there is a slight chance that deep down, kokone is an awful person.
even now, sitting next to HIM, feeling nothing but pure apprehension swelling
within her, she knows the truth is clear: she is awful.
she wishes the air was lighter. it’s chilly, & although winter is her favorite season, this atmosphere is eerie in spring. it is unwelcome, & it does not fit in. it’s just like her.
she tugs her coat ever so slightly, trying to trap in more of its warmth. part of her is longing for the bus to hurry up and reach their stop, but the other part of her wishes it just NEVER COMES. moments of peace like this... quiet moments, no matter how eerie the quiet is... she finds comfort in times like this.
he is a good person. there is no doubt about that; although she is an awful human being, he remains uncorrupted by her ways. she admires him, she really does. she likes how his dark hair sweeps over his forehead, stopping just above his eyelids, and she enjoys seeing him run his hand through them whenever he is stressed. she also likes how his eyebrows knit when he is stressed, how he fidgets with his fingers, and bites at his lower lip. she likes how his eyes darken – as if thinking of brutal, cutting, deep things to say – and how he tries to hide it before anyone can notice. of course, she is the only one to notice.
stress looks good on him; she has thought about this a few times, wondering whether or not such a fascination could be seen as sadistic. it probably could be, but she does not mind. after all, she has already come to terms with her awfulness.
a breeze comes by, & it sends a visible shiver down her spine. she pulls her jacket a little closer; he, on the other hand, doesn’t move at all. he said summer was his favorite time of year, so seeing him unfazed by the weather is a bit perplexing. she had hoped to see his eyebrows knit again – or perhaps see him wince or groan – but he does nothing to indulge her. he’s so still & quiet, and once again, kokone feels as if they are worlds apart.
she can’t read him the way she used to. his eyes are fixated on something that remains naked to her eyes. that’s how it’s been for the past few days: him – full of depth, able to see and feel things that she could never see or feel, a good person through-and-through; her – the shallow nobody.
a few words come to mind, & she contemplates breaking the silence by letting them slip. she could try to say something nice, throw a compliment or two his way to see how he reacts. or her words can be cruel & curt. mundane, too. knowing her, she could think of a number of ordinary things to say – things that would not hold much weight now or ever, things like comments on the weather or his appearance or his hair or his stress or...
...or maybe she can just look forward, & say nothing at all.
( deep down, she really is an awful person. )
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