heartstrayed: (grrrrmmmphh)
It’s an early Saturday evening, and Kanan is pacing in circles on the stretch of beach beneath Mari’s suite window, waiting to be noticed.

Which is dumb. God, it’s so dumb. She has her flashlight, Mari’s phone number, and the spare key to her room still -- it’s just that none of it feels right to use anymore. In some weird backwards logic, it was easier to barge in uninvited back when she was pretending their friendship was done; Kanan had no need for courtesy or cordiality, as any action that led to further alienating Mari only benefitted her goal.

But now-- now that she wants to pull closer rather than push away, Kanan finds herself wavering. She can’t, of course, just let herself in now, nor can she bring herself to use their light signal; doesn’t feel she deserves to, after the last time. The thought of calling, even texting, makes her cringe -- what was the last time she reciprocated Mari’s attempts at keeping in touch? Ten months ago? Who is she to act like that time never passed?

But still, Kanan wanted to see her. And the only option she had left was… well. This.

So here she is, tracing the same circular path over and over, kicking at the sand with her tennis shoes and glancing towards Mari’s window more frequently than she should. The lights are on. She should be there. Come on, come on...


heartstrayed: (Default)
Kanan Matsuura

December 2016

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