Claire pulls her hand away like she's been burned.
"Last time was a mistake, Matt," she sighs, and it's not a lie. She'd come back from a few weeks in Puerto Rico visiting her sister and it hadn't even been a full 48 hours before Matt had called her. It hadn't even gotten to the second ring before she'd answered it despite being back at work. Distance hadn't afforded her the clarity and solidarity she'd hoped it would, and he'd been in such bad shape.
broken glass in his neck missed the carotid by a finger's width of space; God how close to having nothing to put Humpty Dumpty back together again
Any attempt at shaking his gravity had evaporated into thin air. He'd been conscious for most of her doctoring -- she'd taken off early from her shift claiming family emergency and dodging the concerned looks Shirley had leveled at her as she filled out the Citytime AFL for the emergency leave -- trying to joke his way through the removal of several impaled improvised weapons. It had been heartbreaking, the silence after she was done. The way he searched for the right words to thank her for coming back. It was nothing to take his hand, to kiss his palm. To kiss his mouth when he gasped, half-startled, half-elated.
He'd left a mark with his mouth over her right hipbone that had lasted a full week. Claire runs her fingers over it now, hesitantly, like somehow the ghost of the sensation will still somehow remain so long after. She watches Matt lick his lips now, and that... doesn't help.
Her eyes move up and try to take in the whole picture of him now on the couch, and God damn him if he doesn't look lost -- hands loose and half open like he wants hold. He tries for a smile but it breaks into pieces before it even steps onto his face.
"OK," Matt sighs. It sounds like longing, and loneliness -- not like the flare of anger she would've expected at rejection, but maybe he knows her reasons better than most. Can taste them, feel them on the air the way he always seems to be able to. A part of her wants him to be mad, wants him to demand what they both shouldn't want, to be contentious, to fight to keep her here with him -- but she watches Matt deflate and sag back into the couch, all the fight he has for the week already cut out of him in inches. Claire knows he won't ask.
She should take the opening and bolt for the door, now. But Claire finds herself rooted to the spot, watching Matt breathe, his mouth slightly open.
and damn his mouth, at that
"It's just -- we can't let this get complicated," she finds herself saying suddenly. And she has nothing like Matt's senses but she knows her words must stink of compromise.
FILL: and in the endless pause 2/?
"Last time was a mistake, Matt," she sighs, and it's not a lie. She'd come back from a few weeks in Puerto Rico visiting her sister and it hadn't even been a full 48 hours before Matt had called her. It hadn't even gotten to the second ring before she'd answered it despite being back at work. Distance hadn't afforded her the clarity and solidarity she'd hoped it would, and he'd been in such bad shape.
broken glass in his neck missed the carotid by a finger's width of space; God how close to having nothing to put Humpty Dumpty back together again
Any attempt at shaking his gravity had evaporated into thin air. He'd been conscious for most of her doctoring -- she'd taken off early from her shift claiming family emergency and dodging the concerned looks Shirley had leveled at her as she filled out the Citytime AFL for the emergency leave -- trying to joke his way through the removal of several impaled improvised weapons. It had been heartbreaking, the silence after she was done. The way he searched for the right words to thank her for coming back. It was nothing to take his hand, to kiss his palm. To kiss his mouth when he gasped, half-startled, half-elated.
He'd left a mark with his mouth over her right hipbone that had lasted a full week. Claire runs her fingers over it now, hesitantly, like somehow the ghost of the sensation will still somehow remain so long after. She watches Matt lick his lips now, and that... doesn't help.
Her eyes move up and try to take in the whole picture of him now on the couch, and God damn him if he doesn't look lost -- hands loose and half open like he wants hold. He tries for a smile but it breaks into pieces before it even steps onto his face.
"OK," Matt sighs. It sounds like longing, and loneliness -- not like the flare of anger she would've expected at rejection, but maybe he knows her reasons better than most. Can taste them, feel them on the air the way he always seems to be able to. A part of her wants him to be mad, wants him to demand what they both shouldn't want, to be contentious, to fight to keep her here with him -- but she watches Matt deflate and sag back into the couch, all the fight he has for the week already cut out of him in inches. Claire knows he won't ask.
She should take the opening and bolt for the door, now. But Claire finds herself rooted to the spot, watching Matt breathe, his mouth slightly open.
and damn his mouth, at that
"It's just -- we can't let this get complicated," she finds herself saying suddenly. And she has nothing like Matt's senses but she knows her words must stink of compromise.
Matt stops breathing all together.