[She should go. She should really, really leave, and Saul is completely out of ideas as to how to get her out of here without actually telling her to hit the road. He can't find the words for that.
It's then that he decides this would be much, much easier for both of them if she hated him, instead.
[There's a moment where she forgets herself, and for a second she's responding, kissing him, before her thoughts actually catch up with what's happening.
It's not easy, to step back, and it's even less easy to snatch her hand away from his, holding her hands to her chest instead, defensive and protective all at once, her fingers curled around her own wrist. After spending most of this conversation not being able to look at him, she's meeting his gaze now, and there's nothing in her expression but hurt.]
Why?
[It's an accusation, because he knows, he knows that she can't do this and she can't imagine any reason why he'd keep pushing except for that he hates her, maybe.]
[Well that... backfired. Sort of. He stares at her for a moment, expression blank, then runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head.
What he wants to do is tell her the truth, but his heart is lodged so high up in his throat that he isn't sure he can even speak. And how ridiculous would it sound, coming from him? "Because I think I'm in love with you"? Please.
He looks like he's about to panic.]
You should go. Wait. No; I'll —
[He swallows, backing up.]
You go when you feel like it. I'm gonna go... out.
[For a walk. A really long walk. A few more seconds pass before he's able to break his gaze away from her and slip out the bedroom door. But before he's gone completely:]
[She has no frame of reference for this, absolutely no idea what to do or think, so she just stands there, fingers digging into her wrist so hard she leaves red crescents on her skin, while she tries to figure out what's even going on.
This is ridiculous; a few weeks ago she was just teasing him, playing around, and now she feels like someone's cut the legs from under her and tipped the world upside down.
It takes her a while to register what he's saying, and then her expression crumples even more, something like guilt written across her face, but she knows she can't tell him to stay. She has to let him leave because otherwise he won't and then she won't and everything will just keep getting worse.]
It's okay.
[He doesn't have to be sorry, even if she still doesn't understand why he kissed her when he knows she can't, when he said he didn't want anything from her.
Moving is an effort, and it takes her a few minutes to actually manage it, but then she's just climbing out the window, letting the cold air burn her lungs before she drops. It's only five stories, so she doesn't bother with a grapple, just slows her descent by bouncing off windowsills, until her boots hit the ground. Leaning back against the wall and sliding down until she's curled in on herself is kind of pathetic, but there's not really much else she can do, right now.]
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controlledvariable) wrote2014-02-02 07:59 pm
no subject
It's then that he decides this would be much, much easier for both of them if she hated him, instead.
So he kisses her.]
no subject
It's not easy, to step back, and it's even less easy to snatch her hand away from his, holding her hands to her chest instead, defensive and protective all at once, her fingers curled around her own wrist. After spending most of this conversation not being able to look at him, she's meeting his gaze now, and there's nothing in her expression but hurt.]
Why?
[It's an accusation, because he knows, he knows that she can't do this and she can't imagine any reason why he'd keep pushing except for that he hates her, maybe.]
What did I do to you?
[Why is he doing this?]
no subject
What he wants to do is tell her the truth, but his heart is lodged so high up in his throat that he isn't sure he can even speak. And how ridiculous would it sound, coming from him? "Because I think I'm in love with you"? Please.
He looks like he's about to panic.]
You should go. Wait. No; I'll —
[He swallows, backing up.]
You go when you feel like it. I'm gonna go... out.
[For a walk. A really long walk. A few more seconds pass before he's able to break his gaze away from her and slip out the bedroom door. But before he's gone completely:]
I'm really sorry, Steph.
no subject
This is ridiculous; a few weeks ago she was just teasing him, playing around, and now she feels like someone's cut the legs from under her and tipped the world upside down.
It takes her a while to register what he's saying, and then her expression crumples even more, something like guilt written across her face, but she knows she can't tell him to stay. She has to let him leave because otherwise he won't and then she won't and everything will just keep getting worse.]
It's okay.
[He doesn't have to be sorry, even if she still doesn't understand why he kissed her when he knows she can't, when he said he didn't want anything from her.
Moving is an effort, and it takes her a few minutes to actually manage it, but then she's just climbing out the window, letting the cold air burn her lungs before she drops. It's only five stories, so she doesn't bother with a grapple, just slows her descent by bouncing off windowsills, until her boots hit the ground. Leaning back against the wall and sliding down until she's curled in on herself is kind of pathetic, but there's not really much else she can do, right now.]