[It's a little bit that. Saul's quiet for a moment, too, mulling this over.
Might as well just be honest.]
I'm just worried that if something were to happen and you had that power, you'd blame yourself for not knowing. And I don't want you to have another reason to beat yourself up.
You make these offhand comments about yourself that seem like jokes, but I know they're not.
[Most of the time, anyway.]
And I know you don't believe me when I tell you how amazing you are. I don't think you believe anyone else, either. Sometimes —
[He has to pause; his voice is getting a little tight.]
Sometimes I'm not even sure you believe that I love you as much as I do. Anyway, that's not really my point. I just — what I saw back there was an opportunity for you to take on more responsibility that shouldn't belong to you. I don't want anything to give you any more reason to feel the way you do, so I had to step in. Maybe the way I went about it wasn't the best, but... it was either that, or say all this in front of everyone. Because I know, Steph. I know that as soon as something goes wrong, you'll blame yourself. You do that already anyway, so...
[Another pause.]
But what I don't know is how to handle it when you do that.
Any remaining anger is completely gone by the time he's finished talking, and she's just left with an ache in her chest, instead. It's not fair, that he can say things like that and leave her speechless.
She wants to tell him that he's wrong, wants to make a joke and brush it off, even getting her anger back and yelling at him would be easier than trying to work out a genuine response.
So she doesn't.]
Okay.
[Her voice is a little distant, like it's an automatic response.]
Sorry.
[Maybe she's apologizing for getting mad at him, or for being the way she is.
Or maybe she's apologizing for the fact she just hung up on him and shoved the tablet under her pillow, as if hiding it will make this all go away.]
Saul stares at his screen for a solid minute, then pulls up the app that lets him know where Steph is and goes sprinting toward her room. He skids to a stop outside her door, takes a breath to steady himself before he tests the knob so he doesn't startle her, carefully pushes inside when it yields under his touch —
And pauses, because he doesn't know what to say or do except look up at her.]
[She thinks it must be one of her roommates, so she's already rubbing a hand over her face as if that might get rid of the threat of tears, because she doesn't want to worry Ellie or have Joel or Tess ask what's wrong.
Except it's Saul, and as soon as she notices she just looks guilty, dropping her gaze to her knees.
[She's quiet for a moment, still not looking at him, but:]
I'll come down.
[Trying to get two people onto a small top bunk just isn't something she wants to deal with right now.
It takes her a moment longer to actually move, but then she's easily dropping down to the floor. She stays where she lands, instead of going over to him, even if it barely makes much of a difference with the size of the rooms.]
[As soon as her feet hit the ground, he pushes away from the door and wraps his arms around her. He has nothing else to say, he's realized; he said it all a few minutes ago.
[He ran here because he panicked. He thought this was it, for sure — leave it to honesty to be the thing that brings everything to a crashing halt. In the minute or two it took Saul spot the numbers 202, he'd convinced himself that he'd walk inside and she'd tell him to get out and that would be the end. He doesn't know why. It just made sense.
It still does, a little.
He rests his cheek against her hair, breathing softly.
There's an apology waiting right behind his lips, but he won't allow it out because it's not a real apology, anyway; it's just something to say to make her feel better.
Not that he thinks it would work.
Anyway, the truth is that he's not sorry for being honest.
But the sinking feeling in his gut tells him he might be, someday.
It should be fine, though, as long as he never tells her how much it hurts him, too, when she shows up covered in bruises, or how she drags his heart with her every time she drops from a window or a roof, or how he wants to go back in time and wring the neck of every son of a bitch who ever hurt her whenever she makes a joke about her past, or how he still doesn't understand how she can keep doing these things when she has someone who loves her.
As long as he keeps all that to himself, things should be fine.]
[She knows they probably have to talk about this; if nothing else, she should at least acknowledge what he said, even if she can't quite bring herself to believe it.
