It was not "a little". It was a lot. If not for you, I...
[Well.
It would have been bad. Flayn has made many bonds that she cherishes, here, but so many of them have been... perhaps not broken, but damaged, by the things she had no choice but to do. She'd withdrawn from people when she would otherwise have leaned on them, because it felt wrong to make them comfort her.
But from the start, Yin Yu had told her that it helped, having her near. Being able to do something for him, however little, had allowed her to stay long enough for him to do something for her, too.
She isn't sure how to put that into words.]
Being able to see you, that time... the flowers you sent, and the letters you wrote me. It - they gave me strength.
[...]
You gave me the strength I needed, to keep going. Even when we were apart, even when you must have been suffering, you were still looking out for me. I do not know how to tell you how much that meant to me.
[ "how much that meant to me." it's hard to believe that anything he's done has ever been enough, but, hearing it from flayn floods him with warmth. there are so few people he's ever allowed himself to be vulnerable around, but she is an exception, to so many things. she is an exception to the emotional walls he's built up around himself for the past few centuries. with patient, gentle hands, flayn pulled them down, and stepped in somewhere where yin yu really needed it the most.
he looks down at her properly, takes the moment for what it is. the fact that they're even sitting like this feels like a miracle. no more glitches, no separation of a screen or a veil between the dead and the living. no charades, or written letters: they're together, both living. who knows what that thing will do tomorrow - it may sooner decide to kill them all. but for right now, "keep going" meant "we made it".
he won't argue the point. if flayn says it helped her, then (even if it wasn't enough) it helped. ] I tried to reach out to you how I could.
[ there's a brief pause, and he huffs, a quiet, not quite laugh. ironic, more than anything. ] ...Truthfully, I thought I would be the reason you were caught, last week. I had sent those along with young master Junpei before anything began, and I had no idea what had been done. Between the letter, and the flowers...
[ he'd noticed her covering the flower meanings in the feed of the trial. at that time, he thought because they are private - and, really, the part of him that is a baby was grateful - but as things began to unfold, it really may have done her in. ]
[to receive a bundle of flowers, and tea? when there was a murder that had involved flowers and tea, that they were trying to solve? junpei had said they'd been chosen for them the day before, but -
it could have been a clue. she'd understood that they were from yin yu, and that he had likely been trying to send a message to her with the meaning of the flowers, but if it had led to people suspecting her...
she'd said it, when she'd received it.
thank you.]
I was hoping that they would. Dimitri had... he agreed to help us, but he did not seem to like the idea of someone else dying for what we did, either. I wanted to be caught.
[...]
...and I wanted to see you again. I wanted to see the both of you again so badly.
[ he's had time to deal with the aftermath of the final trial that they had, but it's still a pretty fresh, vulnerable memory. watching flayn suffer -- knowing what she had done, and knowing no one would grant her the kindness of catching her...
the last thing she says confirms exactly what he'd thought. he hadn't figured out the 'role' until afterwards, but yin yu had said it to guy. she will be devastated. his initial thought was that flayn had gone to the same dark place that he had, so many years ago. even if things were different, even if they were not in all technicalities 'dead', it still - it aches to hear her confirm what he knew to be true. that she would rather have been dead.
his hand squeezes hers, and yin yu shifts, leaning against her a little more solidly. the benefit of the bizarre effect this week is maybe that there is an extra limb, because he can drape the wing that's half sprawled on the bed around her, instead, as if he could possibly do anything to comfort it, even a week later. yin yu knows what it's like, better than anyone, to want to be dead. ]
I'm so sorry. [ he says again, because words fail him for a moment, to say anything else. sorry is the only thing that seems to encompass it all: sorry that she had to do this. sorry that she had to feel that way. sorry that he left her behind, that they left her behind. that they failed her, as a whole. someone who had been so kind to him, so good to him, someone who has more or less changed yin yu's life, suffering the same kind of agony he had when chengzhu found him and asked, do you want to live? ]
...I didn't want to be right. [ about any of this. ] Sometimes continuing to live is the worst punishment you can ask for.
