crossmyheartandhope

You didn't fuck up. You - it's not on you, I don't -

[He doesn't know how to say it. He doesn't know how to make her understand. The hand in her hair is shaking a little again.]

[Raises her hand, slow, to cover his, feeling chill but still hot compared to him. And then, grips his hand loose, to remove it from her hair, because he shouldn't--he of all people can do better.]

It is on me. So can we not talk about this anymore?

[The grip on his hand isn't all that loose.]

[He's close enough that she can probably hear his throat work as he swallows.]

[The hand that had been in her hair curls its fingers closed, around nothing.]

...yeah.

[He'd been leaning up against her, still, most of his weight pressed into her side, but he shifts now - reluctant, not entirely steady - so that he's sitting up under his own power. So that there's some space between them, again.]

Y-yeah, I - sorry.

[Shudders, a little, but doesn't stop him. Moves her hands back to her lap, pulls up something close to a smile, or at least farther from a frown]

Anyway--doesn't matter now. Put it behind you, move on. ...Easy.

[Folds her arms, tight]

[It takes him a beat or two to get his face to do what he wants, but he gets there, eventually. On his lap, the hands are holding so tight to the fabric of his pants that the knuckles are white.]

...yeah. Easy.

Right.

[Right.

She stares at where the mattress tag hangs from the corner of the fort on this end, then at where the walls don't quite meet and you can see out to the rest of the room. Honestly she looks at a lot of places that aren't his face because It's Better This Way before letting out a breath and crawling out of the fort]

[It's probably a good thing she wasn't looking, because his face does something that's very much not on script when she gets up to go.]

[He just kind of... folds in on himself, one arm coming up to wrap around his torso. The other hand, he brings to his mouth - bites down hard on the meaty part of the thumb to keep the sound that's trying to come out of his throat trapped where it belongs.]

[Indeed, this is the one time she succeeds at having any sort of focus--keeps her arms hugged around her as she low-key books it from the room, not even remembering her coat or boots until she's out on the rooftop and feeling the full brunt of the wind.

Which--fine. It's fine. She--had better get used to cold anyway, and--

Another couple quick steps, and she's curled tight into a corner, face buried in her knees. Just for a minute. Just--maybe for a few.]

[He stays exactly where he is, for a long time - folded in on himself, arms holding on as tight as they can to nothing. It's a familiar pose, by now.]

[He ought to get up. He ought to unplug the blanket, and the kettle, and clean up the drinks. He ought to go back to the dorms.]

[There's no one here.]

[But it's hard, to uncurl himself and think about moving. He's awfully tired, suddenly. So he just - stays.]

[He needed to practice anyway, right?]

[Besides, like she said. Easy.]

[Oh-so-simple, that's why it's going so well]

[And it does. Go.]

[Some barely two-digit number of minutes later, there's loud, obvious fumbling at the door handle before it swings open. Nemesis returns, walking stiff and smelling not-so-faintly of Febreze. It's not quite warm enough in the hideout for her glasses to fog, but her fingers are white, ears and nose red. Entering proper she heads for the kettle, casual]

...Making tea, if you want some.

[He goes very, very still as she comes back in - tracks her progress with his eyes as she goes for the tea.]

I - what?

[Dumps some tea leaves into a chipped tea pot, then adds the water]

That's the whole point of the electric kettle. I mean, I'm pretty sure the water here's potable without boiling it.

[Give him a second.]

[Actually a couple of seconds.]

[His brain is maybe buffering still, and he looks like he might start crying.]

[Looks over when she realises she's left to banter with herself]

...That a yes?

[He opens his mouth, and then closes it again - starts to talk, but all that comes out is a croak.]

Yeah, I -

[He swallows, hard.]

Yeah.

[Sighs, quiet, tension draining from her shoulders]

A-anyways, you gotta tell me if this one's any good. If it's not, you can just put booze in it, I guess. Got honey, too.

What - what kind is it?

[Makes himself uncurl from his spot in the blankets - picks his way out of the mattress fort, to come help her with the tea.]

Black?

[The box says Assam. The honey is shaped like a bear.]

...looks good.

[He knows nothing about tea.]

Here lemme help, you - you look like you stuck your hands in the freezer for a couple hours.

Takes one to know one.

[Except he is much better equipped than she is; her stiff fingers don't bend right around the cups or the teapot or anything, and even putting just a tiny bit of hot water into the cup to warm it is enough to make her bobble the mug as scalding, so--]

--Fine, fine, knock yourself out.

[Bends down, casual, to scoop up the electric blanket and dump it over her head, then reach underneath to steal the tea stuff.]

You want honey, or what?

[Shivers, now that she's under the heat of the blanket, oddly enough]

...Uh, nah, I'm good. ...At least, depending on how bitter the tea is.

[Hm. Hm. That is... not good, probably.]

Go on and get in those mattresses, kay? I'll play delivery boy.

[It's probably fine; she frowns a little, just because her extremities are pins and needles the point isn't to need to be taken care of, and she nabs the honey and a spoon before retreating to the fort]

...'S too much for one person to carry anyways.

Cool, then you're on honey duty. I want extra when it's done doing its thing.

[Doing its thing apparently is steeping. He sets both cups, poured now, near the edge of the mattress.]

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late

Re: Day 79, late