Sooooooo, I wrote this instead of updating my other ficlet. Enjoy!
Don't own –man. Own first 11 volumes. Owned kanda phonecharm till I lost my phone. Own bad drawings. Own this story. But still don't own –man.
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I like you so much better when you're not looking at me.
She's lying across from him, the width of a hand between their bodies. Watching him sleep, still frowning, but vulnerable and soft in a way he never is awake. She wouldn't have thought it possible, but he's even more lovely when he's sleeping.
I love you.
Being allowed to stay here and watch this…it can't mean nothing. He wouldn't let just anyone lie with him, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the small movements of his face while he's not in control. Surely he wouldn't let just anyone this near his body while he's not there?
It's possible Tiedoll and Marie are the only ones still living who've seen this. But even asleep, would he relax this much on a mission?
She could trace the outline of his tattoo. He never lets her when he's awake.
You're beautiful.
She feels like her heart will break watching him like this. It'll grow and grow, keep expanding until it swallows her. His hair is lying, like spilled ink, over his face and across the pillows and bedsheets. She never wants this moment to end.
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She remembers sitting in a train compartment, across from him. She'd wanted, how she wanted, to go and sit next to him, lean against his shoulder and fall asleep with her arms in his coat and her head against his chest. She was so tired. But instead she'd only sat across from him, staring at him as he looked out of the window. His arm had been forced into a sling by the doctor they had been staying with, but already it was unnecessary. He'd managed to keep her out of the way and take most of the damage himself, out of misplaced chivalry perhaps, (why this, she remembers thinking, why protect me from this when you hurt me so much more?) but he was already better off than her.
It's just like you, she'd thought, just like you to recover so quickly. He never shows that he's in pain at all. He never seems to feel anything. She'd wondered what it must be like to feel no pain. Everything seems to just run off him.
She remembers that time in particular because it was the first time she'd noticed how different he was with her. When he looked at anyone else, the anger, loathing or indifference was plain in his eyes, the irritation loud in his voice. He always seemed alive, and she loved it. Even when he was arguing with Allen, or threatening Lavi, it seemed almost playful, like he was enjoying himself somehow. Then he looks at her, and the light goes out. His voice is always flat with her now, ever since she first went to his room.
She hates herself for forcing her stupid feelings on him, for being too selfish to stop. She's afraid she'll grow to hate him too. Is he really doing this because he wants to, or out of some kind of guilt for not loving her back? She wonders if he hates her in return.
What did I do to you?
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He'll never say he loves her. He never will. She's just a body, the nearest and most convenient one for working out frustration. She sighs, her breath stirring the soft strands lying across his eyes. Unconscious, his frown deepens.
Are you dreaming of me?
Like this, he seems more real. Like this he could be anyone. He could be in love with her.
This is the first time he's let her stay. Maybe it was just an accident, he was just too tired to kick her out, or he forgot. It's always his room. She always has to go to his door and wait, let him decide if he wants to. He's not asking for anything. He's just taking advantage of her desire. Of you, her mind wants to scream, but she won't let it.
She knows she means nothing to him now. She wants to know if there's someone who doesn't.
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The first time, she'd gone to his room to welcome him back after a mission. He'd slunk in without seeing anybody, and she'd only heard of his return through a member of the science department after he'd reported to her brother. She'd gone in to see him bandaging himself up, again, and seen his face glaring up at her through his curtain of inky dark hair. It made her chest hurt. She'd stood by the door, silent after the stammered greeting. Then he'd got up and come over to fetch something out of the wardrobe next to her, and she'd lost herself. Pushed him against the door before he had time to react and, looking downwards, eyes shaded by her fringe, confessed. He hadn't said anything, so, after a while, she'd slowly leaned up and pressed her mouth against his. He still hadn't reacted, so she'd begun moving her lips against his, tears growing in the corners of her eyes. After a while he'd started kissing her back, and, after she moved her hands up to pull his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, pushed her down onto the bed.
She can still remember his face above her more than anything she felt. His eyes were narrowed. Blank and empty, like they weren't really looking at her. To this day, she much prefers him when he's not looking at her. It's as if she makes him go dead inside. Soon, she thinks, she'll get him to wear a blindfold.
Afterwards he'd waited for her to get dressed before throwing her out. She'd stood in the corridor, leaning against the wood of the door, before sinking down onto the stone floor and letting her tears fall.
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She lies back down and moves closer to him, determined to make the most of this unresisting intimacy. While his eyes are closed, she can pretend anything she wants. She gently moves his arm across her body. Puts her face close enough to his to watch his eyelids flutter as she falls asleep again.
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Nope, still can't write anything remotely cheerful. This isn't the first kandalenalee I've written, but it's the first I'm posting. Everything I write for this couple comes out onesided and angsty…
Hm. You could probably stick some onesided yullen or kandalavi in here.
o-o poor lenalee. I'm so mean to her. Maybe she'd have more luck with allen or lavi….
