Title: The space between.
Series: Talking without words.
Summary: The tension was almost palpable these days. He was drinking more coffee and having trouble days, making less eye contact offering even fewer words. PWP.
He slouched sulky into her office long after working hours throwing careless words at her, opting for a fight. Before she knew it, she resorted to spitting angry words to his face about how he managed to push her to the edge of his feelings and made do she'd be there for him if he needed help. How every single time he was way out of his depth in her heart she made deals with God.
After he left (ran away, he always has, gone wherever men go on such occasions, some hideout), she forced herself to keep flicking through the piles of paperwork miraculously mounted on her desk till exhaustion was all she felt, hoping that hard work will make the lump in her throat melt. It never did.
So, I'm gonna pour him a glass of wine and say I'm sorry.
The light was off in his office, which still meant nothing. She stepped into the dim glow of a gently humming monitor carelessly (hastily) left on. She could almost feel him pacing the cramped room mere moments ago before wandering off on a trajectory of his own, taking his addictive (unyielding) mind with him. Let it go.
The tension was almost palpable these days. He was drinking more coffee and having trouble days, making less eye contact offering even fewer words. She was drinking more coffee too and having trouble sleeping. The lines were becoming blurred again. She was caught in passion, longing and many shades between, bogged down in petty details, displaced. Where are we in the whole story? As obstinate as ever, he stubbornly refused to let her catch her breath, pushing her until it was no longer in her mind, but in her flesh. Until her pain marks were too deep to see. You doing fine, Foster?
Neither of them said the word love, not once. It would have been tempting fate; it would have turned it into worn trashy romance, bad luck. A lie.
Suddenly she felt a desire for a simple, single-layered man, who's pain won't just seep into her. Careful not to jostle the messy piles of files, photos and tapes she flicked off still glowing monitor.
Not today.