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“Things will get better,” Heart tells Mind.
[Will we?] Is what he wants to ask. But someone will hear, question them— he doesn’t know if Heart is comfortable with the implication, if it will anger him.
Heart and Mind are sitting close on the couch. This is the closest they’ve been in a week, and tonight marks the tenth night since the shot. It hurt both of them the same, even though Mind was the one with a hole in his throat. Because Mind freaked out, tried to attack Heart, isolated himself in his room for days because he couldn’t stand the sight of Heart, the one who’d hurt him, or Soul, the one who would ask what happened. Mind wasn’t really shot anyway. It was a couple simple words from Heart, but they’d hurt Mind so bad that it really did feel like a bullet to the chest. But he felt it in his throat, in how his words refused to come out, how the lump formed while he tried not to cry.
[Will you forgive me for overreacting?] Is what Mind wants to ask. But he knows the answer. Heart may eventually forgive him, but he will never forget. They may eventually laugh again, but their smiles won’t reach their eyes. They may eventually stargaze again, but they’re going to feel the void of the sky more than the warmth that the white pinpricks used to give them.
[Will you ever say you love me again?] Is what Mind wants to ask. But the last times Heart had uttered those words, Mind didn’t believe them. Didn’t believe that Heart believed it. Mind had felt the resentment Heart was holding back. And maybe Mind was feeling a similar thing. Maybe all the times he thought he’d been acting logically, emotions were clouding his view. Maybe he didn’t mean a word he said other than the sorries that bounced off the walls of his bedroom at night.
[It isn’t going to be the same,] is what Mind wanted to say, but he and Heart already felt so bad, and they were getting better then worse then better then worse. Progress and regression and progress and regression. Mind hated it. He wished he could go back in time to the very beginning of the loop and make things right. Listen to Heart, maybe. Not be so cold. So petty.
[You’re lying to me,] pushed at Mind’s lips. Things would never be the same so things would never be better. He was sure of it. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“I hope so,” he said just a second after Heart’s mouth shut. Heart gave Mind a weak smile and wrapped an arm around him. The warmth of familiarity was so nice, but Mind couldn’t stand it, knowing they’d be back to the cold of being strangers by tomorrow afternoon. He’d ruin it again somehow. He knew he would. “I have to go to bed. I’m tired.” He was not. He just wanted to cry alone. Heart let him up. “Goodnight, Artemis.”
“Night.” He didn’t even bother to say Mind’s name. That was fine. He wasn’t feeling like himself lately anyway.