HARPER
Harper couldn't have known the kind of reaction he would have instilled in Phoebe. Had no way of knowing what it was she wanted, what she sought when she made this deal with Sunjata. He had spoken from the heart, wanting nothing more than to support her, to apologize for not having the strength to do it sooner. To perhaps spare her from this whole thing. She had been one of his first friends, had taken him into her home, and he had failed her so wholeheartedly that he had not been able to face her. So when she runs and grabs him, spindly arms wrapped tight around his midsection, Harper is surprised to say the least. He had expected her dismissal, her apathy. Instead she clings to him, and he stops immediately though her grasp is weak compared to his strength. If she does not want to see him, face him, he will not make her.
Her voice comes curling around his sides, choked and trembling, and his own eyes burn a little as he lifts a hand to cover hers where they press insistently against his chest. The wetness soaks through his shirt, and he feels his heart crumble with a wave of empathy, knowing how much she has needed this simple physical release. Harper has lost so much, is too used to it to resort to burying his emotions any longer, but she is still so young and fresh faced against grief and death. He knows this will help, will clear her mind in a way nothing else can. And he lets her speak, lets every word fall like rain from her lips as he listens patiently. Ready for her to tell him what she wants, what he can do, what comes next.
Harper turns slowly in her arms if she will allow him, gently moving her arms so that he can embrace her, tugging her in close as he tilts his head to lay his cheek aside her temple. Smelling the ever-present honeysuckle and chemical scent that overlays atop her. So many before her have shaken apart in just this way in his arms, and he shelters her the same way he offered them in their time. Letting her hide away in the dark swathe of his shirt, the concealment of his arms around her. Concealing her from judgmental and curious gazes alike, so that she may make her decisions in the privacy of her own mind. "You are one of the bravest young women I know, Phoebe. There is strength in protecting yourself, in retreating or admitting a boundary has been crossed. It is not a cowardly act to choose self-love over some idea of winning." His voice is soft and low as a hand rises to smooth over her hair gently, cupping at the back of her neck. Offering what small, useless platitudes and advice that he can. Her final admission makes him sigh softly, squeezing her gently. "If you don't want to marry him, all you have to do is say the word. I will take care of it, if that is what you want." She didn't deserve the pain of standing in front of everyone and renouncing her claim if that is what she chose. "Whatever you need, whatever you decide, I'm with you. Even if you choose to marry him. But don't you think, with everything that has happened, that you should choose even the small potential of happiness instead of more suffering?" Blue eyes close, not giving a damn about whoever is gathered around or watching, waiting for some sign from Phoebe as to what he should do next.
Her voice comes curling around his sides, choked and trembling, and his own eyes burn a little as he lifts a hand to cover hers where they press insistently against his chest. The wetness soaks through his shirt, and he feels his heart crumble with a wave of empathy, knowing how much she has needed this simple physical release. Harper has lost so much, is too used to it to resort to burying his emotions any longer, but she is still so young and fresh faced against grief and death. He knows this will help, will clear her mind in a way nothing else can. And he lets her speak, lets every word fall like rain from her lips as he listens patiently. Ready for her to tell him what she wants, what he can do, what comes next.
Harper turns slowly in her arms if she will allow him, gently moving her arms so that he can embrace her, tugging her in close as he tilts his head to lay his cheek aside her temple. Smelling the ever-present honeysuckle and chemical scent that overlays atop her. So many before her have shaken apart in just this way in his arms, and he shelters her the same way he offered them in their time. Letting her hide away in the dark swathe of his shirt, the concealment of his arms around her. Concealing her from judgmental and curious gazes alike, so that she may make her decisions in the privacy of her own mind. "You are one of the bravest young women I know, Phoebe. There is strength in protecting yourself, in retreating or admitting a boundary has been crossed. It is not a cowardly act to choose self-love over some idea of winning." His voice is soft and low as a hand rises to smooth over her hair gently, cupping at the back of her neck. Offering what small, useless platitudes and advice that he can. Her final admission makes him sigh softly, squeezing her gently. "If you don't want to marry him, all you have to do is say the word. I will take care of it, if that is what you want." She didn't deserve the pain of standing in front of everyone and renouncing her claim if that is what she chose. "Whatever you need, whatever you decide, I'm with you. Even if you choose to marry him. But don't you think, with everything that has happened, that you should choose even the small potential of happiness instead of more suffering?" Blue eyes close, not giving a damn about whoever is gathered around or watching, waiting for some sign from Phoebe as to what he should do next.
can you protect me from what i want?
the love i let in, it left me so lost
the love i let in, it left me so lost
