It's probably a funny feeling, as is the feeling of actually being tall for once in her life. You know, tall in the way that lets her fit into the average human building. And this is more than just a simple human building, but a little karaoke booth for the two of them. Two of you?
The Rosie that she can see seems to have shorter hair, and a distinct thought that lays in the background of her mind of how there should still be a ring on her finger (but it's not his place to judge). Really, it's such a quiet background thought that it might get completely washed away because she gets to watch herself make a silly sort of 'oops aw fuck' smile after a flicker of some sort of emotional vulnerability and ask a simple question. Ask about what he cam here for.
And there is an overwhelming tide of oh fuck, right.
The following conversation is an awkward mess. The dancing around the timing of the conversation. Knowledge that at least one version of Rosie has made a shipping chart. A deep belief that, apparently, Angeal Hewley-Rhapsodos is gay.
And she herself, having to say with his mouth, that actually he's not.
The tears are nearly immediate, following the crack of her voice, and she's just not fast enough to hide it as she ducks her head down. The trepidation that Rosie as the viewer can feel overflows into concern and a sort of regret - not at the truth but that the pain she's feeling can't be taken away in any capacity. Not in an easy magic wish sort of way, at any rate.
The only way to fix this is to keep pushing through, she does, rubbing her own back with a large sturdy hand. An understanding somewhere deep in her bones - in Angeal's bones - that he should be someone's rock, and he wants to be.
There's some talk. The admission that Angeal has never wanted to betray her. Rosie in turn admitting to some rather deep-seated issues on her self worth. An instance in which Rosie's whole-ass head is taken in Angeal's massive hands and turned to face him, which could probably be a sexy thing in any other scenario that wasn't the confrontation of her sex-based self worth by someone whose opinion she very obviously cares about.
And then words. Said in a voice deeper than Rosie's, even as she in some way says them, or experiences the feeling of saying them.
"I realized that I liked our relationship so much more without sex ever being involved."
Rosie gets to watch herself take this in. Talk about her own experiences in a world with such... encouraged sex, and the realization that it still doesn't have to happen if they don't want to. That maybe...
"I think I like it more this way, too."
And she looks down at a Rosalina Nurumi with slightly red eyes and messy white hair who looks up and smiles. Soft and, even despite everything, happy.
If the secondhand feelings she gets to feel in this moment are any indication, a soft happiness can be no less deep and powerful enough to be aching in all the best ways. That's what Angeal's heart says, even as the conversation moves into sillier topics, unimportant ones in the grand scheme of things. Smiles that are brighter, and a little more ridiculous, even when they finally pick up long abandoned drinks and hold them up to each other.
Kanpai, Rosie.
And Angeal lightly smacks her cheeks a couple of times. "Rosie? Can you hear me?" He really hopes that she didn't see anything too fucked up, considering her whole life is already like that, but, well, it's not like he ever gets his wishes granted with these sort of situations. All he can do is hope that she feels alright enough.
Maybe if they're both lucky, she won't remember what lead to her getting jumped by those god damn brains.
[Rosie] never second guessing
It's probably a funny feeling, as is the feeling of actually being tall for once in her life. You know, tall in the way that lets her fit into the average human building. And this is more than just a simple human building, but a little karaoke booth for the two of them. Two of you?
The Rosie that she can see seems to have shorter hair, and a distinct thought that lays in the background of her mind of how there should still be a ring on her finger (but it's not his place to judge). Really, it's such a quiet background thought that it might get completely washed away because she gets to watch herself make a silly sort of 'oops aw fuck' smile after a flicker of some sort of emotional vulnerability and ask a simple question. Ask about what he cam here for.
And there is an overwhelming tide of oh fuck, right.
The following conversation is an awkward mess. The dancing around the timing of the conversation. Knowledge that at least one version of Rosie has made a shipping chart. A deep belief that, apparently, Angeal Hewley-Rhapsodos is gay.
And she herself, having to say with his mouth, that actually he's not.
The tears are nearly immediate, following the crack of her voice, and she's just not fast enough to hide it as she ducks her head down. The trepidation that Rosie as the viewer can feel overflows into concern and a sort of regret - not at the truth but that the pain she's feeling can't be taken away in any capacity. Not in an easy magic wish sort of way, at any rate.
The only way to fix this is to keep pushing through, she does, rubbing her own back with a large sturdy hand. An understanding somewhere deep in her bones - in Angeal's bones - that he should be someone's rock, and he wants to be.
There's some talk. The admission that Angeal has never wanted to betray her. Rosie in turn admitting to some rather deep-seated issues on her self worth. An instance in which Rosie's whole-ass head is taken in Angeal's massive hands and turned to face him, which could probably be a sexy thing in any other scenario that wasn't the confrontation of her sex-based self worth by someone whose opinion she very obviously cares about.
And then words. Said in a voice deeper than Rosie's, even as she in some way says them, or experiences the feeling of saying them.
"I realized that I liked our relationship so much more without sex ever being involved."
Rosie gets to watch herself take this in. Talk about her own experiences in a world with such... encouraged sex, and the realization that it still doesn't have to happen if they don't want to. That maybe...
"I think I like it more this way, too."
And she looks down at a Rosalina Nurumi with slightly red eyes and messy white hair who looks up and smiles. Soft and, even despite everything, happy.
If the secondhand feelings she gets to feel in this moment are any indication, a soft happiness can be no less deep and powerful enough to be aching in all the best ways. That's what Angeal's heart says, even as the conversation moves into sillier topics, unimportant ones in the grand scheme of things. Smiles that are brighter, and a little more ridiculous, even when they finally pick up long abandoned drinks and hold them up to each other.
Kanpai, Rosie.
And Angeal lightly smacks her cheeks a couple of times. "Rosie? Can you hear me?" He really hopes that she didn't see anything too fucked up, considering her whole life is already like that, but, well, it's not like he ever gets his wishes granted with these sort of situations. All he can do is hope that she feels alright enough.
Maybe if they're both lucky, she won't remember what lead to her getting jumped by those god damn brains.