[ While his words make her flush, there's still something she can't shake. Just like with Claude, she can't help but be surprised that there's no reaction - or rather that there's acceptance - from Sylvain when she admits her jealousy. There's no concern, no worry, no chiding that she wears this ugly emotion like a cold, sharp jewel against her throat. ]
I wouldn't be sad or miserable. I'd be fine...eventually.
[ The protest is only a bridge to the rest of what she wants to say because his non-issue feels akin to him glossing over something she thinks can't so easily be ignored. Despite him saying they're in this together (whatever 'this' is), she can't fathom taking this one step at a time when she doesn't have the first clue where to step. Not when there's an imposing mountain ahead of her that she can't possibly hope to climb. Not when she spots that shadow flit across his face like a cloud passing in front of the sun.
She gently shakes off his hand from her chin, cupping his face gently so she can brush her thumbs over the bones of his cheek as if that will send the cloud away. ]
I think you have more luck than you give yourself credit for. [ There's quiet conviction in her voice. Like if he wills it, why wouldn't it happen? ] You just have to give it room to grow.
[ There's a heaviness in her heart that shouldn't be there after being told that she's wanted. That he won't leave. It's so similar to the feeling she'd felt when Claude told her he'd had feelings for her. She hadn't known what to make of it then. She doesn't know now. Is it her fear of expectation and the subsequent disappointment they'd feel? Her fear of trying? Or a fear of what could be?
Resignation creeps into her gaze and her voice like she still believes this false truth she'd convinced herself of only a couple months before. Even if she's actively trying to be present in her feelings, to believe and rewrite a new reality, a part of her can't shake the old narrative. ]
There are some days where I still think you'd be happier with him. You're both so alike sometimes that it's annoying. You look so good beside one another. You fit each other well even if you don't think that or see it. [ She swallows, catching herself on a sharp edge of jealousy and doubt. ] And he doesn't get jealous or if he does it's not destructively like me.
...I just don't understand why the both of you are okay with that. What if this doesn't work? What if I lose you both? I'm trying to be better because I don't think I deserve either of you right now.
no subject
I wouldn't be sad or miserable. I'd be fine...eventually.
[ The protest is only a bridge to the rest of what she wants to say because his non-issue feels akin to him glossing over something she thinks can't so easily be ignored. Despite him saying they're in this together (whatever 'this' is), she can't fathom taking this one step at a time when she doesn't have the first clue where to step. Not when there's an imposing mountain ahead of her that she can't possibly hope to climb. Not when she spots that shadow flit across his face like a cloud passing in front of the sun.
She gently shakes off his hand from her chin, cupping his face gently so she can brush her thumbs over the bones of his cheek as if that will send the cloud away. ]
I think you have more luck than you give yourself credit for. [ There's quiet conviction in her voice. Like if he wills it, why wouldn't it happen? ] You just have to give it room to grow.
[ There's a heaviness in her heart that shouldn't be there after being told that she's wanted. That he won't leave. It's so similar to the feeling she'd felt when Claude told her he'd had feelings for her. She hadn't known what to make of it then. She doesn't know now. Is it her fear of expectation and the subsequent disappointment they'd feel? Her fear of trying? Or a fear of what could be?
Resignation creeps into her gaze and her voice like she still believes this false truth she'd convinced herself of only a couple months before. Even if she's actively trying to be present in her feelings, to believe and rewrite a new reality, a part of her can't shake the old narrative. ]
There are some days where I still think you'd be happier with him. You're both so alike sometimes that it's annoying. You look so good beside one another. You fit each other well even if you don't think that or see it. [ She swallows, catching herself on a sharp edge of jealousy and doubt. ] And he doesn't get jealous or if he does it's not destructively like me.
...I just don't understand why the both of you are okay with that. What if this doesn't work? What if I lose you both? I'm trying to be better because I don't think I deserve either of you right now.