[ Privately Hei doubts she'll remember the "good moments" when things go south between them. What you remember of a fling -- he uses the word generously -- is how it ends, not how it began, or the fragments in between. Not until later. Maybe that's better, though? He doesn't enjoy the idea of her falling into the insidious mindset where a few shared laughs or kisses, a brunch, a fuck, can almost wipe the slate on past unkindness. If she's that way around him, she'll be that way around lovers who come after him. Just because events pile on each other so quickly is no reason not to keep up with the continuity. The moment you start running it all together -- eliding it -- you lose focus of how often you've been hurt, abused, deceived by the other person. Instead of remembering the limits you should set for them, it just becomes a washy stream of sensations that traps you in. ]
[ He doesn't want her to forget what he is. He wants her to keep him at a relative distance. Never trust him too much. ]
[ Because inevitably, he knows he'll disappoint her. ]
[ He doesn't say that though. Instead he regards her -- sidelong, suspicious -- before handing her a towel. ]
no subject
[ He doesn't want her to forget what he is. He wants her to keep him at a relative distance. Never trust him too much. ]
[ Because inevitably, he knows he'll disappoint her. ]
[ He doesn't say that though. Instead he regards her -- sidelong, suspicious -- before handing her a towel. ]