|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Jun 10, 2014 5:32 pm
Part of her wanted to say no, it was fine, the stack of literature was nothing compared to the small little box burning a hole in her pocket, that she could do it herself. And then Stormy realized she absolutely couldn't. It wasn't the books or the journals or the smokes, it was the terrible knowledge coming back again that kindness did not always beget it in turn, the waters inside her churning and frothing, the sorrow threatening to take full control again. She wanted to run away again, but rather than to be alone, she wanted to run towards him, half to deliver the remnants, half so that they both could escape the rest.
So she nodded at Gale's offer and shuffled off some of the pile, the books ranging from poetry to Potter to The Princess and the Frog, to him. "Thank you," she said quietly as she linked their arms and straightened her own pile, ready to go.
With something to look forward to, Stormy's pace didn't drag. Her slippers caught on something every once in a while, but she never lost her balance either. She remained close and steady, if weary-looking. Did her stomach growl? She didn't know if she hallucinated the noise or not (she hadn't), but she hadn't been eating well at all. . .
Sleep. Sleep would help make it go away. She promised herself she'd eat better tomorrow.
Waiting patiently until Gale got the door, she slipped her arm out and slid past the door, her Eeyore slippers making soft scuffing noises where normally she would have kept silent. Stormy made her way upstairs carefully, tucking her feet in hopes of avoiding tripping. Almost automatically she turned towards the guest room, then had to consciously face the opposite direction to get to Gale's room. Her normal moment of hesitation didn't happen; once inside, she set the books down and fell onto his bed stomach first, inhaling the smell of the sheets in deep, slow breaths as her eyes closed.
It wasn't hers and therefore safe. The only reminders there were from almost a year ago, when they had exchanged questions in a little game to get to know each other better while she recovered from the flu, all shortly after she had agreed to date him. A year ago almost. Still alive, still together somehow, neither of which Stormy had expected for herself.
She continued breathing in and out, focusing on the sound of her heartbeat.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 10, 2014 10:08 pm
He took the offered books without a word, Gale stacking them neatly in his arms and readjusting his grasp on them before he felt Stormy's arm slide through his as she linked them together. The warmth felt strange this time; less natural somehow, but it was still there, still achingly familiar, and it brought back a few more shreds of hope.
Maybe - maybe - all was not lost yet.
They spent the walk back to his house in silence, slightly stiff, but not entirely unpleasant. Gale slid his arm free of Stormy's only when they were right at the front of the little yellow house, and he stepped up the stairs, rummaging in his pockets until he found his key. He unlocked it, pushed the door open, and stepped inside, Stormy already moving past him. She looked strangely vulnerable in her slippers, but Gale said nothing about them, instead dropping his keys onto the table in the tiny kitchen first before he followed Stormy up the stairs.
She almost went in the guest room; Gale gave a small, inaudible intake of breath that was eased out the moment she turned back around and made her way to the opposite end of the hallway. Gale stepped in after her, moving to set the books down on the chair by the window.
When he turned around, Stormy was already on the bed, though haphazardly so, sprawled on her stomach. The books she had carried were on the floor by the bed, and Gale quietly picked them up and set them with the others he had brought in. He pushed off his shoes and then climbed into the bed beside her, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands together in his lap.
"Did you want to take a nap?" he asked her gently, absently smoothing his thumb over Jinhai's ring.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 10, 2014 11:22 pm
She muttered something into the bed as a response, almost appearing as though she would indeed fall asleep: the more she breathed in something other than her room, the more relaxed she appeared. But then he shifted the balance of the bed and sat next to her, close and not touching, and she could feel the subtle aura of heat coming off of him like a lamp, and she like a moth could not resist any longer.
Listless yet stubborn, Stormy inched herself until they were touching, toed her slippers off and brought her legs up so that they braced against one of his crossed ones, her socked feet at rest and almost seeming to want to curve into the X of his legs. Every inch of skin was a welcome distraction, a reintroduction to the craving for touch she had suppressed for so long, and yet it still wasn't enough, had to change, had to be something else to fill the need. With soft sounds from sliding against the sheets, Stormy pulled herself back into an upright position, adjusting her hat back down as an after thought (a glimpse earlier had been enough, she couldn't handle more shame), and twisted her body a little so that her arms could loop just under his arms--the gesture more childish than anything else--and bring herself from inches of space to none at all with sluggish, needy movements.
