latino_menace | OOM: Talk

It's felt awkward, to him. And he's kept his distance seeing as she was obviously upset and didn't want to talk about it anymore. He's confused, because he thought he was offering her what she wanted, and a bit put out that she dismissed the idea out of hand. Or so it seemed to him.

So he'd gone for a swim and read a book and almost took the boat out but, in the end, didn't. And now it's evening and he has another book, which he's skimming through on the sofa in the lounge. Another warm evening, no sound out there but the waves and breeze. This place is getting too quiet for him.

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From:

latino_menace

'It's not my business. This isn't my world,' he points out, then sighs and looks away.

No, it's not the point.

'I don't know what there is to be scared of.'

From:

justcallmefee

"It's not your business yet," she whispers, wishing she could just feel his arms around her, wishing he'd just make it all go away.

"You want the god's honest truth? I'm afraid if I say no, that'll be the end of us. That if I say yes, it won't be because you love me, because I feel you want us to make a family together, it'll be because I'm afraid I'll lose you. I'm afraid if I do say yes, you'll still never find a way to love me the way I love you. That there's no way you'll ever feel about me the way I feel about you."

"And I feel like that's because I'm cursed. That no one I love will ever be mine, because of the sins I can't take back."

She's leaning on the counter, tears streaming down her face as she speaks, steady and low, baring her heart to him.

From:

latino_menace

He could say to her that the reason he doesn't love her the way she loves him is because he loves Random the way she loves him. But that would be cruel, so he doesn't. He even stops himself twirling his wedding ring with his thumb the way he unconsciously finds himself doing at times likes this.

'If there were such thing as curses for sins, then you'd never have fallen for me.'

Because he's done far, far worse things than accidentally blow up a busload of kids. He's hurt them on purpose, and so many times he cant even count. And he doesn't feel bad about it.

'I don't know what you want me to say. I care about you enough that I'm not going to lie to you. I don't want to be without you. If you say you don't want my child, I won't be able to forget it but I'm not going to drop you because of it. I can't promise to love you because I don't know what that means.'

And it's the first time in a long time he's admitted that. He couldn't put it into words very well then, either. So he takes a breath and looks away, collecting his thoughts before looking back.

'I thought love was supposed to be wanting to be with someone and missing them when they're not around. About planning to have a life with them. Having fun together. Great sex. Being able to have conversations like this. By that rationale...then yes, you have what you want.'

She gave him the god's honest truth, so he'll repay the favour.

'But I'm not going to drop down dead if you're not around. My heart won't stop beating; I'm not going to kill myself or cry into my tequila for the next twenty years.'

It's need he's talking about. He needs Random, like air. And to him, that's love. Anything else just pales against it.

From:

justcallmefee

She was waiting for the 'but' and when he adds it, she nods. She's not Random. She never will be. She knows that, even without him reminding her.

You have what you want. Then why does her whole body hurt like she's gone ten rounds with a black belt?

She scrubs at her eyes with the back of her hand, finally reaching for a cloth to wipe her face.

"I know you're not. And that's not what I want, either. I just want a place in your heart."

She presses the back of her hand against her mouth, eyes closed, trying to still her breathing. The tears come anyway, and she hates herself for letting him see her like this.

From:

latino_menace

'You already have that.'

He walks towards her finally, runs his hands down the outside of her arms, settles them on her waist and looks her in the eye.

'You already have that.'

From:

justcallmefee

"You don't have to say that..." Her voice trails off as she looks up into his face.

He has never lied to her. Not even when she really wanted him to, he has never once lied to her.

Her hand covers her mouth, and he can feel her shaking. That spark of hope that she's been clinging to burns bright in her eyes.

From:

latino_menace

His mouth quriks in a half-smile as he gets that she understands him and he pulls her against his chest and puts his arms around her. It's easier than trying to talk any more; finding words to deal with a shaking, crying woman is never going to be something he's any good at.

From:

justcallmefee

She melts against him, her arms going around his waist and holding tight to him, her cheek resting against his chest. She takes handfuls of his shirt and breathes in his scent, feeling the warmth of his body soothing away the ache in her bones.

It's by the far the most dangerous thing she has ever done, giving her heart to him. And when he holds her close like this, his lips pressed against her hair and a low rumble in his chest, she doesn't care, she just doesn't care.

"I'm not saying no. I'm not."

From:

latino_menace

'Alright, Fi.'

His tone is placating. It still sounds like a no to him but he's not going to argue about it any more.

From:

justcallmefee

She pulls back just enough to look up into his face, her palm coming up to rest on his jaw. Her green eyes search his face and she looks like she's about to say something, but thinks better of it.

Instead, she rises on her tiptoes and kisses the corner of his mouth, just a chaste brush of her lips.

"A chuisle."

From:

latino_menace

He smiles at her a little then loosens his hold on her. Conversations like this always drain him.

'I don't know about you, but I need a drink.'

From:

justcallmefee

She laughs a little, lowering her gaze to his chest again, nodding.

"Whiskey," she murmurs. "And a straw."

From:

latino_menace

'A straw?'

She must want to get wasted. Which is just fine with him.

'...you'll have to let go of me if you want me to go get it.'

From:

justcallmefee

She lets him go, noticing the stiffness in her hands as he slips from her grip.

Forty years old.

Have my baby, Fi.

She drags her hands through her hair, wondering what the hell just happened.

"I'm gonna -- go wash my face. Meet you in the jacuzzi?"

From:

latino_menace

'Sure.'

He's a little taken aback by her wanting to get in there with him but happy enough about it. So he blanks his mind of everything and just makes the drinks, following her down eventually.

'Here.'

One triple whiskey, no ice. He sets his tequila down and strips methodically, sliding in next to her without saying more.

From:

justcallmefee

"Thanks."

She smiles up at him and takes a big swallow before setting it aside, settling back to let the hot water and bubbles pound the ache out of her muscles.

Under the water, her bare feet find his, tangling gently, just needing to touch him.

From:

latino_menace

And he lets her, no objection. He's content to just sit here and drink, and not say anything.

It's always difficult for him to slide back into normality after conversations like that. It seems bizarre to just go back to talking about banal things but he doesn't want to touch on difficult things again. So he's sort of stuck in limbo, usually until the next morning. A night's sleep generally clears his head enough to get past it.