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 Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 2:00 am
"Mm." She gave him a sympathetic smile. "You did have a childhood, it just wasn't . . ." What was the word for it? Her hands fiddled with each other awkwardly. "I won't say 'right', because I'm in no position to be judging anything as right or wrong, but . . . It made you, you. And we're here because've that." But that getting deeper again, a little too close to the knees for comfort. So Stormy waded closer to shore and perked up for show, touching two fingers to her temple in salute. "Either way, um, I'll do my best! My brain's a fuzzy bouncy ball, remember?"
Off the wall and more than a little odd--and more than likely a factory reject.
Stormy eyed him carefully as he interacted with the presents, and she found herself falling a little into her old habits again: waiting for the analysis, the final verdict, the stretched silence that played on her nerves. Those were the memories she associated with when walking away from the emotionally charged moment in the kitchen, the lingering ghosts that kept trying to cloud her mind if she wasn't focused. So it was almost jarring to be reminded that Gale was much simpler in this aspect, to be given nothing but praise without strings attached. It was refreshing, and almost a little unreal.
It also made her feel guilty, because she still didn't seem capable of keeping the past and present separate.
"Y--Yeah, I guess they're okay," she stuttered, a soft chuckle leaving her for no apparent reason while a hint of color rose to her cheeks. "Um--Right, give it a cool name, Mr. Horse Trainer!" Reaching under the coffee table, Stormy tugged the duffel bag over, unzipped it partially, and tugged out the red panda plush that she happily sat in her lap before closing it up. "That way, Michelangelo knows what to call his new friend~" It was important for stuffed animals to bond too, after all.
But was all of that enough, though? Did the material pick up the slack where the emotional left off? She wanted to ask, and she did open her mouth, but what came out was more casual and off-topic: "Sorry I couldn't scrounge a cake together."
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 6:45 pm
She had a point; his childhood, though unconventional, was still a childhood, sort of. But he'd been pushed fast to grow up quickly, hadn't really had a chance to ever get what he'd lost back; and from the start, Stormy had slowly helped him do that, from their very first meeting to the moment in time right now.
Gale focused on the gifts, because the gifts were easy to focus on; they were tangible, something he could hold in his hands, something he could look at and physically see. Soft gloves and warm stuffed animals were something that he could look at and keep his mind honed in on, instead of letting it over analyze and super-focus on things that were more painful and more abstract.
"Michelangelo is yours," said Gale, and looked at the horse, making a humming sound in the back of his throat. "Does that mean mine should be Raphael? Or no," he corrected himself, holding the horse out in front of him, "I think I like Leonardo better."
He set the horse back into his lap and turned to look at Stormy, his expression soft. "Thank you," he said quietly, and leaned in to give her a very gentle, very simple kiss before pulling away, his cheeks a deep red color. "You're lovely."
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 7:22 pm
She smiled and made Michelangelo wiggle. "Only if you want to keep the theme, though it's not necessary. The Adventures of Leo and Mike, Animals Extraordinaire...I like the sound of that. Steadfast steed and punny panda."
More words than necessary, again to help keep back the silence. The presents and candy store finds certainly made a splash, bringing color and light and sound back to Gale--but she had to question for how long. She had to because she was afraid of losing him to that tight-lipped shell of a person again if she dared to stop. It wasn't that Stormy was afraid of having to help him through it: rather, she was afraid of showing just how much she was willing to do, what she was willing to give, to help.
A kiss was small in comparison, easy to give and take and thus easy to fall into. Despite being a short kiss, her eyes fell closed as she tried to take just a little bit more of that pain away, something, anything to help; it was the fear that it would be too much if she pursued a second one that kept her still. Mulling her words over more this time, Stormy grew anxious once again as her eyes opened. "It's nothing," she mumbled quickly, tucking some hair behind her ear as her cheeks reddened a little more. "Though, um, if this is supposed to be proper, we're missing something. Silly me."
Without explanation she raised and extended her arms, a quiet invitation for a hug.
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 7:36 pm
"Sounds like the start of a great show on the telly," said Gale with a smile. "I'd watch it."
The lighthearted attitude he'd been attempting to keep up faded somewhat at the look on Stormy's face; even if she didn't show it, even if she plastered smiles on her face and tried to make it look like she was all right, he knew she wasn't, not really. Neither of them were, after every thing that had happened.
His heart ached. "It's not nothing," he said quietly. "It's not."
Her wordless request, arms open towards him, was almost enough to make him break. Gale blinked rapidly, his eyes unexpectedly stinging a little and he set down the stuffed horse beside him before crawling over the short distance between them. His hands were hesitant at first, touching her waist; but then he gave in and sank against her, his arms wrapped around her, his face buried in her shoulder.
