[she does listen. she doesn't move to make him sit down, or stop smoking, or anything. she sits there, and she listens to him, and feels her heart twist at the fact that untangling this isn't going to be simple, because neither of them want to speak. but Emily doesn't say a word until he's done, and lets the silence fall on them like twilight does.
they need to speak. to lay all their cards on the table, and speak the way they need each other to. they need to speak, and they won't, and there is the crux of the pain. it won't matter if she tells Ryouma exactly what Izo said to her when she had to help him off the bathroom floor. it won't matter that she tells him about that loneliness, that unworthiness, that she reads in him. it'll only matter if he hears it from Izo himself - if they both have clear minds and clear senses of purpose, and not a lot of ways to run away from each other.
whatever she does next, it won't matter, unless it aligns with that. so she lets space exist between them, before she forms her words again.]
no subject
they need to speak. to lay all their cards on the table, and speak the way they need each other to. they need to speak, and they won't, and there is the crux of the pain. it won't matter if she tells Ryouma exactly what Izo said to her when she had to help him off the bathroom floor. it won't matter that she tells him about that loneliness, that unworthiness, that she reads in him. it'll only matter if he hears it from Izo himself - if they both have clear minds and clear senses of purpose, and not a lot of ways to run away from each other.
whatever she does next, it won't matter, unless it aligns with that. so she lets space exist between them, before she forms her words again.]
None of that sounds like happiness.
[he doesn't have to pretend he is. not to her.]