In her head they would have meshed together and aligned into a spiral that gently curved, knowing down to the atom what the other was so that she could immerse herself somewhere else, in someone else, suspended in a wonderful unity. She almost had it here, in his room on his bed, and if she had had the energy she would have rolled in it, eliminated herself and blended right in the air, the smell, the aura, the lingering memories, everything, until there was no Stormy.
But that was all in her head and impossible to attain: this was close enough.
Her head was braced between her shoulder and his, tilted awkwardly but without complaint. She wished she had hair to hide behind; the curtain had been something so mundane but crucial to her. Here she felt almost naked."I want to forget."Stormy sniffled and realized she had started crying in the middle of her thoughts, and she rubbed her face against her arm uselessly."Just for a little bit, I-I wanna forget I exist."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 11, 2014 11:07 am
He was lost in thoughts of memories past, concentrating on things he would do to improve the situation, if it were even possible; and Gale did not notice Stormy shifting closer until he felt her legs against his own. It made him jump a little, slightly startled, but then he relaxed into the pillows, his expression softening. His cheeks were slightly red at the nearness (how long had it been since he had even hugged her, let alone been this close?), his heart hammering in his chest, and he felt strangely nervous somehow.
In an embarrassing sort of panic he wondered if he'd forgotten how to be close to her, then remembered that that was a stupid thought, and took a deep breath. Her arms slid around his waist, beneath his arms; and the warmth that he had missed from her came back tenfold.
Gale wrapped his arms around her shoulders, lightly and hesitantly, as though half expecting her to pull away at any moment; but then he heard a sniff, and a tiny voice, and his heart throbbed with the desire to just erase all of her pain and replace it with nothing but warm sunshine and happiness.
It was too bad he couldn't do that.
Gale lifted one of his hands, pressed it tenderly against the side of Stormy's face. He brushed his thumb beneath one of her eyes and wiped away the smear of tears that had started to run down her cheeks. He slanted his head, a somewhat awkward angle, but pressed a kiss to her forehead anyway before drawing back, curling his arms around her.
He felt terribly inadequate.
"Okay," he said softly. "Okay."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 11, 2014 11:51 am
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Tears kept flowing in spite of his attempts to wipe them off, but in a strange way she welcomed them: maybe it meant he would keep touching her, even if it hurt to see her like this. It was being selfish by commanding attention without the guilt of doing so on purpose, pitiful, pitiful as it was, and she no longer cared how wretched it made her look. She couldn't ever stop crying anyway, not then, not now.
"Please don't get mad," she whispered thickly, having access to thoughts yet unvoiced to Gale. "P-Please."
Her grip tightened as she shivered, goosebumps crawling up her arms and legs like bugs. Here, they didn't bite and dig as before, but the phantoms remained, joined by others: hands and foul breath and shadows that invaded what should have been private, what had been violated--
(But you don't exist right now, remember?)
It was as if his warmth was casting a light on all of that again, and she squeezed her eyes closed and tucked her face into his shoulder and breathed in as deeply as she had over the sheets, taking in more than just memories: living, concrete evidence. She wondered if this was what Gale meant when he said he needed to know things, to not just have it be cerebral but in physical form.
She turned her head a little, vaguely aware she was wetting his shirt rather quickly. "You're Gale Arthur Gentry," she said softly. "18 and in the Death Division. Nephew to Lance Dacosta. Two days ago she said your birthday was December 12th, but that's wrong, i-it's December 6th. 12-6. It should have been easy, she said so, 12-6, but she forgot it anyway, and she forgot you had a sister, a-and she's probably forgotten a lot more." She sniffled, a muscle in her neck tensing briefly.
"What are the color of your eyes?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 11, 2014 10:28 pm
The fear that he'd been holding onto, the panic, the bitter sadness, the frustration; all of it seemed to ebb away the moment Stormy curled herself closer to him, the moment she stopped shutting down and let him in, even if it was just a small amount. Maybe it was just a tiny thing; maybe this would be a one time occassion (it certainly did not mean that everything was suddenly fine, since he knew it wouldn't be, not for a while); but at the very least it was something.
He felt her shiver and Gale's arms tightened around her, his expression a mixture of pain and worry and affection. He rubbed slowly, gently at her back, his thumb smoothing over her thin shoulder (she felt so small in his arms; had she always been this small?), his head tilted against the pillows, inclined towards her.
"I'm not angry," he said quickly. "Stormy, I'm not angry."
At least, not at her. Jack and the faux Leslie were another story entirely, a terrible, burning fury still welled in the pit of Gale's stomach; but now was neither the time nor the place to think about that. He was not going to focus on the person he hated the most, but on the person he loved the most.
