milliways_bar | (no subject)

Autor's by the door today, reaching out for the handle. He reaches and stops, draws back, and reaches again, never quite touching the door. Once, he brushes the handle, and jerks his hand back, shaking his head.

He turns, and spots Mirai, and meanders over, realizing they have unfinished business. "Miss Kuriyama," the boy says, raising a hand. "Hi."

She lifts her hand in greeting, her lip quirking slightly upward.

Oh, nooo, Autor thinks, miserable all over again. She's smiling at him, and he doesn't want to tell her now, but he has to be honest, and... The boy sighs, resting his hand across the back of the booth across from her. "May I sit? I... I have something to tell you."

Mirai blinks and nods slightly.

"Thanks," he says softly. Autor sits with less than his usual grace. He feels worn, like he has felt for the past few days, and that affects his balance. He rests his shaking hands in his lap, and fixes his gaze on her face. The boy has to look her in the eyes for this, he knows.

"I- So I've... The Story," he starts, and clears his throat. "I've developed... feelings for someone else. The Story sort of... It made me care for her, but I recognized that that was happening, and chose... But I- I still like you, and... I'm sorry. I just thought that you should know."

He lowers his head, unable to take the way her gaze burns on him, sets him alight.

So he's said it. Sort of. She can pretend it means something else, but she knows what it means, what he wants it to mean.

She's kind of glad she can't say anything about it. She opens her mouth and makes an airy little whisper of a squeak, the most her throat can manage.

Autor furrows his brow. Something's wrong. She should be--

"Miss Kuriyama, have you lost your voice?" the boy asks, eyes widening. "Oh, no! Do you need some pectoral? Maybe some Aspironal? Or cough drops? You have lemon, that's good, and oh, no, I'm so sorry!"

He flails a little, and hails a wait rat to order whatever she needs. "I- If you want to, you can write."

Mirai nods, accepting his apology and his help. She makes a little cough and rubs at her throat, swallowing.

The boy's still flailing a bit. He quickly orders a pen and paper, as well as cough drops that the Bar can pick out.

"How long have you been sick? Ah, you can't answer that. Shoot. I... I'm sorry your throat hurts," he says, wringing his hands in his lap.

She shakes her head and waves her hand, dismissing his concern.

Now Autor has no idea what to say or do. He ducks his head, waiting for the rat to return. He realizes he forgot to order tea, and then remembers that he's not drinking tea anymore. The boy stares down at the table, fidgeting.

Then the rat returns, and Autor scoops up the lemon-flavored cough drops and the pad of paper and pen. "Here, you--you might want to finish your tea first, but at least you have cough drops if you want them, and... And I do hope you feel better."

She unwraps a drop and pops it in her mouth now. Then she takes the pen and scrawls out:

Thank you Autor senpai

Autor half-smiles. He didn't realize how much not being able to communicate with her bothered him.

"You're welcome," he says gently. "I'm sorry I sprang that news on you when you're sick. I should have been paying more attention."

He did mean it that way. There's not even the hope of pretending with the way he says that.

Mirai taps the pen a moment before writing:

I kind of knew. I don't know why.

It takes Autor a moment or two to figure out that she means that she's always known he liked her, not that he likes someone else. Of course she knew. Dr. Lecter told her.

"You don't know why you knew," he starts, questioning, "or you don't know why I- I like you?"

She's blushing bright red now as she scribbles:

why you like me

The boy's cheeks match hers. He adjusts his glasses, fiddling with them really, and almost manages to push them off his nose before fixing them properly. He clears his throat.

"There are so many little things," he murmurs, watching her. "I like the way you take care of your bonsai, and express your passions, the way your eyes light up when you eat a favored food, the way you laugh, the way you say 'how unpleasant!', the way you blush, the color of your hair, the way you work so hard at home despite not wanting to, the way I tower over you, the way you fiddle with your glasses when you lie, the way you keep me accountable... I like all of you."

The girl breathes deeply before having a minor coughing fit. She turns it over, thinking about her own feelings. Is she even allowed to have her own feelings? This is already something completely new.

She decides to ask:

What about the other girl?

Autor flails at her coughing, his hands fluttering around like distressed birds. He reads her question, and glances up at her, biting his lip.

"It was love at first sight--everyone loves that trope, don't they--so I don't know her as well as..." he trails off, and then draws a breath through his nose. "She's graceful--a dancer. And she has a beautiful voice, even when she's laughing at me. And she listens to what I have to say, and has wine red eyes, and smells of gardenias, and has hair as black as a raven, and is bold, and knows what she wants and how to get it. Her name is Rue."

Autor feels like he's betraying Miss Kuriyama, somehow, by telling her of his love for someone else. He feels like he might be betraying Rue, too, by loving Miss Kuriyama like he does. It's a horrible mess.

She almost breathes a sigh of relief. Clearly this girl is the better choice. Beautiful and graceful and bold? Someone cursed like Mirai couldn't compete, so Autor surely likes Rue more.

So why does Mirai feel vaguely nauseated? She shoves it away, just another sign that she doesn't need to be with people.

She writes: she sounds like a princess

"She could be," Autor whispers, brushing the edge of the table with his thumb. "Are you all right?"

Mirai nods before drinking some of her tea. She opens her mouth to answer, making the same squeaking she did before. Reminded of her lack of voice, she takes the pen again:

Did you tell her?

Autor looks away. That question hurts--it'll always hurt, he realizes--but he should answer it.

"I did," he says, and he's surprised about how bitter it is. "She asked if I was willing to throw my life away for her, and I- I told her I was, because it was the truth. And then she laughed at me and sent me away."

She writes out a simple:

i'm sorry

Autor's lip twitches, but not fully into a smile. It's strange how much comfort that brings--and shouldn't.

"Thank you," the wounded boy says softly. He knows he'll have to see Rue again. He'll have to play piano for the advanced class and watch her dance, ethereal and immortal.

He leans back, unsure of what to say. Autor has confessed his love to two young women with very different results, and doesn't know what to do with either. Surprisingly, there aren't any tears. Maybe I'm all cried out, finally.

"Thank you for listening. A-And for consoling me before, when I- I was heartsick about Spinning," Autor says. "It means a lot to me that you're there for me."

And then he smiles, tremulous and weak, carefully lacing his fingers together.