment that might stay his hand, but a writhing, quiet sort of pain. He wonders if the low ache will ever truly go away, the smallest of curiosities about a future where the two of them were able to choose each other.
But their realities are vastly different from the fantasies that once held the shadow-weaver in a vice grip.
Still, that pain lingers, gently thrumming a background melody to all his actions. Even if they were never meant to be together, Starsin taught him so much. Now, as she concedes, she teaches him about forgiveness.
An echo of what once was fades even in Starsin’s initial sarcasm. Lie cannot help but give purchase to the radiant smile flying gracefully to his surface. His eyes crinkle with pure amusement. They’d been as thick as thieves before their lives tangled into something else, and now he remembers those first days together in Loess.
“Wonderful, actually,” he answers, then dips his head. “I’ve missed you, too,” he adds, though it is lower and more hesitant than his first reply. Lie turns his head, swallows, then brings his eyes back to Starsin’s. “You seem to be doing well yourself, uh . . .” he trails off, suddenly realizing he’s forgotten how to talk to her after years apart.
“I never said how sorry I was,” Lie says suddenly, eyes growing sharp. “For calling you a coward. And being cruel when . . . in Sylva. And everything else, too.” There’s too much to sum up, to apologize for, but he hopes she knows he remembers every single wrong turn. And that he regrets all of them.
“When I say I miss you, I mean it. Just some semblance of who we were when we were young. I’ve never had a friend like you,” he swallows, then takes a step forward. A grin softens the hard lines of his lips.
“This is weird. Should I start being mean to you now?”
as it softly glides across your back
and i hope you leave right before the sun comes up
so i can watch it alone
@Starsin
