my held breath fills the room with blood
hurting in ways I can't describe
As he appears, strong gait carrying through the air long before he arrives in her vision, Hotaru feels a sudden sharp pain of regret and guilt. Amalia's condition is spoken of in low whispers through the settlement, and here she is, selfishly imposing herself on her dearest friend. Who is already experiencing and holding so much on his mighty shoulders, which he believes can hold the world. But she knows that even mountains can crumble, and despairs over adding any kind of weight that could hasten that end.
But then he comes to her, offering his hand, and she is helpless to the desire to take it. To let him lead her to the table, where she reluctantly parts from him despite the ease he has already granted her with one touch. She sits limply at the table, and when the bottles fall against its surface she takes half the glass in one swallow, relishing the burn that traces warmth down her gullet and chases away the cold of grief and loss. The silence pervades the space between them, and she idly tilts the glass in her hand to watch the liquid inside crest against its confines. When she finally feels like speaking, any emotion she had previously been consumed by has abated to a manageable level. "Sunjata married the midwife today, in a ceremony I'm sure you'd be glad to have missed. Days after revealing to me how terrible and unfitting their relationship is." She sighs, cradling the glass in her hands and taking another sip, slower this time. "I can't say I don't care, even if I certainly don't love him or any such nonsense. But it still upsets me, and I can't explain it." Because maybe, instead of love, there had been something there. Even if she still does not care if he sleeps around, saw anyone else beside her with their unique friends with benefits arrangement, there is a grief to the marriage itself that she can't explain. Maybe because it was easier in the end, to seek only his lust, and not his love? Had she wanted for it, even for a moment?
Maybe. Ghosts of comfort and love that she can never quite reach, that dance beyond her grasp like teasing relics of bygone days when someone loved her for her, and not for what she could give them with her body or mind.
But then he comes to her, offering his hand, and she is helpless to the desire to take it. To let him lead her to the table, where she reluctantly parts from him despite the ease he has already granted her with one touch. She sits limply at the table, and when the bottles fall against its surface she takes half the glass in one swallow, relishing the burn that traces warmth down her gullet and chases away the cold of grief and loss. The silence pervades the space between them, and she idly tilts the glass in her hand to watch the liquid inside crest against its confines. When she finally feels like speaking, any emotion she had previously been consumed by has abated to a manageable level. "Sunjata married the midwife today, in a ceremony I'm sure you'd be glad to have missed. Days after revealing to me how terrible and unfitting their relationship is." She sighs, cradling the glass in her hands and taking another sip, slower this time. "I can't say I don't care, even if I certainly don't love him or any such nonsense. But it still upsets me, and I can't explain it." Because maybe, instead of love, there had been something there. Even if she still does not care if he sleeps around, saw anyone else beside her with their unique friends with benefits arrangement, there is a grief to the marriage itself that she can't explain. Maybe because it was easier in the end, to seek only his lust, and not his love? Had she wanted for it, even for a moment?
Maybe. Ghosts of comfort and love that she can never quite reach, that dance beyond her grasp like teasing relics of bygone days when someone loved her for her, and not for what she could give them with her body or mind.
my heart bends and breaks
so many, many times
HOTARU
