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A Little Difference
I sat on the edge of the bed, my eyes wide, my right hand cupping the left, my chest lightly heaving. I couldn't wrap my head around anything at all. I couldn't understand anything at all. Why could I see so much now? Why did it suddenly start, and why did... why can't I see Zidane's fate? "What are you thinking of?" I looked up, a small gasp leaving my lips. Zidane was in front of me now. He was shirtless, his hair all over his eyes, his brows drawn. I swallowed, then turned towards the tray of steak I had managed to make through my long train of thoughts. I bit down on my lips. "I... I brought you steak." He turned to it, then back to me. "That was not what I asked." I blinked. "I was just... wondering what other preparations there were." He looked at me for a minute longer, then
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