[Despite his answer his hands stay where they are. Monica can feel the bony ridges of his knuckles this way, the rough texture of skin worked over from years of scraping by. And he, in return, can feel hers. They lock together nicely.]
We're just two good-for-nothings who happen to be going the same way.
[Seki was never cut out for this life. The moment he sees a glimmer of hope, it'll never leave his mind. No matter how many times he tries to beat it out with self-hatred, he's thirsty for the promise of more.
And Monica, well, hell. She's the sun. How can he, a half-grown boy, scrub her out?]
no subject
[Despite his answer his hands stay where they are. Monica can feel the bony ridges of his knuckles this way, the rough texture of skin worked over from years of scraping by. And he, in return, can feel hers. They lock together nicely.]
We're just two good-for-nothings who happen to be going the same way.
[Seki was never cut out for this life. The moment he sees a glimmer of hope, it'll never leave his mind. No matter how many times he tries to beat it out with self-hatred, he's thirsty for the promise of more.
And Monica, well, hell. She's the sun. How can he, a half-grown boy, scrub her out?]
Right?