"And despite hardly knowing you," Victoria's voice was barely a whisper, and a tone of shame echoed with each word, "I thought about you every night. Michael, I was so confused. Everything about you was so, so-! I don't even know how to describe it. I thought about the sound of your voice, and your smile, and your stance, and your red hoodie, and the way when you talked to me you made eye-contact and somehow it made me melt from the inside out, and the way every time I tried to say something to you it was stupid babble but I never felt more safe and honest. There isn't any logical way to justify it."
Michael bit back a laugh. Not a laugh of cruelty, but one of empathy and appreciation. Victoria was probably the only young woman he knew that, when confronted with unyielding infatuation, relied first on logic. She was rather beautiful. With wide, tired eyes, Victoria looked up at Michael; her expression seemed to ask for forgiveness, but the worst she had ever done was be human.
"I don't understand how a person can have such a... physical effect on me," Victoria said, shifting her body involuntarily as she looked up at Michael. He reached his hand down to the side of his seat, and pulled the handle that flattened his seat. Michael lied down, his eyes even with hers. His heart wasn't beating straight, and his brain was long since gone.
"It's called 'love'," answered Michael innocently.
"I n-never said anything about love," Victoria defended herself. Every piece of media she had ever encountered had depicted anyone "in love" as a senseless idiot who disregarded facts and put their own selfish, groundless emotions above all else. She was insane, yes, but not that crazy.
"You did, in so many words," Michael responded. "Victoria."
Her heart stopped every time he said her name like that, with a deep resonance and a quiet whisper that framed it as a closely guarded secret. Michael reached his hand over and wrapped his fingers firmly around Victoria's. Well, now her heart didn't stand a chance.
"I love you, too," Michael stated, with his typical resounding confidence, "in a similar, insane fashion."
Victoria squeezed his hand. But at this point, that wasn't quite enough.
Michael bit back a laugh. Not a laugh of cruelty, but one of empathy and appreciation. Victoria was probably the only young woman he knew that, when confronted with unyielding infatuation, relied first on logic. She was rather beautiful. With wide, tired eyes, Victoria looked up at Michael; her expression seemed to ask for forgiveness, but the worst she had ever done was be human.
"I don't understand how a person can have such a... physical effect on me," Victoria said, shifting her body involuntarily as she looked up at Michael. He reached his hand down to the side of his seat, and pulled the handle that flattened his seat. Michael lied down, his eyes even with hers. His heart wasn't beating straight, and his brain was long since gone.
"It's called 'love'," answered Michael innocently.
"I n-never said anything about love," Victoria defended herself. Every piece of media she had ever encountered had depicted anyone "in love" as a senseless idiot who disregarded facts and put their own selfish, groundless emotions above all else. She was insane, yes, but not that crazy.
"You did, in so many words," Michael responded. "Victoria."
Her heart stopped every time he said her name like that, with a deep resonance and a quiet whisper that framed it as a closely guarded secret. Michael reached his hand over and wrapped his fingers firmly around Victoria's. Well, now her heart didn't stand a chance.
"I love you, too," Michael stated, with his typical resounding confidence, "in a similar, insane fashion."
Victoria squeezed his hand. But at this point, that wasn't quite enough.
