[ The feelings that follow his response shoot so rapidly through her that she barely has time to comprehend them herself. To Sylvain it's probably a cacophony of emotions all at once: indignation at being told what to do, petulance at not being believed despite saying that he did, lingering sadness because she couldn't get that image of his smile that didn't reach his eyes out of her mind, and hurt.
Hurt layers on top of it all, permeating everything else until it's the emotion that stands out the most. Of course it is; it had been following her for months now hand in hand with this fear that everyone would get bored of her being a pretty little thing the way Claude had. That they'd re-evaluate her place in their lives and leave her behind. Even Sylvain's hands cupping her face, telegraphing the care that she didn't think she was deserving of, can't dispel it.
But this isn't about her. In other circumstances she'd toss said pin out the window, demanding that they talk about this thing she had stumbled upon now. But she's weighed down by hurt and the knowledge that she's been too much of a burden already. Too selfish. Too greedy and naive in her thinking. Hilda's lower lip trembles and her eyes mist, but there's stubborn determination in her voice. Her hands stay over his heart. ]
Promise we'll talk about it tomorrow.
[ Because she will remember it tomorrow, she thinks. She must. He needs to know she means it even if he doesn't reciprocate any of it. She'd be okay if he didn't so long as he starts to believe that he's worthy of being adored and cared for and that he's wanted for more than whatever people have used him for in the past. Her eyes flutter closed as she memorizes the feel of the callouses on his hands against her cheeks. ]
I want to snuggle in bed. That will make me happy.
no subject
Hurt layers on top of it all, permeating everything else until it's the emotion that stands out the most. Of course it is; it had been following her for months now hand in hand with this fear that everyone would get bored of her being a pretty little thing the way Claude had. That they'd re-evaluate her place in their lives and leave her behind. Even Sylvain's hands cupping her face, telegraphing the care that she didn't think she was deserving of, can't dispel it.
But this isn't about her. In other circumstances she'd toss said pin out the window, demanding that they talk about this thing she had stumbled upon now. But she's weighed down by hurt and the knowledge that she's been too much of a burden already. Too selfish. Too greedy and naive in her thinking. Hilda's lower lip trembles and her eyes mist, but there's stubborn determination in her voice. Her hands stay over his heart. ]
Promise we'll talk about it tomorrow.
[ Because she will remember it tomorrow, she thinks. She must. He needs to know she means it even if he doesn't reciprocate any of it. She'd be okay if he didn't so long as he starts to believe that he's worthy of being adored and cared for and that he's wanted for more than whatever people have used him for in the past. Her eyes flutter closed as she memorizes the feel of the callouses on his hands against her cheeks. ]
I want to snuggle in bed. That will make me happy.