[A pointed look, and Mamoru even groans the way he does lying on the floor when she cradles his head on her lap.]
Y'know it ain't how this works. [And he really hates that. Perhaps this is something that he still tries, eyes closing for a second behind the red of his shades — the forest, the train, her learning to cook, laugh at a silly chick flick his partner had started to stream on his laptop — only to keep feeling the dryness of the land and the air around them.
Fuck.
Haruka starts explaining, all tears and smiles in her voice, about how she knew Mamoru had predicted, even planned, to die to succeed in this plan against the unbeatable chunk of a man in the vicinity. That he didn't mind dying if that meant freeing her, freeing the country he rules over.
But to her, his death only meant defeat.
The moribund swordsman sputters, protests, and tells her that once he's better, she'll get an earful. Mamoru can even remember how the copper in his mouth then tasted.
'I love you. So please survive this and come for me while I'm still alive.'
He knows what's going to happen next, and it's her folding over (how someone would manage that, he wouldn't know, he definitely doesn't have that flexibility) and planting a big ol' smoosh on his lips.
The Mamoru of the present just groans. He definitely remembers that and how he didn't realize what was happening until a second later, when her hair is shielding his face from sound, and her chapped lips are against the bloodied grime and dust of his.
no subject
Y'know it ain't how this works. [And he really hates that. Perhaps this is something that he still tries, eyes closing for a second behind the red of his shades — the forest, the train, her learning to cook, laugh at a silly chick flick his partner had started to stream on his laptop — only to keep feeling the dryness of the land and the air around them.
Fuck.
Haruka starts explaining, all tears and smiles in her voice, about how she knew Mamoru had predicted, even planned, to die to succeed in this plan against the unbeatable chunk of a man in the vicinity. That he didn't mind dying if that meant freeing her, freeing the country he rules over.
But to her, his death only meant defeat.
The moribund swordsman sputters, protests, and tells her that once he's better, she'll get an earful. Mamoru can even remember how the copper in his mouth then tasted.
'I love you. So please survive this and come for me while I'm still alive.'
He knows what's going to happen next, and it's her folding over (how someone would manage that, he wouldn't know, he definitely doesn't have that flexibility) and planting a big ol' smoosh on his lips.
The Mamoru of the present just groans. He definitely remembers that and how he didn't realize what was happening until a second later, when her hair is shielding his face from sound, and her chapped lips are against the bloodied grime and dust of his.
Really. Kind of unsanitary, kid.]