[She says, muffled, like a person who doesn't mean it in the slightest. But affection is always easier when it's unilateral, because when she's the one giving it, she's also the one controlling it. She's not nearly as adept at knowing how to receive it, which is awfully paradoxical considering it's also often the one thing she craves more than anything else.]
You're stupid and dumb and your face is dumb.
[But her sadness is melting away because of it, dissolving the way that sadness is supposed to in a moment like this — not the gripping inescapable weight that it had been for him in the forest but something more transient, something that goes and comes like a brushfire, rapid and devastating but quickly burning out.
There's a damp spot on his shirt, which is her fault. Which means it's already destined for a wash anyway, so she feels less bad about rubbing her face against his chest to dry her eyes a little further before drawing back just enough to look up at him.]
...And I'm stupid and dumb too so I guess we're meant for each other.
[Crap, she's looking at him. He blinks back the brightness in his own eyes and puts on another smile for her, since the first one'd been such a hit. He catches part of his lip in his teeth, but then he bites it a little, and, in wryness at them, at this situation, it comes out all the more genuine. He really meant it. He really means it, when it comes to Summer.]
I dunno. I always thought you're really smart.
[He lets a beat pass, waiting for that little-kid wobbliness to get the hell out of his voice, then adds:]
Guess that just means I'm that much stupider and dumber, huh? C'mon.
[He leans backwards a little, just shifting his weight back on his heels, not even letting her go.]
Let's get off the stairs. Then I can carry you. I-it'd be really stupid and dumb to fall down the stairs.
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[She says, muffled, like a person who doesn't mean it in the slightest. But affection is always easier when it's unilateral, because when she's the one giving it, she's also the one controlling it. She's not nearly as adept at knowing how to receive it, which is awfully paradoxical considering it's also often the one thing she craves more than anything else.]
You're stupid and dumb and your face is dumb.
[But her sadness is melting away because of it, dissolving the way that sadness is supposed to in a moment like this — not the gripping inescapable weight that it had been for him in the forest but something more transient, something that goes and comes like a brushfire, rapid and devastating but quickly burning out.
There's a damp spot on his shirt, which is her fault. Which means it's already destined for a wash anyway, so she feels less bad about rubbing her face against his chest to dry her eyes a little further before drawing back just enough to look up at him.]
...And I'm stupid and dumb too so I guess we're meant for each other.
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I dunno. I always thought you're really smart.
[He lets a beat pass, waiting for that little-kid wobbliness to get the hell out of his voice, then adds:]
Guess that just means I'm that much stupider and dumber, huh? C'mon.
[He leans backwards a little, just shifting his weight back on his heels, not even letting her go.]
Let's get off the stairs. Then I can carry you. I-it'd be really stupid and dumb to fall down the stairs.