#narrator vc unfortunately he is a Romantic so his head is empty.

[dnangelic]

eep --- !

okay , so no touching ! no matter how slight the force of sakura's slap , he still can't help but jump backwards a little , complete with a rough sound of surprise and the natural , haughty jut of his wings outwards . the marble chill of hand flies back up towards his chest in an equal instant , where his other palm wraps about the first's wrist in a timid clutch . although his betrayed confusion piques , all of him was just as sorry , of course --- sorry enough that even the great phantom thief's fiercer features curdled meek and pathetic for however briefly it takes for his emotions to turn to relief .

' ... nothing ? ' silence ; a beat and then an exhale . in between sakura's forgiveness and drowsy morning grog , he lets go of a breath that he hadn't even known he had been holding . ' okay ... good . that's good . '

he was glad . if nothing else , he had to be --- because even if she could forgive him so readily for making a mess out of her floor , how could he have ever forgiven himself if he had somehow hurt her instead ? somewhere in the dull reticence and furrowed-brow stand of his person lingered a discontent frustration --- he knows too that he should let things go and try to tame his temper , ( the straining lash of it directed only towards himself , ) but it was worse to be periodically needled by his worst faults than it was to , if only during times like these , try to endure them .

at the very least --- ' if it's money , then use mine . ' he greets any stare with an ache : one that couldn't , wouldn't be refused , his brows set stern yet his expression still tenderhearted . after a moment even that brief firmness gradually falls away , the cast of his gaze gliding shyly elsewhere with it . ' ... please . i can't help you fix it , ' just the thought seemed a poor omen : he'd have somehow , in his ineptitude , surely only ruined sakura's few precious panels of flooring even more with any attempt to repair , ' but since it's my fault , then i should at least take responsibility somehow . '

his most base compromise . sakura opens the comforter --- makes an offer with it , but the invitation alone seems to snap him out of any sudden deep seriousness . his head shakes and rather than linger , he turns .

' my face --- ' he can't quite bring himself to say more , taking his few steps into sakura's bathroom , the sound of water lending itself to the rest of any explanation . warm-hot water splashes on his cold cheeks , until he's left blinking into the mirror .

... dark ? ( ... ) --- leaving me all by myself here while you sleep is just mean !

and yet , it was just like his other . the knots in his stomach twist and for just a moment , he crouches like he were dizzy and could no longer stand . what sort of feeling was this supposed to be ... ? anxiety in sakura's company , and yet something completely different ; brand new . from his back his wings obliviously shift and flutter --- breathing freely for once , a right usually only reserved for the vacant skies or the isolated security of the family mansion where nothing , no part about his own self was a secret anymore .

... should he have left ?

for just a moment , stepping outwards into the small hall where unwittingly sakura might have even been able to see him , he stares at the apartment's entrance --- exit , closer now than the futon and sakura herself was to him . leaving without a word of explanation certainly might have been something that he could have gotten away with , but then sakura --- would she have felt hurt ? the guilty weight of a lie and clumsy deception at one end , the guilty weight of abandonment at the other ; still , in his heart , he wanted to stay ...

( sorry . thank you . ) braving his steps , he lies himself down , tucking away his wings into their strange slits and folding himself gently besides the other . already his heart was starting to pound in his ears , a dull , suppressed thud-thud-thud . if he shut his eyes , would he fall asleep again ? would dark have woken up , confused only for all of a split-second were sakura to bring up his brief clumsiness , before laughing it off as a dream and sakura's own sole delusion , even while the marks of his claws still tore ridges into the floor ?

even more than that remained her kindness .

' sakura --- ' san . he has to gulp down every nicety , every stutter , and yet even accomplishing as much , his voice still remains soft and packed with an unspoken wonder . ' are you like this with ... with everyone ? '

The sudden brush of feather in her face—or, really, more against her cheek—startles her into a bit more awareness, but all that really succeeds in doing is making her nudge the wing away a little.

If he really wants her to stay back, there’s easier ways to say so.

“Hey, watch the feathers.” She clicks her teeth, no real bite behind her words, before she settles back into her futon. She scrubs at an eye, rough, with the heel of her hand as she goes on; “But nah, I’ll just do it after school or somethin’. I have some money saved up from the last job I took to...” she stifles a yawn, passes it off with a stretch of her neck, “to take care of it. Like doin’ this kinda thing, anyway.”

Still, as he inspects his own hands, she too watches him with scrutiny (or, rather, as much as she can muster), leaning her head forward to try and make double-sure that he’s not just dismissin’ her or anything. Seemingly satisfied as the both of them are, she just listens to him fuss; plays, idly, with an end of her comforter without much thought. As his hand comes to try and get near her ankle, though, she swats at it—no strength behind the strike, a mere cat’s paw of a warning—before she shifts her left leg out from under the blanket and rolls its pajama pant leg up.

(Only enough, ‘course, for her ankle to be seen—even bogged down by sleep, she knows what to keep covered. Fortunately for her, though, the only scar that he’s able to see, here, is the one she got from protecting Kotoha on her first day here; while the knife-wound wasn’t enough to make her lose any feeling or use of anything, the gash had been deep enough to leave a sizeable mark.)

Other than being a little pink and raw-feeling, though, from Dark’s uncharacteristically clumsy tumble (though he probably is a nightmare in the morning himself; she doesn’t really know, since this is the first morning he hasn’t just been gone after spending the night), nothing is outta the ordinary.

“Not a damn thing.” She reports, simple, as she stifles another yawn; with the adrenaline of the initial moment dying down (at least, for her it is), exhaustion is creeping back in her mind, lending itself to softening her edges and making her have no other want in the world but to lay back down. For the better just this once, since last night had been a night where she got more sleep—consecutive sleep—than usual. A whole four hours!

“So we’re both fine.” Clearly satisfied, she nods her head once; it seems this is all it takes for her worries to be stifled. “Don’t go gettin’ all outta sorts. It ain’t a big deal.”

(Weird as it is for him to be so obviously concerned, even on the surface, but...well, he’s already bein’ weird for just being here, still, so what’s one other thing?)

Curiously, though, she peers over at him; eyes his wings, eyes him, before she shakes a part of the comforter in his direction.

“...you gettin’ back in, or what?”