He's right about a few things. He's right that she doesn't believe him when he tells her she's amazing. He's right that she isn't sure whether he really loves her as much as he says he does. And she knows that isn't fair to him, when he's spent months telling her otherwise, but she can't quite ignore the thought that this is all just because she's young and pretty and that's enough to keep him interested. It's enough to make him think he's in love with her, but she's waiting for the moment he realizes that she's just some dumb kid, that he should stop wasting his time on her, that he should have stayed with Effie.
But if she tells him that's what she's scared of, it might be what makes him realize, and she doesn't want that. This is nice, she wants it to last a little longer.
But she has to say something; she owes him that.]
You're not responsible for me.
[It's not angry or annoyed, if anything, it sounds like she's trying to reassure him.]
If you can't-- If you don't know how to handle it, you don't have to.
[It. This. Her.
Why does it feel like she's giving him permission to leave her?]
[She really shouldn't have said that. He knows she didn't really mean it the way he processed it, but he can't help the way he suddenly pulls away from her and he can't keep the fear and hurt from his face.
Honesty, right? It sucks.]
I want to.
[It feels a lot like he has to. There's no alternative; he either deals with it, or he doesn't have her.
He's not sure which would hurt more, but he knows which option he prefers.]
[She tenses when he pulls back, but at least the worry about his reaction is enough to get her to look at him, and maybe that fear and hurt is reflected in her own expression, just a little.
She shakes her head, gaze dropping.]
You don't have to figure it out.
[Still that same reassuring tone, even if her voice is a bit tight.]
It's my shit to deal with, not yours. [a breath, shaky, trying to steady herself for what comes next, because it's hard to admit:] You don't have to fix me.
[That's not his job, and she's sure it isn't what he signed up for, when he first kissed her all those months ago.]
[There goes his heart again, dropping straight to the floor with her gaze.
He reaches for her arm. Pulls his hand away. Tries again, settles for lightly touching her fingers.
This is how love works, right? The shit she's dealing with is the shit he's dealing with, just like the shit he's dealing with — Jesse, Walter — is the shit she's dealing with. It's like the transitive property, or something.
He wants so badly to say that he isn't trying to fix her, but he guesses that really is what he's doing, on some level. Saul is a problem solver, though; it's what he does, it's why he's so good at his job, it's what rakes in the cash.
And that's what ultimately drew him to Effie in the first place: results. It was instantaneous, the improvement in her mood and demeanor whenever he was around. There wasn't really any backsliding until he left her. But with Steph, it's — it's a lot like dealing with Jesse. Things are okay, then they're not, then they are, then they're not.
And yet in spite of everything, he still loves her. She's offering him a way out and he won't take it, even though he's terrified.
If that's not love, he has no idea what is.]
I knew what I was getting into. You told me everything, Steph. Between the coffee shop and my room and all of it — I knew. But I kept chasing you anyway, didn't I?
[As soon as he touches her fingers, she'll take his hand, if he'll allow it, her grip gentle as much as she wants to cling to him.
And he's right again, really, since she told him so much so early on and it didn't seem to stop him from chasing her. He knew more than Tim did, probably more than Ellie did, because she always talked about the gang war vaguely, never quite wanting to go into detail.]
I think I do a pretty good job of seeming more together than I am.
[Like she can make a joke of it.
Like he didn't just tell her that he doesn't buy her jokes.]
[She wants to tell him that he doesn't need her, that he'd be fine without her, but she's not sure if it's true. More importantly, she's not sure if she wants it to be true, because she needs him, as well, and that feels a little better if it's even.]
Together.
[That wasn't a question, but she's answering it anyway.
She brings her other hand up to rest against his cheek.]
I'll be okay.
[I'll do better is what she means. She'll try to stop worrying him so much, try to actually believe everything he - and everyone else - tells her.]
He leans his cheek against her hand, eyes slipping closed for a moment. He doesn't know if he believes what he just said, but he's hoping. Desperately hoping.
Now that the dread has passed and he's sure she's not trying to talk him into leaving, he can kiss her again — so he does, opening his eyes just so that he can lean in and catch her lips.]
[But he doesn't mean them individually; he means them as a unit. As a couple. Or whatever it is they are.
