( it's a perception grown mostly of youthful naivety — for all kimberly's false confidence and for all of her physical desires, she's never been very familiar with the kinds of relationships people can have. her relationships have always been superficial, flighty and easily broken off; amanda's easy dismissal of her had been a reminder of that.
and while kimberly had had the rangers, there had always been the question — are we friends? or are we just power rangers? — lingering in the back of her mind, the knowledge that the four collective individuals that had joined her around the morphing grid might have never so much as spoken her name if fate hadn't brought them all to the mine that night. their friendship was born of necessity, a requirement to gaining the abilities they so desperately needed, and kimberly wasn't quite sure it would have happened otherwise.
so the idea that someone who had been attracted to her — something she knew well enough, boys who wanted her for her body and what she could do with it — might want something beyond that, something beyond just physical attraction when that was off the table... well, it was a bit foreign to her. she'd never had someone turn her down and yet still want her. even just as a friend.
she doesn't know how long she lingers in his embrace, curled up against his chest as she lets out what's left of her own sadness, until she's able to settle into quiet again; eventually, though, her shaky breaths even out, and her eyes are able to close, finally no longer heavy with collected tears. and then, after a moment, kimberly manages to take a soft, slow breath, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand before peering back up at him, an apologetic smile curving her mouth just enough to be noticeable. )
I've always... I mean, I liked you. Just hanging out with you, driving, holding your hand — I know, that sounds so dumb, but that was always my favorite part. And I guess I was afraid you wouldn't want to see me at all anymore, and... I don't know. I'd miss you. Even if I'd see you like this, I'd miss those things.
( she's not sure what's appropriate to say in this context, but at least that's honest. a good start. in the quiet, her gaze drops to the counter, where the food he'd so kindly prepared has obviously long gone cold while she's wept, and she can't help but feel a pang of guilt for that. ) Damn.
If you want, I can go get dressed, and... maybe we could go get pancakes?
no subject
and while kimberly had had the rangers, there had always been the question — are we friends? or are we just power rangers? — lingering in the back of her mind, the knowledge that the four collective individuals that had joined her around the morphing grid might have never so much as spoken her name if fate hadn't brought them all to the mine that night. their friendship was born of necessity, a requirement to gaining the abilities they so desperately needed, and kimberly wasn't quite sure it would have happened otherwise.
so the idea that someone who had been attracted to her — something she knew well enough, boys who wanted her for her body and what she could do with it — might want something beyond that, something beyond just physical attraction when that was off the table... well, it was a bit foreign to her. she'd never had someone turn her down and yet still want her. even just as a friend.
she doesn't know how long she lingers in his embrace, curled up against his chest as she lets out what's left of her own sadness, until she's able to settle into quiet again; eventually, though, her shaky breaths even out, and her eyes are able to close, finally no longer heavy with collected tears. and then, after a moment, kimberly manages to take a soft, slow breath, wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand before peering back up at him, an apologetic smile curving her mouth just enough to be noticeable. )
I've always... I mean, I liked you. Just hanging out with you, driving, holding your hand — I know, that sounds so dumb, but that was always my favorite part. And I guess I was afraid you wouldn't want to see me at all anymore, and... I don't know. I'd miss you. Even if I'd see you like this, I'd miss those things.
( she's not sure what's appropriate to say in this context, but at least that's honest. a good start. in the quiet, her gaze drops to the counter, where the food he'd so kindly prepared has obviously long gone cold while she's wept, and she can't help but feel a pang of guilt for that. ) Damn.
If you want, I can go get dressed, and... maybe we could go get pancakes?