i showed him all my teeth & then i laughed out loud,
because i never wanted saving, i just wanted to be found
because i never wanted saving, i just wanted to be found
He turns to her, and she recognizes the change in him almost immediately.
The anger that simmers just beneath the surface is such a stark contrast to the man she had known prior that if she were a more timid creature she might have withdrawn. Being how she is, she merely gives an almost imperceptible tilt of her head. She wonders if the change is because of her—and then wonders if it is conceited of her to think such a thing. She is not (as she has learned) the only thing in his life, and it has been so long since they last spoke that she has no idea what kind of things have transpired that could have led to this transformation.
She could not fault him if it is, because surely she deserves it. She has relived their last moments together over and over, and even though each time that flame of jealousy reignites at the thought of him with someone else, the regret that follows is stronger each time. She knows that she should not have left, or at the very least, she should have returned quicker, before the wounds caused had festered into this poison.
Guilt is still such a strange thing to feel, even stranger than want and love, and she wonders if the echo of it will live in her chest forever even if she did manage to find his forgiveness.
Just moments before she had been wondering what she would apologize for, but now, standing before him and recognizing that frigid stare that she so often wore herself staring back at her, she now knows. She knows that she had damaged what had existed between them, that whatever thread had been weaving itself had snapped when she turned her back. “I’m sorry that I left,” she tells him, her ocean-blue eyes fixed steadfast to his, as if she could stare hard enough to make him understand, to make him accept her apology.
It’s only in this moment that it occurs to her that he could very well reject her, that perhaps the divide that has grown between them cannot be mended.
Her jaw tightens against the strange ache in her throat, and she swallows down the burning sensation and does not let that level of emotion reach her eyes. But the sincerity is still there, in the soft lines of her face, and in eyes that still do not leave his even though she is uncertain what she will find. “And I’m sorry that I did not give you a chance to explain anything.”
The anger that simmers just beneath the surface is such a stark contrast to the man she had known prior that if she were a more timid creature she might have withdrawn. Being how she is, she merely gives an almost imperceptible tilt of her head. She wonders if the change is because of her—and then wonders if it is conceited of her to think such a thing. She is not (as she has learned) the only thing in his life, and it has been so long since they last spoke that she has no idea what kind of things have transpired that could have led to this transformation.
She could not fault him if it is, because surely she deserves it. She has relived their last moments together over and over, and even though each time that flame of jealousy reignites at the thought of him with someone else, the regret that follows is stronger each time. She knows that she should not have left, or at the very least, she should have returned quicker, before the wounds caused had festered into this poison.
Guilt is still such a strange thing to feel, even stranger than want and love, and she wonders if the echo of it will live in her chest forever even if she did manage to find his forgiveness.
Just moments before she had been wondering what she would apologize for, but now, standing before him and recognizing that frigid stare that she so often wore herself staring back at her, she now knows. She knows that she had damaged what had existed between them, that whatever thread had been weaving itself had snapped when she turned her back. “I’m sorry that I left,” she tells him, her ocean-blue eyes fixed steadfast to his, as if she could stare hard enough to make him understand, to make him accept her apology.
It’s only in this moment that it occurs to her that he could very well reject her, that perhaps the divide that has grown between them cannot be mended.
Her jaw tightens against the strange ache in her throat, and she swallows down the burning sensation and does not let that level of emotion reach her eyes. But the sincerity is still there, in the soft lines of her face, and in eyes that still do not leave his even though she is uncertain what she will find. “And I’m sorry that I did not give you a chance to explain anything.”
A D R I A N A
@assailant