You're an idiot, [he tacks onto natsume's words.] But I'm glad you're alive, too.
[how they've both lost such important people, the wounds scabbed over and yet picked at from time to time, the rawness stinging with every press of their nail against reddened skin-- even now, even now, subaru digs his fingers into the one against his chest, tearing at it, thinking how stupid he was to not try harder, to maybe ask god for something just as selfish as before, to give anything just to make sure helena returned safe into their arms.
even if she had, in the end. the time between then and now felt suspended, felt uneasy and tense. how subaru always looked at the forest, feet wanting to follow the path again and resisting, resisting, because he hadn't wanted to cause natsume any more pain. he'd done enough, after all, without risking his life a second time.]
Lena... Helena... [he can't help it, his voice cracks and he buries in more, it's just like the evening of that terrible day but this time, natsume bears witness too.] I'm-- I'm so, so happy you're okay. I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you, too.
[the words are soft, a little strained, and she holds onto both of them tighter. if she had just ran instead of stopping, if she hadn't had gone out at all, if she'd had her PDA - if, if, if, echoing in her mind. and then floating through dreams that felt liquid, moments in time she couldn't place, fighting back to the surface. she just wants to be okay - wants to be bundled up and kept close, to go back to the dorms and stay in their room until she can walk again, comforted by familiar touches and sounds and smells.
she can't, not until she's discharged, but right now she doesn't want to be strong, to be a pillar to rely on, to hold other people up. she wants to be herself, and to be allowed to cling to the people she loves, anchors to stop her from floating away again. apologize over and over for the pain she's caused them. the pain she will cause them. right now, she only wants them to know that she never intended any of this to happen.]
no subject
[how they've both lost such important people, the wounds scabbed over and yet picked at from time to time, the rawness stinging with every press of their nail against reddened skin-- even now, even now, subaru digs his fingers into the one against his chest, tearing at it, thinking how stupid he was to not try harder, to maybe ask god for something just as selfish as before, to give anything just to make sure helena returned safe into their arms.
even if she had, in the end. the time between then and now felt suspended, felt uneasy and tense. how subaru always looked at the forest, feet wanting to follow the path again and resisting, resisting, because he hadn't wanted to cause natsume any more pain. he'd done enough, after all, without risking his life a second time.]
Lena... Helena... [he can't help it, his voice cracks and he buries in more, it's just like the evening of that terrible day but this time, natsume bears witness too.] I'm-- I'm so, so happy you're okay. I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you, too.
no subject
[the words are soft, a little strained, and she holds onto both of them tighter. if she had just ran instead of stopping, if she hadn't had gone out at all, if she'd had her PDA - if, if, if, echoing in her mind. and then floating through dreams that felt liquid, moments in time she couldn't place, fighting back to the surface. she just wants to be okay - wants to be bundled up and kept close, to go back to the dorms and stay in their room until she can walk again, comforted by familiar touches and sounds and smells.
she can't, not until she's discharged, but right now she doesn't want to be strong, to be a pillar to rely on, to hold other people up. she wants to be herself, and to be allowed to cling to the people she loves, anchors to stop her from floating away again. apologize over and over for the pain she's caused them. the pain she will cause them. right now, she only wants them to know that she never intended any of this to happen.]
It'll never, never happen again.