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2016-01-05 02:34 am (UTC)
Moritz is utterly swept away by his own mind, mired by fear and fenced in by regrets. He's intent on leaving even though so much of his soul screams to spill itself to someone,
who will listen, but Moritz won't let himself foolishly unload to a stranger. He's tried, so many times, and it's going to have to stop somewhere. He'll save them all the trouble of it. That, at least, is a decision that Moritz can make all on his own, that can carry its weight somewhere final and decisive. The firmest decision he'll ever have made.
So the first words - and the tone - strike Moritz hard. Fearful, confused, he nearly trips while almost-jogging away, head turning only halfway - he can't see Morgan
where he's going, unable to commit to a single direction until:
Moritz pulls up short and spins on his heel, terror plain as day on his face. "
His voice cracks when his throat constricts on him. "How-- H-h-h-h-how do you know that I'm gonna-- What--?!" Painfully aware of the possibility of being overheard, humiliated and horrified, Moritz is rapidly coming back over, legs that've run up and down football fields for the past decade making short work of it.
'But you're not supposed to yet.'
It's there, but barely, drowned out by the cacophony of someone just shouting out Moritz's biggest secret into a city block - no matter how empty. Moritz stands there, in Morgan's personal space, breath heaving but shallow, pupils wide and frightened. There's barely six inches separating them, and yet despite his size, Moritz isn't consciously trying to intimidate. At least not until all the fear that's been burning him from the inside out for weeks starts to turn to anger. "What're you-- what're you talking about--
, why do you--" Why do you know, why do you
A lot quieter: "What is this?" A trick? A lucky guess? Something...else?
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