[ The implication that he wasn't answering properly pulls a little twitch out of him, but in the end he just shrugs. He'd explained it once, and it wasn't understood, and so a hundred times more won't close that gap. It stings, and there's a dull ache in his chest, because he wants somebody to understand those feelings too, but... Who was there that could even begin to comprehend that cocktail of complex and conflicting emotions, of admiration and disdain, and of being better than everyone while also being worse than them? How can he give an answer that he doesn't have?
Maybe that'll be his lie next time, he thinks... But Rio knows that it won't be, because he won't play pretend on that. That petulant line of thought doesn't even bring him any comfort, it does nothing to alleviate that sickly feeling, and that agitates him further.
He can't accept calling Komaeda by anything else, either. There's some part of him that finds the entire thing unfair, to constantly be shoved away and expected to adapt to every whim while having every last boundary pushed and regularly swallowing every last insecurity for the sole sake of seeing what happens. It's not that he can't understand those feelings, but they're at odds with with own. The idea of making that exception for a single person makes him squirm. It goes on and on until this thoughts are all tangled and knotted together.
He flips through his cards a few times before they're replaced by one that covers his entire face. A dotted eye and a less-than sign for a wink, a v-shaped smile, something simple and cute that he'd grabbed at random to hide whatever expression he's showing behind it. But maybe that's not surprising - he really doesn't keep any negative cards, does he? There's just a few of them, barely ever used, so easily forgotten about.
...
He doesn't get it. He still doesn't get it at all. ]
no subject
That's fair.
[ The implication that he wasn't answering properly pulls a little twitch out of him, but in the end he just shrugs. He'd explained it once, and it wasn't understood, and so a hundred times more won't close that gap. It stings, and there's a dull ache in his chest, because he wants somebody to understand those feelings too, but... Who was there that could even begin to comprehend that cocktail of complex and conflicting emotions, of admiration and disdain, and of being better than everyone while also being worse than them? How can he give an answer that he doesn't have?
Maybe that'll be his lie next time, he thinks... But Rio knows that it won't be, because he won't play pretend on that. That petulant line of thought doesn't even bring him any comfort, it does nothing to alleviate that sickly feeling, and that agitates him further.
He can't accept calling Komaeda by anything else, either. There's some part of him that finds the entire thing unfair, to constantly be shoved away and expected to adapt to every whim while having every last boundary pushed and regularly swallowing every last insecurity for the sole sake of seeing what happens. It's not that he can't understand those feelings, but they're at odds with with own. The idea of making that exception for a single person makes him squirm. It goes on and on until this thoughts are all tangled and knotted together.
He flips through his cards a few times before they're replaced by one that covers his entire face. A dotted eye and a less-than sign for a wink, a v-shaped smile, something simple and cute that he'd grabbed at random to hide whatever expression he's showing behind it. But maybe that's not surprising - he really doesn't keep any negative cards, does he? There's just a few of them, barely ever used, so easily forgotten about.
...
He doesn't get it. He still doesn't get it at all. ]