[ and doesn't he know it? doesn't he understand how hard it is to survive with guilt and suffering on your shoulders? it's been his entire life. he exhales. ] It's over, now, but... [ but it's not. he knows that, too. every waking and living moment will be guilt, recovery, steps forward, steps back.
yin yu squeezes her hand again, the empathy and sorrow a blanket, heart too big, hurting for flayn. ] ...I'm not going anywhere. [ not again. he will not leave her until this is over, and even then -- even then, he's thinking of ways to help. his dice, that will have to do. tomorrow. ]
...it would be one thing, to live as punishment, if innocent people were not dying, but...
[to be made to live, at the expense of someone else's life? it's senseless, she thinks. she won't begrudge anyone who wants her to live with the weight of what she's done, who thinks that's fitting, now that it's all over, and if all goes well tomorrow, no one else will need to lose their life.
but she can't fathom why anyone would have wanted her to live while someone else still needed to die, during the course of the game. she will never understand why anyone would have thought it was better not to vote for her, who so clearly had a hand in the death of someone beloved, and to vote for someone else instead.
in that case, it isn't just her being punished. it's also the other person who's losing their life, for no real reason. ookurikara should never have received the majority vote, and dick should never have been killed in the ring. not when there had been people who had been willing to die so that neither of them would have had to.
she leans into him, holding tightly to his hand as his wing settles around her. it's a difficult subject to talk about. she's had time to think about it - perhaps too much. she's thought about it so much that it feels as though she's simply thought in circles.]
I am glad you are here.
[her voice sounds a little raw, and if there are tears forming at the corners of her eyes, well -
hopefully, he won't see them. she doesn't particularly want him to see her cry. not now, when she just wants to be happy that he's back, that they have a chance for things to turn out well.
[ the first time that yin yu saw flayn cry, it made him panic. he's seen ghosts cry, little children and soldiers and wives alike, all crying over anything and everything, but it wasn't the same. maybe it was because even from the island, he had come to see flayn as someone so good, and so kind, that it was hard to watch her be upset. even then, without really understanding why, he'd reacted, reaching up to wipe her tears.
now, six weeks later, it makes a little more sense. he'd come to care for her even then, because she always, always cared for him. flayn always saw him, always sought him out, and then she was gone.
hearing her voice waver solidifies that same feeling, replaces the panic with care. he still doesn't know how to make it stop, but he's been trying, since day one, to make these awful games a little easier. to protect that kindness that meant so much to him, to keep that little, warm light that he'd needed so badly flickering onwards for herself, for everyone in the camp. there were so few things he could do, there was nothing she could say, but right now i'm glad you are here means the world.
me too, he can't say. the words get caught in his throat. he's never been the best at expressing himself when it was necessary or otherwise, but as flayn leans in, he pulls her just that little bit closer, and covers their joined hands gently with his own. yin yu has hands suiting of his height, long, delicate fingers, and he encloses hers between his, like maybe he can hold her enough to try and take some of that suffering away.
i will not let you slip away again. he won't. not even death could keep him from flayn's side, for that long. the true duty of a retainer is to return to the side of their lord or lady, but more than that, yin yu had a promise to keep.
it's a long moment where he doesn't talk, just squeezes her hand, holds her close. flayn has been his anchor to reality more than once, too, and he wants to make sure he returns the favor. eventually, yin yu tips to rest his cheek against the top of her head, and says, quietly: ] We're here.
[ you and i both. we're here. it's over, for the most part. it's over.
despite everything, they survived.
he can tell flayn doesn't want to cry. she is that way; when she was upset, how few people actually saw her? who could actually tell the reasons why she was hurting so badly? how few people did flayn show herself to, really? yin yu had wondered it in the graveyard; was he one of the only ones who really knew her, at all?
so, he will do his best to keep her from going to far down that rabbit hole of pain, just as she's done to him, so many times. ] I'm not sure how much longer I could have stood it over there. [ a pause, and then. ] I have to confess something to you that may surprise you.
the fact that it's the two of them, that it's possible for there to be a we, is a miracle. he's alive. despite everything, he's alive. depending on how tomorrow works out, there is a very real possibility that tomorrow's sunrise might be the last they see, but if they do face death -
they'll be facing it together.
she relaxes as his hand comes to rest over hers, as his cheek rests against the top of her head. her eyes are still a little wet, but she actually manages to smile. we're here, but also, he's here. and this is finally, finally over.
it's easier to accept his comfort, now. she breathes out.]
