I spoke to you in cautious tones… You answered me with no pretense… And still I feel I said too much… My silence is my self defense
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I didn't make it very far from Bobby's apartment. I managed to go about 15 feet down the hall before I hit the wall, with my back first, and then my head. I kind of dripped down the wall until I was sitting on the floor, my legs tucked up to my chest, my forehead on my knees. I wasn't crying, but that was only because I almost felt like I couldn't. It had been such a roller coaster of a day, I felt like I was in shock.
My brain was moving very slowly, I knew that Bobby needed me, he needed me like I needed him. I wasn't certain if it was the best move on my part to let him push me away. That was kind of a test, of sorts. Push hard, see if they walk away, push harder, see if they run away. He was a master at manipulating people, at assessing their motivations, at understanding their perspectives. He knew exactly what to say to me to get me to leave, and I had reacted just as he had wanted.
I don't know how long I sat in the hallway. But after a while, when my breathing was more even, I stood and returned to his door. I could hear him moving around inside, thumping around in the kitchen. I reached out for the knob, realizing it was still unlocked. I let myself in, quietly, unannounced. I walked up behind him in the kitchen, he was taking his pills but this time with a glass of water.
"I think you do need me." I said. He jumped, and winced from the pain of being startled. He turned slowly to face me, using his size to look down at me. I reached up, to tuck my hair behind my ear and he grabbed my hand, looking at my bare fingers. I could feel him looking at my ears, at my neck, at my hand, his eyes traveling from the small platinum wire hoops tucked around my ear lobes, to the necklace nestled in the hollow of my throat, back to my bare hand. Bobby was back on his game, he was putting together that I had on some jewelry, but not the engagement ring.
"Pain can be very sobering." He said, almost as if he read my mind. I had thought he was out of it when I had come by, sitting in the chair, I had smelled the scotch.
"Yes it can." I replied, though I wasn't talking only about his physical pain. He continued to hold my hand and look at me. He softened his hold on my hand, taking a step closer to me. "Emil is staying in California. I am not moving to California." I said, surprising myself by just dropping it in like that, out of the blue. Bobby continued to stand very close to me; I could feel my breathing coming in short, rapid breaths.
"So, you're staying here?" He asked, he shook his head slightly, I thought the medicine he had swallowed was having a fast effect. I irrationally wondered if he had eaten enough today to balance out the prescription. "You're staying here in New York." He added.
"I'm staying here." I said, I swallowed nervously, looking up at him. "I'm staying here." I said the words again, my voice was barely a whisper. I stood my ground in his kitchen, looking up at him. We looked at each other for a long moment, without saying anything. I knew that he could feel it, I knew that he was thinking it, we both knew that there was something much more than silence between us.
I reached out to him, touching his face with my free hand, tracing the outline of his goatee with my finger. He really did look handsome, and I realized that my heart was switching gears, that my brain was catching up, and I was looking at him differently. He staggered sideways a small step, closing his eyes. I moved my fingers across his lips, he still held my hand.
"I should, um, I think I need to, um." He said, opening his eyes slowly to look at me.
"Lie down." I looked at him, thinking that timing could not have been worse. I took a breath, trying to steady my heart. "I'm staying." I repeated.
"I need you to stay." He said, taking my hand to his face, running my hand down the smooth line of his jaw.
"I like your goatee." I said, and I watched him smile. I liked that too, I liked to see him smile. I helped him back to his bed, I could tell he hadn't slept in it since I had changed the sheets and blankets when I had been there yesterday. I moved the pillows and helped him lie down on his right side. I lay down on the bed behind him, watching the rise and fall of his side. I hadn't really realized what a large man he was, I hadn't ever allowed myself to really study him that way. He was asleep within minutes. And as I allowed myself to drift off to sleep, I was thinking about that moment in the kitchen, when we were simply looking at one another, when he was softly holding my hand, how we seemed to exchange more in our silences than most people did in entire conversations.
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A/N: Thanks for following me forward to this story. I've seen some shots of VDO lately with a goatee. So hot, the angles of his face (and the short slope of his nose, thank you pfchristine!). Anyway, they still haven't kissed, in all this writing… how fast do friends slip the line? hmm…