Random fic thing.
Learning that falling in love so suddenly that night had been the work of a magic notebook, and no fault of his own, had only brought some solace. He had to wonder, albeit somewhat selfishly, if anyone had ever experienced such immense heartbreak under the note's influence before.
Never before that moment - so badly wanting Arcueid, and knowing that he could never have her - had he hated his power. It was a gift, he had always seen it as such, and he was nothing but grateful for it, and for what it allowed him to do. But in that moment...? Seeing Arcueid's face, watching her struggle as he backed away, he damned the Tao. Of all the powers, why this one? He would have traded it in an instant if it meant he could go to her.
And then she had left. What choice did she have after all? Still - as cliche as it seems, looking back on it now - he had felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest. He wanted to cry out after her and die all at once, and he was left in such a state until the effects of the notebook finally wore off.
It was disconcerting, to say the least, to feel so desperately heartbroken one minute, and then to be wondering why the next.
Island-induced emotions or no, he had felt them, and was hesitant to even approach her after that. He supposed he could be somewhat grateful for Arcueid's general clueless-ness about emotions. All the better, perhaps.
At least, until she started asking questions.
Never before that moment - so badly wanting Arcueid, and knowing that he could never have her - had he hated his power. It was a gift, he had always seen it as such, and he was nothing but grateful for it, and for what it allowed him to do. But in that moment...? Seeing Arcueid's face, watching her struggle as he backed away, he damned the Tao. Of all the powers, why this one? He would have traded it in an instant if it meant he could go to her.
And then she had left. What choice did she have after all? Still - as cliche as it seems, looking back on it now - he had felt as though his heart had been ripped from his chest. He wanted to cry out after her and die all at once, and he was left in such a state until the effects of the notebook finally wore off.
It was disconcerting, to say the least, to feel so desperately heartbroken one minute, and then to be wondering why the next.
Island-induced emotions or no, he had felt them, and was hesitant to even approach her after that. He supposed he could be somewhat grateful for Arcueid's general clueless-ness about emotions. All the better, perhaps.
At least, until she started asking questions.