[caption: three gifs of ra-ra from the get down. him with an excited dizzee, looking worried after rapping his part. him preparing to tell his parents the truth about what happened to the salon. him after his call with tanya as he says: “the force is strong with this one.”]
ok but can i bitch for 1 sec about native speakers who go like “if you dont speak my language perfectly, dont speak it at all” or even worse, omg: “STOP BUTCHERING MY LANGUAGE” likeee how many times did you “butcher” your foreign languages
telling himself not to do it, and then, somehow, doing it anyway, with a constriction in his chest even more tight than what he’d felt when he’d pressed the keychain into a bewildered yoriko’s hand and made his request: “please, give this to her.”
it’s even more dangerous now to approach — now that he kind of made contact, maybe touka is on the lookout for him — though — n-no, of course she wouldn’t be, why would she bother at all?
well? he demands. which is it? do you want her to think of you, or not?
actions, probably, speak louder than words. he holds his breath and ducks a little further back out of sight as he finally, finally, spots her. she still closes anteiku on the same night as always. she’s still wearing the uniform, minus the vest, and doesn’t spare his direction a single glance. the bell on the door rings as she closes it, and she rummages in her pocket, and withdraws her keys, and he sees it then, right there, as clear as day: the rabbit.
she’s using it. he feels a thrill that he wasn’t, entirely, expecting. as she locks the door the keychain swings a little, hitting the wall, scraping, and she hastily wraps her hand around it. she examines it in the palm of her hand — for scratches, maybe. she sighs, with what seems to be relief.
i’m so close. he swallows. this is the real reason that he shouldn’t have dared to draw near. i’m so close.
it would be so simple to…just…go back. to walk back through those doors, to hear the bell ring overhead, to take a deep breath that smells of nothing but rich coffee. he could dye his hair and simply reappear. he thought maybe the hardest thing would be to endure touka making a sharp comment or, worse, treating him with silence. but she has the keychain, so…so maybe…
he is so close. don’t do it, he tells himself, and then, somehow, he does it anyway, with a constriction in his chest; and by time she looks up, brows furrowed, he is gone.