Re: log: dietre a. & misha b.
Dietre wondered how many fresh starts someone could have and then squander before they ran out. What number was he on now? And how many times was he going to tell himself that ‘this time’ he was going to make it count? Whenever he dwelled on these sorts of things (which was often) it made him anxious, but it was so hard to stop once he started.
“Because…” He spoke slowly, his thoughts needed time to come together before they made it out of his mouth. Dietre let his head fall back against the seat, his eyes on the sedan’s ceiling, following its contours as if he might find his answers written there. “...The more I want something, the more likely it is that things will go wrong. Or, rather, I will end up doing something that will ruin it. Say the wrong thing, make the wrong choice... “
“Even the littlest thing could ruin everything. A butterfly effect. It's terrifying…” He expected Misha to say something about how he couldn’t live in fear or nothing good would ever happen, but such things are easier said than done. He spent so much of his time worrying and afraid that it seemed his natural state. Nothing was more difficult to break than the chains of habit.
“...We kissed, you know,” Dietre suddenly confessed, brow furrowed, gaze still wandering above him. “It wasn’t a real kiss. I said something about needing distractions and he said if I wanted to be distracted, I should kiss him. So I did.”