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 8:49 pm
Stormy made as if to say something, but the words didn't come out. Instead, she nudged Michelangelo out of the way and welcomed Gale into her arms at his own pace; she didn't curl hers around him until she was sure he had settled. Then she settled her head over his shoulder and rested it against his neck, threading her fingers together tightly like they were a necessary component for a shield. That's all she did for a stretch of time, keep Gale close and fight to stay calm, because God help her if she wavered.
When she felt it was safe to, Stormy cleared her throat and began to softly sing him Happy Birthday. It wasn't always with a smile because she didn't know what her emotions were doing anymore, but at least it was steady. At least it reflected genuine sentiment.
Four lines weren't nearly enough to speak for her, but it did dull the edge that was pressing down in her heart. She could practically feel the regret and anxiety coming off Gale, which in turn only heightened similar emotions inside her. But when the silence was starting to fall heavy again, she swallowed and spoke up, muffled slightly behind his clothes now that her head had dipped back down to tuck her chin. "You didn't do anything wrong in the kitchen. All you did was ask. I'm sorry I overreacted."
That was what saying no was, after all.
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 9:20 pm
He wasn't exactly crying, but his eyes were misty all the same, and he felt pathetic and childish and silly for being emotional over such a thing. Still, Stormy was the least judgmental person that he knew, and she said nothing as he pressed his face into her shoulder, instead just wrapping her arms around him and letting him burrow close to her.
Her singing was familiar and Gale let his eyes close at the sound of her voice, exhaling a long breath. His head tilted sideways so that he could lean it a little against hers, and he could smell the floral scent of her hair, the faint tinges of whatever lotion or perfume or soap she had been wearing earlier.
Gale shifted a little, leaning back so that he could look at her face. One hand lifted, and he slid the back of his hand down the side of her cheek, touching a finger tenderly to her face.
"I shouldn't have asked in the first place," he said softly, and bit his lower lip, now almost absently moving his hand to touch her hair. "I'm sorry, I was just...I was so angry over...him, and I was so...I don't know." He shook his head, thoroughly ashamed of himself, his face flushed. "I'm sorry, you didn't overreact, you were right."
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 9:51 pm
She understood on an innate level what the missing words were in his explanation; it was the sort of thing one could recognize after several years under Jack's influence. But it was still just a little unsettling to Stormy that the byproduct had led to that particular question--then again, she had gone over the reasons why she couldn't blame Gale for it. It was all Jack's fault; that was the safest thing to believe, even if it saddened her to do so.
The bruise woke up again; Stormy's jaw tightened momentarily.
"I think he enjoys that now," she said with a frown, soothed a little by his motions. "Making people angry at him. I guess somewhere along the line he really did get twisted . . ." Like everything around him did, because that was . . . that was his influence, not hers. Her hands began to loosen, not so much to let Gale go but enough that she could hold him with one arm while the other pressed against his hand.
Stormy hesitated. "The reason I asked you to wait here," she continued at length, her voice growing softer, "was because for the first time in a long, long while, I was angry. No, more than angry, more than just one word. And I didn't want you to see me like that, not--not over him. Wrath, vengeance, violence, curses, they're ugly things to see and hear." Her lips twisted indecisively for another few moments, and she ran her thumb over his fingers before she added, "I think I left a scar."
That didn't sound as satisfying aloud. If anything, she felt shame. Stormy's eyes cast downwards, her brows knitting. "I'm sorry I made you wait. I-I'm sorry I sent you away at all."
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Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 10:05 pm
He was fumbling for the right words. "I didn't ask you because...because I was angry," said Gale, a note of desperation creeping into his voice, because he needed her to understand that, he needed her to get that it had not been a direct result from Jack that he had asked her to spend the night. "I asked you because I love you and I want to be close to you, but it wasn't because I was angry at him."
He had been angry, and still was, to a point, but that was not what he had meant, and he hoped Stormy understood that, at least a little bit. Gale turned his hand over so that he could press his palm to hers, lacing their fingers together against her cheek.
"I've never thought you ugly," he said softly. "Not once."
Hearing that she'd fought Jack was simultaneously surprising and then not all at once. He wanted to ask what had happened, but at the same time, he wasn't sure he really needed - or wanted - to know. Gale drew Stormy's hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, his eyes closed.
"I'm sorry I overreacted," he mumbled, still with her hand against his mouth. "I 'm not used to being in relationships, and I was so terrified of losing you that I let it get in the way of seeing clearly."
He opened his eyes to look at her now, but still didn't lower her hand.
"Did he leave a scar too?" Gale asked softly, and it was clear he meant not just physically, but more.