I am glad you did not have to stay there for long any longer than you did. The length of time you were there... that was already too much. [she doesn't like the idea of him suffering, either. she knows how maddening it can be, to only watch, and to not feel like there's anything you can do to help ease someone's pain. she knows that intimately, and she'd never wanted that for him.] ...you have something to... confess? What is it?
[ -- too, she says, which surprises him. yin yu looks down at her, pulling back a bit, surprised.
and then he just - ] --Pfft!
[ ridiculous. yin yu doesn't laugh loudly, as ever, but the noise was startled out of him, and he finally removes one of his hands to cover his mouth to be polite. oops. ]
[hm. that's not quite the same type of laughter she drew out of him when she confessed her power, but - it's pretty close. he's probably trying not to laugh too loudly at it.]
[ it dies down after a second, successfully muffled. ahh.... ]
I think it's the irony of at all. He hasn't changed so much. [ well. mostly. yin yu knows that's not entirely true. ] I wish I hadn't done it: it certainly didn't make me feel any better.
[ he sighs, thumb absently stroking over the side of her hand. ] He's been trying to provoke me since before he was executed, and did the same for much of our time on the other side. Unfortunately, I gave into it.
[ he does not say that he was really ready to lay him out again, today, at the trial, because yin yu doesn't see any sense in dwelling on it, but he definitely was ready to, if push came to shove.
yin yu huffs, a quiet noise. ] I don't particularly enjoy fighting with others. I never have.
[ it's a bit ironic, for a former martial god, but. there are very few things that will get him that angry.]
[ hm... there's just a soft, familiar touch of fondness at that, the warmth he associates now with flayn. he glances down at their intertwined hands, the gentle, familiar fit. ]
That makes two of us. [ he doesn't really regret punching ogata all that much, though. there are some things in life that are worth punching someone in the jaw for. ]
For that reason more than many, I hope tomorrow will be kinder.
[ looking down at flayn, settled this close to her, all he can do is agree. ]
I do too. [ love can change a person, shinobu had said. she was right—it may have taken him death to really understand it, but yin yu is starting to.
he ducks his head in a little closer, squeezing her hand. there are still a million things to say, but none of them feel right, or enough. ] This time, I will endeavor not to leave it.
there really are so many things to say here - but flayn doesn't know quite which words to use, either. thank you certainly doesn't quite feel like enough to encompass just how grateful she is that he isn't going to leave. that, tonight at least, they can stay together.
tomorrow, they will part ways, but tonight -
tonight they can stay here.
she kisses his cheek, hopelessly in love with him, and allows herself to live fully in the present moment, for now.]
[ can't believe the "this is our last night together" setup and they're going to hold hands and kiss cheeks all night, terrible
the gesture is soft and sweet, and he closes his eyes, for a moment, mouth curling up in a small smile. flayn isn't the only one hopeless. what a strange, wonderful feeling, to be known, to be loved.
the small, pragmatic, cynical part of him worries that it will end, even if they do survive tomorrow. all he can do is give her his dice, and hope maybe... maybe she'll remember. he wants it. so, so badly, he wants her to, wants to hold onto this sweetness and light for what it is. in the end, yin yu's not just a servant, or a retainer, or a masked officer, or a no one - he's a human being. a real person, not a ghost, no matter how hard he tried to convince the world otherwise.
the wing wrapped around her back squeezes, the feathers ruffling gently. for a moment, he falls silent, content with their present moment, but, with the dragon horns of flayn's so close in his eyesight, it does bring something else to mind. ]
...I am not one for superstition, or charms, or anything of the sort, but, there's a saying... "lóng fèng chéng xiáng--" [ who knows how they can all understand each other, really, but the intent of saying it in the correct language comes through. ] - That is, that the dragon and phoenix together bring good fortune, and prosperity.
[ it feels very embarrassing to say this, for some reason. too cheesy, maybe. his cheeks pinken, a little, and he stares down at their hands. ] ...so perhaps we will be lucky, after all.
[if yin yu wants to bang in a bunk bed while they've both got wings he's welcome to try? though that would probably be kind of uncomfortable, huh! cucked by furry week. and also by the fact that he's terribly repressed.
anyway. flayn pays close attention to what he's saying - it's hard for her not to tune in to the sound of his voice, when he speaks. she repeats the saying to herself, very softly.]
Lóng fèng chéng xiáng...?
[wow, she hopes she pronounced that right.]
