[It takes him too long, really, to recognize that it's her heartbeat he's hearing. He conflates it with his own, for reasons that will only make sense in retrospect. Because he's worried about her. Because he's focused on her. Because being close to her, taking care of her, protecting her — just knowing her. It's important to him.]
[She's important to him.]
[It isn't until he lifts his eyes to her face again that he recognizes what he's hearing, at the same time as he recognizes what he's seeing: Sayori flushed and wide-eyed, startled, and he thinks for a second, Bad? Did I do bad? before the sound of her laugh changes. That . . .]
[It doesn't sound bad. Doesn't look bad, he thinks, as his Stands send him information; even with him refusing to look away from Sayori's face, he's aware that the monsters are fading away, dripping into nothingness. He's aware of the heat in Sayori's cheeks, the physical sensation creeping over his own even as he feels his own face well and truly heating up, although which came first? And is it a sympathetic reaction, or—]
[Her voice comes through, soft and squeaky. Knightly, she says, like he's done something spectacular, and he's — is it his heartbeat or hers? Is it both? Whoever's it is, it's too fast, and his ribcage is aching from more than the break.]
[And she kisses her finger, just like before, and taps his nose. The sound of the sun. Her in his arms. And it's over.]
[It's over.]
[Just the two of them there, looking at each other, bright red and shell-shocked. The hallway is gone. The projection is over. And he should do something now, he thinks, but with the immediate crisis past he's come to the abrupt and alarming realization that he's holding Sayori in his arms and she just did the thing. The nose thing.]
no subject
[She's important to him.]
[It isn't until he lifts his eyes to her face again that he recognizes what he's hearing, at the same time as he recognizes what he's seeing: Sayori flushed and wide-eyed, startled, and he thinks for a second, Bad? Did I do bad? before the sound of her laugh changes. That . . .]
[It doesn't sound bad. Doesn't look bad, he thinks, as his Stands send him information; even with him refusing to look away from Sayori's face, he's aware that the monsters are fading away, dripping into nothingness. He's aware of the heat in Sayori's cheeks, the physical sensation creeping over his own even as he feels his own face well and truly heating up, although which came first? And is it a sympathetic reaction, or—]
[Her voice comes through, soft and squeaky. Knightly, she says, like he's done something spectacular, and he's — is it his heartbeat or hers? Is it both? Whoever's it is, it's too fast, and his ribcage is aching from more than the break.]
[And she kisses her finger, just like before, and taps his nose. The sound of the sun. Her in his arms. And it's over.]
[It's over.]
[Just the two of them there, looking at each other, bright red and shell-shocked. The hallway is gone. The projection is over. And he should do something now, he thinks, but with the immediate crisis past he's come to the abrupt and alarming realization that he's holding Sayori in his arms and she just did the thing. The nose thing.]
[Mista.exe has crashed.]