[ old habits die hard. fighting with poe is as easy as breathing — much easier than admitting to vulnerabilities, than having to confess the scary truths that dig deep under her ribs. it's so much simpler to snap and bite and hit where it hurts, taking solace in the comfort that she knows poe will never leave her if she does, that he's a safe outlet for all that pain.
but it isn't fair to him to be that outlet, she knows that, and she tries. some days she manages better than others. today, she lost herself a little bit, and now she bears the weight of that guilt like a hot stone lodged in her throat, one that propels her through the course to catch him as he steps into view, moving so fast that she's practically flying until she careens straight into him, hands lifting on instinct alone to fist the lapels of his jacket in a tight hold. ]
I'm sorry, [ blurted out before he can so much as get a word in edgewise, ] I'm sorry, I'm — I was worried, and selfish, and I'm sorry — [ she can barely catch her own breath, but spilling the words out before he can interrupt her seems more pressing than oxygen. ] I just worry you don't need me anymore.
[ which carries with it an equally terrifying thought: i worry you don't want me anymore. ]
no subject
but it isn't fair to him to be that outlet, she knows that, and she tries. some days she manages better than others. today, she lost herself a little bit, and now she bears the weight of that guilt like a hot stone lodged in her throat, one that propels her through the course to catch him as he steps into view, moving so fast that she's practically flying until she careens straight into him, hands lifting on instinct alone to fist the lapels of his jacket in a tight hold. ]
I'm sorry, [ blurted out before he can so much as get a word in edgewise, ] I'm sorry, I'm — I was worried, and selfish, and I'm sorry — [ she can barely catch her own breath, but spilling the words out before he can interrupt her seems more pressing than oxygen. ] I just worry you don't need me anymore.
[ which carries with it an equally terrifying thought: i worry you don't want me anymore. ]