Always Running Out of Time | Kousuke
Katsumi had been so wrapped up in a coil of her own self-depreciation that, whilst she did hear and register Kousuke’s first words, she hardly reacted to them. Yes, it was easy to say that she was blaming herself too much, being an outside observer. But those words alone couldn’t-
She visibly jumped, however, when she felt something touch her shoulder. A combination of the unexpectedness of it, her unstable state and a general dislike for being touched by anything was what caused this action, a small jitter and a flinch away from the object in question. When Katsumi saw what it was, however, she relaxed her tension. Of course she was safe here, and yet it had been instinct that dominated.
In a way that was somewhat counterproductive, it was seeing the box of tissues that caused tears to well up in her eyes. She could not conjure up a rational reason as to why such a thing happened - it just did. There was something about such a simple action that spoke volumes, that carried connotations of care and support and acceptance and everything else that she had so desperately needed in that moment of emotional weakness, that she had needed at so many points in her life when none of the above was offered.
Her watery gaze remained fixed on the tissues as he continued to speak. She said nothing, showed no signs of response - and yet she hung onto every word he said.
It was okay to forgive herself, even if her mother wouldn’t. She had spent years wanting to do so, and yet had always let guilt override her desire. But now that the assurance that she needn’t blame herself anymore was being offered, Katsumi was desperate to grab it. She didn’t know if she really believed in everything that he was saying, or if it was even true, but she wanted to believe it.
She reached out and took the tissues, still staring at the box, and afterwards made no move to actually use them. It took a long, long time for her to finally think of a response. When she did the blonde turned to finally look at Kousuke. There were still tears in her eyes, but her expression was a composed one.
"My surname is Sakata now. I ceased to be an Aihara a long time ago, so there’s no real need for a change." She paused, managing an ever so slight smile. "But if you want, then you can just call me Katsumi. Privately, mind."
The silence before she finally spoke wasn't too bad. He shifted a bit, rubbing at his arms as he waited. In this shirt, without his usual concealment of several jackets and long sleeves, his stab wound was pretty out in the open. He didnt seem prone to fidgeting with its bandages, though, much more focused on Katsumi.
"..Ah." That was what he said, finally, when Katsumi finally took the box. Dropping his hands to watch her, and then pointedly not watch her once she said what she did. Oh. Well that made sense, yeah. Nothing to be too worked up about here, professional comrades used each others first names all the time... especially when they had crippling family issues going on.
"Kats...umi. Alright." He almost felt like he needed to add some kind of honorific here, but that isn't how Nojima Kousuke rolls. It would be WAY too weird to suddenly start using one right after this conversation, too. Eyeing her smile from the corner of his eyes, he sighed a bit and coughed (or at least feigned to) into his hand. "..I guess the same goes for you, if you want to call me.. whatever. Yeah." Smooth.
"...either way. I do think that.. both of our 'secrets' are fairly... non-concerning. I trust that neither of us will be tempted to murder any time soon, over it. The others, on the hand..." He closed his eyes. "...we should try to.. talk to some of them. Perhaps."
Any hint of color on his cheeks from the previous nature of the conversation was NOT real and probably a result of his exhaustion. He stifled a yawn before sticking his hands up to his hair again, as if making sure its actually tied up and not looking stupid. It looked stupid.