I hope that we shall be. But, the truth is... [no matter what tomorrow might bring them...] ...you came back to me. I already feel very fortunate.
[she squeezes his hand.]
I am hoping for the best for tomorrow. But... I wish I knew how to make it clear just how much it means to me that we can be together right now.
[this is, like, the one time she wishes it was still emotionshare week.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fishingforcompliments) wrote2020-06-06 12:53 pm
no subject
[Well.
It would have been bad. Flayn has made many bonds that she cherishes, here, but so many of them have been... perhaps not broken, but damaged, by the things she had no choice but to do. She'd withdrawn from people when she would otherwise have leaned on them, because it felt wrong to make them comfort her.
But from the start, Yin Yu had told her that it helped, having her near. Being able to do something for him, however little, had allowed her to stay long enough for him to do something for her, too.
She isn't sure how to put that into words.]
Being able to see you, that time... the flowers you sent, and the letters you wrote me. It - they gave me strength.
[...]
You gave me the strength I needed, to keep going. Even when we were apart, even when you must have been suffering, you were still looking out for me. I do not know how to tell you how much that meant to me.
no subject
he looks down at her properly, takes the moment for what it is. the fact that they're even sitting like this feels like a miracle. no more glitches, no separation of a screen or a veil between the dead and the living. no charades, or written letters: they're together, both living. who knows what that thing will do tomorrow - it may sooner decide to kill them all. but for right now, "keep going" meant "we made it".
he won't argue the point. if flayn says it helped her, then (even if it wasn't enough) it helped. ] I tried to reach out to you how I could.
[ there's a brief pause, and he huffs, a quiet, not quite laugh. ironic, more than anything. ] ...Truthfully, I thought I would be the reason you were caught, last week. I had sent those along with young master Junpei before anything began, and I had no idea what had been done. Between the letter, and the flowers...
[ he'd noticed her covering the flower meanings in the feed of the trial. at that time, he thought because they are private - and, really, the part of him that is a baby was grateful - but as things began to unfold, it really may have done her in. ]
no subject
[to receive a bundle of flowers, and tea? when there was a murder that had involved flowers and tea, that they were trying to solve? junpei had said they'd been chosen for them the day before, but -
it could have been a clue. she'd understood that they were from yin yu, and that he had likely been trying to send a message to her with the meaning of the flowers, but if it had led to people suspecting her...
she'd said it, when she'd received it.
thank you.]
I was hoping that they would. Dimitri had... he agreed to help us, but he did not seem to like the idea of someone else dying for what we did, either. I wanted to be caught.
[...]
...and I wanted to see you again. I wanted to see the both of you again so badly.
DW? MY NOTIFS?
the last thing she says confirms exactly what he'd thought. he hadn't figured out the 'role' until afterwards, but yin yu had said it to guy. she will be devastated. his initial thought was that flayn had gone to the same dark place that he had, so many years ago. even if things were different, even if they were not in all technicalities 'dead', it still - it aches to hear her confirm what he knew to be true. that she would rather have been dead.
his hand squeezes hers, and yin yu shifts, leaning against her a little more solidly. the benefit of the bizarre effect this week is maybe that there is an extra limb, because he can drape the wing that's half sprawled on the bed around her, instead, as if he could possibly do anything to comfort it, even a week later. yin yu knows what it's like, better than anyone, to want to be dead. ]
I'm so sorry. [ he says again, because words fail him for a moment, to say anything else. sorry is the only thing that seems to encompass it all: sorry that she had to do this. sorry that she had to feel that way. sorry that he left her behind, that they left her behind. that they failed her, as a whole. someone who had been so kind to him, so good to him, someone who has more or less changed yin yu's life, suffering the same kind of agony he had when chengzhu found him and asked, do you want to live? ]
...I didn't want to be right. [ about any of this. ] Sometimes continuing to live is the worst punishment you can ask for.
