goneawayworld | From Dust to Dust

He has definitely noticed her stiffening with tension whenever he's nearby. He gives her a light pat on the shoulder, then tugs at the end of the tail of her hair.

"I can fix that up," he says. "And maybe we should talk. A little. I know it's not the best time...but, maybe we should."

Somehow she manages to get tenser, both at the touch and at the words. No, it's not the best time, but she's not been able to help thinking about it since he put the idea in her head before. The idea of waiting, especially when he keeps being so... so... him, threatens to drive her insane.

Maybe it's better to bite the bullet. Maybe if she has a mental fucking breakdown again she won't have to go to this stupid party at all.

"...yeah. Okay. Sure. Do my stupid hair then— then maybe we can talk in one of the cubicles."

Not that the idea of him standing there doing her hair like when they were kids without knowing where this is going is ideal, either, but who the fuck else is she going to ask to do it?

He waits through her deliberations, and once she's decided, he nods at her in the mirror, then begins gathering her hair into a low tail, intending to twist it into a French twist afterwards. He keeps his touch firm but gentle, not meaning to pull her hair or tighten it too much as he gathers it.

Once it's twisted up he nods at the bobby pins on the dressing table in front of her. "Can you hand me some of those? One at a time."

She swallows a heavy lump in her throat and almost nods, but doesn't, since he's messing with her hair and all. So, without a nod and without a word, she hands him back bobby pins one at a time like he asks her to.

The memory of this is going to sting if the coming conversation goes the way she expects it to.

Anja rests her head on South's other hand as this all happens. She'd wrap herself around South's arm or shoulders, but she'd only get in the way.

Eventually it's pinned up enough that it looks like it's not going anywhere. He reaches across her shoulder to grab the gel that's sitting on the dressing table and squirts a small glop of it into his hand. He rubs his hands together and swipes it along the places where hair is trying to come loose—at the temples and above the ears.

"Good?"

She stays nice and still for him as he pins it up and doesn't even flinch like she feels like she wants to when he uses the gel. Inhaling and exhaling, she nods, tilting her head slightly to get a proper look in the mirror. It feels secure, and it looks better than anything she'd ever have pulled off on her own.

"Yeah. Yeah, that... that looks good. Uh— thank you, for the help," she says, flicking her eyes up to meet his in the mirror for the first time. "Let's uh— grab one of the cubicles next to one that isn't occupied, then?"

Rip off the bandaid. No point dancing around and delaying.

"Of course," he says in response to her thanking him. At the latter suggestion, he nods, then leads the way. There's a cubicle empty just nearby, and he lets her come in and close the door. Then he turns, standing to the back of the cubicle.

"I* can tell you're worried about what I'm going to say," he says. "You've been really tense anytime you're near me."

She makes sure to let Anja wrap herself around her arm and drape over her shoulders when she gets up. Like hell she's going through this conversation with a part of her sitting outside. But Anja stays quiet and unobtrusive, not even looking at North; she's focused on her person.

South folds her arms loosely, and turns her eyes to the wall. "'Course I'm fuckin' worried. This is a big fuckin' deal. I told you I'd give you the space to think and I did, but waiting's... it's not been easy, s'all."

Frank honesty. The kind of vulnerability she would never have admitted a few short months ago.

[ Randi had been waddling alongside North until they got in the room, simply keeping quiet and watching, though she went into the room ahead of him. Now that he's turned, she's standing slightly behind him, and she peeks out from behind him.

When South speaks, he has to force himself not to frown. Yes, she had a right to be worried. Just like he had had a right to be upset. A right he had tried to deny to himself until he'd managed to process all of this. ]

Okay, that's fair.

[ He glances down at Randi, and she gives a small nod of encouragement. He nods back and then looks at South. ]

I'm not...there, yet. I'm getting there, though. Before, I'd said I'd forgiven you because I felt I should, but now I'm working on forgiving you for the fact that you're truly sorry. But I'm...

[ He shrugs, tight and uncomfortable. ]

I still love you. You're my sister and that's never gone away. But I'm not...entirely, ready to let go of what happened.

