There wasn’t a time he could remember where they’d both seemed so… defeated. It was the nature of their dynamic that one was always strong while the other was weak. When he panicked, she had a clear head. When she was desperate for help, he dropped everything. Even through all the arguments and snark and fighting, they’d always balanced each other out. It was one of the unspoken agreements between them, dating all the way back to when they were in school and he’d relied on her to get him a passing grade.
But it wasn’t until her tears began to fall and he realized how truly useless he felt that he understood why they’d gotten to this level of codependency.
He reached out and enveloped her small hand in his much larger one. Seeing her cry was worse than being the target of her anger. He knew how to hold his own. It was the one thing his father had nailed into him from childhood: never show weakness. He could keep his calm, show indifference, even snark back. But he’d hardly been coached on how to handle a crying woman. Had she been broke, injured, or afraid, he could’ve solved it. Money could be thrown around, healers could be called, aggressors could be driven away. But what could he do when he was the cause of her misery, other than apologize?
“I am not the type to… do that,” he said slowly, trying to avoid looking at her tear-stained cheeks. His gaze latched onto the piece of flyaway hair hanging in front of her ear. The wrinkled sleeves of her robe. The little dimple on the tip of her chin made noticeable by the way she leaned into her palms. “And—you’re not just some prize. I…” He looked up at the ceiling helplessly, as if some magical force would send him the right words.
“There were night there, in New York, where all I wanted to do was have you in my bed at night,” he said instead, dipping his chin to catch her eye. “Not to bed you, not really—although it’s not like I would have said no—but that’s beside the point.” His knee began to bounce, and he gripped her hand a little tighter. “What I mean to say is that I wanted you… with me.” Which was perhaps the understatement of the century, given that he’d considered paying someone to snatch her from England on more than one occasion.
But it wasn’t until her tears began to fall and he realized how truly useless he felt that he understood why they’d gotten to this level of codependency.
He reached out and enveloped her small hand in his much larger one. Seeing her cry was worse than being the target of her anger. He knew how to hold his own. It was the one thing his father had nailed into him from childhood: never show weakness. He could keep his calm, show indifference, even snark back. But he’d hardly been coached on how to handle a crying woman. Had she been broke, injured, or afraid, he could’ve solved it. Money could be thrown around, healers could be called, aggressors could be driven away. But what could he do when he was the cause of her misery, other than apologize?
“I am not the type to… do that,” he said slowly, trying to avoid looking at her tear-stained cheeks. His gaze latched onto the piece of flyaway hair hanging in front of her ear. The wrinkled sleeves of her robe. The little dimple on the tip of her chin made noticeable by the way she leaned into her palms. “And—you’re not just some prize. I…” He looked up at the ceiling helplessly, as if some magical force would send him the right words.
“There were night there, in New York, where all I wanted to do was have you in my bed at night,” he said instead, dipping his chin to catch her eye. “Not to bed you, not really—although it’s not like I would have said no—but that’s beside the point.” His knee began to bounce, and he gripped her hand a little tighter. “What I mean to say is that I wanted you… with me.” Which was perhaps the understatement of the century, given that he’d considered paying someone to snatch her from England on more than one occasion.
set by lady <3