When she sees the little boy's face she knows the truth immediately . . . even before he says anything at all. But she asks the question anyway -- maybe it's just pure, bare hope: "Where's Shinichi?"
The boy does his best to keep it light. He's just the messenger as usual. "Mm . . . he got a call on his cell phone. He's having trouble with his case, and he had to leave."
She knew that would be the answer, and still it hurts, rippling through her frame like the sudden strike of a mallet. "Oh." Her lips seem to move of their own volition.
The boy reads the shift in her immediately and pulls his tone higher in anxiety, scoffing as though it will help: "Shinichi-niichan is stupid! To leave Ran-neechan behind."
It isn't the first time. He's always going, always slipping away -- like a wraith or a phantom that can't be held, he slides away through her fingers, always with a tossed off, enigmatic excuse that says nothing about how or why, and certainly not sorry.
Maybe he isn't.
Maybe she's stupid. He asked her out to this place, out to this fancy restaurant that overlooks the city that two teenagers should never be able to afford . . . Maybe she thought it meant something.
She can't help it. Maybe it's self-pity, maybe it's anger, maybe it's grief -- for a moment it surges over her, all-consuming, and she can't look at the little boy beside her.
"H-Hey." He's still watching her, still trying. "Shinichi-niichan said --"
"Stop it." The words snap out before she can hold them back. She claps her hands over her ears like a child, pulling inward on herself, eyes pressing shut. She can feel tears burn in her lashes. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want any more excuses."
Her eyes are still burning as she yanks back into the present. As before, she gasps again softly as her head stabs with sudden pain, the withheld tears spilling down her cheeks. Her hands are shaking a little.
Looking down at her phone, she finds she's once again made selections in spite of herself:
What is your name? Ran Mouri
Do you think the future is unavoidable? No
Do you consider yourself a bad person? No
Have you ever killed someone/something? No
Did you enjoy it? No
Now share one or two of your darkest secrets with the rest of the group! Two makes it more fun! Sometimes I'm sure he's lying. I want to trust him and believe he wouldn't. But sometimes . . . I'm sure he is, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to forgive him.
Ran Mouri ⚔ Zepar
The boy does his best to keep it light. He's just the messenger as usual. "Mm . . . he got a call on his cell phone. He's having trouble with his case, and he had to leave."
She knew that would be the answer, and still it hurts, rippling through her frame like the sudden strike of a mallet. "Oh." Her lips seem to move of their own volition.
The boy reads the shift in her immediately and pulls his tone higher in anxiety, scoffing as though it will help: "Shinichi-niichan is stupid! To leave Ran-neechan behind."
It isn't the first time. He's always going, always slipping away -- like a wraith or a phantom that can't be held, he slides away through her fingers, always with a tossed off, enigmatic excuse that says nothing about how or why, and certainly not sorry.
Maybe he isn't.
Maybe she's stupid. He asked her out to this place, out to this fancy restaurant that overlooks the city that two teenagers should never be able to afford . . . Maybe she thought it meant something.
She can't help it. Maybe it's self-pity, maybe it's anger, maybe it's grief -- for a moment it surges over her, all-consuming, and she can't look at the little boy beside her.
"H-Hey." He's still watching her, still trying. "Shinichi-niichan said --"
"Stop it." The words snap out before she can hold them back. She claps her hands over her ears like a child, pulling inward on herself, eyes pressing shut. She can feel tears burn in her lashes. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want any more excuses."
Her eyes are still burning as she yanks back into the present. As before, she gasps again softly as her head stabs with sudden pain, the withheld tears spilling down her cheeks. Her hands are shaking a little.
Looking down at her phone, she finds she's once again made selections in spite of herself:
What is your name?
Ran Mouri
Do you think the future is unavoidable?
No
Do you consider yourself a bad person?
No
Have you ever killed someone/something?
No
Did you enjoy it?
No
Now share one or two of your darkest secrets with the rest of the group! Two makes it more fun!
Sometimes I'm sure he's lying. I want to trust him and believe he wouldn't. But sometimes . . . I'm sure he is, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to forgive him.