[ The way she holds herself as she listens to him is like she's bracing herself for something, because she is; she's bracing herself for the worst, for the outcome she expects. She's bracing herself for him to tell her he's finally done putting up with her bullshit, that he finally recognises her as the problem she is and he's cutting her off for real, this time.

But then he doesn't say that. No, he says he's still working through it but that he still loves her and the noise that hearing that startles out of her is a choked, weird sound. Her eyes snap back to him and there's genuine surprise in them.

She really thought... ]

You—

[ She clears her throat. Squeezes her eyes shut for a second, breathes, and opens them again. ]

Okay. That's... that's fine. I don't... fuck, Andrew, I don't expect you to forgive me at all. I don't...

[ She groans at herself, drags a hand over her face. Struggling to articulate her feelings the way she so often does. ]

[ He replies in a quiet tone. ]

You don't what? You don't think you deserve it?

I know I don't! Fuck, Drew, I know what I did isn't something forgivable, s'why I'm so fucking pissed at myself for not realising sooner what was happening.

[ She wants to pace, but there's no space for that; she wants to hit something to let out the restless enegry, but she's not supposed to be doing that either. ]

I don't... I don't care if you forgive me or not. I don't... look, if you still love me—the real me, right here and now, not... not some version of me in your head—and you decide it's worth trying to figure out how to fix how fucked up we've ended up, despite everything?

[ She looks him in the face again. ]

I don't need you to forgive me. I just need you not to lie about it. Because fuck, when you lie to me like that it makes me doubt everything else you've said to me.

[ He's quick to respond to that. ]

I'm not lying. And I won't. Not anymore.

[ He shifts, glancing at Randi. ]

I don't know how we fix things. I think we can, but...I just...

[ He lets out a breath. ]

...don't think I can associate with you at all unless I can find it within myself to forgive you. That's all. For me, that's the first step.

[ She flinches, and immediately feels selfish for it. This is the kind of progress towards actually dealing with his shit she wants him to be making. That he can declare that to her face is big, after he couldn't even say the words 'I don't forgive you' before.

It's exactly what she wants for him but it still makes something in her hurt terribly. Whatever measure of relief hearing him say he still loves her gave her withers, and him saying he thinks they could fix things doesn't help.

If he has to forgive her first... ]

O-Okay.

[ Her voice cracks, but she clears her throat again. Tears her eyes away from his face to stare at the wall again. Anja curls tighter and tighter around her shoulders. ]

If that's what you need, that's what you need.

Edited (typo) 2021-07-29 01:35 (UTC)

[ He feels bad at her reaction, but it really can't be helped at this point. ]

It is, yeah.

[ Randi comes forward a step and North puts his hand on her head. ]

I need to finish getting ready.

[ South nods, and it’s a stiff, jerky, uncomfortable thing. She moves aside as much as she can to let him slip past her to get out the door, because she can tell already she’s going to need the relative privacy. ]

...one— one thing. I’ll keep giving you space but if that’s what you need, then— then stick to it, please. Don’t... don’t do things like checking up on me or— or offering to do my fucking hair, okay? If you can’t associate with me til you’re ready, don’t. It’s not fair.

You can ask York how I am if you need to.

[ He gives a nod, his head tilted slightly. He knows he should have considered that before, but he needed to figure out an opening. And she had needed her hair fixed. But it did make things seem different from how it turned out to be, perhaps. ]

Okay. I'll do that.

T-Thank you.

[ They needed to have this talk, but if he kept doing things like that... it’d kill her inside, she knows it. There’s only so much false hope she can take.

She jerks her head toward the door and doesn’t look at him. ]

Go on. Go get ready.

[ She can already feel the stinging in her eyes and she can’t let him see. He needs to stick to what he’s said, it’s progress even if it hurts. ]

[ Randi leads the way and he proceeds to exit the room, letting the door click behind him. He's internally a little off-balance, now, but that's at least partially his own fault. ]

[ The door clicks shut and South lets out a shuddering breath, moving to the back of the cubicle to brace herself with her back to the wall and just try to breathe.

Trying to be better really fucking sucks sometimes. ]

From Dust to Dust - Plot Point 2

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