Can't you appreciate the simple things for once? The harder you work, the better it'll feel later.
[ Makoto sounds so sure of himself as he works, voice impacted by his physical exertions; a huff here or mumbled Japanese there. He does, however, give Laurent a serious look for his eventual response to the last part. He even pauses his work. ]
And I think you know very well that your heart decides that, not you.
[ As if Makoto has any experience with love. He does a good job sounding like it, as if anyone had been able to navigate his trust issues and keep his interest, or trust him enough in turn. Love. It's a complicated thing, something he's idealized yet never experienced romantically, wahile his life was altered radically by the love of those around him. His mom loved his dad, Laurent loved Dorothy, and who did Makoto have at the end? In the wake of love? No one.
And the look in his suddenly serious, tired eyes are too expressive, briefly, about his illusions of that ever changing. Optimism, a small match in the darkness, seems eternal, but unlikely to grow without kindling. And Makoto isn't getting his hopes up any time soon. He fans the match himself, stubbornly, when it takes over his expression and lifts his chin-- ]
Maybe I will. [ Makoto turns back to work, mumbling the rest in Japanese: ] At least I still can.
no subject
[ Makoto sounds so sure of himself as he works, voice impacted by his physical exertions; a huff here or mumbled Japanese there. He does, however, give Laurent a serious look for his eventual response to the last part. He even pauses his work. ]
And I think you know very well that your heart decides that, not you.
[ As if Makoto has any experience with love. He does a good job sounding like it, as if anyone had been able to navigate his trust issues and keep his interest, or trust him enough in turn. Love. It's a complicated thing, something he's idealized yet never experienced romantically, wahile his life was altered radically by the love of those around him. His mom loved his dad, Laurent loved Dorothy, and who did Makoto have at the end? In the wake of love? No one.
And the look in his suddenly serious, tired eyes are too expressive, briefly, about his illusions of that ever changing. Optimism, a small match in the darkness, seems eternal, but unlikely to grow without kindling. And Makoto isn't getting his hopes up any time soon. He fans the match himself, stubbornly, when it takes over his expression and lifts his chin-- ]
Maybe I will. [ Makoto turns back to work, mumbling the rest in Japanese: ] At least I still can.