[ and doesn't he know it? doesn't he understand how hard it is to survive with guilt and suffering on your shoulders? it's been his entire life. he exhales. ] It's over, now, but... [ but it's not. he knows that, too. every waking and living moment will be guilt, recovery, steps forward, steps back.
yin yu squeezes her hand again, the empathy and sorrow a blanket, heart too big, hurting for flayn. ] ...I'm not going anywhere. [ not again. he will not leave her until this is over, and even then -- even then, he's thinking of ways to help. his dice, that will have to do. tomorrow. ]
no subject
[to be made to live, at the expense of someone else's life? it's senseless, she thinks. she won't begrudge anyone who wants her to live with the weight of what she's done, who thinks that's fitting, now that it's all over, and if all goes well tomorrow, no one else will need to lose their life.
but she can't fathom why anyone would have wanted her to live while someone else still needed to die, during the course of the game. she will never understand why anyone would have thought it was better not to vote for her, who so clearly had a hand in the death of someone beloved, and to vote for someone else instead.
in that case, it isn't just her being punished. it's also the other person who's losing their life, for no real reason. ookurikara should never have received the majority vote, and dick should never have been killed in the ring. not when there had been people who had been willing to die so that neither of them would have had to.
she leans into him, holding tightly to his hand as his wing settles around her. it's a difficult subject to talk about. she's had time to think about it - perhaps too much. she's thought about it so much that it feels as though she's simply thought in circles.]
I am glad you are here.
[her voice sounds a little raw, and if there are tears forming at the corners of her eyes, well -
hopefully, he won't see them. she doesn't particularly want him to see her cry. not now, when she just wants to be happy that he's back, that they have a chance for things to turn out well.
(it's so much easier said than done.)]
no subject
now, six weeks later, it makes a little more sense. he'd come to care for her even then, because she always, always cared for him. flayn always saw him, always sought him out, and then she was gone.
hearing her voice waver solidifies that same feeling, replaces the panic with care. he still doesn't know how to make it stop, but he's been trying, since day one, to make these awful games a little easier. to protect that kindness that meant so much to him, to keep that little, warm light that he'd needed so badly flickering onwards for herself, for everyone in the camp. there were so few things he could do, there was nothing she could say, but right now i'm glad you are here means the world.
me too, he can't say. the words get caught in his throat. he's never been the best at expressing himself when it was necessary or otherwise, but as flayn leans in, he pulls her just that little bit closer, and covers their joined hands gently with his own. yin yu has hands suiting of his height, long, delicate fingers, and he encloses hers between his, like maybe he can hold her enough to try and take some of that suffering away.
i will not let you slip away again. he won't. not even death could keep him from flayn's side, for that long. the true duty of a retainer is to return to the side of their lord or lady, but more than that, yin yu had a promise to keep.
it's a long moment where he doesn't talk, just squeezes her hand, holds her close. flayn has been his anchor to reality more than once, too, and he wants to make sure he returns the favor. eventually, yin yu tips to rest his cheek against the top of her head, and says, quietly: ] We're here.
[ you and i both. we're here. it's over, for the most part. it's over.
despite everything, they survived.
he can tell flayn doesn't want to cry. she is that way; when she was upset, how few people actually saw her? who could actually tell the reasons why she was hurting so badly? how few people did flayn show herself to, really? yin yu had wondered it in the graveyard; was he one of the only ones who really knew her, at all?
so, he will do his best to keep her from going to far down that rabbit hole of pain, just as she's done to him, so many times. ] I'm not sure how much longer I could have stood it over there. [ a pause, and then. ] I have to confess something to you that may surprise you.
no subject
the fact that it's the two of them, that it's possible for there to be a we, is a miracle. he's alive. despite everything, he's alive. depending on how tomorrow works out, there is a very real possibility that tomorrow's sunrise might be the last they see, but if they do face death -
they'll be facing it together.
she relaxes as his hand comes to rest over hers, as his cheek rests against the top of her head. her eyes are still a little wet, but she actually manages to smile. we're here, but also, he's here. and this is finally, finally over.
it's easier to accept his comfort, now. she breathes out.]
I am glad you did not have to stay there for long any longer than you did. The length of time you were there... that was already too much. [she doesn't like the idea of him suffering, either. she knows how maddening it can be, to only watch, and to not feel like there's anything you can do to help ease someone's pain. she knows that intimately, and she'd never wanted that for him.] ...you have something to... confess? What is it?
no subject
...I punched Ogata.
[ and his mouth twitches up, a little, into a wryly amused half smile.
how's that for a subject change. ]
no subject
["too," she says.]
Well - I suppose I did not exactly punch him... but he and I fought on the island, more than once. [...] And I slapped him when we were ghosts.
no subject
and then he just - ] --Pfft!
