[ in these preternatural times, he's grateful for the distinguishing an apology from an expression of gratitude. for makoto, it's one and the same, his remorse feeding into appreciation ad infinitum, but she never ascribed to the same relative values.
instead: overwhelming confidence, sonorous and lilting past reassurance and plunging into conviction. even on her own, she'd be alright.
he curbs his usual tendencies for excessive speaking for quiet as she speaks without interruption, content with roving through his thoughts (he doesn't need to incite any more looming insecurities in her).
her critiques are more of tentative admonishments than rin's overwrought gusto, smile teetering too bright, too sharp. it's a dissimilarity, out of many, although they're both matsuokas through and through.
in the end, makoto is only ever as much worth as the effort he puts in. insecurity throws things out of proportion, but just the act of sitting with her consoles the manic unease, the kind of spasmodic energy likely to break bones if he'd flung himself against a wall if he'd kept thinking about it (because he always dwells upon it, now, his deficiencies brought into hyper-awareness by his profound failings).
for a while, he forgets, her hand squeezing his with soft focus, that there was ever an issue at all. but inaccuracies are just glorified mistakes, and it all comes down heavy, her hand unlacing, rin on the precipice of the open horizon.
his friend takes long, long strides, wakeless and even, composure elongated without an outlet like a slingshot without ammunition; rin must've missed her terribly.
mildly, makoto feigns his best impression of a smile, vague insecurity for what he can't help, for what assembles (and disassembles) him no less cured from encountering gou in tellus. there's no resistance, then, nothing he could say, even when all he has left are his words and the semblance of good intentions. ]
Yeah. I'll see you later, Gou.
[ but she's already gone, sprinting along the grass to meet her brother, and there's no place for him in that reunion, just like how he'd sought rin out on his own terms.
it's not lonely. not really, not in the colloquial meaning of the word.
no subject
instead: overwhelming confidence, sonorous and lilting past reassurance and plunging into conviction. even on her own, she'd be alright.
he curbs his usual tendencies for excessive speaking for quiet as she speaks without interruption, content with roving through his thoughts (he doesn't need to incite any more looming insecurities in her).
her critiques are more of tentative admonishments than rin's overwrought gusto, smile teetering too bright, too sharp. it's a dissimilarity, out of many, although they're both matsuokas through and through.
in the end, makoto is only ever as much worth as the effort he puts in. insecurity throws things out of proportion, but just the act of sitting with her consoles the manic unease, the kind of spasmodic energy likely to break bones if he'd flung himself against a wall if he'd kept thinking about it (because he always dwells upon it, now, his deficiencies brought into hyper-awareness by his profound failings).
for a while, he forgets, her hand squeezing his with soft focus, that there was ever an issue at all. but inaccuracies are just glorified mistakes, and it all comes down heavy, her hand unlacing, rin on the precipice of the open horizon.
his friend takes long, long strides, wakeless and even, composure elongated without an outlet like a slingshot without ammunition; rin must've missed her terribly.
mildly, makoto feigns his best impression of a smile, vague insecurity for what he can't help, for what assembles (and disassembles) him no less cured from encountering gou in tellus. there's no resistance, then, nothing he could say, even when all he has left are his words and the semblance of good intentions. ]
Yeah. I'll see you later, Gou.
[ but she's already gone, sprinting along the grass to meet her brother, and there's no place for him in that reunion, just like how he'd sought rin out on his own terms.
it's not lonely. not really, not in the colloquial meaning of the word.
there's rei to find, haru to confront.
so makoto goes. ]