[ Asa doesn't say a thing in response. Only when she hears Reze on her way out does she speak, her voice quiet enough that the other girl could pretend she never heard it, and Asa could equally pretend the same. ]
I killed my mom.
[ She still isn't looking back at her. Her tone is as impossible to read as Reze's is — the only sign of her emotions are the way she curls up into herself, just slightly. ]
She got eaten by a devil because of me. I killed my cat, too. Because I trusted someone I shouldn't have.
[ The context isn't meant to deflect responsibility. It's clear she feels as guilty as if she'd wrapped her hands around their necks herself. Zero of her usual 'yes but' or 'no and'. ]
I've spent my whole life since... wishing I could take it back. I'd give anything for it. Maybe there's some super strong devil out there with the power to turn back time. If these Edicts are as powerful as they say, maybe they can do it. I don't know.
[ The confession doesn’t cancel out the pointed malice from earlier. but it’s a revelation, one that lessens the responsibility Reze assigns to Asa— a normal girl living with this sort of guilt was a scary, sad thing.
And it just feels better this way too; being sad on Asa’s behalf is preferable to feeling betrayed.
Friends fought, right? Especially friends this desperate to seem well adjusted.
Reze sets down her things and lays beside Asa again, turning so that she’s pressed against her back hugging her. ]
[ You don't know that. It's on her tongue ready to go, but Reze is hugging her and Asa lets the comfort wash over her instead of fighting it. There's a sniffle in her voice that she just barely keeps from breaking into a full sob by taking a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds, even if the overlong pause betrays her as much as the tears would. ]
Your parents suck. Just saying.
[ An objectively cruel thing to say. Maybe they died saving her like Asa's mother did, and Reze was just too young to remember. But she isn't thinking of what's fair or what isn't. All Asa knows is that they didn't do enough to make Reze feel wanted. For all Asa's problems growing up, she at least never had to doubt that her mother loved her, that she was wanted by someone. She should be more grateful for that. Should have been more grateful. Present tense. Past tense. Too late. ]
Do you think we would have been friends as kids? [ It's a pointless hypothetical: the kind of thing she hates. She asks anyway, because she wants the answer to be yes. Like it will somehow let her go back in time and save that unloved girl when she can't even save herself. ] Maybe in that world we're both happy. I hope so.
[ It is a cruel thing to say, objectively, but to her it’s also incredibly kind. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have someone be upset on her behalf and over something that Reze has long since accepted as just a part of who she was and is.
The question, for all the misery it implies makes her smile. Her grip tightens briefly, a reassuring squeeze. ]
Of course we would, stupid.
[ She tries to imagine what that child version of her would be like, or at least what she would want to be like. The child version of herself that she knows had never been much of a child at all. ]
If anyone tried to be mean to you I’d put worms in their bed and blame it on someone else. Whenever we’d play house I would make you be the husband every time… and I’d cry until you agreed.
[ it’s a bandaid on the open wound that Asa has left between her ribs, but it’s enough to diffuse the tension between them. ]
Good. [ To friendship. To happiness. ] When we get older, we'll buy an apartment in the countryside. I'd figure out a way to study remotely, or catch a train into Tokyo. After I graduate college, I'll make sure to avoid becoming too famous, so we can have privacy. Word travels fast, especially in small communities. I don't need people bugging me for autographs when I walk down the street.
[ This doesn't sound so much like a simple game of house anymore. But she doesn't stop talking. ]
We'd have a cat. And a dog, like you wanted. I'd pretend not to like it but secretly think it's cute. We could do all the other things on your list too.
[ Abruptly, she laughs. Her face is hot with embarrassment again, but it feels less shameful than before. ]
Sorry. I just realized how ridiculous that all sounded. Sometimes I say things without thinking about them first. [ Sometimes. ] Just, um, forget it. As long as you're happy, the rest doesn't matter.
[ She’s grateful they’re not facing one another. somehow Asa has picked out the things from her list that she’s too skittish to share— when the world knows what you want it’s all the more eager to keep you from having it.
The whole thing is a pipe dream. They both know that. And Reze for all her ignorance on what constitutes normal friendship knows that all of this is more impassioned a wish than it probably should be for two people who don’t know each other well. But it doesn’t bother her, it’s nice to play pretend, it’s nice to be wanted enough to fit into someone’s future even if that future will never come to pass (and even if it only involves her because she was the first person available to fill this gap). ]
You know.. you’re kind of smooth when you wanna’ be.
