That's fine. I wouldn't put up with you being a deadbeat father.
[Little by little, reality is starting to seem like reality again. Color is seeping back in at the edges of a world gone gray. And as she does, she starts to notice little things again — little things that should have occurred to her before, but didn't because they were lost in the avalanche of sorrow and trauma and hyperfixation.
He broke into her apartment.
He picked the lock and broke into her apartment and he was out of breath when he came through the door, like he'd been running.
He tried to make her mad once and hurt her feelings and reveled in it. This time he wasn't trying and what he did about it was — was —
...
The opposite of throwing away garbage, maybe.
She sets the crane and rose down. It doesn't matter where, so she just puts them down onto the floor because that seems like a good idea. They'll be fine there. Hierophant-kun will probably pick them up and spirit them out of harm's way, anyway, if it comes to that.
She turns in place and walks directly into him, a car accident in slow motion, short enough that her face presses into his chest and her arms go around the part of him that's half flesh and half gemstone underneath his clothes and she just stands there, holding on to him, skinny gangly gawky thing that he is, and doesn't know whether it's for her sake or his.]
Garbage is garbage because it's unwanted. So I'll want you. If the definition doesn't fit anymore then it can't be accurate. That's just how it is.
no subject
[Little by little, reality is starting to seem like reality again. Color is seeping back in at the edges of a world gone gray. And as she does, she starts to notice little things again — little things that should have occurred to her before, but didn't because they were lost in the avalanche of sorrow and trauma and hyperfixation.
He broke into her apartment.
He picked the lock and broke into her apartment and he was out of breath when he came through the door, like he'd been running.
He tried to make her mad once and hurt her feelings and reveled in it. This time he wasn't trying and what he did about it was — was —
...
The opposite of throwing away garbage, maybe.
She sets the crane and rose down. It doesn't matter where, so she just puts them down onto the floor because that seems like a good idea. They'll be fine there. Hierophant-kun will probably pick them up and spirit them out of harm's way, anyway, if it comes to that.
She turns in place and walks directly into him, a car accident in slow motion, short enough that her face presses into his chest and her arms go around the part of him that's half flesh and half gemstone underneath his clothes and she just stands there, holding on to him, skinny gangly gawky thing that he is, and doesn't know whether it's for her sake or his.]
Garbage is garbage because it's unwanted. So I'll want you. If the definition doesn't fit anymore then it can't be accurate. That's just how it is.