we used to play outside when we were young & full of life & full of love
Settling quietly beside her you begin to poke at your own plate, your appetite having evaporated rather abruptly. She can't have meant marriage. There's no damn way.
And yet.
And yet.
Her question catches you off-guard, because really you thought you'd done a better job hiding it (you did not). Are you alright? Not particularly. You're freaking out over nothing, threatening to ruin a perfectly lovely date with your idiocy and fear of commitment, and yet the idea of lying to her - of having her believe something that isn't true - leaves you feeling even more sick than saying nothing, somehow. You don't look at her when the words tumble out, half mumble, half blurt. They are not the words you want to say. But they're the ones that happen nonetheless.
"Vai- I don' wanna get married again."
Smooth, Zeph. Fuckin' smooth.
Realizing how poorly you've worded this you are quick to place your food aside, running your hand through your hair. "That- I mean- Safrin's tits, this is goin' all wrong." You laugh somewhat panickedly, closing your almond eyes and taking a breath. "Look, Vai, what I'm tryin'a say is I love ya an' I wanna' be with ya' an' grow old an' all that shit, but I don'... I don' think I wanna get married. We've already done that, y'know?" You're rambling properly now, with no idea how to recover except by plowing forward. "But I don' want ya t'think I don'- or if that is somethin' ya wanted... I dunno. We could talk about it, I guess. But I don' feel like we need to. We can just, I dunno, figure it out. You'n me'n Felix."
Finally your mouth stops running, your teeth coming together with an audible click and your brain finally catches up and slams hard on the brakes. You just said.... a lot of things. A lot.
And you meant them all, but holy shit, this is not going to plan.
And yet.
And yet.
Her question catches you off-guard, because really you thought you'd done a better job hiding it (you did not). Are you alright? Not particularly. You're freaking out over nothing, threatening to ruin a perfectly lovely date with your idiocy and fear of commitment, and yet the idea of lying to her - of having her believe something that isn't true - leaves you feeling even more sick than saying nothing, somehow. You don't look at her when the words tumble out, half mumble, half blurt. They are not the words you want to say. But they're the ones that happen nonetheless.
"Vai- I don' wanna get married again."
Smooth, Zeph. Fuckin' smooth.
Realizing how poorly you've worded this you are quick to place your food aside, running your hand through your hair. "That- I mean- Safrin's tits, this is goin' all wrong." You laugh somewhat panickedly, closing your almond eyes and taking a breath. "Look, Vai, what I'm tryin'a say is I love ya an' I wanna' be with ya' an' grow old an' all that shit, but I don'... I don' think I wanna get married. We've already done that, y'know?" You're rambling properly now, with no idea how to recover except by plowing forward. "But I don' want ya t'think I don'- or if that is somethin' ya wanted... I dunno. We could talk about it, I guess. But I don' feel like we need to. We can just, I dunno, figure it out. You'n me'n Felix."
Finally your mouth stops running, your teeth coming together with an audible click and your brain finally catches up and slams hard on the brakes. You just said.... a lot of things. A lot.
And you meant them all, but holy shit, this is not going to plan.
zephyr
