Author's Note: There are about a dozen versions of this song. The one I used comes from the "Strictly Ballroom" soundtrack (thanks to Jen for finding me the MP3!). Lyrics are by Joe Harris and O. Ferras.
God, I hate it when he does this.
You won't admit you love me, and so
How am I ever to know?
It's like a sick little game. I know he knows. He wouldn't give me that kind of smile if he didn't know. He wouldn't look at me that way...
Dammit. Why can't I just stand up and do something about it?
You always tell me
"Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps"
I'm the Sorcery Genius. I survived casting the Giga Slave and hosting the Lord of Nightmares. I'm supposed to be the one in control.
But he's driving me crazy.
A million times I've asked you, and then
I ask you over again
I really have no idea when it started. I just know he's been... here. Somewhere between the roots of my hair and the ends of my fingernails--a tiny warm whisper in my blood, like someone's breath on the back of my neck...
I remember once he was standing behind me--I was translating a scroll for him--and he leaned in really close. It was strange--for a moment the space behind me felt cool. Of course it would. He doesn't have human skin; the stone must seal in most of the heat. I think.
And when he breathed out...
You only answer
"Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps"
His breath was warm, but there wasn't any warmth behind me. And he just kept on asking little questions about the translation.
I could kill him for messing me up like that.
If you can't make your mind up,
We'll never get started
It's not that I can't take being attracted to him. I know it's all perfectly natural and normal and that crap--I've got hormones, I can deal with that.
The thing is, he knows how I feel. I'm sure of it. And he hasn't done a goddamn thing.
And I don't wanna wind up
Being parted, broken hearted
I could take it if he said he didn't feel the same. I could even take it if he laughed in my face--hey, I'd get to blow his ass away with a good old Dragon Slave, and really, blowing stuff up will cure practically anything that ails you.
Well, okay, practically anything that ails me.
Except not knowing.
So if you really love me, say "yes"
But if you don't, then confess
I don't want anything big and dramatic. Seriously. I'm way past that now. I just want him to look me in the eye and give me a straight answer.
Not that I'd actually ask him for one.
Just please don't tell me
"Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps"
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...
Damn, who'd have thought that the one and only Beautiful Sorcery Genius would turn out to be a flaming coward. I should just march up to him and demand to know. It's not as if I haven't tried.
If you can't make your mind up,
We'll never get started
But, God, he stops me every single time. It's those goddamn eyes. He almost never looks me right in the face, but it feels like whenever I've worked up the guts to say something to him, he knows to pick the instant to look up and knock the breath out of me.
And I don't wanna wind up
Being parted, broken hearted
Dammit. I have to get over this.
So if you really love me, say "yes"
It's stupid, it's immature, it's so unlike me I could scream. I don't do the whole mushy, sappy, pink-hearts-and-flowers bit. I wouldn't even do it for him--but God, I want him so badly. Eyes and lips and soul-stopping smile.
But if you don't, then confess
I wish I knew what to do. I wish this was as easy as a high-level spell. I wish I didn't care so damn much about him.
Just please don't tell me
"Hey, Lina?"
Oh God. Oh God, it's him. Outside my door. Oh, please God, don't let me throw up.
"Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps"
"Lina, are you still up? There's something I want to talk to you about."
I can't do this. I can't face him now. My heart's pounding so hard I can't answer.
"Lina... please...?"
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps
That little pleading note in his voice goes through my blood like blue lightning, and suddenly my hand is on the doorknob.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...
Shit, here we go again...
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