[That soft, secretive kiss is soothing and overwhelming at the same time. It calms the roiling bubble of fluster, but now she just feels like the inside of a sealed pressure cooker, her heart crushed under the profound weight of the affection. She's felt this before. She's felt it so many times. Every time he holds his heart out to her with a look or a kiss or a sweet word, so easy and unguarded, she feels it. And it feels like—
It feels like home.
She smiles again as he says that, bashful but earnest. Another win.
The next part, though, she has to think about. Which is a little frustrating, because half of it's that there's still so much she can't remember. She has enough trouble articulating her feelings even with all the pieces in place — it feels desperately unfair to have to seek out the bits that make this feeling make sense.
A deep, thoughtful sigh follows as her eyes flick down between them, trying to dig the right words out of her head.] ...I never wanted anyone to worry about me, you know? I only wanted to make people happy. So it felt like it'd mess everything up if I stopped smiling.
But...you seemed so happy just to know me. Even when I couldn't smile. I— [She pauses, hiccups over a breath of watery laughter as facts about her home return to her. Chopped up memories of a club full of people afraid to show their true feelings. People she loves dearly, but was only just beginning to understand, because they all held so much of themselves back.] I don't think anyone ever smiled at me the way you did before I came here, ahaha.
Even after... [After what? After something. Something dark and terrible, the sharp hooks that the threads of their poetry snagged on, something that her brain still can't unravel just yet.] You saw something really awful, right? But you still said that I gave you something to believe in.
[That's what he said, isn't it? That's not all, but it comes out of her mouth before that part has even properly come back to her. Something she's held onto so dearly that her heart tells her before her brain does.] So— if knowing me made you that happy, then I knew it was okay, even if it was scary. It was worth it to get to see you smile so much.
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It feels like home.
She smiles again as he says that, bashful but earnest. Another win.
The next part, though, she has to think about. Which is a little frustrating, because half of it's that there's still so much she can't remember. She has enough trouble articulating her feelings even with all the pieces in place — it feels desperately unfair to have to seek out the bits that make this feeling make sense.
A deep, thoughtful sigh follows as her eyes flick down between them, trying to dig the right words out of her head.] ...I never wanted anyone to worry about me, you know? I only wanted to make people happy. So it felt like it'd mess everything up if I stopped smiling.
But...you seemed so happy just to know me. Even when I couldn't smile. I— [She pauses, hiccups over a breath of watery laughter as facts about her home return to her. Chopped up memories of a club full of people afraid to show their true feelings. People she loves dearly, but was only just beginning to understand, because they all held so much of themselves back.] I don't think anyone ever smiled at me the way you did before I came here, ahaha.
Even after... [After what? After something. Something dark and terrible, the sharp hooks that the threads of their poetry snagged on, something that her brain still can't unravel just yet.] You saw something really awful, right? But you still said that I gave you something to believe in.
[That's what he said, isn't it? That's not all, but it comes out of her mouth before that part has even properly come back to her. Something she's held onto so dearly that her heart tells her before her brain does.] So— if knowing me made you that happy, then I knew it was okay, even if it was scary. It was worth it to get to see you smile so much.