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Posted: Sun Jan 12, 2014 2:32 am
She chanced a look up at him while his eyes were closed. "You've very kind as usual," Stormy mumbled. "But on the inside I am." After all, she'd jumped to the conclusion about what had caused him to ask in the first place--it wasn't even a surprise any more how wrong she was.
Maybe he was lying, or maybe he knew all of this already and was just handling her with care. No, but Gale didn't lie, she had to remind herself, even though her mind kept turning to that answer. Lying was someone else's default. Familiar, but wrong.
Always wrong.
So it wasn't surprising to Stormy that, upon being asked about scars, a strangled, almost watery laugh left her before she even thought about it. What a sad, sad sound for something she thought had been so very, very obvious. And yet her eyes remained quite dry, because the answer was far beyond the realm of being able to be cried out now; it had gone past flesh and organs, beyond her capacity to surgically point out and remove, and embedded right into the bones until the creaks and cracks were no longer questioned.
"I get it, I think. Why you acted like you did. I haven't given you anything tangible." It was a genuine observation made with the tired tone of one who already accepted the blame. "Nothing like tea you can just hold in a cup and smell and taste. Maybe that's why I had the compulsion to bring so much over, to surround us with the material." Stormy glanced at the bevy of candy store items as if waiting for them to throw their own two cents before turning back to Gale with a familiar look: somewhere between reality and her mind.
"...By touch. That's how you and I interact with the world, isn't it?" she half whispered. "You can see, you can hear, you can taste in infinite--but touching, holding, prodding, those give you the real details. Concrete details that can't be mistaken or shaken by illusions or doubts."
Warm, familiar, tender, soft. She could feel Gale's heartbeat between her fingers if she held still.
"Hands're funny things. They're gateways and tethers, inviting and restraining, reaching out and pulling back. They're inviting, they're violent, selfishly hoarding and generously giving. They can create as much as they can destroy, they've inspired songs..." Stormy trailed away for a second, her expression softening as she leaned forward to kiss his hand in return. "And I think it says something that they're what you pay attention to."
She lingered close for a little too long before pulling back again, the apologetic look back in her eyes just before she averted them downwards. "I have the skin of a pear," she said, as if the previous rant had only been a prelude to the real answer. "Everyone who's ever touched me has left their mark."
kurotomato i should be banned for trying to english at 4 am
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Posted: Sun Jan 12, 2014 10:20 pm
"You're not," said Gale, and the vehemence behind his words was surprisingly strong, Gale leaning to look Stormy in the eye. His chest felt tight, and his throat felt dry, but he was ignoring all of these, and instead was just trying to make things right again.
"You do the things you do, that's how it works," he said, and grasped her hand in his, curling their fingers tightly together. "You do good things, you do bad things, you do in-between things, you do silly things, you do ridiculous things, you do wonderful things. There are so many things that make you who you are."
Gale's expression had softened, and now he looked at her with an almost pleading one that was mixed with unwavering adoration. "What's that quote from that one Harry Potter movie?" he said, and it was a silly reference, but to someone like Stormy, who thrived on visuals and spontaneity and stories and Disney and music, maybe it would get through to her, especially with what she was saying. " 'You're not a bad person. You're a very good person, who bad things have happened to. The world isn't split into good people and bad people. There is light and dark inside us, and what matters is the part we choose to act on?' "
He was probably butchering it, but that was beside the point, Gale's hand loosening around Stormy's, just a little, though he didn't pull away. "You've done bad things, but so have I," he said quietly. "That doesn't make you bad or ugly or unpleasant. It just means that you're human."
He'd always felt as though holding hands was something small that connected people, that tethered them together; a link to hold onto, something physical to grasp, as well as a visual sign that two people, or three people, or four, or however many were in a group, all trusted each other enough to let them hold onto something of theirs.
His fingers tingled where she kissed them and Gale stretched them out back towards her face. The tips brushed over her cheek, tender and as light as a butterfly's wings against a flower petal. "Are you looking at them as scars?" he asked softly. "Or as representations of memories that are there to remind you that you are a better person than you might ever think you are?"
Gale's hand lowered, dropped back down into his lap. "Stormy, I will still always be here for you," he said quietly. "I'm not making excuses for the things either of us have done, because sometimes there are bad things that we do. There's no going around that. But I will always be here to pick you up when you fall and put you back up on your feet again."Ol-j-man what am I even typing anymore i d k
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Posted: Sun Jan 12, 2014 11:14 pm
Caught in the swirl of rising emotion and turbulent thoughts, Stormy broke everything down into bite-sized bits, slowing everything down--in real time, it looked as though she was having issues understanding him. It certainly didn't help that the phrases leaped out at her out of order.
You are a better person than you might ever think you are.