His shirt was a little damp; she was still crying, but it didn't bother him, Gale making a soft sound in the back of his throat that smoothed away when she spoke, relaying facts that he already knew, yet that Stormy needed to verify, needed to remember, to focus on facts and something other than herself.
It took him a moment to realize that the "she" that Stormy was referring to was herself.
"Some tell me gold when the light hits them right," said Gale quietly, his hand now smoothing lightly up and down Stormy's arm, trying to add more warmth to her frail body. "But they're amber, really; sometimes when it's bright they can seem a little more golden."
He smiled a little. "To match my hair," he said, tugging at a strand of his multicolored locks. "Or at least, to match when I was still blonde."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jun 12, 2014 1:18 am
"Amber," she echoed in a distant, dreamy voice, her voice still thick. "Amber . . . I almost thought they were contacts all this time. Amber eyes a-are hard to find. Like real jewels." Her eyes fell closed as Gale ran his hands along her arm, and never was it more obvious than now that she had been underfeeding herself: she wasn't the soft presence with a surprisingly steely grip she usually was, but something leaner.
She tucked her legs closer, almost under his, and wondered why she didn't allow for more skin to skin contact on a normal basis rather than hide behind layers. Then she remembered and curled even closer, almost beginning to squeeze him. For a while she didn't say anything, her face tucked again into a new but slowly dampening spot on his shirt, occasionally sniffling and shuddering on a quiet sob. She didn't even know what she was crying over anymore, only that there seemed plenty of reason to and that being touched just seemed to incite it.
As long as it didn't turn into the scene yesterday in the music room.
"You're mad," she insisted quietly, her tone level but her expression strained. "I know you, you're mad at them. She should should be too, but she doesn't feel it right now. Maybe that's best. Anger just makes more anger. Violence breeds violence. She's gonna move out anyway, it--it doesn't matter what they do to it now . . ." But what was supposed to be calm reasoning in her head sounded suspiciously like making excuses in the real world. It did matter; but maybe telling herself to move on long enough would help.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 7:20 am
"Not contacts," said Gale with a soft smile. "I get that a lot, though. It's a color that runs in my family; my sister had the same colored eyes, and my dad did as well. I think it has something to do with a strain of genetics or some such thing, but science confuses me when it gets down to DNA and all that."
Gale shifted a little, lifting his legs and then settling them down, very gently overtop of Stormy's; her knees were tucked beneath his own, though the rest of her was bent too far away, not that he felt the need to pull her closer (even if he wanted to). Regardless of how he himself felt, he wanted to make sure that it was Stormy who made the first move; Stormy, who was in charge and acted how she wanted without Gale deciding for her.
She had curled herself practically nto a ball beside him, and Gale squeezed her tightly, one hand lifting to rest against the side of her tear dampened face. He brushed his thumb over her cheek again and then went back to his arms around her shoulders, his head tucked into the pillows, leaning towards her.
A soft sigh escaped his lips.
"I'm mad," he admitted. "But not at you. I'm mad at..." He didn't even want to say their names. "I don't like anyone treating you that way, because I'm a somewhat over protective boyfriend," he added, with a small smile, his voice lightly teasing. "I want to make sure that you're taken care of, and he makes it really hard sometimes not to want to punch his lights out."
Gale squeezed her shoulder. "I'll try to let it go, okay? I'll let it go. You can move and live on your own and have your own space, and I'll help."
There was a short pause, and then, softly. "You know, you could always live here if you wanted too, right? My house is always open to you."
He didn't expect her to accept; sometimes Stormy just needed space and time to herself, but at the very least he wanted her to know that she had the option; that if she wanted, he would be more than willing to make sure that she was near to him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 11:36 am
She tucked her chin in half a nod. "I know. Thank you." Yet she still looked strained. "B-But I need something for myself. I need something to say I earned this, even though I didn't. I need a room no-one can touch ever again, not without permission," she whispered. "I need my mind back, Galestorm. But you..." She appeared as if she might say more, but the question died behind her lips. Maybe it would be overstepping boundaries. She took a great sniffle instead, shaking her head slightly to say nevermind.
She was grateful Gale would try to let it go at least. But then again, he wasn't Evan who was like a repressed, collared guard dog at her heels, taking away her cigarettes and replacing it with alcohol, thinking it satisfactory to hear her scream her anger when she wanted to be left alone. Nor was he Lex, who passed on gifts and tried to make her talk it out like it was another psychiatric appointment (one she had rebuffed so well that he probably didn't want to see her for a while). In fact, she doubt either of them would. Add them to Tuck and Candace and Roland, people she knew were still around but not close, who probably wouldn't recognize her anymore. One step closer to Nevada, who wasn't just not around but dead, gone, still hating her even. Everyone would leave eventually.
