[ She doesn't answer that question, too lost in the churn of her thoughts and the rabbiting of her heart. She carries it along with the water bottle and plastic-wrapped pastry in her hands, still avoiding Choso's eyes even as she approaches. She looks up only a foot or two from the chair and staggers backward immediately, narrowly escaping his large, furled hand held out for her cheek.
All of her blood rushes to her face. Her heart beats up into her throat. She looks at Choso's earnest expression, the genuine worry in his droopy eyes. On his head, the paper cocktail umbrella is still sprouting from one pigtail. The other pigtail is even looser after being pushed up against the elevator wall.
A heartstring gets pulled—not for the first time since they've met.
This. Is just like what happens in her (trashy) romance novels.
Someone reaches for the other person's face and says that they look feverish, when on the inside, they're just trying to stifle their feelings. Marcille has done her fair share of daydreaming of these moments, inserting shoujo-like facsimiles of herself with blurry visions of her One True Love. Now it's happening to her in real life. Choso is doing it without even realizing it.
Her head jerks away, her gaze fixing on a corner of the ceiling. ]
I-I'm fine! Why? Do I look sick? I didn't even notice! I feel completely normal!
[ Her voice is wobbly. She thrusts out the water bottle and pastry to him. ]
no subject
All of her blood rushes to her face. Her heart beats up into her throat. She looks at Choso's earnest expression, the genuine worry in his droopy eyes. On his head, the paper cocktail umbrella is still sprouting from one pigtail. The other pigtail is even looser after being pushed up against the elevator wall.
A heartstring gets pulled—not for the first time since they've met.
This. Is just like what happens in her (trashy) romance novels.
Someone reaches for the other person's face and says that they look feverish, when on the inside, they're just trying to stifle their feelings. Marcille has done her fair share of daydreaming of these moments, inserting shoujo-like facsimiles of herself with blurry visions of her One True Love. Now it's happening to her in real life. Choso is doing it without even realizing it.
Her head jerks away, her gaze fixing on a corner of the ceiling. ]
I-I'm fine! Why? Do I look sick? I didn't even notice! I feel completely normal!
[ Her voice is wobbly. She thrusts out the water bottle and pastry to him. ]
H-Here!