ღ~ | "You. . miss me?"
ღ — Why. Somehow she just can’t seem to comprehend why it was so difficult to speculate on such statement. His sentences were truthful, his tone was honest, his presence was real — right? If such silhouette of glimmering aquamarine hues, and turquoise strands stood there. .
Then again, it didn’t quite feel all joyous. If she could place a finger on it, it was more of a nostalgic feeling, laced with a stubborn nature, cultivating inside doubt. Her hand is clenched and hovering over her bottom lip, tension taking precedence on her limbs which slowly tremble in frustration. Even the prior electrifying shade of luminosity inside her irises became a pale, laser beam, glossed in a mushy cloud of steel as in a cold winter morning; a disconsolation for her eyes.
ღ~ | "It’s hard to. . think that, you know?" Geez, you’re not supposed to be honest.
ღ — Shoulders lock in a hunch, a free arm folding right below the abdomen. Perplexing showers of different angles in sentiments cascaded not only throughout her canvas, but also her chords.
ღ~ | “W - what do you expect me to say? W - welcome back? Hah, 'is all'?”
“Mikuo. . Ahh!, y - you’re an idiot! . . I mean,” — She mumbles who knows
what else.
This was really something he was not quite ready to face.
- -- That miniscule, rushed note he sent ages ago might have been read, maybe or either.. ignored if he'll set his pessimism on course-- which by the way, had their grey flags waving as he stood for about ten full minutes behind the front door of her house. Her house. Attempts to ring were set aside as he focused on what he's supposed to say whilst... being side-tracked of what she'll say.
Would she be specifically happy to see him, perhaps?
Of course not.
Would she hate him... perhaps?
Of course, Heck-- she's probably hating him right now.
See how the negativity works?
Marvelous.
A weary hand scraped through his locks as the other reached for the bell-- stopping just a centimeter away from it's surface as he thought this over for the nth time. Accompanied with these thoughts, were really pathetic actions of walking away BUT coming back again, pausing at the bell then sighing. Rinse and repeat thus gaining another five useless minutes.
At the strike of the sixth, he sat down on the steps and hung his head low.
What is he even DOING?