It was only selfishness that had let her act at all yesterday, when it looked as though Gale might leave too. Selfishness and utter panic.
Her eyes continued to water (though at least the tears had slowed down momentarily) as if her insides were an endless supply for a faucet, and she wished she had more impetus to act, to keep his hands moving not just over her shoulders and arms and face but everywhere else as well while she did the same in turn, until nothing else mattered like they always managed to achieve, until the world was just a map of familiar flesh and bright eyes and warm arms and pure emotion and distraction and nothing else hurt. In fact, maybe she could. She wasn't Stormy right now, she didn't have to be the one who had thoughts and only thoughts and have a Catholic's guilt about them. Maybe the misery could be drowned out with something else for a while-- at least until Gale stopped her. She counted on it.
Having said nothing for a while now, she hummed tone lesson to show she was still there and peeled a hand away from his torso, wiping at her eyes. Then she scooted closer until their foreheads touched, their noses brushed. She mimicked him and placed a hand gently on his cheek, stroking with her thumb.
"Forget about him," she said softly. "Forget about everything else with me." Her eyes fell closed as she went in for a kiss tinged with more than a little desperation.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 11:46 am
He was not disappointed when she said she wouldn't move in with him; a tiny part of him had hoped that she would, but he knew, instinctively, that she wanted to live on her own for the same reason that Gale had wanted to get a house of his own - some place of her own, some place that could be a shelter away from everything else. Some place that was just hers and nobody else's.
Even though Stormy had stayed over on several occasions in the guest bedroom, the house was still his; and he couldn't blame her for that.
For a while they said nothing at all, Gale absently smoothing his hand up and down her back. He could hear her humming and it was somehow soothing; just a simple note, like a bird, and after a moment she sat up, her face red, her cheeks still wet with tears. Gale looked up at her questioningly, but then she had leaned close, her forehead against his in that special space that they shared, like the rest of the world had fallen away and it was just the two of them. Her hand felt terribly small and thin against his face, but he lifted his own and put it on top of hers, holding it in place because this was the closest they had been in so long and he had missed this, missed the quiet affection, the gentle brush of her fingers over his cheek.
Forget the anger. Forget Jack and the fake Leslie.
Let it go.
Her lips pressed against his and Gale let a little hum of surprise in the back of his throat, his eyes flickering before they shut. He cupped Stormy's face in his hands and returned the kiss with a firm one of his own, his arms moving from her face to slide around her waist, pull her closer. Gale drew away from the kiss for a brief moment to kiss her cheek and then her nose, nuzzling his face against hers.
"I missed you," he said softly before kissing her again gently, slowly, a stark contrast to the one edged with desperation a moment before.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 12:41 pm
"I still miss me," she mumbled somewhere amidst the disparate, colliding thoughts, the searching lips, feeding off his strength to fuel her own. She felt safe in his arms, but more importantly she felt wanted, and that was all that really mattered right now. Even the short pause was enough for her to want to yank him back him before something widened the gap, the peppered kisses barely tiding her over.
She'd forgotten how addictive this was; that was the true loss of all the things she had let slip past in her mind.
He was gentle upon return, but that wasn't enough--the hands at her waist, their legs touching, soft and slow, none of it. They were mere beginnings. She knew Gale had some ounce of force in him at least, she had felt it personally in the kitchen on Christmas Eve, and she wondered how she might incite it again. Her hand slid from his cheek and into his hair to grip, pulling him in as she deepened the kiss. And if it wasn't obvious yet that she had more in mind than a few simple reunion kisses, her other hand, the one still at his torso, had begun to slide upwards, snaking under his shirt, fingers gliding up his back.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 7:34 pm
He knew what she meant, and it made him sad; she was not the same Stormy as she'd been before, and whether or not she would ever be remained to be seen. It did not mean, however, that he loved her any less, or that he could leave her, because even trying to do that in the dilapidated school had proved to be terrifying and devastating.
He didn't want to ever leave her again.
Gale's eyes widened in surprise as she pulled him back, but the surprise was quickly muted by a warmth that spread across his face and flooded throughout him, replacing the surprise with eagerness and interest. His arms tightened around her, Gale leaning into the offered kiss with more pressure now, more strength, more insistence.
Don't leave me. Stay with me.
