Greengrass was sorry. “Yeah,” Theo said quietly, at a loss for anything to say to that. He was sorry too. And this was supposed to have been a temporary escape, ducking outside for air just for long enough to pull himself together – but the conversation had gotten away from him and too much feeling had flooded in, and now that he had opened the door to everything, Theo didn’t know how to close it again. So he didn’t think he could face going back inside at all, anymore.
Maybe he should just go home. But even going home abruptly sounded too hard to accomplish in this moment, required too much planning; so instead Theo sank to the ground right where he’d been leaning. He hunched forwards, resting his arms on his knees in front of him and burying his face in his hands. (He should have waited for Greengrass to leave before he crumbled completely, probably, but he was suddenly too tired to care. There was no one else out here – and since Greengrass already knew everything, knew about him and Cash, what did it really matter if he fell apart? There was no use pretending otherwise. The only risk left here was that he’d find out just how pathetic Theo was too. Fine. Whatever. That was true.)
“I wasn’t ready for any of it,” he admitted without looking up, the words muffled and uneven and at least half to himself. But who knew? If Greengrass’s friendship with Cash was on the rocks about the wedding as well, at least news of this might not get back to him. And if Greengrass had taken the first opportunity to turn and run, it was all the same to him: maybe some things still needed confessing, even to himself. Because Theo was supposed to have seen this coming, apparently; and supposed to have been able to cope; and this was the path he had chosen, so he shouldn’t be this much of a sorry mess and shouldn’t be wavering now. “And I don’t know what to do without –” him. “I don’t know what to do.”
Maybe he should just go home. But even going home abruptly sounded too hard to accomplish in this moment, required too much planning; so instead Theo sank to the ground right where he’d been leaning. He hunched forwards, resting his arms on his knees in front of him and burying his face in his hands. (He should have waited for Greengrass to leave before he crumbled completely, probably, but he was suddenly too tired to care. There was no one else out here – and since Greengrass already knew everything, knew about him and Cash, what did it really matter if he fell apart? There was no use pretending otherwise. The only risk left here was that he’d find out just how pathetic Theo was too. Fine. Whatever. That was true.)
“I wasn’t ready for any of it,” he admitted without looking up, the words muffled and uneven and at least half to himself. But who knew? If Greengrass’s friendship with Cash was on the rocks about the wedding as well, at least news of this might not get back to him. And if Greengrass had taken the first opportunity to turn and run, it was all the same to him: maybe some things still needed confessing, even to himself. Because Theo was supposed to have seen this coming, apparently; and supposed to have been able to cope; and this was the path he had chosen, so he shouldn’t be this much of a sorry mess and shouldn’t be wavering now. “And I don’t know what to do without –” him. “I don’t know what to do.”
