[ Was that too much? He feels like that was probably too much. He didn't mean to - it just sort of happened, and... well, she started it! (Not very comforting.) Of course, it was all true; his feelings don't waver a bit, and he doesn't regret saying them. But it's surely not something that shinigami-san would have done. He's changed a lot. For the better, without a doubt - but, briefly, he wonders if he's become too brazen. Too honest - too much himself, really. He masked it all with a winning smile and a cynical nonchalance about life back then, when she knew him.
The worry is fleeting, though. Aguri had always seen him for exactly who he was. That was one of the most important things she'd given him - that way of looking at others. She'd passed it on to him, and he'd successfully used it to carry her students through that last year. The thought of them gives him some strength when she draws back. If they saw him being so chicken about this, of all things, after having every weapon imaginable pointed at him... The probably wouldn't be surprised, actually, but that's not the point. He lets his grip on her loosen, hesitantly peeking through his dark bangs at her expression. She's awfully close. He swallows.
Truthfully, he probably already knew that she felt this way - she wore her feelings on her sleeve, and he'd had plenty of practice reading the emotions of people. The difference was that those people had been his victims; Aguri was not, and so, he hadn't paid much attention at the time - not until it was too late, and after that, it felt blasphemous to assume her affections were more than friendly. Even though their students seemed to know better. Even though he knew better, too. It doesn't mean his heart doesn't swell at the confirmation, or that he doesn't feel the tingling sensation of nervous joy sweep through his body like sparks in his veins. He smiles, sheepish but adoring. He doesn't deserve this. He's dead now. He killed so many people. But he wants it so much that it hurts. If this is a test, he's going to fail. ]
Aguri... Is that backhanded confession really the best you can do? [ he pokes fun in a soft voice, but the words are flimsy and full of affection, resting on nothing; he's falling back on his safety net of smiling and teasing, because he can feel his heart beating a mile a minute and he's sure he'll start blurting out something stupid again in a half-second if he's not careful. He doesn't want to ruin it. She says she's not leaving, but this has to be too good to be true, right? Her hands feel cool against his burning cheeks; he leans into them, gently bumping his forehead against hers. This moment - the early morning in his favorite room on Earth, the peaceful knowledge that his students have succeeded, her blushing face as she returns his feelings - he won't forget it. ] ... Thank you. I don't deserve someone like you, but I... Thank you.
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The worry is fleeting, though. Aguri had always seen him for exactly who he was. That was one of the most important things she'd given him - that way of looking at others. She'd passed it on to him, and he'd successfully used it to carry her students through that last year. The thought of them gives him some strength when she draws back. If they saw him being so chicken about this, of all things, after having every weapon imaginable pointed at him... The probably wouldn't be surprised, actually, but that's not the point. He lets his grip on her loosen, hesitantly peeking through his dark bangs at her expression. She's awfully close. He swallows.
Truthfully, he probably already knew that she felt this way - she wore her feelings on her sleeve, and he'd had plenty of practice reading the emotions of people. The difference was that those people had been his victims; Aguri was not, and so, he hadn't paid much attention at the time - not until it was too late, and after that, it felt blasphemous to assume her affections were more than friendly. Even though their students seemed to know better. Even though he knew better, too. It doesn't mean his heart doesn't swell at the confirmation, or that he doesn't feel the tingling sensation of nervous joy sweep through his body like sparks in his veins. He smiles, sheepish but adoring. He doesn't deserve this. He's dead now. He killed so many people. But he wants it so much that it hurts. If this is a test, he's going to fail. ]
Aguri... Is that backhanded confession really the best you can do? [ he pokes fun in a soft voice, but the words are flimsy and full of affection, resting on nothing; he's falling back on his safety net of smiling and teasing, because he can feel his heart beating a mile a minute and he's sure he'll start blurting out something stupid again in a half-second if he's not careful. He doesn't want to ruin it. She says she's not leaving, but this has to be too good to be true, right? Her hands feel cool against his burning cheeks; he leans into them, gently bumping his forehead against hers. This moment - the early morning in his favorite room on Earth, the peaceful knowledge that his students have succeeded, her blushing face as she returns his feelings - he won't forget it. ] ... Thank you. I don't deserve someone like you, but I... Thank you.