directionless. [ matilda/sunny ] blitz.

Matilda was an equation I couldn’t solve.

And mostly, when problems became too much to solve I’d only step back, furthering myself from the frustration until it passed completely, but despite a few attempts to put space between us, Matilda still lingered about.

To tell the truth I was kinda glad she did.

For even though I worked well in the silence, using the ticking of the clock as a metronome to gauge how much time I’d wasted, how much time I’d spent in some state of thought.

I can’t hear the clock, though, not today, for I could hear nothing but the beating of my own heart and the breath of another, and it seemed steadier than any hand of metal.

“Hey, princess—”

I’m snapped from that monotonous state of thought at that, jerking my head sideways and hoping that the red of my hair hides the flush that’s crept to my cheeks, stumbling to respond but not realizing that she hasn’t even asked anything of me. “Can you show me what you’re doin’ up there?” And this is where I step to common ground, not trying to play a hand which I do not know.

This is where I solve the equation, and it only takes the piece of rope that’s twirling about my finger to do it.

“Does showing you what I’m doing involve me having to move all the way down to the floor with you?”

But I guess I wouldn’t mind much, because there’s not a knot in my throat anymore, not one that matches the one that sits at the end of the rope anyway, and I suppose that’s because she’s managed to untie it quicker than I’ve managed to solve the equation of her, but this one time it’s alright because I don’t have to think much about what I do around her, and after being caught up in a world of constant thoughts, not thinking is a nice kind of change.