[her honesty isn’t nothing, of course—Midousuji is perceptive to bullshit, and it tries his patience easily. combing briefly through his memories, with how his head strangely, warmly swims, he can’t think of a time where she ever truly set off those sensors. he can see bits of it—even as awkward as he is, having honed in on weakness and insecurities in other people as a means to exploit for the sake of getting an edge in competition, it’s made him more attuned to people than he’d probably end up being naturally. he’s not an emotionally sensitive person, by any means—but there’s touches of it, and he realizes as he processes her answer, he isn’t sure what it is. an obfuscation, for sure, some aspect of hiding her true feelings.
based on her personality, and now that Midousuji has finally (not too long ago) accepted she isn’t some demon cloaked in sunshine with darker intentions, he decides, curiously, it’s probably pain.
his eyes slide back towards Aerith, and the way he looks at her, he searches with intent cast by that thought. it makes sense she’d be in a sore spot; he does truly believe Aerith is already believing and accepting her friend is gone, so she’s probably worn a bit more thin than usual when it comes to that obfuscation… if that’s indeed being accurately perceived on Midousuji’s part, he caveats to himself.
his eyes widen when she suddenly stands, and he notes the way she has to catch herself. normal clumsy stuff, perhaps, but Midousuji hasn’t noticed that Aerith is a clumsy person. with her question, his back straightens, neck craning upwards as his jaw drops a little, eyes wide, watching as she walks.]
What are you doing? Sit down. You’ve been drinking. That’s dangerous. Are you trying to test my answers?
[if he’d catch her successfully, that is. Midousuji feels nervy, and though even if he weren’t on edge about Aerith’s decision to get up and walk around, he’d probably lean into it anyway as a way to avoid that question.
and it’s so…annoying! he isn’t above lying, he isn’t above giving half-truth answers where the discomforting part of his reply is conveniently omitted—but Aerith is one of the few people he’s ever met who’s hard to be that way with. it also feels a little less risky, right now, because Midousuji is certainly approaching tipsy.
his heart hiccups, and pounds. he uneasily clutches around the bottle with both hands, definitely not about to pass it to Aerith if she’s drunk and mobile. his head drops, eyes wide.
it wasn’t obvious?? he supposes it wouldn’t be. using himself as an example was a bad, stupid idea. also, it was a bad, stupid question. why is he digging this hole?? what’s his motivator? there’s something, something he can’t see. annoying. gross. it’s gross.]
I…
Well…
[he doesn’t want to answer this. he doesn’t want to. he’s coming into more clarity, despite that he’s becoming intoxicated, and that’s puzzling—Midousuji doesn’t realize it’s because he’s largely inhibited, even alone. even about his own feelings, even to himself, even when distantly, deep down, he’s aware of them. he just carves them away, puts them away, ignores them.
and yet,]
I wouldn’t…do this for [almost] anyone. Especially not someone I haven’t known for so long. Like you said.
[Midousuji’s eyes are wide, staring so hard at the frayed shilling below him it almost hurts.]
I’m—it’s. Different. Around you. I am.
[his eyes widen a little further, panic coursing through his body. why won’t he shut up??? why is this happening]
I can’t…I can’t believe—think—someone like you doesn’t have that affect on everyone. If it has an affect even a little bit on someone like me.
I don’t like people. I’m not gentle with people. I don’t try to be. I don’t care about sparing feelings. I don’t desire connection with others. Ever.
[shit. careless, Midousuji’s revealed that that’s the way he’s different around her, implicitly—and it’s something he hasn’t even admitted privately, even so indirectly. Midousuji slaps a hand against his face, and nervously bites the glove of his other hand.
he’s about a minute away from a nuclear meltdown.]
no subject
based on her personality, and now that Midousuji has finally (not too long ago) accepted she isn’t some demon cloaked in sunshine with darker intentions, he decides, curiously, it’s probably pain.
his eyes slide back towards Aerith, and the way he looks at her, he searches with intent cast by that thought. it makes sense she’d be in a sore spot; he does truly believe Aerith is already believing and accepting her friend is gone, so she’s probably worn a bit more thin than usual when it comes to that obfuscation… if that’s indeed being accurately perceived on Midousuji’s part, he caveats to himself.
his eyes widen when she suddenly stands, and he notes the way she has to catch herself. normal clumsy stuff, perhaps, but Midousuji hasn’t noticed that Aerith is a clumsy person. with her question, his back straightens, neck craning upwards as his jaw drops a little, eyes wide, watching as she walks.]
What are you doing? Sit down. You’ve been drinking. That’s dangerous. Are you trying to test my answers?
[if he’d catch her successfully, that is. Midousuji feels nervy, and though even if he weren’t on edge about Aerith’s decision to get up and walk around, he’d probably lean into it anyway as a way to avoid that question.
and it’s so…annoying! he isn’t above lying, he isn’t above giving half-truth answers where the discomforting part of his reply is conveniently omitted—but Aerith is one of the few people he’s ever met who’s hard to be that way with. it also feels a little less risky, right now, because Midousuji is certainly approaching tipsy.
his heart hiccups, and pounds. he uneasily clutches around the bottle with both hands, definitely not about to pass it to Aerith if she’s drunk and mobile. his head drops, eyes wide.
it wasn’t obvious?? he supposes it wouldn’t be. using himself as an example was a bad, stupid idea. also, it was a bad, stupid question. why is he digging this hole?? what’s his motivator? there’s something, something he can’t see. annoying. gross. it’s gross.]
I…
Well…
[he doesn’t want to answer this. he doesn’t want to. he’s coming into more clarity, despite that he’s becoming intoxicated, and that’s puzzling—Midousuji doesn’t realize it’s because he’s largely inhibited, even alone. even about his own feelings, even to himself, even when distantly, deep down, he’s aware of them. he just carves them away, puts them away, ignores them.
and yet,]
I wouldn’t…do this for [almost] anyone. Especially not someone I haven’t known for so long. Like you said.
[Midousuji’s eyes are wide, staring so hard at the frayed shilling below him it almost hurts.]
I’m—it’s. Different. Around you. I am.
[his eyes widen a little further, panic coursing through his body. why won’t he shut up??? why is this happening]
I can’t…I can’t believe—think—someone like you doesn’t have that affect on everyone. If it has an affect even a little bit on someone like me.
I don’t like people. I’m not gentle with people. I don’t try to be. I don’t care about sparing feelings. I don’t desire connection with others. Ever.
[shit. careless, Midousuji’s revealed that that’s the way he’s different around her, implicitly—and it’s something he hasn’t even admitted privately, even so indirectly. Midousuji slaps a hand against his face, and nervously bites the glove of his other hand.
he’s about a minute away from a nuclear meltdown.]