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Once again, the redhead is her own cause of disappointment. How does she keep convincing herself she's actually worth the affection that's been shown toward her? That a few inky skied nights where flesh collided as if they were waves crashing against the shore, meant anymore than just that.
It was pity, right? It had to be.
Trauma has made a permanent place in her brain, for this at least, she'll never be alone. Tonight it visits her in the form of a ghost, a memory sneaking it's way back in through the cracks her mind has tried to seal shut. He's always there, in the corner of her eyes. Tall, a handsome smile that works well to deceive.
Before she can blink, she's on the floor. His fist familiar as it lunges forward and pulls itself back to repeat the action. His other hand occupied around the collar of her clothing, making sure she stays right where he wants her.
It is this dream, or nightmare more like, that has her slender body rolling over in bed and gentle protests flying from her mouth. What starts of softly only becomes louder, and the scream is what alerts Olivia to the room she's allowed her friend to sleep in for the night.
"Abby," She's had to repeat herself several times in order to wake the redhead, and speak up as well, but with her hand working to jolt the slumbering woman, she's accomplished her goal.
"Liv?" Parts of cerulean are exposed through the slits of cracked eyelids, her voice tired and weary, the confusion leaving her as she realizes this is her new reality.
"You were having another nightmare, Abby." The soon to be campaign manager gets up from her crouched position on the floor and moves to sit next to her friend under the covers.
It's been a long time since the soon to be divorced woman has had a dream of such nature, it's as if they come when she's doing well, just to remind her it's not what she deserves.
She's silent, sitting up as the body next to her fills the other side of the bed with warmth. Her knees are to her chest and her arms wrapped around them as she looks anywhere else.
"...Abby?" She draws the name out, leaning toward her with a look of sorrow on her face. "...Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." The answer comes as quickly as the question, but her eyesight doesn't change it's focus.
Then it does. Something's changed in the way she sees Olivia now. The fixer wearing a small closed lipped smile out of politeness. She's not sure when it happened, or how. Maybe it was the determination in making sure she knew her worth, even if that meant she spent hours a morning looking in the mirror and uttering self validating mantras.
Abby gives a small smile back to Olivia, who holds her hand in an effort to comfort Abby. Olivia may not be good with words in a comforting sense, but actions are something that come easier.
The redhead isn't sure if she's a glutton for punishment, if the grief in her chest is looking for company or what. All she knows is her heart is pounding in her chest, and out of nowhere, she's leaning over and her lips land on unexpecting ones.
After a moment, after she realizes what's happening, Olivia pulls both herself and her hand away. "Abby!" It's more of a reprimand, than it is a word, and now she's the one focusing on the wall before her.
"I'm sorry, Liv. I-I don't know where that came from." It's a lie, and she knows it, but what else is she supposed to say? I have a crush on you because you saved my life? Because you fixed me?
There's nothing but silence between them, it feels like hours before Olivia breaks it with a heavy sigh and clasped hands adjusting across her lap. "Abby, I..." Therese another sigh, and Olivia's finally looking at Abby, who's looking at her own lap. "I don't even know if I like women, Abby."
It's true, she doesn't. It not as if she's thought of Abby that way before, as far as she were concerned Abby was boy crazy during their law school years. Yet, here she was, and maybe if she'd allow it, she'd feel the thing changing inside of her too.
"Abby, look at me." She finds herself repeating the request when it falls on unlistening ears. "Abby." Another sigh. Soon, her hand moves to redirect the woman's face toward her. Brown eyes scan over a face filled with hidden anguish, she's gotten good at putting on the mask of false happiness, but Olivia always knew when that's all it was.
She's not sure what it was, and maybe it was this very thing that also drove her to sabotage whatever relationship they'd established. This heavy feeling in her chest, pulling her closer until eventually she found her lips on Abby's this time around.
That night was filled with passion, and a few nights after that. Then Olivia became the future president's campaign manager, and these long nights became a thing of the past.
"Abby, come on, you don't have to leave." The fixer chases after her newest crisis, an emotional tsunami with a luggage in her hand and heels making her presence know as she heads toward the door.
"No, Liv, it's fine." What else is she to expect? That what meant more Her voice betrays her words, and azure eyes serve to do nothing but only confirm the oncoming storm ready to pass over her face.
"Please, stay." A mahogany hand finds itself encircling a much lighter one. Does she think this will do all the work for her? The astute practitioner allows her chest to become breathless in the moment oxygen rushes from her lungs, russet eyes do nothing but what they always have. Bore into their target with all they have, and this time dark irises wield a thing to implore all they all implore with cerulean. It's ironic, isn't it? The reason she's so good at her job is because locutions often served as her friend, the right ones flowing when she needed them most, yet now, they've seemed to abandon her. She didn't want Abby to go, but it's not exactly like Abby needed her anymore anyway.
The clutched hand hadn't been fondled in awhile, not by something so soft. It's truly tragic, the same hand that fixed her can flaunt itself as a weapon in the same week.
"Should I buy a strap on? I mean, isn't that what girls who screw other girls do? Use strap ons?"
She can't help but laugh. "Abby, you're on speaker!" No one was around really, but still.
"So, is that a yes or no? Because I will definitely buy one."
"Fine, buy the strap on, Abby, I have to go." Her tone is joyful, and so is Abby's as she lets out an elongated, sing songy, "Bye."
The red head lets her hand linger under the other's for a few moments, as oculars glance at the puzzle of their fingers before removing hers from the equation.
The crazy part is this is what Olivia wanted to avoid, hurting Abby, ruining not just the unlabeled relationship, but the friendship as well. It's why she never let herself fully invest herself in Abby on a romantic spectrum, not until it was too late. It wasn't pity, or an in the moment thing with Abby that happened in that bed. She loved Abby, if not romantically, platonically at least.
"Goodbye, Liv." There was a mixture of grief, something she's displayed way too much for her liking in the span of a week, but also a bit of ardency, whether it be from passion or anger or passionate anger, it was there. It was always there when it came to Liv, lying under the surface.
Withal, the thud of a door was the last sound uttered between them for a few days. She was sure the redhead would never speak to her again, so imagine her surprise when she showed up and never spoke about what happened. Olivia'd try to bring up what happened once or twice, but Abby would always respond "it's okay," or completely avoid the subject all together. She thought, maybe it was too much for Abby to dwell on at the time. So they never talked about it.