He stares at her like he can't believe it.
And why would he? She'd been the one who left so swiftly after she'd convinced him her mission was accomplished.
She bites the inside of her cheek, "Can I come in?"
He glances over his shoulder; Astor and Cody are sound asleep on the couch and a mattress on the floor beside it. He ponders for a brief moment, before he steps forward, closing the door silently behind him.
Something drops (heavy, fast) inside of her.
Something that feels suspiciously like her heart.
It's more than his apartment he's closing off from her.
It's the life he could have shared with her (would have) if she had stayed.
He looks terrible, bloodshot eyes with dark rings underneath them, as if he's had as little sleep as she has.
I did this, I did this to him.
She sucks in a gasp, about to speak.
He beats her to it, "Why are you here?"
She bites back the tears, knows that there isn't a reason that will ever be enough.
She could lie, but she won't. She's done enough damage (will probably do more).
So she gives him the truth, "I had to."
He flinches.
She'd said a variation of those words the day she had left.
I don't want to go-I have to-
He's leaning against the door, eyes half-shut, "Why?"
She forces her lower lip to stop trembling, "I needed—I needed you." A beat. "And I'd hoped that maybe...you needed me too...even a little."
His face is blank, but beyond the emptiness in his voice is a whirlwind of emotion he doesn't believe himself to possess, "You left." He pauses. When he continues, his tone is inflected with just enough bitterness to sting. "You left because of me."
She shakes her head, "No—"
"Don't lie to me."
His voice is no louder, but no less piercing.
She can just detect it, the barely-restrained rage boiling beneath the surface, waiting to be set free.
His eyes are almost blazing.
She just manages to stop herself from stepping back at their intensity.
He was never angry.
And never at her.
He stands straight, looking down at her, "You couldn't do it anymore, remember?"
Her words are laced with anger (not at him, never him) and fatigue and frustration when she retorts, "I lied."
His eyes suddenly grow dull, his face falls, his shoulders slump.
And he looks so so lost.
He stares blankly at the water nearby, the waves crashing in the shore almost overpowering the softly-spoken word he utters, "Why?"
She takes a step forward, her hand slowly rising to touch his neck.
He recoils imperceptibly (barely), but it's enough for her to feel the ball of emotion forming in her throat.
She clenches her jaw, retracting her hand for it to lie limply at her side. Her vision is clouded by her tears, by the hatred she feels so intensely for herself. She almost walks away (again), to spare him from whatever pain she has yet to inflict.
Then his voice (soft and far away) pulls her from the sea of her self-loathing.
"Why?"
She grips the handle of her bag, the leather grates against her skin.
Her eyes focus on a spot on his left shoulder and then she speaks, her voice steady, but only just, "Jordan was so...twisted, but he got a few things right." Her eyes meet his. "I am what I am because of him."
He looks at her; no longer blaming, not quite sympathetic, "You're not the monster you think you are."
She replies easily, "Neither are you."
"Yes, I am. That's why you left."
"No—"
"Just stop—"
Their conversation has turned redundant and cyclical and she's terrified that she won't be able to break it.
Everything is dependent on what she says next.
The strap of her bag falls off her shoulder as she steps forward, as everything she wants (needs) to say flows forth from her lips, "I left because it took what they did to me for me to find what I wanted."
She looks him straight in the eye. He looks as if he's about to interrupt (again), so she continues now that words just spill from her mouth as easily as her tears.
"I lied because if I told you the truth, you'd convince me to stay and I would have. And I'd be reminded that everything that had happened, all of it would lead me to you. It terrified me that I would need someone so much."
She's short of breath, somewhat dizzy, but she's never been more acutely aware of her surroundings (him).
His face softens minutely, "What's changed?"
She breathes in, smiles thickly through the haze of her tears, whispering with all the strength and willpower she has left, "Nothing."
And with that, she offers to him all she wants, all she is and could ever be.
His to do with what he will.
But he does nothing. Makes no move to take what has always been his.
The silence between them stretches taut and when he remains resolutely still, she's flooded with shame and remorse and screaming from deep within her.
The tears return, but she doesn't let him see them fall as she turns to walk away, "I should go."
But then she feels his index and thumb encircle her wrist, warm and dry and infinitely gentle. She lets him slowly turn her around until she's facing him once more, pinning her in place with his eyes and a single word, "Stay."
Her fingers then brush his neck again.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please believe me.
He doesn't flinch.
Their chests barely touch and his own fingers reach up to stroke her forehead, before he gently replaces it with his lips. Her eyes flutter shut, tears staining her cheeks as they stream down her face and she sees the message behind the gesture.
I forgive you.
And for at least that moment, the screams stop.
TBC
A/N: Dedicated to Jack E. Peace: you are an uber-awesome reviewer and hopefully this will help take your mind off being snowed in.