[She opens the door to her bedroom and doesn't apologize for the mess. Clothes are all over the floor along with papers and books - a math book is open in the middle of the floor as if she'd been disrupted by the memory of the trash she'd thrown out earlier that led her to finding Yosuke - and soda cans littered her desk.
Lisbeth closes the door before climbing onto her bed. She lays down on her side, staring at him.]
[Lisbeth doesn't react to the joke and merely leans forward to kiss him softly. After a minute or two, she releases his lips, her forehead inches from his.]
[Lifting her other arm, she begins to gently play with his hair, merely touching a few strands sticking up. She stayed quiet instead of asking questions. He would tell her in his own time.]
[The hand in his hair feels nice. Just being in contact with someone else helps. He can hear her heartbeat, and it helps to slow his down from the rabbit pace of trapped adrenaline. He falls into her pattern of breathing, and it's soothing. Somehow things just hurt a little bit less in her embrace. Slowly but surely, the shivering starts to taper off as well, until it's light enough to almost be a full body twitch. Just a rippling up his spine, a low frequency vibration.]
[For so many other things, actually. But it's impossible to make those apologies now. At least this girl is here. She can hear him out, even if he keeps choking on the words.]
[He reaches with the bad arm, for her chest. But it's not a feel he's trying to cop. Instead, he rests his fingertips above her breast, right where her heart beats. Yeah, she's alive. It's hard to believe any of them are, but that's indisputable proof. He sighs in relief despite himself.]
[Lisbeth's eyes follow his hand to her chest. When he merely touches the middle of it, she looks back up at him, brows furrowing slightly. If she knew the existential crisis he was going through, she would certainly be perplexed. It was so unlike Yosuke, but in the same breath Lisbeth was being unfair.
The kid had a depth to him, just like anyone else did. He wasn't a bumbling idiot all the time.]
[He breathes her in. She smells nice. Not floral, or sweet like most girls. But still nice. Salt like skin, and maybe a hint of leather. That warm scent of another person. Clean, even if her room is dirty. She must shower in the morning. Or maybe she just doesn't sweat at night. Or maybe he just likes the scent of her sweat. It's hard to tell. Either way, she smells nice.]
[He doesn't say it harshly. It doesn't even occur to him that it could be said in a cruel way. He squeezes her hand gently, just making sure it's still there.]
[His hand finally lets hers go, and moves up to her face, finges resting on her cheek while he gazes into her eyes for a second to make sure before he glances away. Yeah. She's sad alright.]
[Just this once, he doesn't have the energy to fight about it. Anyway, she's just confirmed it. He'll be sure to try and cheer her up later. Whenever his head isn't too heavy to pick up again, maybe.]
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Lisbeth closes the door before climbing onto her bed. She lays down on her side, staring at him.]
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[It only takes him a few moments to move closer again, and wrap his arms around her.]
I keep forgetting to breathe.
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Why?
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[Probably a strange thing for such a skinny kid to say, but he seems utterly serious about it.]
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[A joke. And the shaking is slowing down a bit.]
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Are you feeling better?
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Sorry.
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[For so many other things, actually. But it's impossible to make those apologies now. At least this girl is here. She can hear him out, even if he keeps choking on the words.]
[He reaches with the bad arm, for her chest. But it's not a feel he's trying to cop. Instead, he rests his fingertips above her breast, right where her heart beats. Yeah, she's alive. It's hard to believe any of them are, but that's indisputable proof. He sighs in relief despite himself.]
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The kid had a depth to him, just like anyone else did. He wasn't a bumbling idiot all the time.]
That's nothing to apologize for.
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[He wriggles even closer, just wanting the contact. The closer she is, the more air there is in the room.]
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[He breathes her in. She smells nice. Not floral, or sweet like most girls. But still nice. Salt like skin, and maybe a hint of leather. That warm scent of another person. Clean, even if her room is dirty. She must shower in the morning. Or maybe she just doesn't sweat at night. Or maybe he just likes the scent of her sweat. It's hard to tell. Either way, she smells nice.]
HOw do you make it stop?
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I'm insane, Yosuke. That's what they say at home.
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[It's a statement, not a question. It kind of makes sense, now.]
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Why are you sad?
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[He doesn't say it harshly. It doesn't even occur to him that it could be said in a cruel way. He squeezes her hand gently, just making sure it's still there.]
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What makes you think I'm sad?
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[His hand finally lets hers go, and moves up to her face, finges resting on her cheek while he gazes into her eyes for a second to make sure before he glances away. Yeah. She's sad alright.]
Don't worry. I won't tell anyone.
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[It comes off a little more strongly than she intended, her tone defensive.]
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[Just this once, he doesn't have the energy to fight about it. Anyway, she's just confirmed it. He'll be sure to try and cheer her up later. Whenever his head isn't too heavy to pick up again, maybe.]
Okay, just don't leave.
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I won't.
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