"What the hell were you thinking? Do you even know how much you just hurt me right now? I was right!! You aren't the same! I should hate you!" She cried out sourly—wanting to make him see the pain he had caused her. But she didn't need to rant for long, for he was already beating himself up.
All it took was one look at his head held low, and her boiling frustration fizzled down to a gentle simmer. He was still savable, wasn't he?
He looked to the side, to avoid the full blast of her harsh words, all the while closing his eyes and wishing it were over already. He didn't want to fight anymore. Even if he had, he couldn't—there simply wasn't any energy left.
She noticed his profile become rigid; his jaw wired shut, refusing to respond. He was in so much pain; she could overtly see it now, which is what hurt her even more. She quickly realized that his anguish was much more substantial than hers, so it was useless to continue a tirade tonight. No, what he needed now was her to be there, no questions asked.
Stifling her guilt, and her frustration, she moved towards him, exactly the same as before. And this time, she was relieved that he didn't back away; though he wouldn't look at her either. However, once he felt her small hands cup his face, he knew. He had been right to love her, even if she wasn't willing to accept it.
Every muscle in his body was incredibly tense, buzzing from overexertion, and his head was spinning, though her touch was soothing somehow. He wondered if she could ever forgive him.
She was wondering the exact same thing.
Spreading her fingers across the prominent ridges of his cheeks, she could feel sheer desperation underneath her hands. Something had happened to him—something he wasn't telling her. But how was she supposed to ask without pushing him back off a ledge?
His skin was warm, so alive, despite a heart so cold. But, maybe that heart was only frozen on the outside, and if she chipped away at the surface, she'd find a piece that was still beating in spite of whatever he'd been through. His face was similar too, yet jaded. The wrinkles from stress and worry were more than evident between his eyebrows. She felt compelled to slowly begin massaging the tightness away, while trying to uncover more of the old farm boy in his weary visage. He was in there somewhere... She could feel it. Her farm boy may have been lost, but she'd found him anyway.
Toying gently with the tips of his mussed hair, she managed to get a grunt out of him, though he still avoided her gaze. He knew that if he glanced up, there'd be a question or two in her eyes, and he wasn't looking forward to explaining himself. In fact, he was relishing in this unspoken interaction. He didn't have an answer for her anyway. And he wished he could make everything right in the world with one word. But alas, his desire for world peace would likely never be attained—at least not in his lifetime.
That had never stopped him from hoping before.
It was all some silly childhood dream anyway, and if anything in the past few weeks, he had learned that he could never be a child again. An innate sense of security had been stripped away, as if what he dealt with on the job wasn't enough. And so, all such juvenile aspirations became null and void. A lone tear escaped out of the corner of his closed eye. It didn't go unnoticed.
"I love you," she whispered, her voice finding confidence while she pulled him gently into her embrace. Tracing her nails softly against his rigid back, she marveled at how much smaller he seemed. He had nearly towered over her before, him and his strong muscular frame contrasting with her slender figure. However, he was almost at her level now—not in physical height per say, but more so in this feeling of helplessness.
She continued to rub methodically between his shoulder blades with one hand while the other wandered to the back of his neck. She received a sigh in return, which was more than he had given her before, and she managed to allow a slight smile pull at the corner of her lips.
He was savable.
"Let go, just let it out," she whispered reassuringly. He took another moment to try and reinforce his stance, but fortify it, he could not. It was useless. With one desperate motion, he dropped the weight he'd been carrying into her arms.
She was surprised, to say the least, but relieved to feel him relax—his tired muscles no longer twitching in angst. She held him there, as he whispered an apology that would have been filled to the brim with sincerity, had it not been for his hoarse, cracking voice. She didn't mind, for she was no longer searching for an admission of guilt anyway.
"I wanted you to come with—I wanted you there. Hell, I buried my parents, and all I could think of was you. I need you, I don't know why. But I do," he managed to say once his throat was nearly clear. Salty tears were running freely down his cheeks, as he finally let his eyes meet hers.
She was still stuck with whatever he had slipped into the middle of all that. Once she processed the impressively sandwiched tidbit of information, she found herself incredibly at a loss. She could feel her heart break all over again. However, she chose not to force him to explain in greater detail, at least not yet.
She should have known—found out somehow. She should have been there. But there wasn't much she could do about that now. He shifted at her lack of response, and she let him go. His eyes dropped to the floor again, as she searched for something, anything to say.
"You could have told me. I'd have been on the first plane out with you. I- I'm so sorry, that's not what you need to hear. I know, but I would have gone," she said, her voice taking on a rather concerned tone. She was dead serious, and she only hoped he'd realize that.
"Would you have? I mean come with me? I didn't think..." He couldn't finish. He hadn't the willpower to get into it right now, and he had already divulged too much. He instinctively braced himself for a not so pleasant response.
"Damn thinking! I would have, don't you know that?" She said assertively, though her voice lacked the anger that was so evident earlier. She sounded... almost disenchanted.
He chose to be sincere. It was all he had left to offer. "Honestly, no. I didn't know what to think. We are... well, I don't know what we are."
"We're two people who have been through way too much together to all of a sudden decide to go it alone. That's what we are. I should be so disappointed in you... but I have to admit. I think I'm more disappointed in myself."
He sighed, short and forceful, and she took his hand. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up and then we need to talk. I know a great place for coffee and conversation, and the best part is, there aren't any holes in the furniture. Tomorrow we'll come back and see about letting this place air out. You're stuck with me tonight, like it or not. I don't think I can consciously let you out of my sight regardless."
He nodded in agreement and she led him into his bathroom, proceeding to find a washcloth and wet it down with warm water. Gently pushing him to sit, she methodically began to wipe his tears away. She was so assured, so gentle, and he couldn't help but recall how as a kid, his mother would do the same thing to clean up a cut or scrape. And then the band-aid would come out and make everything better.
Now that band-aid had taken on another form, put on in effort to heal a much different type of scar.
She'd never know how much of a comfort her simple gesture was for him. She had somehow managed to bring back a bit of his childhood security. He felt safe again, at least a little bit... not to mention, loved.
With a meaningful kiss to his forehead, she helped him up. "Let's go home," she whispered.
"Home?" he questioned.
"Yes. Home," and with that they headed out the door—hand in hand. And as she took in the scent of the muggy night air, she paused to silently thank the powers that be for helping her talk him off of life's little edge.
Fin