[That's his reply, once they reach the outdoors, the crisp winter's air wrapping familiar about them both. But it isn't callous or the slightest bit cold; his words are warm and freeing to spite the weather, and he repeats himself.]
I don't care. I just want to run.
[Reaching up to the ribbon tying his trailing braid back, he unwinds it and lets it go on the wind. All the golden hair comes tumbling down his shoulders, along his back, and he watches the ribbon disappear with the broadest of grins, as if he's never been so happy in all his life.
Why shouldn't he be? There's no reason to hold back anymore.]
I want to run, and I want you to chase after me, and we can decide whatever we'd like then.
no subject
[That's his reply, once they reach the outdoors, the crisp winter's air wrapping familiar about them both. But it isn't callous or the slightest bit cold; his words are warm and freeing to spite the weather, and he repeats himself.]
I don't care. I just want to run.
[Reaching up to the ribbon tying his trailing braid back, he unwinds it and lets it go on the wind. All the golden hair comes tumbling down his shoulders, along his back, and he watches the ribbon disappear with the broadest of grins, as if he's never been so happy in all his life.
Why shouldn't he be? There's no reason to hold back anymore.]
I want to run, and I want you to chase after me, and we can decide whatever we'd like then.