rosekan hurt/comfort?
(literally don’t know how to write hurt/comfort so here’s me trying lol)
The deafening classical music pauses mid-note; Rose barely looks up to see who the interrupted her sulking hours. Contemplation hours, she corrects herself internally. It was healthy and okay to think about the mistakes that you made (along with the mistakes of lives you never lived and alternates you never pursued and-) for three hours straight. These practices made one a better person and as such should be partaken as often and as long as possible.
But. Maybe three hours was a bit much.
She feels the comforter dip next to her and a body settle in position. Neither of them spoke for a moment, just letting the silence settle comfortably before breaking it.
“It’s not particularly nice to just watch you disappear then hear classical music blasting through your door.” Kanaya starts.
Rose shrugs.
“It’s also not particularly nice to not be engaged with when I want to talk.”
She flinches slightly at that. “Sorry,” she whispers, “I should have mentioned something.”
Kanaya stays silent, her gaze forward and her posture tense. A moment passes before she shrugs herself. “You’re not constantly required too. It was just very worrying to watch you suddenly leave after I said something I thought was trivial.”
She hums in agreement and sinks lower onto her bed. “It was very trivial, I don’t even remember what you said. It just seems that today is a bad day for my mood. Through no fault of yours, I must note. It is merely the whims of my broken and unbalanced brain chemistry.”
Kanaya runs her finger gently through the top of Rose’s hair. “It is quite unfortunate that our more negative reactions to mental stimuli affects the other just as badly. Truly a beautifully tragic juxtaposition from our usual dynamics.”
She grabs Kanaya’s hand and presses a soft kiss to the luminescent skin. “Such is the fate of two tragically beautiful women.”
Her girlfriend snorts and gives her an exasperated smile. “I was under the impression I was dating a writer, not a comedian.”
“I am a woman of many talents. And a dear friend of one dear Egbert.”
Kanaya hums as she moves lower and closer to Rose, mindful of her horns hitting the headboard or wall behind her. “Might I ask what your three hour sulk was about? As I recall, we were watching a baking competition and while a bad brain moment can happen any time I would just like to know if we’ll be needing to avoid them from now on.”
“No need dear, I know you love the romanticized competitiveness those shows have. It was merely a stray thought that decided to be the star of my mind and shut down my every other functions.” Rose pauses for a moment before continuing. “It was simply a case of spiraling down an itemized list of my mistakes. An asinine debate of shoulds, coulds, and woulds with myself as I know Dave would rather skewer himself on one of Dirk’s spear wielding puppets than create new time paradoxes for me. And truth be told I would be right behind him in our little godly kebab of refusing to use our powers any more than we had to.”
“I see. That does seem mightily detached from a woman baking a three tier wedding cake on a time limit. As it goes however you know my stance on that particular train of thought of yours. And my eternally open invitation to speak about it with me.”
Rose waves her hand in dismissal. “I am aware my love. It is just easier said that done.
“I can write guides to break a world ending game, talk of concepts more abstract than the last, entrust my very life and future onto you and everyone else’s hands. And yet the idea of bearing my inner turmoil without a layer of protection for myself is the most terrifying act I could ever experience.”
“Rest assured that the feeling is shared, it manifests in a different form for me but that is merely a product of our varied upbringing and beliefs. And I’m sure the same goes for most of our little friend group as well.”
Rose hums in agreement.
“But, I must say it is an improvement from the disaster that our communication was before.” Kanaya gestures to the two of them with her fingers. “It used to be that it would happen, then we’d have a tense moment of acknowledging it happening, and then move on without another word. Now we acknowledged it and spoke a little about it.” She nods to herself. “Progress.”
“Progress,” Rose echoes lightly. She looks at the two of them, half slouched and half laying down on her bed, fingers clasped together, a quiet comfort settling around them, and a lighter cadence to her thoughts. “Progress.”