there's a wildly elusive moment of bliss

[taketori]

Who: Miyuki Shirogane & You
What: Dreamscapes, anything else that I come up with
When: March
Where: The forest, elsewhere?
Warnings: none at the moment


miyuki shirogane catch all for march
open prompts for march, student council stuff if needed
any questions reach out to perpendicular

Comments

[taketori]

[ How could he? His heart was heavy enough, knowing that being able to reach out to her's close to impossible. ]

I can't. [ Matter of fact. Most of the factors of his life had nothing to do with his heart, simply with using his mind to solve all of his problems. It was what he needed to keep afloat in a sea of natural, god-given talent.

If he told her from her heart, then it would probably be the same outcome. ]

I need to rationalize it somehow. My heart may end up causing me to blurt out the wrong thing and causing issues. If the answers don't satisfy anyone, then...

[ He can already sense it, through the multitude of voices. One soft, audibly sighing as she spoke again.

'It's because sometimes, love doesn't last, Miyuki.'

A girl's voice. High pitched, a bit more excitable, seemingly coming from the area where the couches would be.

'President, I'm not going to teach you how to figure THIS out too! Do it yourself!'

A dreary voice, this time a male, from the same area.

'If you don't get this done, can I really count on you, President?'

One final voice, haughty, with a level of superiority greater than all the others. A voice that gives Miyuki pause when she speaks.

'You really think you can stand beside me with results like that, President? How cute...'

He shivers, unsure if it's at that final line or the sudden breeze coming through the window. Wind sweeps in, causing the worksheets to ruffle just a bit around on his desk. ]

With as much as I need to use my mind for, how can I even sort out what my heart wants to say?

[decrypter]

There's your issue, Mr. Shirogane. You believe you can't use your heart, when it might be the most important factor in this whole process.

[the voices surround him, this room, like different phrases of a song, and the echoes they leave - oh, no wonder she came here. he's in need of another perspective, writer's block too heavy on his soul.]

Perhaps I'm biased, being a poet, but the heart is where truth lies. Even if words come out incorrectly to start, you then have the chance to rearrange them into what your intent wants you to say. And how can you be so sure that they're wrong, when you haven't even given them the chance to be right?

[even if she can't see it, she can feel sunshine on her back, the very same that wants to encourage him.]

Give it one shot, to write it out. I certainly can't read it, and neither can she - do it for yourself. And if you hate the end result, tear it up, throw it away, set it on fire. But at least you'll have made the attempt.