He still labours under the illusion that he somehow keeps the worst of himself from her. The drunkenness. The bitterness. For the few times he's laid it at her feet he's spent more nights alone with it and that seems like a reasonable ratio. He can, if he tries, pretend she can still think he's fine.
"Oh. Right," likewise he keeps the frown to himself and the bedsheets, all too easily accepting. "Of course."
The best he can hope for-- and so far, he's succeeded, mostly-- is to keep her from realizing how bad it is. But fine, that he can't fake.
She's looking down, gaze a little unfocused.
"I can..." She hesitates. The truth is it's not such a bad prospect; the one luxury of crashing at the hospital is it's always full of people, day and night.
And she's afraid, in that apartment on her own. He knows that, now (and with the sugar of the candy heart still clinging to his teeth it felt like something he'd always knows) but how to change things for the better, for her?
He's not the one good at telling what's best for someone.
(He can't be what's best for her).
He'll show up, when he can. If it takes alcohol as an excuse well, maybe in a way that's to make the both of them more comfortable. But for now, he can pretend he wants her to stay here for her sake, and know it's for his.
"I won't be going anywhere," and that's oddly hopeful.
For once in his life it's the right answer; indirect but affirming. Whether she can accommodate it is a different question. Stopping by after grabbing dinner, at least, she can manage. Staying over-- giving up the luxury of a little time alone, and it is a luxury here-- might be too much to ask.
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☞ but we're always in repair
"Oh. Right," likewise he keeps the frown to himself and the bedsheets, all too easily accepting. "Of course."
☞ but we're always in repair
She's looking down, gaze a little unfocused.
"I can..." She hesitates. The truth is it's not such a bad prospect; the one luxury of crashing at the hospital is it's always full of people, day and night.
"I could come back, and check in later on."
☞ but we're always in repair
He's not the one good at telling what's best for someone.
(He can't be what's best for her).
He'll show up, when he can. If it takes alcohol as an excuse well, maybe in a way that's to make the both of them more comfortable. But for now, he can pretend he wants her to stay here for her sake, and know it's for his.
"I won't be going anywhere," and that's oddly hopeful.
☞ but we're always in repair
For once in his life it's the right answer; indirect but affirming. Whether she can accommodate it is a different question. Stopping by after grabbing dinner, at least, she can manage. Staying over-- giving up the luxury of a little time alone, and it is a luxury here-- might be too much to ask.
"I'll be back."
At least for a little while.