"A strange way...?" At first I'm confused, then I understand where Gotou-chan's going with this. Or at least, I think I do.
"Aa.. yes, I could say it more plainly," I admit, feeling a perverse satisfaction in being forced not to hide behind vaguely permissive phrasings. "Thank you for looking after me. Even after I..." This hurts. "...Took advantage of you, Gotou-chan. I shouldn't have--"
I bring myself up sharply, words clattering to a halt like mahjong tiles. Gotou-chan is talking at the same time, saying "should stay over again at a time--"
Which is, with whatever qualifiers, perhaps I should stay over again.
I can't understand what he's saying. I mean, I hear the words, but-- Does he think he has reason to fear me now? Or need to placate me? If he'd returned my feelings he would have said so. Hours - and more kisses than I have any right - and addressing him without permission - stand between that opportunity and where we are now.
If he'd appreciated the first kiss, he would have said so. And even though he didn't, I couldn't maintain proper decorum on my side. That's my fault, and mine alone.
"Gotou-chan, what are you saying? You don't have to pretend for my sake, I'm the one who--"
I have to stop again. My throat's thick and stuffy with emotion, and I look down, away, at the back of my own hand resting on the cushion beside me. It's tough, tanned, a traveling worker's hand. A hand that's supposed to heal.
My head's bowed, and I keep it down, speaking clearly and numbly. "I am sorry, Gotou-chan, for my selfishness."
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"Aa.. yes, I could say it more plainly," I admit, feeling a perverse satisfaction in being forced not to hide behind vaguely permissive phrasings. "Thank you for looking after me. Even after I..." This hurts. "...Took advantage of you, Gotou-chan. I shouldn't have--"
I bring myself up sharply, words clattering to a halt like mahjong tiles. Gotou-chan is talking at the same time, saying "should stay over again at a time--"
Which is, with whatever qualifiers, perhaps I should stay over again.
I can't understand what he's saying. I mean, I hear the words, but-- Does he think he has reason to fear me now? Or need to placate me? If he'd returned my feelings he would have said so. Hours - and more kisses than I have any right - and addressing him without permission - stand between that opportunity and where we are now.
If he'd appreciated the first kiss, he would have said so. And even though he didn't, I couldn't maintain proper decorum on my side. That's my fault, and mine alone.
"Gotou-chan, what are you saying? You don't have to pretend for my sake, I'm the one who--"
I have to stop again. My throat's thick and stuffy with emotion, and I look down, away, at the back of my own hand resting on the cushion beside me. It's tough, tanned, a traveling worker's hand. A hand that's supposed to heal.
My head's bowed, and I keep it down, speaking clearly and numbly. "I am sorry, Gotou-chan, for my selfishness."