❝ I tend to live life thinking i don’t have time for romance. you could guess from me working for 80 hours straight, possibly, but i’m a very busy woman. that and, people tend to annoy me, and it’s work to filter out the bothersome ones to find someone who actually makes sense to me. ❞
she makes an interesting face, a combination of confusion with herself and a tinge of bitterness, but she pushes it away and feels a bit of a smile start to come to her face, just to make up for the fact that what she’s just said is too true for her own liking.
she too is a woman of many secrets, and perhaps they could trade some, much like middle schoolers do. though she has no intention of spreading them.
❝ i don’t know if i have a guess — what, is it something bad ? my curiosity just went from 0 to 100. okay, maybe not 100, more like 75. but if it sweetens the deal, i have very serious secrets hidden, and perhaps i may share them with you. for a fair trade, of course. ❞
” people often make little
to no sense to me, but there’s
more than one reason for that.
secret related. but i loved once,
technically, twice.
only one time was voluntary and
not thrust upon me by the
nature of my existence--
i sound like i’m getting philosophical and shit,, my bad. “
scratches cease, his eyes slip shut for but a moment as he sighs out his worries. his words, unlike hers, are not met with bitter feelings--rather, a bit of regret, regret for ever having loved in the first place. he had invested a heavenly year into a glitch in his psyche, a fake part of him that he assumed was but a fragment of someone else. he invested himself into her, studied her face every night and kept their secret safe from absolutely no one for so long, but for what cost? wings shed like skin and abilities shrunk to a bare minimum, and all so he can be haunted by her eyes but never her voice, her skin but never her appearance, what she once was but what she’d never be, and it was for what, again? for the feeling of flesh upon flesh and the occasional compliment. for the dinners that were cut too short because they’d be found out. but the memory is fleeting, and his words show no sign of his grief for the past.
“ bad, maybe. maybe a few of them are bad.
what, you want to exchange deep,
dark secrets with me, just because i
found out you like head scratches? “