Ϟ how I live is up to me
It was all just one big waiting game.
From the second she'd gotten home the night before, she'd been unable to do anything but pace. When she'd tried to cook, she found herself by the window across the kitchen enough times that she'd taken the 'to hell with it' approach and dumped the half-cooked stir-fry in the trash. She wasn't that hungry, anyway. When she'd tried to sleep, she couldn't find a comfortable place to lay, and her feet wouldn't stop twitching. So she'd gotten up. She was even less tired than she was hungry, anyway.
No, that was a lie. Lightning was always tired. In the two nights since she'd realized Serah was lost for good, she'd slept a half hour at most, and that had been at the kitchen table. But when she tried to sleep, it wouldn't come. Thoughts would come, though, en masse. Thoughts of Serah, mostly, but also of Snow, who Light knew had loved Serah too. And of Hope, who'd lost his mother. Light had lost her mother--no, that's not true either. Claire had lost her mother. And to this day, Lightning remembered how it felt... But it hadn't felt even remotely as gut-wrenchingly, lung-squeezingly, sleep-deprivingly terrible as losing Serah. Her sister. How many times had Snow felt he had to 'remind her' of that? Too many. Even once was too many.
And he was coming to remind her again, she knew. She'd actually expected him last night, but the delay wasn't a relief in the slightest. The thought of seeing him put a knot of dread in her stomach, but she sorely wished he'd just... get it over with. She'd tell him he's wrong, of course. That she hadn't abandoned Serah when her sister's memory was laid to rest. But would he believe her? She'd told him he was wrong so many times by now, it was a wonder he wasn't numb to the concept in general.
Three times so far she'd locked her door and shut off the lights in a snap decision to dodge the confrontation altogether. All three times she'd conceded, unlocking it again within five or ten minutes. But she hadn't bothered with the lights, this last time. There was nothing she could focus enough to try to read, and for the record-breaking twenty minutes in one place that she watched the news, the glow of the screen was enough.
But it was just stalling, all of it. And Lightning knew it. But soon enough, the subject of her unrest would choose to make an appearance, and the day was uncertain from there.
From the second she'd gotten home the night before, she'd been unable to do anything but pace. When she'd tried to cook, she found herself by the window across the kitchen enough times that she'd taken the 'to hell with it' approach and dumped the half-cooked stir-fry in the trash. She wasn't that hungry, anyway. When she'd tried to sleep, she couldn't find a comfortable place to lay, and her feet wouldn't stop twitching. So she'd gotten up. She was even less tired than she was hungry, anyway.
No, that was a lie. Lightning was always tired. In the two nights since she'd realized Serah was lost for good, she'd slept a half hour at most, and that had been at the kitchen table. But when she tried to sleep, it wouldn't come. Thoughts would come, though, en masse. Thoughts of Serah, mostly, but also of Snow, who Light knew had loved Serah too. And of Hope, who'd lost his mother. Light had lost her mother--no, that's not true either. Claire had lost her mother. And to this day, Lightning remembered how it felt... But it hadn't felt even remotely as gut-wrenchingly, lung-squeezingly, sleep-deprivingly terrible as losing Serah. Her sister. How many times had Snow felt he had to 'remind her' of that? Too many. Even once was too many.
And he was coming to remind her again, she knew. She'd actually expected him last night, but the delay wasn't a relief in the slightest. The thought of seeing him put a knot of dread in her stomach, but she sorely wished he'd just... get it over with. She'd tell him he's wrong, of course. That she hadn't abandoned Serah when her sister's memory was laid to rest. But would he believe her? She'd told him he was wrong so many times by now, it was a wonder he wasn't numb to the concept in general.
Three times so far she'd locked her door and shut off the lights in a snap decision to dodge the confrontation altogether. All three times she'd conceded, unlocking it again within five or ten minutes. But she hadn't bothered with the lights, this last time. There was nothing she could focus enough to try to read, and for the record-breaking twenty minutes in one place that she watched the news, the glow of the screen was enough.
But it was just stalling, all of it. And Lightning knew it. But soon enough, the subject of her unrest would choose to make an appearance, and the day was uncertain from there.