Sulking on the bed for a while, Satoru indulges herself in memories of her Suguru comforting her, teasing her, laughing with her. The memories soothe her nerves, though they also make her heart ache with longing and grief. And she thinks, now, with the way she's been chasing Suguru's attention, the way she invited this ... maybe she'd been in love with Suguru back then. But she hadn't seen it. What she had was too wonderful, and Satoru hadn't wanted it to change, so she hadn't looked too closely at it. Hadn't considered the significance of any of it. She'd thought it would last forever, her and Suguru as two halves of a whole.
How can that Suguru just be ... gone?
There's a disconnect there, something which itches at Satoru's mind. Her Suguru. Breakup. Bad Suguru.
She's separated these things in her head, making Suguru into two separate people rather than a before and after. The rest of the group had all assumed, like Satoru had said, that Suguru had been this bitchy person all along, and the earlier sweetness had been an act. It was the only thing that made sense, if the awful things she said were what she really thought. (What if they weren't?)
But Satoru had known in her heart that it wasn't true that her Suguru wasn't real. Of course her Suguru had been real.
So, unable to conflate the disconnect between these two truths, that her Suguru was real and that the bitchy Suguru was real, Satoru had created a belief that they were two separate people. Like dissociative identity disorder, two Sugurus within one body, and if she'd kept up nagging Suguru then she'd find her way through to the real one within.
Now, hurting and a little scared, Satoru's instinct was to protect herself by letting go of her belief in that old Suguru. Hadn't Shoko and Nanami told her for years that she should?
But a part of her resisted. She had to protect her Suguru, and also it didn't make sense. Maybe Satoru wasn't good with understanding people, but that wasn't how people worked. She hadn't misunderstood Suguru that deeply. She hadn't been devoted to just a performance that Suguru was putting on. No. She knew her Suguru.
Her Suguru. Breakup. Bad Suguru.
Something had happened. Something bad. Something Satoru had missed entirely.
And then Suguru had run. That was why she was still behaving like a hurt, spooked animal. Something had hurt her. Bad Suguru was the act. Fierce and biting, with those little flashes of vulnerability underneath.
Satoru got up and dressed in lounge clothes, some soft flowing pants and a wrap top. She picked up Suguru's abandoned gloves and stepped into a pair of flats, making her way down to Suguru's room and rapping at the door.
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How can that Suguru just be ... gone?
There's a disconnect there, something which itches at Satoru's mind. Her Suguru. Breakup. Bad Suguru.
She's separated these things in her head, making Suguru into two separate people rather than a before and after. The rest of the group had all assumed, like Satoru had said, that Suguru had been this bitchy person all along, and the earlier sweetness had been an act. It was the only thing that made sense, if the awful things she said were what she really thought. (What if they weren't?)
But Satoru had known in her heart that it wasn't true that her Suguru wasn't real. Of course her Suguru had been real.
So, unable to conflate the disconnect between these two truths, that her Suguru was real and that the bitchy Suguru was real, Satoru had created a belief that they were two separate people. Like dissociative identity disorder, two Sugurus within one body, and if she'd kept up nagging Suguru then she'd find her way through to the real one within.
Now, hurting and a little scared, Satoru's instinct was to protect herself by letting go of her belief in that old Suguru. Hadn't Shoko and Nanami told her for years that she should?
But a part of her resisted. She had to protect her Suguru, and also it didn't make sense. Maybe Satoru wasn't good with understanding people, but that wasn't how people worked. She hadn't misunderstood Suguru that deeply. She hadn't been devoted to just a performance that Suguru was putting on. No. She knew her Suguru.
Her Suguru. Breakup. Bad Suguru.
Something had happened. Something bad. Something Satoru had missed entirely.
And then Suguru had run. That was why she was still behaving like a hurt, spooked animal. Something had hurt her. Bad Suguru was the act. Fierce and biting, with those little flashes of vulnerability underneath.
Satoru got up and dressed in lounge clothes, some soft flowing pants and a wrap top. She picked up Suguru's abandoned gloves and stepped into a pair of flats, making her way down to Suguru's room and rapping at the door.