She knew that face; this was the face of disappointment and disapproval. And Saoirse couldn't say she liked it directed at her coming from a person that she had, many times over and over again, looked to for support and approval concerning all matters that left her feeling inadequately prepared. Which was surprisingly a lot, making everything, all of this just...
Saoirse unclenched her hands, and pressed her palms into her thighs. A part of her felt undeserving of his attention, unworthy of any effort at all, and therefore like she should divert her gaze to the floor in guilt, but a hungrier, stronger force within her kept her gaze glued on him. The curves of his face made her heart ache, the manner of his stature made any vigor within her weak, and how she longed for his comforting touch again, comforting presence that despite her recent actions, she had always held dear.
Was his hair longer? It looked longer. It had been long enough of difference for her to notice? At this thought, her frozen face broke, and Saoirse's brow furrowed with distraught. Lips curving further into a deeper frown, her eyes unfocused in disappointment as well. Breathing deeply, she attempted to collect herself before speaking.
This wasn't right. None of this was right.
"Will you go on a walk with me?" Saoirse asked quietly. Feeling unlike herself, and uncomfortable, but knowing fully well of how the alternative to this would feel, she kept her eyes unflinchingly on him before her.
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