ataraxia, lorenzo berkshire

"forty nine"

For the last handful of hours they had to spare between them, Lorenzo told Val everything.

Tears were shed, bodies embraced, and a refreshing, tranquil sense of thorough mutual understanding - that filled the void that Lorenzo had deliberately cast between them in hopes that would hurt Valentina much less than including her in his reality.

"So," Val approached her wording cautiously, for this situation Lorenzo was balls deep within was far from over, and the wound was still fresh.

"...That day, when you kissed Saskia in front of me," She continued, Lorenzo studying her beneath his gaze, awaiting on where this conversation was to lead.

"It was on purpose." She affirmed what he'd explained to her, earning a short nod from Lorenzo in response.

"But," She made sure to add a but so Lorenzo wouldn't have to interrupt to further outline his point.

"-You did it not to hurt me." She took the words out of his mouth, watching as his face broke into a soft smile - one of relief that she somewhat understood.

"It was painful for me too." He muttered, a nervous and unforeseen tremble withered his vocals that Valentina had never noticed in him until now.

For Lorenzo Berkshire typically knew exactly what to say to any remark, and how to say it.

But this time, it would appear he was speaking from his heart. Truly.

And that is something that he cannot preempt in his head beforehand, nor can he even attempt to script the depiction of his emotional state as soon as he parted his lips to speak.

To be transparent, Lorenzo sat on his bed - Valentina opposite - in utter silence for at least ten minutes once he'd let her into his dorm.

For where should he start?

"What was?"

Valentina asked curiously, for there were many actions of his that inflicted emotional pain upon her - that began as a platonic tease for her frigid, closed-off demeanour, but blossomed into cryptic advances suffocated by inexplicable teenage hormones that blew up in their faces entirely.

"Having to kiss her, while you-," He tried to finish his sentence, however his guilty conscience had utterly consumed him from the inside out, and had began to claw its way up his throat.

Valentina wasn't entirely sure on how to comfort the boy. For hugs were exchanged, but no hug regardless of motive behind it could bandage the gaping wounds in which had punctured their hearts.

So she sat quietly, watching him come to terms with his emotions for what could possibly be the first time.

For he looked similar to an overstimulated child.

Although the room was silent, Valentina could tell through his glaciated eyes that his thoughts were far too audacious for his liking.

He couldn't get them to stop.

"It's okay, I forgive you." Valentina assured him in which she'd done hundreds in the span of her stepping foot into his dorm.

"I know." He whispered, yet a unsatisfied frown remained on his face.

"Is that not what you want to hear?," Valentina asked, eyebrows furrowed confusedly, "Do you want me to not forgive you?"

He shook his head abundantly, a light scoff tumbling from his lips.

"God, Valentina." He dragged a hand down his face, for he looked slightly like he was in pain.

"-As much as I appreciate your forgiveness, really," He started, his voice now softer from the strain against his throat - the threat of lifelong pent up emotion.