Hotaru
Belatedly she realizes what she'd said, and shrinks into herself with embarrassment and something like shame. It hadn't just been him - some ever-changing shift of his features and Nate's - but the admission itself is like baring a raw and open wound to him, one that makes her wince when it's touched by his words. It shouldn't feel like a comfort then for him to agree that she'd been honest eventually, like some sort of ill-earned compliment. Ru blinks quickly at the following admission, but this time it's not enough to keep the moisture from budding, and she hides it by ducking her head to take another long pull off her glass.
"I never would have lied if I hadn't been pregnant," she whispers like it even matters anymore. It feels like it amounts to little more than an excuse. "I never wanted to hurt you either. Neither of you. Not really. I thought destroying something physical, just wood and stone, would make the pain go away." It didn't, goes unsaid. In fact it had only made things so, so much worse. Losing Atlas. Sunjata and Nate in a far more permanent way. Losing Torchline. What could have been some sort of sisterhood with Aurelia. Ever since she'd stepped away from Sunjata that day, ending things, every following event had done nothing but hurt her worse as if determined to drive home what an idiot she'd been. All because she wasn't able to bear her own empty womb when faced with a child borne of betrayal.
Turning, she presses her face to the flat of his shoulder, forehead against his jaw. It's the closest she'll allow herself to get to an embrace. "I know you didn't," Hotaru whispers. She knows, and she's trying so hard to let go. To forgive fully. They're both struggling, but they're both trying. Gods, how they try. When it would be so much easier to give up.
Nodding against his shoulder as the rumble of his words vibrates through her chin, she pulls away and turns back to her drink. The glass wobbles as she brings it to her lips, but Ru is determined to ignore it. Clearly people drink for a reason, and tonight she's going to follow in their footsteps and figure out what's so great about forgetting things this way. "Maybe I should just work there instead," tumbles free, wryly humorous. "Don't know what else to do with myself but raise the twins. Whatever I thought I'd find here, it's not. Here, that is." Groaning slightly she drops her glass, still refusing to move her hand from his knee, and presses her knuckles to her forehead. "Fuck, words. How the hell do you do this so often?" A hysterical giggle bubbles up, impressed despite herself.
"I never would have lied if I hadn't been pregnant," she whispers like it even matters anymore. It feels like it amounts to little more than an excuse. "I never wanted to hurt you either. Neither of you. Not really. I thought destroying something physical, just wood and stone, would make the pain go away." It didn't, goes unsaid. In fact it had only made things so, so much worse. Losing Atlas. Sunjata and Nate in a far more permanent way. Losing Torchline. What could have been some sort of sisterhood with Aurelia. Ever since she'd stepped away from Sunjata that day, ending things, every following event had done nothing but hurt her worse as if determined to drive home what an idiot she'd been. All because she wasn't able to bear her own empty womb when faced with a child borne of betrayal.
Turning, she presses her face to the flat of his shoulder, forehead against his jaw. It's the closest she'll allow herself to get to an embrace. "I know you didn't," Hotaru whispers. She knows, and she's trying so hard to let go. To forgive fully. They're both struggling, but they're both trying. Gods, how they try. When it would be so much easier to give up.
Nodding against his shoulder as the rumble of his words vibrates through her chin, she pulls away and turns back to her drink. The glass wobbles as she brings it to her lips, but Ru is determined to ignore it. Clearly people drink for a reason, and tonight she's going to follow in their footsteps and figure out what's so great about forgetting things this way. "Maybe I should just work there instead," tumbles free, wryly humorous. "Don't know what else to do with myself but raise the twins. Whatever I thought I'd find here, it's not. Here, that is." Groaning slightly she drops her glass, still refusing to move her hand from his knee, and presses her knuckles to her forehead. "Fuck, words. How the hell do you do this so often?" A hysterical giggle bubbles up, impressed despite herself.
But I am just a broken machine
And I do things that I don't really mean
And I do things that I don't really mean
