[I can't explain. Or: There's no point trying. Or: All you're doing is making me wish I hadn't told you where I'd gone. She doesn't say any of it, mostly expecting he'll just start again.]
Edited (that one was actually a typo!) 2014-07-26 07:01 (UTC)
When it was just us I thought it'd be okay. If I just - tried hard enough. But it's not, and the thought of being like this in front of other people too -
I went to medbay. About not being able to feel the leg? They said it's psychosomatic. There's nothing wrong with it. I'm the faulty part. And I should've figured that out on my own, 'cause it only happens when I'm - when I feel like I'm -
[On the other end of the line he folds an arm across his stomach and sighs - blinks and realizes he's smoking in her room and starts making his way to his own as she speaks, scowling all the while.]
Nothing's going to fix it! Part of me is missing. It's gone, and I'd rather not have to figure out how to deal with that dragging what's left around in front of a bunch of strangers, trying to figure out if they pity me or if they're just glad it wasn't them! I can barely handle that when it's just you!
[It's quiet for a very long time, the only noise his breathing and the scrape of the chair as he sits at the desk. Another snick of the lighter as he chain-smokes his way through his thoughts.
Nothing's going to fix it - not what he meant, but clarifying is on the bottom of the list of priorities given the rest. There's the hint that the move might not be permanent, and it's tempting to dwell on that, poke it until he can get a promise from her if not a set date. But it's also enough to pull him back into a more rational mindset, and so he has the presence of mind to decide that that can wait, too.
[It follows a silence not nearly as long as his - during which she curled herself into a ball on her new bed and chewed at her lip until the taste of blood stopped her - but (miracle of miracles) it's not actually bitchy. Quiet, vulnerable and a little hesitant, but not cruel.]
Maybe you should. I know you're trying, but - it's so different. And I get why, I do, but I miss the way we were. I miss how I was.
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[I can't explain. Or: There's no point trying. Or: All you're doing is making me wish I hadn't told you where I'd gone. She doesn't say any of it, mostly expecting he'll just start again.]
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Are you telling me. Or -
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I'm telling you. I feel like a freak and it's killing me. I am not okay.
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[suddenly all he wants is to be close to her and is too choked up to say it.]
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[Said to her, said to him. He's not sure who it's addressed to.]
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I want it to be. But you can't fix something by shoving the same broken parts back in and hoping.
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Not leaving. Moving. I just changed floor, I'm not leaving you.
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That's the same thing!!!
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How.
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I don't understand how. It's not like we shared a room. I'm still here, I'm still talking to you. I just wanna have my breakdown in private.
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Need it.
[Skeptical.]
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wrong.
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You're not wrong. [Huff.] That won't work.
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It's gonna work a lot better than staying on our floor and having it crap out on me every time I think someone's looking at me funny.
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That won't fix it!
[Tone edging closer to crazytown again.]
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[just exasperated noises and a huff, he knows what he wants to say but has no idea how to make it into Words.]
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Nothing's going to fix it - not what he meant, but clarifying is on the bottom of the list of priorities given the rest. There's the hint that the move might not be permanent, and it's tempting to dwell on that, poke it until he can get a promise from her if not a set date. But it's also enough to pull him back into a more rational mindset, and so he has the presence of mind to decide that that can wait, too.
Which means:]
I don't. Think that, I mean.
[Surely she doesn't think he does, right.]
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[It follows a silence not nearly as long as his - during which she curled herself into a ball on her new bed and chewed at her lip until the taste of blood stopped her - but (miracle of miracles) it's not actually bitchy. Quiet, vulnerable and a little hesitant, but not cruel.]
Maybe you should. I know you're trying, but - it's so different. And I get why, I do, but I miss the way we were. I miss how I was.
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