[ ridiculous. yin yu doesn't laugh loudly, as ever, but the noise was startled out of him, and he finally removes one of his hands to cover his mouth to be polite. oops. ]
no subject
[hm. that's not quite the same type of laughter she drew out of him when she confessed her power, but - it's pretty close. he's probably trying not to laugh too loudly at it.]
...is it really that funny?
no subject
I think it's the irony of at all. He hasn't changed so much. [ well. mostly. yin yu knows that's not entirely true. ] I wish I hadn't done it: it certainly didn't make me feel any better.
no subject
[she sighs.]
...but I do not know that I could have approached it any differently, in the moment.
no subject
[ because ogata is like that. ]
no subject
Yes. And he was successful.
[clearly.]
no subject
[ he sighs, thumb absently stroking over the side of her hand. ] He's been trying to provoke me since before he was executed, and did the same for much of our time on the other side. Unfortunately, I gave into it.
no subject
It can be... very difficult, to resist in the face of such provocation. You lasted for longer than I did.
[...if that. helps. at all.]
no subject
yin yu huffs, a quiet noise. ] I don't particularly enjoy fighting with others. I never have.
[ it's a bit ironic, for a former martial god, but. there are very few things that will get him that angry.]
no subject
[she really... hates violence.]
My abilities are most useful when someone has been in a fight, but - I would rather there was never any need for them at all.
no subject
That makes two of us. [ he doesn't really regret punching ogata all that much, though. there are some things in life that are worth punching someone in the jaw for. ]
For that reason more than many, I hope tomorrow will be kinder.
no subject
[...whatever tomorrow brings - they can only hope for the best possible outcome. tonight, though...
flayn looks up at him.]
...but whatever we may face tomorrow, whether it is kind or not... I feel more prepared for it, simply by virtue of being at your side now.
no subject
I do too. [ love can change a person, shinobu had said. she was right—it may have taken him death to really understand it, but yin yu is starting to.
he ducks his head in a little closer, squeezing her hand. there are still a million things to say, but none of them feel right, or enough. ] This time, I will endeavor not to leave it.
no subject
there really are so many things to say here - but flayn doesn't know quite which words to use, either. thank you certainly doesn't quite feel like enough to encompass just how grateful she is that he isn't going to leave. that, tonight at least, they can stay together.
tomorrow, they will part ways, but tonight -
tonight they can stay here.
she kisses his cheek, hopelessly in love with him, and allows herself to live fully in the present moment, for now.]
no subject
the gesture is soft and sweet, and he closes his eyes, for a moment, mouth curling up in a small smile. flayn isn't the only one hopeless. what a strange, wonderful feeling, to be known, to be loved.
the small, pragmatic, cynical part of him worries that it will end, even if they do survive tomorrow. all he can do is give her his dice, and hope maybe... maybe she'll remember. he wants it. so, so badly, he wants her to, wants to hold onto this sweetness and light for what it is. in the end, yin yu's not just a servant, or a retainer, or a masked officer, or a no one - he's a human being. a real person, not a ghost, no matter how hard he tried to convince the world otherwise.
the wing wrapped around her back squeezes, the feathers ruffling gently. for a moment, he falls silent, content with their present moment, but, with the dragon horns of flayn's so close in his eyesight, it does bring something else to mind. ]
...I am not one for superstition, or charms, or anything of the sort, but, there's a saying... "lóng fèng chéng xiáng--" [ who knows how they can all understand each other, really, but the intent of saying it in the correct language comes through. ] - That is, that the dragon and phoenix together bring good fortune, and prosperity.
[ it feels very embarrassing to say this, for some reason. too cheesy, maybe. his cheeks pinken, a little, and he stares down at their hands. ] ...so perhaps we will be lucky, after all.
no subject
anyway. flayn pays close attention to what he's saying - it's hard for her not to tune in to the sound of his voice, when he speaks. she repeats the saying to herself, very softly.]
Lóng fèng chéng xiáng...?
[wow, she hopes she pronounced that right.]
I hope that we shall be. But, the truth is... [no matter what tomorrow might bring them...] ...you came back to me. I already feel very fortunate.
[she squeezes his hand.]
I am hoping for the best for tomorrow. But... I wish I knew how to make it clear just how much it means to me that we can be together right now.
[this is, like, the one time she wishes it was still emotionshare week.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)