He felt small, warm fingers touch his back and his eyes flew open, a muffled sound escaping past his lips. Gale drew back just enough to look at her, his gaze searching hers, his face flushed. Gently his knuckles traced down the side of her cheek; a tender, adoring gesture before his hand fell away and his hands curled in the back of her shirt. Gale pulled Stormy back to him, into his lap, and his lips met hers again cautiously, curiously.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 8:37 pm
In the few moments their eyes locked, several things could be seen aside from her own nlushing: muted sorrow, never quite leaving her person these days even when an hour ago she had been laughing and doodling silly pictures; caution, her own personal speedbump even though she was initiating it, still not knowing where exactly it was going or how far but unable to stop; something passionate, something not quite love and not quite lust but somewhere in between, some odd third option that could let her go through the motions despite the lack of buildup; and a sliver of clarity, proof that somewhere in there she was aware of what she was doing, that it wasn't completely just a need to escape driving her.
It was almost worth it to see that familiar red tinge across his face. It was definitely worth it when Gale started to return the favor, and a small note of satisfaction left her, her fingers stroking his back absently. She practically sighed through her nose even when his knuckles brushed her cheek, not having realized how starved for actual touch she was.
At the back of her head she knew it was wrong, not because in and of itself it was but because it wasn't happening from a place of love. These were hollow gestures without the emotion--but longing could be just as good, couldn't it? The longing to fill the space she had carved inside in her idiocy? Her judgment was questionable these days, but a moment's distraction couldn't possibly be harmful if they both wanted it. And he did, didn't he? He had yet to voice concerns or otherwise seem unwilling, had in fact transferred her to his lap so that they both could be more comfortable. But he was starting to back off again, and she didn't know what to think except to act quickly.
Both hands slipped from their current perches in order to hold Gale's face between them, not at all firm but insistent. She took a moment to get her breath back to something even, her gaze unblinking. "If I kept going," she said quietly, "would you stop me?"
Would you judge me?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 9:37 pm
He knew that the situation was not entirely perfect; that it wasn't the movie-esque scene with the flowers and the candles and the silly romantic music playing (not that he ever would have done the latter; sometimes things were just a little too cheesy); and it was not that he had expected it to be perfect, or for it to be a sudden sweep of theatrics. But there was something strangely pulling about the situation, drawing Gale in in spite of of himself, in spite of any reservations that he might have had. This situation was different.
Her hands were soft and gentle against his face, and slightly warm against his flushed face. He'd kept his arms around her waist, and now she was staring at him and he couldn't pull his gaze away, his chest feeling tight, his heart beating erratically inside of his chest.
What did he want, exactly?
To help Stormy first and foremost; to make sure that she was safe that she was taken care of. Her happiness was at the forefront of Gale's mind, of his thoughts and his actions and sometimes that scared him, because he wanted to stay with her more than anything, and because sometimes he wondered if that sort of passion was normal or if it was just because he constantly over thought things, or because Stormy was the first person he had ever felt this way about.
Gale turned his head, pressing his face into the palm of Stormy's hand. He kissed her fingertips and then leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. For a moment he didn't say anything at all, just breathed carefully to steady himself, his eyes half shut, his mind working to comprehend everything, to a**l -
No, Gale thought. Don't overthink.
Don't overthink.
His voice was soft when he answered, Gale leaning back to give her a small smile, his expression affectionate. He lifted his head and tenderly touched her cheek again.
"No."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2014 10:45 pm
She didn't act immediately. Processing the "no" was surprisingly difficult because she had expected a "yes" instead, and now she wanted to know why this was. It came into direct opposition against the animalistic urge to throw herself at him instead. She studied Gale for a while, her hands slipping from his face to her chest (pressing the light indention of his face there, still almost memorized, still almost holding).
The subtle but hasty heartbeat under her fingers prompted her. "Are you sure?" she asked, suddenly unsure when up until then every action had been deliberate. There was a brief spark of the old Stormy in her eyes, the one that was silently asking if he was comfortable, if he really wanted this or was just doing it because it would make her feel better, if he understood that she did not know what the limitations would be if any; the Stormy who would have begun nervously rattling off words, sentences, and observations instead to try and break the tension, to pull away but still make light of it, chastise herself for even thinking it, fearful of the cycle of denial and teasing; the Stormy who wanted him but was afraid of how strong that was right now, of what was fueling her (a need to feel less empty) instead of what should have been (love), who was almost horrified with how little that seemed to matter.
"Are you sure?" Because now, out at the precipice, she wasn't.
kuroopu i thought of more words whoops
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
