Control the Storm Collection
Story 6
Title: Lover Dearest
Author: Catherine Grissom
Rating: T?
Summary: Sometimes I wish you would leave me…
A/N: I'm going to apologize right now for first off, not updating in forever, and secondly, being insanely cruel when I do. If I promise to try to write something at least a bit happy, will you call off the mob?
Warnings: Things don't go very well here.
Disclaimer: Sunrise and Bandai own Witch Hunter Robin. Marianas Trench owns 'Lover Dearest' and there's a line from A Perfect Getaway in here. Blame them.
Inspired by Marianas Trench's song 'Lover Dearest'.
Old habits die hard. "Gochisoosamadeshita," he intoned, a wry half-smirk twisting his lip.
Lifting the plate from in front of him, Robin returned the smirk with a small grin of her own. "You're welcome," she said, mock-serious. She turned and headed into the kitchen.
Picking up the glassware, Amon followed. She had just put the dishes into the sink when she turned, saw him, and her grin grew to a grateful smile.
True to routine, after she placed the glasses next to the evening's plates, she turned, rose onto her toes, and pressed a kiss to his lips.
True to routine, he didn't let her leave it at that.
Moments later, Robin pulled back, a small, sated smile on her face. "I love you," she murmured.
He opened his mouth to repeat the words, but what came out was a very, very quiet, "I don't," and his eyes widened. "I don't know if I can," his traitorous lips allowed.
Her smile was forced now, brittle. Tears glistened in her eyes, but refused to fall, and he hated himself for it.
More than that, though, Amon hated that she hadn't looked surprised.
Silence, once companionable, now heavy, hung in the room. Robin's lip quivered suddenly and she bit it, let out a shaking breath, closed her eyes. The last action caused twin tears to make their way down her cheeks.
Instinctively, Amon reached to brush them away, then recoiled the instant he realized what he was doing.
"O-Oh," Robin breathed, opening her eyes, keeping them downcast, sounding terribly small and vulnerable. "I- I should- I-"
She gave up on talking then, brushing past him, heading towards the bedroom, leaving the kitchen. Leaving him. Good. If she was smart, she would.
Abruptly, he found himself speaking again, "But-"
Robin paused, tilted and turned her head slightly, and waited: listening, but not looking at him.
His mouth worked silently for a moment and Amon watched as, with every second, the woman before him withdrew into herself, looked more and more like a lost, hurt child.
Finally, just when he sensed that she was about to complete her retreat, the words came. "But I'm in love with the idea of loving you."
He watched her profile as her eyes closed again briefly. She sniffled quietly, and then opened her mouth.
"If that's all that you can offer-" her voice cracked.
Then I'm leaving. Amon wished she would say it. I'm leaving and I'm going to find someone who can love me. He wanted, needed to hear her say it.
"If that's all that you can offer," Robin began again, sounding more confident. "Then I love hearing it."
She gave a miniscule nod and continued her walk.
Amon didn't move. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to push her away. Wanted to shake her, scream at her, demand that she open her eyes and leave before he managed to break her. Wanted to pull her close, breathe in her scent, tell her that he was sorry, so sorry. Instead, all he could manage was a breathless whisper of her name as the door separating them clicked closed.
A sob broke through the quiet in the apartment, and he found himself at the door to the bedroom: unable to pull back and leave her, but at the same time, unable to enter the room and comfort her.
Amon pressed a hand to the door and rested his forehead against the wood. He should leave. She should leave.
He couldn't leave. He couldn't stand the thought of her leaving.
He was still at the door when Robin's sobs turned to whimpers and then, finally, to silence.