The Early Signs of Wavering Feelings.

A huge weight, something unseen that had been pressing Clea down, dropped when she made that statement. She thought affirming her love would crush her, but it turned out, that what would've crushed her was not affirming it. She had been so scared to confess that to herself. Meanwhile, all this time what had been pulling her down wasn't the fear of loving him. It was the fear of not accepting that love.

"...I'm always thinking of him. I'm always wanting to be around him. I think he's perfect. I can't seem to find a single flaw in him to be turned off by. And, and— and..."

Rose was eager. Her brows raised as her eyes zeroed in concentration on Clea.

Clea chuckled. "You must think I'm crazy for loving him."

"I— don't." Rose turned back to her painting. She wasn't painting anything anyway. She was merely drawing lines of different colours of paint over themselves. "I don't really think he's a bad person. Most of us school kids don't. We've been warned lots and lots of times that he's dan