[ A small petty part of her vows to make him regret saying that. That she would remember this moment and relish at a time in the future that she could turn those words right back around on him. Even with the misty eyes she’s blinking furiously in the hopes that it would dispel her exasperated tears, the quiet resolution burns in her gaze as he cradles her cheeks.
Met with his amused expression another whine of frustration comes from the back of her throat along with the urge to tear her gaze away again. Both are immediately quelled as he speaks.
It’s incredibly embarrassing being told, “I told you so,” again except this time with far less smugness and far more seriousness than before. The word “love” hadn’t passed between she and Claude that day in Libertas; she knew deep down that’s what she felt for him but a mix of stubbornness (she would not be the first one to say it because that feels like stroking an ego that already gives her grief) and fear kept her from saying so. They had both skirted around giving a name to their feelings. That felt like the safest option considering their decision to go slow and attempt to do all of the steps that they had skipped. A part of her still tempers her expectations, waiting for the day that they stop trying. Love can’t factor into that because it would make the failure sting.
It’s also embarrassing the way that her heart swells, not at Claude’s apparent forlorn behaviour without her in this loft, or the way that Sylvain describes the looks of affection allegedly passed between them. It’s the way Sylvain says he missed her. And it’s that that cracks open the damn of tears. Her face scrunches up as pink eyes well. Arms wrap around his neck as she buries her face in the crook of his neck so he can be spared how she looks when she’s crying.
There’s so much she wants to say. Like how she sick’s with envy over the person he’s become and changed into, the type of person she wishes she could be, the type of person she’s humbled to know. How sorry she is for being jealous about something that is good for the two people who had become her world. Her home. How, as greedy as she is, and as paradoxical as it may sound, a part of her almost hopes that it doesn’t work out with Claude so Sylvain can be happy because they fit better together than she thinks ever could.
no subject
Met with his amused expression another whine of frustration comes from the back of her throat along with the urge to tear her gaze away again. Both are immediately quelled as he speaks.
It’s incredibly embarrassing being told, “I told you so,” again except this time with far less smugness and far more seriousness than before. The word “love” hadn’t passed between she and Claude that day in Libertas; she knew deep down that’s what she felt for him but a mix of stubbornness (she would not be the first one to say it because that feels like stroking an ego that already gives her grief) and fear kept her from saying so. They had both skirted around giving a name to their feelings. That felt like the safest option considering their decision to go slow and attempt to do all of the steps that they had skipped. A part of her still tempers her expectations, waiting for the day that they stop trying. Love can’t factor into that because it would make the failure sting.
It’s also embarrassing the way that her heart swells, not at Claude’s apparent forlorn behaviour without her in this loft, or the way that Sylvain describes the looks of affection allegedly passed between them. It’s the way Sylvain says he missed her. And it’s that that cracks open the damn of tears. Her face scrunches up as pink eyes well. Arms wrap around his neck as she buries her face in the crook of his neck so he can be spared how she looks when she’s crying.
There’s so much she wants to say. Like how she sick’s with envy over the person he’s become and changed into, the type of person she wishes she could be, the type of person she’s humbled to know. How sorry she is for being jealous about something that is good for the two people who had become her world. Her home. How, as greedy as she is, and as paradoxical as it may sound, a part of her almost hopes that it doesn’t work out with Claude so Sylvain can be happy because they fit better together than she thinks ever could.
Instead she settles for sobs and, ]
I missed you too.