The kiss lasts for a few seconds, but that's all. It's when his hand slides into her hair that he realizes where they are and thinks better of standing there and kissing her as much as he'd like. Too dangerous.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
controlledvariable) wrote2014-02-02 07:59 pm
oh no instant switch over to voice;
[Someone sure sounds hurt.]
I'm sorry. I couldn't — I don't want you to have that responsibility.
rude
He's lucky she even answered.]
Right.
[Gues who sounds skeptical?]
If you think I can't handle it, just say so.
♥
[It's a little bit that. Saul's quiet for a moment, too, mulling this over.
Might as well just be honest.]
I'm just worried that if something were to happen and you had that power, you'd blame yourself for not knowing. And I don't want you to have another reason to beat yourself up.
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[It's basically just what he said, he just framed it as being worried aout her.]
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What?
[She... thinks she knows what he means, but she wants to be sure.]
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[Most of the time, anyway.]
And I know you don't believe me when I tell you how amazing you are. I don't think you believe anyone else, either. Sometimes —
[He has to pause; his voice is getting a little tight.]
Sometimes I'm not even sure you believe that I love you as much as I do. Anyway, that's not really my point. I just — what I saw back there was an opportunity for you to take on more responsibility that shouldn't belong to you. I don't want anything to give you any more reason to feel the way you do, so I had to step in. Maybe the way I went about it wasn't the best, but... it was either that, or say all this in front of everyone. Because I know, Steph. I know that as soon as something goes wrong, you'll blame yourself. You do that already anyway, so...
[Another pause.]
But what I don't know is how to handle it when you do that.
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Any remaining anger is completely gone by the time he's finished talking, and she's just left with an ache in her chest, instead. It's not fair, that he can say things like that and leave her speechless.
She wants to tell him that he's wrong, wants to make a joke and brush it off, even getting her anger back and yelling at him would be easier than trying to work out a genuine response.
So she doesn't.]
Okay.
[Her voice is a little distant, like it's an automatic response.]
Sorry.
[Maybe she's apologizing for getting mad at him, or for being the way she is.
Or maybe she's apologizing for the fact she just hung up on him and shoved the tablet under her pillow, as if hiding it will make this all go away.]
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Saul stares at his screen for a solid minute, then pulls up the app that lets him know where Steph is and goes sprinting toward her room. He skids to a stop outside her door, takes a breath to steady himself before he tests the knob so he doesn't startle her, carefully pushes inside when it yields under his touch —
And pauses, because he doesn't know what to say or do except look up at her.]
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Except it's Saul, and as soon as she notices she just looks guilty, dropping her gaze to her knees.
She should've realized it would be him.]
Sorry.
[Again.]
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He leans back against the door and shoves his hands into his pockets so she can't see the way he's fidgeting.]
Can I come up?
[He's already expecting her to say no.]
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I'll come down.
[Trying to get two people onto a small top bunk just isn't something she wants to deal with right now.
It takes her a moment longer to actually move, but then she's easily dropping down to the floor. She stays where she lands, instead of going over to him, even if it barely makes much of a difference with the size of the rooms.]
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All he wants to do now is hold her.]
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So she winds her arms around his waist, hides her face in the crook of his neck, and will stay there for as long as he lets her.]
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It still does, a little.
He rests his cheek against her hair, breathing softly.
There's an apology waiting right behind his lips, but he won't allow it out because it's not a real apology, anyway; it's just something to say to make her feel better.
Not that he thinks it would work.
Anyway, the truth is that he's not sorry for being honest.
But the sinking feeling in his gut tells him he might be, someday.
It should be fine, though, as long as he never tells her how much it hurts him, too, when she shows up covered in bruises, or how she drags his heart with her every time she drops from a window or a roof, or how he wants to go back in time and wring the neck of every son of a bitch who ever hurt her whenever she makes a joke about her past, or how he still doesn't understand how she can keep doing these things when she has someone who loves her.
As long as he keeps all that to himself, things should be fine.]
