safe spot
ftxdiana:
“ hi ” she greeted back, her own smile dying before it could reach her eyes. was her state noticeable? could he tell what was on her mind? “ it’s not taken, no ” she replied softly, and her own words toke her by surprise. well, she might have come there wanting to be alone but the seat was empty and she was no one to force him out. and maybe having some company wasn’t that bad of an idea. “ there’s no service on the rooftop today, though ” she warned him after a small silence, just in case he was expecting the area to come to live anytime soon.
her gaze returned to the sky, where the moon fought a silent battle with the dark clouds that threatened to cover her.
taking the seat beside her, sanha can’t help but chuckle lightly. he hums in thought, shakes his head. “definitely didn’t expect to come up here and be waited on hand and foot,” he raises a brow, shoots her a sidelong glance, a lazy grin on his lips. stretching his legs out he lets out a far too loud yawn, far too exaggerated, far too familiar. “unless you’re offering, diana-ssi?” he jokes, tilts his head in question.
he continues to look at her in question, curious as to what it is that seems to have her so down. there’s practically a visible dark cloud hovering above diana’s head as she gazes into the distance. at nothing --- sanha is convinced, glancing back and forth between her face and the blank sky, absent of stars, all the light and wonder of the universe fallen to the rush of the streets.
coming right out and asking would be a complete overstep --- it’s not his place, he doesn’t know her at all. boundaries exist, even if he ignores them half the time. he likes boundaries in weirdly intimate emotional spaces. sanha has always had a big mouth, though; is terrible at keeping to himself, remembering his place. “are you okay?” he blurts out, inelegant and brash, his words breaking the still of the night. his hand comes up automatically to rub at his nape, a habit whenever he’s shoved into (or, shoved himself into, more like) awkward and uncomfortable situations. clearing his throat, sanha shakes his head, pushes forward. “i mean, you just seem kind of...” he flounders, searches for the right word, ends up nowhere near right, in the end, “lonely?”
belatedly, he realizes this isn’t just weird because they’re polite colleagues at best. he’s also the weird guy that followed her up to the roof out of nowhere. sanha abruptly turns to face forward, keeping his gaze locked away from diana in a last-ditch attempt to not seem like an absolute fucking creep. “not that you’re lonely or that i’m trying to make you un-lonely,” sanha says, shaking his head at himself. he blames the long day for the loss of his usually smooth tongue, infinitely embarrassed.









