Everest
Everest nods as she answers him, the motion slow and deliberate, the way he does when he is absorbing information he knows is important. He had assumed already that if there were any meaningful margin for error, Isla would have chased it down immediately, but hearing the numbers spoken aloud still helps, even if all it really does is firm ground beneath something that already feels immovable.
He stays quiet when she asks what he thinks, not because he does not want to answer but because he genuinely needs the time. His gaze drifts unfocused for a moment, attention turning inward as he tries to take stock of what is happening inside him. The feelings are there, he knows that much, but they are indistinct and oversized, moving somewhere just out of reach like enormous shapes beneath dark water, impossible to name until they surface. For Isla, though, he tries, drawing slow and steady breaths as he works at giving them edges.
"I feel....confused," he says at least, voice low and careful. "About how this happened. I know the mechanics obviously, but..." His brow furrows slightly, more in concentration than distress. "And I'm worried about you. About what this will do to your body and how hard it might be, if you'll be alright and about how much it will interfere with your work at the clinic."
He pauses then, swallowing as his eyes drop to her hand resting on his knee, tracing the contact up to where her fingers are still threaded through his. A quiet sigh slips out of him, and his mouth tightens into a small frown that carries more weight than the words that follow. "And mostly," he adds, "I feel like it's...inevitable that I'm going to let you down in this." He glances at her from the corner of his eye, not quite meeting her gaze, the admission clearly difficult but not dramatic. "I know the ways I am make me an unideal partner for a lot of things, but maybe this most of all." He shakes his head faintly, a quick addendum following close behind. "I’m not asking you to reassure me. I just...wanted to be honest since you asked."
He stays quiet when she asks what he thinks, not because he does not want to answer but because he genuinely needs the time. His gaze drifts unfocused for a moment, attention turning inward as he tries to take stock of what is happening inside him. The feelings are there, he knows that much, but they are indistinct and oversized, moving somewhere just out of reach like enormous shapes beneath dark water, impossible to name until they surface. For Isla, though, he tries, drawing slow and steady breaths as he works at giving them edges.
"I feel....confused," he says at least, voice low and careful. "About how this happened. I know the mechanics obviously, but..." His brow furrows slightly, more in concentration than distress. "And I'm worried about you. About what this will do to your body and how hard it might be, if you'll be alright and about how much it will interfere with your work at the clinic."
He pauses then, swallowing as his eyes drop to her hand resting on his knee, tracing the contact up to where her fingers are still threaded through his. A quiet sigh slips out of him, and his mouth tightens into a small frown that carries more weight than the words that follow. "And mostly," he adds, "I feel like it's...inevitable that I'm going to let you down in this." He glances at her from the corner of his eye, not quite meeting her gaze, the admission clearly difficult but not dramatic. "I know the ways I am make me an unideal partner for a lot of things, but maybe this most of all." He shakes his head faintly, a quick addendum following close behind. "I’m not asking you to reassure me. I just...wanted to be honest since you asked."
I was a dead man walking,
with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
with bloodshot eyes—right place, wrong time.
