[If she pushes on, he might push back. Like he did in Australia, on his birthday, on those countless occasions when she reached out to grab him only to be bitten. She should hate him a little for it, shouldn't she? He's hurt her again and again, and he hates himself for it. If she left, it wouldn't be so bad or hurt so much. But because she stayed, he allows himself that little spiteful slice of hope he clutches like a jagged piece of glass. Worst of all, he can't cut away this affection tying him to her with it.
His mother used to touch his cheek like this whenever she was happy. On those sorts of days, no voices or hands would be raised and he knew that they would both be safe in the cradle of a warm afternoon spent together. In this moment, Kano feels so small like he did so many years back then.
Hey, can I talk for a bit--?
No, no. Not even for a little while. Don't push the burden of playing the hero on others--that'd imply that something was wrong, and people were bound to whisper when they noticed anything different. Even if it hurts, he needs to lie.
His hand's found his way to his chest and grips at his shirt. She can't see, right? There's no way she can spot those bruises on his selfish self, can she? It's better to leave him laying in the mud, no matter how much he cries.]
I'm okay. [A strange, numb feeling is breaking across his face. Something warm is building up in his eyes.] I'm fine.
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His mother used to touch his cheek like this whenever she was happy. On those sorts of days, no voices or hands would be raised and he knew that they would both be safe in the cradle of a warm afternoon spent together. In this moment, Kano feels so small like he did so many years back then.
Hey, can I talk for a bit--?
No, no. Not even for a little while. Don't push the burden of playing the hero on others--that'd imply that something was wrong, and people were bound to whisper when they noticed anything different. Even if it hurts, he needs to lie.
His hand's found his way to his chest and grips at his shirt. She can't see, right? There's no way she can spot those bruises on his selfish self, can she? It's better to leave him laying in the mud, no matter how much he cries.]
I'm okay. [A strange, numb feeling is breaking across his face. Something warm is building up in his eyes.] I'm fine.