crossmyheartandhope

[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.]

[It's fine. It's nice, to be needed, even if just a warm body (and she is plenty warm, pulse thrumming as she holds on tight; hooks a leg around his to be that much closer). Also it's nice because it's him, and being apart too long's never quite felt right, especially in times like this.

She tries to explain, eventually, though in so many mumbled fits and starts it's hard to put it together as anything but a bunch of false starts and true apologies quietly sniffled into his neck or his hair or his shoulder. ...At least she's a warm body]

[The warmth is a bonus, it's true - especially after Lilith's vision, where he was so, so sure that he would never have this again. It's better because it's her, though; every minute that passes soothes the part of him that was so sure he wouldn't see her again, that she would never want to.]

[The arm around him, and the closeness, and the murmured words - they're better because it's her. It's important that it's her, and gradually, the jagged sobs ease into something quieter, just shaky breathing and his forehead resting on her shoulder. His hands are still holding tight to the fabric, as though afraid she'll disappear if he lets go.]

[She doesn't, because if this is all she can do, if this is the closest thing to 'help' she can give, she'll give it. How can she not, for him of all people?

Eventually she gets her hand moving--cheats by stroking through his hair, which is soothing to her, at least. Then she forces her voice a little more steady, and finds safer topics to maintain patter--how good he is, and not to worry, and a few tries at how much a help he is, or silly things they should try later...though only a few, since that assumes an awful lot about how helpful she isn't or that he'd spend time with her when he had a choice, and then she has to work on the lump in her throat again which is just wasted time for everyone.

But if he's feeling even just a little less desperate and terrible, then that's all that matters. She tucks him in further into her, while she can]

[He stays where he is, feeling vaguely guilty for needing this so much, but still absolutely selfish enough to soak it in. He turns his head into the hand in his hair, relishing the closeness - lets the words wash over him, reassuring and gentle and good. The parts about him being good and helpful - well, those cut away at him, a little, because he is all too aware of his own faults. But he clings to the other parts, the parts that suggest maybe she'll want to spend time with him later, just as tightly as his hands are still clinging to her shirt.]

[It's not until he's cried himself out that he tries to talk again. The words are wobbly and hoarse, when he finally manages.]

Sorry. 'm sorry. I just - I missed you, is all.

O-oh?

[This sounds too good to be true, so best not to think about it, since she's probably misunderstanding what he means.]

...I figured you'd want some space, after...everything.

[He laughs, watery and a little shaky.]

I kinda figured you would.

I did. But after that...

[trails off, quiet]

...You were out when I looked the first time. And again when I came back. So...sorry for just making myself at home.

[Winces a little, guilty.]

...sorry.

You didn't text, so I - I kinda... I mean, it kinda seemed like you didn't want me around.

Not much here worth sticking around for without you, so I took off for a while.

Didn't think you'd want one, from me.

[Which isn't exactly the reason, but is close enough]

...Not that good at typing, anyways.

Hey.

[The word's soft, and very gentle.]

Since when've I ever not wanted to hear from you?

I mean - I get it, if it's a pain till you get your arm going again, or you just didn't wanna deal with me for a while. Like, if you didn't wanna text cause you were sick of me, that's one thing, but -

- for real, dude. I missed you. Course I'd've wanted one.

For real?

[The words come out small and needy and she regrets them instantly wincing as she tries to work out a backpedal]

Uh—I mean—never mind. But I’m not—I wouldn’t be sick of you.

For real.

[He lets go of her jacket, finally, with one hand, just enough to lift the hand and cup the back of her head with it.]

For real. I wanted to see you. I was just -

[His voice breaks, a little.]

...you sure you're not tired of me? Cause, like - I get it, if you're sick of me dropping the ball all the time.

[She gives a tiny, incredulous laugh, shivering at his touch]

I’m not—I’m not. Why would I ever be tired of you? I’m the one that’s— You’re always up for fun stuff, or dumb stuff, or like—if anybody needs anything, you always try to help or support, even when it’s impossible. Anytime I ever needed anything, even when I was too dumb to ask, you were there. Even when I ran away, you were there. And—

You’re like, a legitimately good person, and I— I wish—I wish I could be a better help to you, is all. I just— I mean, I want to be, so if there’s ever something— J-just tell me, okay?

[She stops herself there, lower lip wobbling]

Are you - are you kidding?

[He curls his fingers in a little, gentle- strokes through her hair.]

Dude, I -

I can't think of anyone who's helped me more than you already have. I was - I fell apart. I hit rock bottom in about a hundred thousand pieces, and you just, like - waded in, and helped me pick em up.

You know how many times I almost gave up? But, like - you were always there. Every time, you got me turned around and back on track, and I -

I'd be pretty screwed if you didn't have my back. That's all I'm saying.

[Shakes her head a little, rueful]

...You're the one who did the heavy lifting on that one. That's how strong you are. Plus, I'm pretty sure there's more people in your corner than you think. A bunch of 'em didn't put a bunch of swords in your back, neither.

You got some choices, is all I'm saying. I get it if you wanna consider more of 'em.

I mighta done some of the lifting, but if you hadn't been around, I never woulda got it up off the ground.

Every time I been low, you been there to get me back up. And when things are going good, you're there then, too. You're just - I feel lucky, okay? I think about how this place'd be without you, sometimes, and I - I'm lucky I get to have you around.

I made my choice like forever ago, and I'm gonna keep making it, and some dumb angel having some dumb powers we didn't know about that made first pass go off the rails isn't changing that.

[He takes a shaking breath in; it had all come out in a rush, the words slipping out like they didn't quite ask his brain for a filter, but he stumbles to a stop, now, a little unsure.]

Unless. Unless you like - don't want me around anymore or whatever. That's - that's different. Say the word and I'm outta your hair.

But otherwise... otherwise, I'm gonna stick with you long as you'll have me.

[With a small, soft noise, she presses further into the crook of his neck, her face hot enough that the cool is welcome. Her breaths seem tight, the lump in her throat only harder to swallow around.

This—what he’s saying sounds too good to be true. But—also too good to turn down. In the end, she clutches more tightly to him...she’s not strong enough to do otherwise.]

I-I don’t want you to go. And if...if you don’t want me to go, I don’t wanna leave.

I don't want you to go.

[He holds her a little tighter, the hand clutching at the fabric of her shirt and the one gently cradling her head both.]

I don't want you to go.

[Squeezing her eyes shut doesn’t stop tears from seeping from them, and her breath hitches too much to get out much of a response, but she manages a decisive “Good” nonetheless—tries to tangle closer best she can]

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