(no subject)
[OOC: More wangst. Follows this discussion between Yuuri and Wolfram.]
I need some time. That's what he said to me, and now I find myself echoing the sentiment in a wholly different way.
I am angry. At myself rather than at him. I had to push until I made him admit that he wasn't sure, that he was confused. I knew that, but there's something completely different in hearing the words and being forced to acknowledge them.
I am furious with myself for letting him see so much. I could blame stress, the chaos of the recent days, but the truth is that I'm weak. Tired of wanting and wondering and watching the way he smiles at everyone else and feeling the bitter flame of jealousy in my stomach while trying to convince myself that I have no right for it to be there.
I have every right. For now, he is mine; gained unfairly by his mistake. It makes me almost believe what his mother says about fate. Almost.
I have to be ready, the next time I see him. I said that I wouldn't let this change anything, and I won't. But right now, my anger makes me unpredictable, fills me with an urge to hurt until no one tries to get close enough to hurt me. I learned my lesson watching Mother being hurt by people that she loved and will not fall so easily into the same trap. She keeps trying; I gave up before I began.
He turned everything upside down. At first, I loathed him for it. Taking something so serious and turning it into a mockery of what it should be. As time passed, I couldn't muster up that anger anymore. Then, I was disgusted that he'd wormed his way into my thoughts and annoyed that he didn't even seem to notice. Now I can't make myself want to be free of him, and I've told him enough to make him realize what a fool I am.
I hide, pulling the walls that had fallen so easily back up around me. I focus on the brush in my hand, the warm hair under my fingers and the soft sounds of the horses shifting and stamping in their stalls. I came here intending to ride out and burn off this pitiful weakness, and maybe I will, but not quite yet.
I need some time. That's what he said to me, and now I find myself echoing the sentiment in a wholly different way.
I am angry. At myself rather than at him. I had to push until I made him admit that he wasn't sure, that he was confused. I knew that, but there's something completely different in hearing the words and being forced to acknowledge them.
I am furious with myself for letting him see so much. I could blame stress, the chaos of the recent days, but the truth is that I'm weak. Tired of wanting and wondering and watching the way he smiles at everyone else and feeling the bitter flame of jealousy in my stomach while trying to convince myself that I have no right for it to be there.
I have every right. For now, he is mine; gained unfairly by his mistake. It makes me almost believe what his mother says about fate. Almost.
I have to be ready, the next time I see him. I said that I wouldn't let this change anything, and I won't. But right now, my anger makes me unpredictable, fills me with an urge to hurt until no one tries to get close enough to hurt me. I learned my lesson watching Mother being hurt by people that she loved and will not fall so easily into the same trap. She keeps trying; I gave up before I began.
He turned everything upside down. At first, I loathed him for it. Taking something so serious and turning it into a mockery of what it should be. As time passed, I couldn't muster up that anger anymore. Then, I was disgusted that he'd wormed his way into my thoughts and annoyed that he didn't even seem to notice. Now I can't make myself want to be free of him, and I've told him enough to make him realize what a fool I am.
I hide, pulling the walls that had fallen so easily back up around me. I focus on the brush in my hand, the warm hair under my fingers and the soft sounds of the horses shifting and stamping in their stalls. I came here intending to ride out and burn off this pitiful weakness, and maybe I will, but not quite yet.