[even though she's older, she likes the gesture from him - it feels reassuring, not dismissive. like she's safe here, even though she's never put the words down in front of someone before. even if Subaru said that, did he truly mean it? if she had cried, begged, debased herself - would he have wavered at all?

maybe not. Natsume always knew him better than she did. probably not, he'd have stayed the course. but she would have tried.]

When I was growing up...there was someone I trusted well. My teacher. I thought she would help me with my dreams, that we'd be happy, that I'd go on to be able to write my own words. I loved her, I wanted to be her friend always. But...

[how to say it without shame? it's impossible.]

She...encouraged me to write what she suggested. Works of fiction about...my life. Because people would praise it. Her for being so kind, so patient. Me for overcoming trials. It would make people happy, to read that. It would make her proud of me, if I did.

So I did. Even if it wasn't my story, it had my name on it. It was her wish to receive that praise...and I kept helping her get it. Even though people believed lies about me. I did what she wanted me to. I said what she wanted me to. I pretended the way she wanted me to.

[she's gone so, so still. the words are shaking slightly. it feels like her hands dragged over barbed wire. her throat wrapped in it. still, she presses on.]

And it made me so...so unhappy. So I can't tell someone that if they really want something, they can't have it. They can't do it. Because then I'm no better than someone who'd get famous lying about the girl in her care. I'm just controlling them to my wishes. And I can't...I can't do that to someone. Even if I love them the way I love Subaru, how I love you. I can't trap you like that.

[he can probably feel that she's shaking.]

...God, I sound like an ungrateful monster, saying that...