crossmyheartandhope

[I mean... there's plenty to see here? It's only been a couple of days, but he's missed her.]

[He stays there, stock still, not entirely sure what to do.]

[On one hand, she could probably use the sleep.]

[On the other hand, she probably wasn't planning on sticking around for even this long. She's gonna be pissed if she sleeps the whole night through here and misses out on wherever she'd been planning to be, instead.]

[Perhaps! Possibly she'll just be irritated for bending her emergency glasses by sleeping on them so hard. They're already horribly smudged--maybe a little wet. As is his pillow, sorry.

There is plenty of room in the pod if he wants to rest himself. Or just wants leverage to boot her to the floor.

In the meantime, she makes a small noise--shifts--curls up tighter]

[...oh. That looks not great.]

[He frowns a little, and comes in closer, slow and kind of awkward. It's been a long time since he's had to work with just a crutch, and he made this crutch in like five minutes out of scrap wood, so it's not exactly great at being a crutch.]

[He hesitates - hesitates longer. Sits himself on the edge of the pod.]

...Nem?

[She stirs a bit at scrape of wood against flooring and the slight dip of the mattress; blinks up at him owlishly before thinking to straighten her glasses. Ends up shoving them off in an awkward attempt to grab them and wipe her eyes all at once; this neither works for improved sight nor makes her eyes appear any less red or puffy]

Uh-hh. Hey, uh...hey.

[Blurry, bleary-eyed or no, it is still good to see him.]

[He looks like he's probably been crying pretty recently himself, honestly - in the shower, most likely - but without her glasses on, maybe it's hard to tell.]

...hey.

[A little bit. Though she can guess; she's got an idea what he feels like]

Wasn't gonna Goldilocks you, but...uh. Where you--how you been?

I been... okay.

Just... been around, here and there. You know.

How bout you? You doing okay?

No.

[...Well, that was honest. She looks away, scrubs at her face]

...Sorry. For fucking up so bad.

...pretty sure that's my line.

You were doing fine. All I had to do was help out, and instead I dragged the whole thing down. We could've come out okay, but I--

[Her voice cracks, stays oddly high and reedy]

--Couldn't keep it together...so. I just wanted to--in person.

Way I figure, things were dragged down already from day one.

After that it was just, like - triage. Picking up the pieces.

[He's quiet for a beat or two; his fingers worry at the hem of his shirt, to tamp down on the impulse to reach for her hand.]

...I get it, dude. It was messed up, what he did to Req. If it'd been you, I don't think I coulda tried for a diplomacy roll, either.

I still got you all hurt. I let her come in the first place. I fucked up the dirt thing, I guess? I didn't find anything good--called you off from the crash site when that shoulda been the first place to check. You were good to go and I--I ruined it.

[She closes her palm, which doesn't make her hand tremble any less. Digs her nails in in an attempt to hold it together; forces her voice back down the octave]

I just-- I wanted to tell you, I'm so, so sorry, for everything. I, I ain't gonna run away, and I understand if you're--tired--but I just wanted to see you, and...say it in person, at least.

We both let em come. Way I remember it, it was me who opened my dumb mouth when you were trying to get her to stay put. And we didn't find nothing at the crash site. Some kid gave us the diary; C says it came from Furfur.

[He takes a breath in - kind of shaky.]

Look, everything was - a mess. Everything was real bad, okay? But like 99% of that was cause I messed stuff up, and the other 1% was just plain crappy luck.

You don't gotta say sorry for nothing. And - and I get it, if you want some space. You don't gotta explain nothing, or answer my texts or whatever. I get it, if you - if you think I'm more trouble than I'm worth.

[The more he talks, the more unsteady his voice gets, until the very last bit, when he sounds about half an inch away from tears.]

—What?

[She reaches out—punches him in the arm. But then she grabs it; squeezes; can’t make herself let go]

That’s stupid. Why would you think— No. I broke into your house, that’s the opposite of giving space. And--

A-and you can—you can call it, if you want, ‘cause I know I’m more trouble than I’m worth. But I don’t...I don’t want that.

[Her voice falters, but she forces her gaze not to dip away]

I don’t want to not have you.

[His eyes track down to the place where she's holding his arm, slow - back up to her face, searching her expression.]

Call it? That's - I don't want to call it, that's - no.

[He makes an odd sort of choked sound - looks down again to where her hand's still holding onto him and reaches, before he can stop to think or second-guess himself, to set his own over it, holding on a little too tight.]

You're like the opposite of trouble, you're like - you're like the best thing I got, I don't wanna -

[His voice breaks; the tears, which he'd been doing at least a so-so job of keeping away, start again.]

I don't wanna lose you, either.

[Parses this--lets out a little sound, maybe disbelieving, maybe relieved. Probably both. Manages something close to a watery smile]

Okay. O-okay.

[Shudders in a breath; urges him towards her a bit]

Will you--can we...?

[He manages a nod, shaky and a little awkward - doesn't quite trust his voice.]

[He makes to meet her halfway, pulling her in toward him. When his arms come up, the gesture is almost uncertain, like he's not quite sure this is okay - like he doesn't quite believe he can have this.]

[She goes readily, selfishly, like she's afraid he might disappear if she waits too long--like she might wake up alone with nothing.

Wraps her arm around him and pulls closer, pressing her face into the (cold, of course, should've been better) crook of his shoulder and not moving for a few beats]

[His chest hitches once - then again, harder.]

[The arms around her shift their hold, less tentative, now, and more clinging. His fingers close around the fabric of her shirt, a little desperate.]

[His hair's still damp from the shower. Maybe that's all that's getting her shoulder wet, but probably not.]

[Honestly she can't hold in a little whimper herself, and only half-tries to keep in the next.

At some point she stutters out an apology without attempting to explain what for--not like there aren't plenty of reasons. For the first time she mourns the loss of her arm since it means she can only clutch so tight. (She does her best anyway.)]

[It's okay; he's probably holding on tight enough for both of them.]

[He'd thought he was done with crying, but no, actually; it turns out he is not. It's breathy and gasping, quietly intense, buried against the crook between her neck and her shoulder.]

You don't - you don't gotta be sorry. You're good. You're better than good, y-you - I'm the one who -

[There's something else in there, but it's mostly incoherent, muffled by fabric and garbled by the way his breath keeps hitching. When it becomes comprehensible again, he's saying:]

- so c-could you just, like. Stay? Just a little while. You can - can do whatever after, but could you - ?

Edited 2019-08-29 22:04 (UTC)

[She hums in response, possibly a touch too much hysterical relief to count as truly reassuring, but--of course. Of course.]

Dummy. I-I've been waiting for you...!

[And who knows what idiocy might tumble out of her mouth next, or how reedy or high-pitched it might sound. So instead of continuing with words she just tries to get a better grip on him, heft him into the bed proper. Maybe this way he'll believe she's more than happy to stay put, here with him]

[He goes easy enough - lets himself be hauled in, a little awkward without the leg, but willing to go where she maneuvers him.]

[He doesn't let go - just clings, and breathes, and tries not to cry harder at how impossibly good the words "I've been waiting for you," sound after a nightmare like the one Lilith sent his way.]

[She neither needs nor wants him to let go, and this way it's a little easier to lean into him, keep the same amount of contact and pressure while attempting something closer to stroking his back. Not that she's against that idea either. It's just difficult to sell it when her hand's still not quite steady enough to do all she wants it to do.

But she isn't planning on going anywhere, so maybe there's time.]

[It's not like he's in a rush to go anywhere, either. If it was up to him, they would stay here all night.]

[Which is to say, he's keeping right where he is, grip still a little desperate, curling into her as much as he's able.]

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