[ Maybe she'd expected him to hedge, but once again he proves himself an honest man, and as hard as it seems for him to say even just that one word — yes, admitted with his glance downcast and his voice a bare whisper — he does say it, and it's infuriating to admire anything about him but she does see it. The way he struggles with words, with confrontation, and yet he doesn't back away and he doesn't snap back at her, he simply, softly, agrees.
Yes. She wasn't the only one who noticed it. It's not quite a confession of avoiding her on purpose, but that's not what she was looking for, she was looking for this, for proof that it mattered to him, too. ]
Yeah, a lot's happened. It was a good excuse, right?
[ She wets her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, then bites at it before she takes a sharp, almost surprised breath, like a diver who just reached the surface, because... he's given her the answer she wanted, and now she finds herself staring down the barrel of the response he deserves — ]
I mean, that was my excuse.
[ — that she'd been avoiding him, too.
And it had been easier, right up until it wasn't. It was easier not to hear him speaking low and seriously and sincerely in that voice while he watched her with those soft brown eyes, and there were whole weeks where she didn't have to come to the realization, again and again, that sometimes when the light catches him just right the brown of his eyes turns clear and almost gold, like good brandy. She didn't have to think about how he smiled at her and made everything in this whole damn place seem worth it, just for one warm and golden moment, or how much she wants to make him smile again.
She didn't have to listen to him tell her she's a good person, seeing something in her, believing steadfastly in it, that no one else does. And if she thought now and then about the comfortable bulk of his shoulder under her cheek, the warmth of him against her side, at least he wasn't around to make her feel weird about it.
So it was fine for a while, and then it sucked, and then it sucked even more but they'd fought and he was gone, and she can still hear Waverly saying you know, you're awfully needy for a lone wolf which she hated at the time and still hates, because it's true.
Not that she'd been alone for long; March had arrived swiftly after Little left, and Bigby showed up, too... even Chloe, who she hadn’t seen in weeks. And then Thomas had arrived in Lakeside, and she’d had a few days of constant company with him in the cabin by the lake, and it had soothed her hurt feelings but hadn’t washed them away. All those people came, she has allies... no, friends, friends who give a shit that she got hurt and came to see her, but none of them had been him and that made it different, somehow. Somehow, this careful, anxious man, standing there rubbing his fingers together, picking out careful words and breathing a shuddering breath, is different and she has never been so irritated by a person or so annoyed at herself in her entire life as when he finishes and she realizes, after a long few beats, that he somehow means her. ]
Little—
[ Edward, she'd said, kneeling there in the snow, but it feels like a trap door groaning under her feet to even think his name. All of this does. She feels like a wild animal backed into a corner. Any second now she'll panic and lash out, claws and teeth both bared, running scared, like she always does. She exhales in a rush, reaches with her left hand, his handkerchief balled in her palm, to grip the lapel of his coat. ]
All I do is hurt the people I care for. If I were a better person, I'd tell you to get the hell out of the blast zone. But I'm not.
I can't—
[ Yikes. Something twists, deep in her gut, and she backtracks, fast. ]
I don't... want to lose you. So—
[ She licks at her lip again, tosses her head with an anemic version of her usual insouciance, and lets go of his lapel to gently bounce her fist against his chest, as threatening a gesture as a cat putting a velveted paw on a cheek. ]
no subject
Yes. She wasn't the only one who noticed it. It's not quite a confession of avoiding her on purpose, but that's not what she was looking for, she was looking for this, for proof that it mattered to him, too. ]
Yeah, a lot's happened. It was a good excuse, right?
[ She wets her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, then bites at it before she takes a sharp, almost surprised breath, like a diver who just reached the surface, because... he's given her the answer she wanted, and now she finds herself staring down the barrel of the response he deserves — ]
I mean, that was my excuse.
[ — that she'd been avoiding him, too.
And it had been easier, right up until it wasn't. It was easier not to hear him speaking low and seriously and sincerely in that voice while he watched her with those soft brown eyes, and there were whole weeks where she didn't have to come to the realization, again and again, that sometimes when the light catches him just right the brown of his eyes turns clear and almost gold, like good brandy. She didn't have to think about how he smiled at her and made everything in this whole damn place seem worth it, just for one warm and golden moment, or how much she wants to make him smile again.
She didn't have to listen to him tell her she's a good person, seeing something in her, believing steadfastly in it, that no one else does. And if she thought now and then about the comfortable bulk of his shoulder under her cheek, the warmth of him against her side, at least he wasn't around to make her feel weird about it.
So it was fine for a while, and then it sucked, and then it sucked even more but they'd fought and he was gone, and she can still hear Waverly saying you know, you're awfully needy for a lone wolf which she hated at the time and still hates, because it's true.
Not that she'd been alone for long; March had arrived swiftly after Little left, and Bigby showed up, too... even Chloe, who she hadn’t seen in weeks. And then Thomas had arrived in Lakeside, and she’d had a few days of constant company with him in the cabin by the lake, and it had soothed her hurt feelings but hadn’t washed them away. All those people came, she has allies... no, friends, friends who give a shit that she got hurt and came to see her, but none of them had been him and that made it different, somehow. Somehow, this careful, anxious man, standing there rubbing his fingers together, picking out careful words and breathing a shuddering breath, is different and she has never been so irritated by a person or so annoyed at herself in her entire life as when he finishes and she realizes, after a long few beats, that he somehow means her. ]
Little—
[ Edward, she'd said, kneeling there in the snow, but it feels like a trap door groaning under her feet to even think his name. All of this does. She feels like a wild animal backed into a corner. Any second now she'll panic and lash out, claws and teeth both bared, running scared, like she always does. She exhales in a rush, reaches with her left hand, his handkerchief balled in her palm, to grip the lapel of his coat. ]
All I do is hurt the people I care for. If I were a better person, I'd tell you to get the hell out of the blast zone. But I'm not.
I can't—
[ Yikes. Something twists, deep in her gut, and she backtracks, fast. ]
I don't... want to lose you. So—
[ She licks at her lip again, tosses her head with an anemic version of her usual insouciance, and lets go of his lapel to gently bounce her fist against his chest, as threatening a gesture as a cat putting a velveted paw on a cheek. ]
Don't do it again. You're on notice, Lieutenant.