Having her retort wittily to his comment must be a good sign, right? It should mean that, despite everything, she was still… Frey, right? Of course, he knew that three years of being apart would definitely mean that they’ve had the chance to grow into mature adults but, if she was still like how she was when they were younger, she would try her hardest to hold her tears in infront of others because she always wanted to appear ‘strong’, to appear ‘capable’— and, judging from her current state, it seems that she is doing exactly just that.
Truth be told, he… didn’t really know that she felt this strongly for Micah. To think that she would feel this devastated… to shed so many tears, to lose that spark that she once had because of him breaking up with her. If he… hadn’t intervened, if he hadn’t trusted Micah so much, if he hadn’t encouraged him to give her that dating ring… would things have turned out differently? Would she have avoided this kind of heartbreak?
Love… Why is it so difficult? Why does it end so suddenly? Why does it cause immense pain when, in theory, it’s supposed to make live worth living? In this light, he supposed that love is still a vague concept that he couldn’t really grasp well enough as he was just learning to fall in love himself—–
Anyway, he turned his attention back onto Frey— but, just as he was about to speak once more, he was cut off by her words.
“Why are you even here, dummy. The plants need some watering.”
The… tone in her voice as she acknowledged him sounded familiar. It was… the very same tone that she had used against him from when they were still teenagers— when she wanted nothing to do with him, when she tried her hardest to push him away. Despite the fact that he knew she didn’t mean all those harsh words from before, despite knowing that she had wanted to say other words to him… that she , too, had difficulty expressing herself whenever she was upset and, or, angry—
—He couldn’t help the aching feeling inside his chest.
Old memories, old feelings resurfacing. The confidence that he had just a few minutes ago had started to waver and, for a moment, he wondered if she should do as he was told and leave her alone. But, he immediately dismissed that thought because he knew better.
As he knew that words will definitely fail him this time around, he decided to grab pieces of paper, pens and, lastly, a pair of recyclable bottles with caps— stuffing them inside his fanny pack— before he grabbed her by the arm and dragged outside of the farmhouse.
“…The plants can wait! Here, come with me—- don’t ask questions. Trust me.”
Her sobs continued, quiet still, her body mildly shaking. Even as she covered her face with her hands, she felt so vulnerable. To break down in front of a person-- your brother, your twin-- and be rendered speechless, too...! She was no better than any other sibling there. Despite priding in this close relationship she has with her family, here she was, finding it harder than ever to even piece together words to explain why she felt like this, perhaps find an explaination for the overwhelming distraught that consumed her.
When Lest left her side, she felt relieved at first. Relieved now that she was left alone and she won’t burden him further with her childish, senseless tears and refusal to even speak about it. Then, when it sinks in that he did leave her side, her tears fall further. It was like a painful confirmation that she would rather not have. Assuming was one thing, but for it to be real? For her side to be empty so soon? For Lest to leave h--
Getting pulled from the couch, Frey yelped in surprise as she was grabbed by the arm and taken outside. “--don’t ask questions. Trust me.” Frey blinks repeatedly as she stares at her brother with confusion. Trust played such a cruel game in her mind. She trusted him, more than anyone. But even with the trust she holds for him, why was it she can’t ever be truly be honest? Even with all her big talk about honesty as a child and as a grown-up?
Frey allowed her legs to do all the work, moving along as Lest took her to Goddess knows where. Lest can be just as impulsive as her sometimes, and a part of her was worried because of this. She can’t ask questions, he said. But she had so many! Keeping her head lowered, Frey simply mutters a late response, “...of course I trust you, dummy.”
Whatever he had in store, she had to brace herself for it. With her free hand, she wipes the remainder of her tears, the distraction dismissing them for now. She felt like such a gross mess, her eyes sore from repeated crying. Maybe getting air outside would help her, somehow? No matter how small?
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