I'll keep breaking my own heart, finding ways to make it out
I'm still not what I wanna be, what more do you want from me?
I'm still not what I wanna be, what more do you want from me?
Her apology is acknowledged and accepted with a small bob of his head. His throat won’t allow a response. Instead he sits and listens as she stammers through her response, because there’s nothing else for him to do. It’s a selfish relief to know that, despite the inherent sweetness and familiarity of the letter, there’d been no full relationship. The taut line of Harper’s broad shoulders relaxes minutely.
“I believe you,” he assures quietly, sincere despite the soft tone. He watches her hands pull away, still unable to look any higher, but he doesn’t reach for them. Not yet. Not until they’ve talked it out. Though he waits until he hears the brush of her hands as they wipe away tears, selfishly not wanting to see it. Only then does he lift his face to finally look at her.
It’s not the worst he’s ever seen her, but the guilt intensifies knowing the red of her eyes and nose is because of him. Sighing softly, his hands find themselves again as the one in his hair drops away, restless even as the rest of his body is like stone. “It’s more than just wanting, Maeve. Of course I want you. It’s the how, and what that means for each of us, and whether what we both want is compatible.” His jaw flexes as he tries so, so hard to be as clear as possible, to maintain sincerity without being emotional. “I’m not moving on from Phoebe lightly. I know you know that. But what I want, what I need in any relationship going forward is monogamy.” Inhaling shakily Harper tries to keep eye contact even with how hard it feels, knowing he can’t present a stone face to her but simultaneously needing to keep his emotions carefully controlled to have the conversation at all.
“If we do this, there can’t be anyone else. It’s you and me and the kids - because I would want you to be a mother to Jude. To raise him knowing Phoebe was his birth mom, but that it doesn’t - wouldn’t - make you any less of one either. I know Edmund is older and might not want to see me that way, or change how he already does, but -” realizing he’s getting far too ahead of himself he cuts off abruptly and takes a breath before even considering restarting. “Labels are better for me, but they don’t have to be for you. Whatever we are, we can call it what we like. If you want me to step down as a councilman because of being Queen, we can discuss a replacement for me.” Because he’d give it up to be with her, and he’s not ashamed of that. “But I can’t sacrifice the rest, even if that means we go back to only being close friends and confidants.” Slowly unclasping his hands he reaches one across the table, palm up. “Because I always will be, no matter what you choose tonight.”
“I believe you,” he assures quietly, sincere despite the soft tone. He watches her hands pull away, still unable to look any higher, but he doesn’t reach for them. Not yet. Not until they’ve talked it out. Though he waits until he hears the brush of her hands as they wipe away tears, selfishly not wanting to see it. Only then does he lift his face to finally look at her.
It’s not the worst he’s ever seen her, but the guilt intensifies knowing the red of her eyes and nose is because of him. Sighing softly, his hands find themselves again as the one in his hair drops away, restless even as the rest of his body is like stone. “It’s more than just wanting, Maeve. Of course I want you. It’s the how, and what that means for each of us, and whether what we both want is compatible.” His jaw flexes as he tries so, so hard to be as clear as possible, to maintain sincerity without being emotional. “I’m not moving on from Phoebe lightly. I know you know that. But what I want, what I need in any relationship going forward is monogamy.” Inhaling shakily Harper tries to keep eye contact even with how hard it feels, knowing he can’t present a stone face to her but simultaneously needing to keep his emotions carefully controlled to have the conversation at all.
“If we do this, there can’t be anyone else. It’s you and me and the kids - because I would want you to be a mother to Jude. To raise him knowing Phoebe was his birth mom, but that it doesn’t - wouldn’t - make you any less of one either. I know Edmund is older and might not want to see me that way, or change how he already does, but -” realizing he’s getting far too ahead of himself he cuts off abruptly and takes a breath before even considering restarting. “Labels are better for me, but they don’t have to be for you. Whatever we are, we can call it what we like. If you want me to step down as a councilman because of being Queen, we can discuss a replacement for me.” Because he’d give it up to be with her, and he’s not ashamed of that. “But I can’t sacrifice the rest, even if that means we go back to only being close friends and confidants.” Slowly unclasping his hands he reaches one across the table, palm up. “Because I always will be, no matter what you choose tonight.”
