Some people crash two or three times and then learn from their mistakes
We are the ones who don't slow down at all
We are the ones who don't slow down at all
"That's not what I meant," she says softly, and her smile is sad but understanding. "You were so tied up in thinking of how to save him - you didn't think about how the solution would hurt me." Taking a steadying breath, she smiles, a little softer, a little sadder. "But I forgive you for that too." She's still learning how. Forgiveness has never come easy to her. Bitterness and grudges had been the only fuel to the fire that kept her going for such long stretches of her life before him. But for him - for them - she will try, and try, and try. Her hands will never reach and hold that which she had before, that precious sun she once revolved around. But she would do anything to be able to feel its warmth, even from afar. Even as a memory.
Hotaru isn't sure who they're fooling, scarcely able to hold each other's eyes, touches fleeting and hesitant in their half-remembered motions. It hurts in ways she has no defenses against. Nobody ever came back after leaving her. Nobody ever pulled at the half-stitched remains of wounds they'd caused - and she'd certainly never had time to cause her own. Wishes she had, once, to have learned the lesson that would have given her pause before setting fire to the sad remains of what she'd once loved.
She too is struck by the differences - though his are far more visible. Scars and ink and exhaustion around his eyes. Hers are held close to the vest, hidden, concealed. Unfairly reminiscent of who they are as people. "Yes - a hawk of some sort I think, though far paler in color than any I've ever seen. I've never been one for even heights though, so flying has been a bit difficult to grasp." Her smile is twisted and wry as she aims it his way. "Not exactly sure how that one is a reflection of my soul yet." They had no choice over their shifts for precisely that reason, but Hotaru doesn't see how the whimsical nature of flight and freedom pertains to her at all.
Hotaru isn't sure who they're fooling, scarcely able to hold each other's eyes, touches fleeting and hesitant in their half-remembered motions. It hurts in ways she has no defenses against. Nobody ever came back after leaving her. Nobody ever pulled at the half-stitched remains of wounds they'd caused - and she'd certainly never had time to cause her own. Wishes she had, once, to have learned the lesson that would have given her pause before setting fire to the sad remains of what she'd once loved.
She too is struck by the differences - though his are far more visible. Scars and ink and exhaustion around his eyes. Hers are held close to the vest, hidden, concealed. Unfairly reminiscent of who they are as people. "Yes - a hawk of some sort I think, though far paler in color than any I've ever seen. I've never been one for even heights though, so flying has been a bit difficult to grasp." Her smile is twisted and wry as she aims it his way. "Not exactly sure how that one is a reflection of my soul yet." They had no choice over their shifts for precisely that reason, but Hotaru doesn't see how the whimsical nature of flight and freedom pertains to her at all.
And there's nobody there to catch us when we fall
HOTARU
