Chapter Text
“I want to be family with her, Norea.”
“I’ve heard you loud and clear.”
“I don’t think you have,” Sophie huffs as she rolls on the bed, stuffed animal tucked safely in her arms. “I want her, Norea.”
The sound of pages turning, sharp and clear. The drag of lead against paper.
“I know you do, Sophie,” Norea sketches from memory– things she remembers, things she saw once and never again– “I just can’t imagine why though.”
“Why?” The dirty plush is moved to sit against the wall, Sophie moving to sit criss-cross. “Norea, you’ve seen how she fights!”
“So?”
“So?! Norea!” She sounds exasperated, and Norea feels hands pull at her sketchbook. “She fights like her life isn’t draining out! She’s supposed to be like the both of us, isn’t she?! So why–”
“Sophie,” Norea’s voice becomes akin to a whisper, “let go.”
The girl frowns.
“No.”
“Sophie–”
“Norea,” the girl grows frustrated, practically growling out her partner’s name, “have you seen how she treats us? Those other Earthians?”
“Yeah. It makes me sick.” And Norea means it. But Sophie’s mood picks up again, a feralistic smile stretching on her lips.
“To act like that and to pilot a Gundam…! How can she act like she can’t hurt a fly?! She has to have some guilt in her right?!”
Norea doesn’t answer. Sophie’s smile drops.
“You don’t get it, huh?” And her interest in Norea and her book completely fades, as she moves back to the bed.
“...Why do you want her?”
Norea tries to ignore how hurt she sounds.
“...I want to make her understand me. I want to understand her. I want her to see that all there is to Gundams is nothing but violence.”
You don’t need that, Norea wishes she had the courage to say, you have me.
“It’s pointless to try and get her,” she says instead. “You always say it’s you and I against the world, right? Let’s keep it that way.”
A scowl. A sneer. A barking laugh.
“Wait, are you jealous?”
“I’m not.” She lies, yet Sophie approaches her once more. Moving the sketchbook out of the way, treating it with the same gentleness that Norea herself would give it– images of what she wants, images of what she finds precious–
a sketch of Sophie at the corner of the page, noticed– even if it wasn’t verbalized.
“Norea,” Sophie breathes. Calm, joyful– she should always be like this.
“Sophie,” Norea breathes. Heart pounding, racing– Sophie will always reduce her to such.
“I love you, y’know.” It’s not in the way Norea wants her to. They both know this, they both know how cruel it is to say these words at a time like this.
“I love you too.” And Norea accepts meaningless words wholeheartedly.