[Midousuji glances at Aerith through the corner of his eyes, a little uncertain as to why, though the answer is that a part of him is a little bit nervous of displacing himself from Aerith from his unapproachability. not that he's realized it, nor could he admit it—but everyone has their limit with him, he thinks, and that's fine. being by himself is what he prefers.
but...
Midousuji's head tilts slowly, expression going from blank to sort of baffled.]
Ha??
No. I don't think so. Or maybe when I'm a lot older, and I win Tour de France. But I'm not betting on even that—it could be I'll just die like this, which is fine, as long as I accomplish my goal.
[he looks towards her as her chin sits atop her knees, and stares emptily, looking like he's searching for something. and he is. he's trying to diagnose how he's feeling, because he has no idea. the answer there is that he's a little worried—worried because he likes this person, which means he'll worry about her feelings by his actions and words (unfamiliar territory), and he'll worry about her feelings towards him.
he blinks, then sheepishly looks away. is she sad? she hasn't even confirmed that her friend is gone yet. is it because of him? anxiously, Midousuji picks off a few ribbony orange peels from his lap, piling them neatly beside him, still gripping the neck of the bottle. why is he feeling like this??? what is this feeling in the damn first place? is this because of the alcohol? what's it doing to him?? altering him? to what shape?? should he stop?
his mind sort of spirals until Aerith prompts him, and he whips his head up.]
—Wah... [Midousuji's eyes widen, snapped out of his train of thought, though he still boggles at nothing in particular. he blinks at the bottle, then at Aerith.]
You're right. That was your question.
[oops. he didn't mean to cheat. Midousuji says this in a way that indicates it hadn't occurred to him, so he gives her the bottle with an awkward thrust of a too-straight arm. Midousuji squints, head tilted and lips puckered as he tries to think of a question, awaiting Aerith's reception of the bottle.]
Do you...
[Midousuji's eyes are wide, arm still weirdly straight out, even if Aerith has taken the bottle by then; he doesn't seem to notice, probably because he's desperately looking anywhere else, and his mind is a buzzing, chaotic, anxious mess right now. he feels sweat bead on his cheek, despite the mild air, and his face feels a little hot. she hasn't even caught up, to have the drink that one awards themselves for asking a question, but he assumes once she's had her bottle shot, she'll hand it back to Midousuji for his question to rebalance.
no subject
but...
Midousuji's head tilts slowly, expression going from blank to sort of baffled.]
Ha??
No. I don't think so. Or maybe when I'm a lot older, and I win Tour de France. But I'm not betting on even that—it could be I'll just die like this, which is fine, as long as I accomplish my goal.
[he looks towards her as her chin sits atop her knees, and stares emptily, looking like he's searching for something. and he is. he's trying to diagnose how he's feeling, because he has no idea. the answer there is that he's a little worried—worried because he likes this person, which means he'll worry about her feelings by his actions and words (unfamiliar territory), and he'll worry about her feelings towards him.
he blinks, then sheepishly looks away. is she sad? she hasn't even confirmed that her friend is gone yet. is it because of him? anxiously, Midousuji picks off a few ribbony orange peels from his lap, piling them neatly beside him, still gripping the neck of the bottle. why is he feeling like this??? what is this feeling in the damn first place? is this because of the alcohol? what's it doing to him?? altering him? to what shape?? should he stop?
his mind sort of spirals until Aerith prompts him, and he whips his head up.]
—Wah... [Midousuji's eyes widen, snapped out of his train of thought, though he still boggles at nothing in particular. he blinks at the bottle, then at Aerith.]
You're right. That was your question.
[oops. he didn't mean to cheat. Midousuji says this in a way that indicates it hadn't occurred to him, so he gives her the bottle with an awkward thrust of a too-straight arm. Midousuji squints, head tilted and lips puckered as he tries to think of a question, awaiting Aerith's reception of the bottle.]
Do you...
[Midousuji's eyes are wide, arm still weirdly straight out, even if Aerith has taken the bottle by then; he doesn't seem to notice, probably because he's desperately looking anywhere else, and his mind is a buzzing, chaotic, anxious mess right now. he feels sweat bead on his cheek, despite the mild air, and his face feels a little hot. she hasn't even caught up, to have the drink that one awards themselves for asking a question, but he assumes once she's had her bottle shot, she'll hand it back to Midousuji for his question to rebalance.
but my, he feels. awfully off balance.]
...really... trust me?