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He's right about a few things. He's right that she doesn't believe him when he tells her she's amazing. He's right that she isn't sure whether he really loves her as much as he says he does. And she knows that isn't fair to him, when he's spent months telling her otherwise, but she can't quite ignore the thought that this is all just because she's young and pretty and that's enough to keep him interested. It's enough to make him think he's in love with her, but she's waiting for the moment he realizes that she's just some dumb kid, that he should stop wasting his time on her, that he should have stayed with Effie.
But if she tells him that's what she's scared of, it might be what makes him realize, and she doesn't want that. This is nice, she wants it to last a little longer.
But she has to say something; she owes him that.]
You're not responsible for me.
[It's not angry or annoyed, if anything, it sounds like she's trying to reassure him.]
If you can't-- If you don't know how to handle it, you don't have to.
[It. This. Her.
Why does it feel like she's giving him permission to leave her?]
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Honesty, right? It sucks.]
I want to.
[It feels a lot like he has to. There's no alternative; he either deals with it, or he doesn't have her.
He's not sure which would hurt more, but he knows which option he prefers.]
I'll figure it out. I just need more time.
[Not yet, Steph, please.]
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She shakes her head, gaze dropping.]
You don't have to figure it out.
[Still that same reassuring tone, even if her voice is a bit tight.]
It's my shit to deal with, not yours. [a breath, shaky, trying to steady herself for what comes next, because it's hard to admit:] You don't have to fix me.
[That's not his job, and she's sure it isn't what he signed up for, when he first kissed her all those months ago.]
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He reaches for her arm. Pulls his hand away. Tries again, settles for lightly touching her fingers.
This is how love works, right? The shit she's dealing with is the shit he's dealing with, just like the shit he's dealing with — Jesse, Walter — is the shit she's dealing with. It's like the transitive property, or something.
He wants so badly to say that he isn't trying to fix her, but he guesses that really is what he's doing, on some level. Saul is a problem solver, though; it's what he does, it's why he's so good at his job, it's what rakes in the cash.
And that's what ultimately drew him to Effie in the first place: results. It was instantaneous, the improvement in her mood and demeanor whenever he was around. There wasn't really any backsliding until he left her. But with Steph, it's — it's a lot like dealing with Jesse. Things are okay, then they're not, then they are, then they're not.
And yet in spite of everything, he still loves her. She's offering him a way out and he won't take it, even though he's terrified.
If that's not love, he has no idea what is.]
I knew what I was getting into. You told me everything, Steph. Between the coffee shop and my room and all of it — I knew. But I kept chasing you anyway, didn't I?
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And he's right again, really, since she told him so much so early on and it didn't seem to stop him from chasing her. He knew more than Tim did, probably more than Ellie did, because she always talked about the gang war vaguely, never quite wanting to go into detail.]
I think I do a pretty good job of seeming more together than I am.
[Like she can make a joke of it.
Like he didn't just tell her that he doesn't buy her jokes.]
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I think we all do.
[God knows he's guilty of the same thing. She's just better at it.
Saul draws a shaky breath and hopes she won't notice.]
You're still the only one I trust.
[He's thinking of Ella's party again.]
Together or otherwise, I need you.
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Together.
[That wasn't a question, but she's answering it anyway.
She brings her other hand up to rest against his cheek.]
I'll be okay.
[I'll do better is what she means. She'll try to stop worrying him so much, try to actually believe everything he - and everyone else - tells her.]
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[Since they're on the topic of togetherness.
He leans his cheek against her hand, eyes slipping closed for a moment. He doesn't know if he believes what he just said, but he's hoping. Desperately hoping.
Now that the dread has passed and he's sure she's not trying to talk him into leaving, he can kiss her again — so he does, opening his eyes just so that he can lean in and catch her lips.]
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[It's quiet, but she sounds like she means it.
She knows he will be, because that's what he does. She's less sure about herself, but she'll try.
And she sighs against the kiss, leaving her hand on his cheek and letting go of his hand so she can wind the other around his waist, stepping closer.]
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The kiss lasts for a few seconds, but that's all. It's when his hand slides into her hair that he realizes where they are and thinks better of standing there and kissing her as much as he'd like. Too dangerous.
At least it gives him the opportunity to say:]
I love you.
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