#(ooc: hmmmm you know what? this deserves the sckim tag tbh)

[piningpercussionist]

*another letter!* It's me, again, I... well... not trying to be creepy, or whatever. but I had a dream about you last night, and it felt so real and it kind of shook me. ever since then it's been like I'm suddenly hyper aware of just how lonely I am . and it's kind of getting me down. for as far back as I can remember, the only thing I've ever wanted is a sincere, genuine romantic relationship, and, even though I'm fairly young, around your age. the fact that I haven't been able to even get my foot in the door on that sort of thing really bothers me. figured I'd talk, or... I guess... write? to you about it, I don't know if it's particularly impolite to dump your personal issues via pseudo-anonymous letters. so I'll keep this my rambling to a minimum. thanks for putting up with me, by the way. you're genuinely sweet. safe travels -Crush Guy

((ooc: man. sorry to answer this in a nebulous future state again. coordinating things, am I right? /j. I would have had to do so regardless though, given what I have in store for Kim here... no spoilers! :) But we'll see what happens.))

Kim flops back down on her bed, letting out a long, low groan. That trip had exhausted her, thoroughly; she wasn't sure she wanted to think about or do anything for the next forever, at least, but... She cracks open an eye and looks over at her pillows, noticing another letter waiting for her. Sitting up with a sigh, she rubs her eyes before taking it up and opening it, trying to will herself to feel more alive.

Reading over the letter, Kim frowns, feeling something like a pull in her chest. She rubs at her sternum and brings her knees up to wrap arms around her legs, looking back over it a couple times thoughtfully.

I can certainly understand that... she thought to herself, resting a cheek to one knee. I want for a lot of things, I guess. And do without them. But I can definitely understand that kind of longing.

She eventually uncurls and shifts about, moving to lean back against her propped up pillows, now placed to cover the gaps in her bed frame. Despite herself, she finds her thoughts taking her back- as they often do- to high school. She feels the painful twinge again, and she's thankful not to have to hide her emotions in the safety of her room- she'd locked the door, after all.

She could still remember what it had felt like, back then; to be loved. Or to think that you were. She'd still been herself- Kim Pine: bitchy, aloof, and sarcastic, with a corrosive tongue that loved to lash out- but with Scott she'd felt so warm, and she knew deep down that she'd let herself thaw a little, in that time. She'd been less cold in ways Lauren had called her on immediately, much to her displeasure, but she hadn't been able to deny it, then. She still couldn't now, really; she was just better at masking it. She liked to think she was, at least.

She missed feelings like that- the warmth; the carefree nature in which they'd spend their time together. The way he would look at her stunned and flush after she'd tease him over some stupid comment he'd made, or how he'd turn away whenever Kim would catch him staring at her during class...

She hates the way it still feels warm now, thinking back. Warmth paired with the uncomfortable hole in her chest- a paradoxically heavy weight to an emptiness, expanding outward, trying to numb itself and failing miserably- only spreading the fire. Though there are none, Kim finds herself rubbing at her eyes, concerned that she might find tears there.

You need to stop doing this, she thinks to herself, as ineffectively as always. The thought has no weight if she doesn't put effort into making it actionable; she knows, because she's thought it so many times before. It was high school, Kim. It clearly meant nothing to him. Let it be nothing for you, too. Please? It'd be easier.

She spends a couple minutes trying to pull herself together, picking at loose threads along the edge of her skirt. The feeling continues to linger, however, so she simply sucks it up and starts in on her reply.

Don't worry about it, guy; dreams take us a lot of places we don't intend. It's not really creepy- honestly maybe expected, with us talking like this. Hope it was a pleasant one. And it's alright, I think. I get where you're coming from, too. I mean, I've dated around, but it's hard to find genuine connection with people. The kind I crave, at least. You'll need to kill me before I admit anything beyond that, though, heh. No problem, and also thanks, I suppose. Though I have my doubts on how true of a statement that is.

She's not entirely certain if she's satisfied with her answer by the time she's done, but she shrugs and sends it anyway, too tired to give it much more thought. Maybe a nap will fix me... she wonders to herself, eventually moving to lay curled up on her side facing the wall.

She would try for a while, but sleep would elude her; instead, a reel of memories plays back in her mind, haunting her with a distant, hopeful version of herself. How naive...