@vantastm​ ( cont. )
poetry is such a personal and beloved art form for lanque. the only place where he can truly be himself, safely putting his heart on display is in that beloved moleskin book. worn from so much use, so many tears being shed, so many flowers pressed and repressed, rewriting and reimaginings of so many painful and celebrated experiences. this journal is everything to him, as it holds every piece of him that he’s simply too ashamed to put on display.
he can’t trust anyone to read these things without him being certain they’re just going to call him weak. genuine emotions are for boring, blase sticks in the mud that are too busy thinking to properly enjoy the finer things in life. that’s simply not him. lanque is far too exciting and magnetic to waste his time with such ridiculous things. no one is supposed to know that he has such feelings.
so the fact that lanque managed to slip, leaving that journal last time... he was panicking enough that he lost the damned thing. to find out that it was discovered by someone so near and dear to him, and that karkat even read through such intimate pieces forces him to immediately resort to snapping at him. he cannot deal with someone knowing that much, regardless of how much he cares about him.
“ just because someone leaves something somewhere does NOT mean you have any right to look through it. ”
he snatches the book out of karkat’s skittish hands, furious through his tears as he’s just so terrified now of what he thinks about him.Â
“ you wouldn’t use someone’s credit card if you found their wallet, would you?! it’s embarrassing enough that i lost track of this damn thing, and you have the NERVE to READ through my journal?!?! do you do this to ALL your friends, karkat?! or are you that DESPERATE for an excuse to leave me!? ”
