sgnahri:
❛once upon a december;
she should let this go. yuna clearly isn’t interested, ahri should just get what remains of her pride and leave too.
instead, she just sits on a table that she isn’t welcomed with a person who doesn’t welcome her either. “yes, i could.” ahri agrees, even thinks that she probably should. but she didn’t come here to sit on the other side of the library. “but, you see,” ahri rests one of her elbows on the table before resting her chin on her hand. “i’m afraid that the company on the other side of the library won’t be as good as it’s here and it’s not as much about me not standing it. and you know that even if for some reason you seem to like pretending that you don’t.” ahri verbally pokes yuna, resists the urge to raise her chin in challenge, daring the other to not acknowledge that at the same time it isn’t a lie that ahri hates smoking because the smell of it is horrible, but this nagging is more than just about that, it’s because ahri worries and yuna knows that, has heard ahri’s soft exasperated tone repeating the same words again and again, sometimes even using the excuse of not liking the smell to hide her fond worry, but they both has always known what it was really about.
“should i start showing you shocking videos to finally make you stop? like a mother does with her child.” ahri doesn’t resist the urge, this time, to roll her eyes at yuna’s words and then having her lips pressed in a thin line. “please, nothing that can bring you to an early grave is beautiful. i thought we were past the phase of being edgy teenagers who are all about “look how morbid i am”.”
she’s a masochist, she knows it, that’s why the cigarette tastes even sweeter when it’s accompanied by harsh words, scolding. perhaps ahri has given herself too much power, allowed herself to dream and hope without a limit, but when it comes to yuna, there simply isn’t a method that works; she can’t be saved. she was built wrong, just like every atom of her body, and given a twisted form. she’s a walking imperfection and so to other imperfections and bad things she must turn, it’s the only way that she’ll stay happy. happy, it’s a relative term and of course she isn’t happy, but at least she can say that her soul no longer aches. she’s found herself in a fascinating state of numbness; something that she would recommend to everyone, it makes living tolerable. “scold me more, ahri, i love it when you do that. hurt me, hurt me, come on, say that i’m a bad girl,” she laughs and throws her head back, sensing an oncoming headache. is it something that comes with the weather or ahri? goddammit ahri, look at what you’re doing.
“spare me from the melodramatic explanation. you’re still that same annoying girl i knew. god ahri, just grow up. it’s time. the rest of the world moved on, maybe you should too,” she wishes she could shake some sense into the girl and ask her to stop dwelling on the past, to stop touching old wounds that are more prone to bleeding that she wishes to admit. of course she fucking misses her, but they’re not the same people anymore. or at least yuna isn’t, she pushed everything under a rug, hid the past even from herself, nothing good ever comes from looking back. “i’m afraid you’re wrong. i’m bad company, especially when i’m sober and i’m telling you now, i won’t stop smoking,” the girl almost snarls, pursing her lips even harder to draw on the cigarette. fuck, she is acting like an ill-tempered and stubborn child again, one set on misbehaving just to prove her point.
“sure, show me any video that you want. i love blackening my lugs. that’s why you’ll never know how good it feels, never. and you are not my mother, ahri. so stop acting like one. i know it’s a part of the cute and innocent little image that you’re trying to portray, but i’m not falling for your tricks, virgin mary,” narrowing her eyes, she blows out all the smoke in ahri’s direction, concealing her own face behind an artificial grey cloud. “i’m not an edgy teenager and i’m not being morbid. i'm simply a realist.”















