“i’m not good for you—” gumi says. she’s holding rin’s hands between her’s, rubbing over callouses and rough skin. it’s always felt odd to rin. the contrast between them. where gumi knew gentleness rin knew destruction. where gumi knew love and affection, rin knew neglect and isolation. it was one of the first hurdles they had to get through when they first started dating. that is, rin learning to love and be loved.
the words sound like something she’s said— were, something she’s said. in the heat of the moment. during late nights when their legs were wrapped around each other and their hands were being held just like this. it doesn’t sound right coming out of gumi’s mouth. because gumi isn’t insecure, she isn’t jerking hands and stolen oxygen. she isn’t a flinching body or hands pulling out her hair. that was rin. gumi was confident, was constant strength.
“what?”
“i’m no good for you. i—” her lip wobbles, and rin feels a surge of panic go through her. she never liked when gumi cried, rare as it was, it was always something awful. a terrible squeal like a wounded animal. “i’m making you worse, aren’t i? you’ve been upset all week and i, i can’t fix it! no matter what i do you just get worse.”
“that’s not-” her fault. it was rin. and her brain as dumb as it was. it was the illness that stole her energy, her life— gumi helped. god did she. but gumi couldn’t heal her. that wasn’t— that was too much responsibility. that would be cruel of her to even ask. “you’re perfect,” rin mutters, her own throat tight. her stomach burns. she feels sick. sick that she’s let herself fall so deep even gumi could feel it.
“no, i’m not.” the girl babbles, “if i were then i could help you, rin i want to help you—”
“you do. babe i promise you do. i’m just—” fucked up. a product of my terrible childhood. the one who should be saying this to you. the one who should be leaving. “i’m sorry.”
rin squeezes her hands. “i’m sorry.”