[ A yawn punctuates her sentence. When she closes her eyes her smile persists. She doesn’t let go either. ]
[ Asa smiles, too. The type of smile that sneaks up on you and makes the whole room warmer before you notice. Smooth, huh... It's not like she really cares, since her and Reze aren't like that, and being smooth isn't a girl's job anyway, but a compliment is a compliment. ]
That's a cute name. [ She'll remember it, even when she forgets (pretends to forget) the rest of what she said today. When she realizes she put more thought into planning a life with Reze than a life without her. When did she stop dreaming of a good future? Before or after her mother died? Before or after she died? ] Goodnight, Reze.
[ The last thing she does before closing her eyes is snuggle back into her a little. Any embarrassment can wait until morning. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I killed my mom.
[ She still isn't looking back at her. Her tone is as impossible to read as Reze's is — the only sign of her emotions are the way she curls up into herself, just slightly. ]
She got eaten by a devil because of me. I killed my cat, too. Because I trusted someone I shouldn't have.
[ The context isn't meant to deflect responsibility. It's clear she feels as guilty as if she'd wrapped her hands around their necks herself. Zero of her usual 'yes but' or 'no and'. ]
I've spent my whole life since... wishing I could take it back. I'd give anything for it. Maybe there's some super strong devil out there with the power to turn back time. If these Edicts are as powerful as they say, maybe they can do it. I don't know.
[ What she does know is: ]
If you're messed up, then so am I.
no subject
And it just feels better this way too; being sad on Asa’s behalf is preferable to feeling betrayed.
Friends fought, right? Especially friends this desperate to seem well adjusted.
Reze sets down her things and lays beside Asa again, turning so that she’s pressed against her back hugging her. ]
You were just a kid. You didn’t do anything.
no subject
Your parents suck. Just saying.
[ An objectively cruel thing to say. Maybe they died saving her like Asa's mother did, and Reze was just too young to remember. But she isn't thinking of what's fair or what isn't. All Asa knows is that they didn't do enough to make Reze feel wanted. For all Asa's problems growing up, she at least never had to doubt that her mother loved her, that she was wanted by someone. She should be more grateful for that. Should have been more grateful. Present tense. Past tense. Too late. ]
Do you think we would have been friends as kids? [ It's a pointless hypothetical: the kind of thing she hates. She asks anyway, because she wants the answer to be yes. Like it will somehow let her go back in time and save that unloved girl when she can't even save herself. ] Maybe in that world we're both happy. I hope so.
no subject
The question, for all the misery it implies makes her smile. Her grip tightens briefly, a reassuring squeeze. ]
Of course we would, stupid.
[ She tries to imagine what that child version of her would be like, or at least what she would want to be like. The child version of herself that she knows had never been much of a child at all. ]
If anyone tried to be mean to you I’d put worms in their bed and blame it on someone else. Whenever we’d play house I would make you be the husband every time… and I’d cry until you agreed.
[ it’s a bandaid on the open wound that Asa has left between her ribs, but it’s enough to diffuse the tension between them. ]
I’m happy right now.
no subject
[ This doesn't sound so much like a simple game of house anymore. But she doesn't stop talking. ]
We'd have a cat. And a dog, like you wanted. I'd pretend not to like it but secretly think it's cute. We could do all the other things on your list too.
[ Abruptly, she laughs. Her face is hot with embarrassment again, but it feels less shameful than before. ]
Sorry. I just realized how ridiculous that all sounded. Sometimes I say things without thinking about them first. [ Sometimes. ] Just, um, forget it. As long as you're happy, the rest doesn't matter.
no subject
The whole thing is a pipe dream. They both know that. And Reze for all her ignorance on what constitutes normal friendship knows that all of this is more impassioned a wish than it probably should be for two people who don’t know each other well. But it doesn’t bother her, it’s nice to play pretend, it’s nice to be wanted enough to fit into someone’s future even if that future will never come to pass (and even if it only involves her because she was the first person available to fill this gap). ]
You know.. you’re kind of smooth when you wanna’ be.
[ A yawn punctuates her sentence. When she closes her eyes her smile persists. She doesn’t let go either. ]
I’d name him Sasha.
[ the dog, she means. ]
no subject
That's a cute name. [ She'll remember it, even when she forgets (pretends to forget) the rest of what she said today. When she realizes she put more thought into planning a life with Reze than a life without her. When did she stop dreaming of a good future? Before or after her mother died? Before or after she died? ] Goodnight, Reze.
[ The last thing she does before closing her eyes is snuggle back into her a little. Any embarrassment can wait until morning. ]