end - i love you
"You're going back to Midgar?" Yuffie questioned, "So soon?"
"Elena and Rude've ditched me," he responded, "Tseng sticks around Wutai for his so righteous rituals, despite it being a coverup for our saint-like Turk image."
/Saint?/
Her violet eyes focused hard on him as if attempting to drill a hole through his conscious, or the sorts of flawed hypnosis girlchildren were often taught to believe. Rubbish.
Reno didn't -- couldn't -- meet her gaze, for then he'd see a person apart from the female features he'd noted so: this practical and so natural eye- contact morphed Yuffie into something ethereal in blood and flesh, and he couldn't ever handle those sorts of commitments. It was the insecurity of his entire history written is his eyes, and then an open book; he'd only experienced drunks, vagrants and machines in his newborn lifetime.
Yuffie couldn't become real, nothing was.
"Do you have a good-luck charm?" Yuffie asked, "Mine is the materia I stole from you the night we met. Maybe you should take some back for good luck, you can never have enough of that. Right?" Her voice was hopelessly tiny.
"Lesson one on being a thief," Reno gave up half through his wrinkled tie, "don't /ever/ return what rightfully belongs to you; consider me the victim, the fool." And she paused from a moment to hesitate, hands sandwiched between her thighs like a child lost in her own lies, "I don't need luck, thanks," he continued.
She hadn't paid him heed, for the first period in such a while; her fancies couldn't wash over his fixation, the rising stench of cigarettes damped her bedsheets as a reminder, and his entire character was warm but shut-out. She /needed/ him, and hadn't to let emotions and proper etiquette interfere; in the end there was little she could handle to keep him from coming and going. And she realized this was infatuation working in her mind, a glamour of adventurous rebellion against all she'd ever known.
Reno had always been real, in her foggy perspective.
"I'm really happy you came to see me," Yuffie blurted, "you know."
"I know," Reno said, his tone trailing into something unsure, almost confused, "I... erm," his hands ruffled in his crimson strands, "I'll come back? And maybe get in touch beforehand; Tseng will take care of everything now, work's done and all."
And so the frustrated phrase, /I love you/, no longer possessed the value of once when they had both been too lost in the vortex of alcohol to remember. They stood in unbroken silence, just their breaths and mountainbirds to shatter it, both examining the elaborate floorstitches. Never once meeting one another's vacuous eyes.
He made the move. Reno gave her a kiss on the forehead, one soft on the lips, and she sighed. The untamed ninja he'd first seen was now recollected, and still less mature, unable to understand love was too abstract to behold.
"Princess," he said, glaring down her rosy cheeks, "heh," fingers sliding through her unthinkably thin black hair.
"Take care," she shouted him off his trail, waking the entire town.
"You're going back to Midgar?" Yuffie questioned, "So soon?"
"Elena and Rude've ditched me," he responded, "Tseng sticks around Wutai for his so righteous rituals, despite it being a coverup for our saint-like Turk image."
/Saint?/
Her violet eyes focused hard on him as if attempting to drill a hole through his conscious, or the sorts of flawed hypnosis girlchildren were often taught to believe. Rubbish.
Reno didn't -- couldn't -- meet her gaze, for then he'd see a person apart from the female features he'd noted so: this practical and so natural eye- contact morphed Yuffie into something ethereal in blood and flesh, and he couldn't ever handle those sorts of commitments. It was the insecurity of his entire history written is his eyes, and then an open book; he'd only experienced drunks, vagrants and machines in his newborn lifetime.
Yuffie couldn't become real, nothing was.
"Do you have a good-luck charm?" Yuffie asked, "Mine is the materia I stole from you the night we met. Maybe you should take some back for good luck, you can never have enough of that. Right?" Her voice was hopelessly tiny.
"Lesson one on being a thief," Reno gave up half through his wrinkled tie, "don't /ever/ return what rightfully belongs to you; consider me the victim, the fool." And she paused from a moment to hesitate, hands sandwiched between her thighs like a child lost in her own lies, "I don't need luck, thanks," he continued.
She hadn't paid him heed, for the first period in such a while; her fancies couldn't wash over his fixation, the rising stench of cigarettes damped her bedsheets as a reminder, and his entire character was warm but shut-out. She /needed/ him, and hadn't to let emotions and proper etiquette interfere; in the end there was little she could handle to keep him from coming and going. And she realized this was infatuation working in her mind, a glamour of adventurous rebellion against all she'd ever known.
Reno had always been real, in her foggy perspective.
"I'm really happy you came to see me," Yuffie blurted, "you know."
"I know," Reno said, his tone trailing into something unsure, almost confused, "I... erm," his hands ruffled in his crimson strands, "I'll come back? And maybe get in touch beforehand; Tseng will take care of everything now, work's done and all."
And so the frustrated phrase, /I love you/, no longer possessed the value of once when they had both been too lost in the vortex of alcohol to remember. They stood in unbroken silence, just their breaths and mountainbirds to shatter it, both examining the elaborate floorstitches. Never once meeting one another's vacuous eyes.
He made the move. Reno gave her a kiss on the forehead, one soft on the lips, and she sighed. The untamed ninja he'd first seen was now recollected, and still less mature, unable to understand love was too abstract to behold.
"Princess," he said, glaring down her rosy cheeks, "heh," fingers sliding through her unthinkably thin black hair.
"Take care," she shouted him off his trail, waking the entire town.