[Lots of people insist they don't mean it. Lots of people protest, that they weren't making fun of her. Then they call her crazy and the next time, they stop pretending. Spite is the usual conclusion, especially with boys. With the few that make a move, it's a guarantee.
The way this one backtracks is different. Oh, sure, people like Naegi were always taking the soft and sweet route to assuage her fears, but that never happened with the flirts. The derision came quick with those ones. Not so here. Fukawa is rooted to the spot, watching him with a knifish glare. Her breath comes in furiously slow heaves, biting back bitter retorts. Had this been even a year ago he wouldn't have gotten to finish one thought. She'd have cut the cheap apology to ribbons and run off sobbing. What is it about this time? This boy? Even outside the soothing switch up, why is she compelled to hear him out?
Shame. She realizes it in the breath he takes on finishing, the offer hanging thick between them. He's actually embarrassed by what he did. Her eyes flick between his, waiting for the act to drop.
It doesn't.
Fukawa takes a steadying gulp of air. She looks away. It doesn't quell that pathetic tear from leaking on the right. It had been loaded in the chamber before they holstered the guns, and now there's no reason to shoot. She wipes it away with haste.]
D-do whatever you want. It's none of my b-business. [Like how his bath was none of her business. She shrinks again, grimacing, turning her face even further away. It's her fault more than his, isn't it? God, what a mortifying comeuppance this was.] I'll just...l-leave you to it. You don't need some vile p-pest polluting your air.
no subject
The way this one backtracks is different. Oh, sure, people like Naegi were always taking the soft and sweet route to assuage her fears, but that never happened with the flirts. The derision came quick with those ones. Not so here. Fukawa is rooted to the spot, watching him with a knifish glare. Her breath comes in furiously slow heaves, biting back bitter retorts. Had this been even a year ago he wouldn't have gotten to finish one thought. She'd have cut the cheap apology to ribbons and run off sobbing. What is it about this time? This boy? Even outside the soothing switch up, why is she compelled to hear him out?
Shame. She realizes it in the breath he takes on finishing, the offer hanging thick between them. He's actually embarrassed by what he did. Her eyes flick between his, waiting for the act to drop.
It doesn't.
Fukawa takes a steadying gulp of air. She looks away. It doesn't quell that pathetic tear from leaking on the right. It had been loaded in the chamber before they holstered the guns, and now there's no reason to shoot. She wipes it away with haste.]
D-do whatever you want. It's none of my b-business. [Like how his bath was none of her business. She shrinks again, grimacing, turning her face even further away. It's her fault more than his, isn't it? God, what a mortifying comeuppance this was.] I'll just...l-leave you to it. You don't need some vile p-pest polluting your air.