She almost laughed again. No, no, she was exactly the same on the inside, regardless of what the outside did: still small, still frightened, still so easily led around, still needing to be validated and given attention on pain of floundering in self-doubt and depression.
Are you looking at them as scars?
"They are memories," she agreed, but with a strange tone: the one Gale had heard when she had started to teeter into the bitter end of drunk territory. "Maybe more than that. Ghosts. But they don't tell me I'm better, Gale; in fact, they remind me that I'm not. They are scars, real and unseen, most of which I've inflicted on myself."
Her eyes remained averted, and she had all the more reason to with him giving that look: the kind that radiated warmth and love and threw her for such a loop that if she dared to match his gaze for too long, she was sure she'd be blinded.
But I will always be here to pick you up when you fall--
"I don't want to," she muttered mostly to herself, her brows knitting. "I don't want to, for once I don't want to be saved, I just want to do something right . . ."
Don't cry.
You've done bad things, but so have I.
The words came out without thinking. "Bad things. Really." It sounded so flat, almost patronizing, and burned her mouth upon exit. Stormy immediately regretted it and closed her eyes, the muscles in her neck tensing.
You're not a bad person. You're a very good person, who bad things have happened to.
Don't cry. Don't cry, damn it, don't. Bad things didn't just happen for now reason, bad things happened because of karma, because it was deserved, that was what Jack had said--
You're not, he said.
She barely felt his fingers. Barely felt her own, even as they squeezed the life out of his. Maybe that was the numbness setting in. Things beyond her torso and head didn't seem to exist or matter, save for the conglomerate of light and emotion and sunset hair before her, things that she could see even with her eyes closed.
"E-Enlighten me. Show me what makes you human."
She hated how effortlessly she dragged the conversation down, and she hated that she felt this deep-seated compulsion to ask something like this of Gale. But now Stormy needed to know what kind of darkness he held inside, needed him to prove he was human and not this imperfectly perfect being she kept seeing him as. It was that greedy and gluttonous impulse to take what she could from him--a comparison of scars she found herself wanting to win in want of some macabre award.
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Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2014 3:39 pm
The more he listened to her, the more he heard what Stormy was saying, the more he wanted to scream; not because he was angry at her, but because she still refused to acknowledge the most basic sentimental emotions that he was trying to show to her.
Gale's entire body felt tense, like a string pulled too tightly and too tensely. He pushed himself to his feet abruptly, creating space between them so that he could turn around and look at her from a distance, because maybe that was what he needed, what they both needed; not to be consumed by the feelings running rampant inside of his heart.
"Why do you have to say it like that?" he said, and his voice was strained. "Why do you always have to say it like you don't really believe it when it's a good thing and like there's no changing it if it's a bad thing? Life isn't possibly that one sided? You are not that one sided, you are so incredibly multi-dimensional that you can't possibly think for one second that I truly believe you to be as ugly as you say you are."
His head was aching. "I never said you needed saving," said Gale. "I said I would be there to help you; there's a difference. I've never thought of you as a damsel in distress, haven't I always said that I've always thought you to be strong?"
The flat, sarcastic "Really." stung, Gale jerking his head backwards as though he'd been physically slapped. Somehow it hurt worse than when she'd asked him to leave, because this was cold Stormy, a Stormy who clearly didn't believe him even after everything they'd been though.
Was this how all relationships were? He wondered whether the pain he felt deeply rooted inside of his heart was considered normal, or whether it was just their location and their status in life that made everything seem magnified. Whatever the case, he felt as though he were drowning in a thick mire he couldn't seem to claw his way out of.
"That's not fair," he said finally, and his voice was a little hoarse, though there was clear hurt behind it; and surprisingly, a little anger as well, Gale's fingers curling against the palm of his hand. "That's not fair at all, and you know it. Why do you always need proof?"
Drowning drowning drowning
A heavy frustration laced every word. "Why can't you just believe me?"Ol-j-man /wraps arms around Stormy /never lets go
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Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2014 5:58 pm
Her hands held nothing but empty air now; they grasped at the silence that rushed over her instead, as cold and unfeeling as Insanity's fog, fingers curling into palms until the throbbing was insignificant in her lap. Her eyes opened, but Stormy felt like she was watching from a far away place as Gale stood and gave them space to breathe.
(Was that what she was supposed to be doing?)
She turned so that she could see him in full and then afterwards didn't move a muscle. It was only right to pay full attention to her consequences, to every word that came out like needles and barbs until the very end, where they morphed into sniper rounds hitting at the crux of it all. The image was so powerful in her head that Stormy literally felt like something had struck her: her skin prickled into goosebumps, her hands grew sweaty, and her chest felt like it had gone past the about-to-explode stage and right into open-cavity-and-bleeding-out.
For once, she was reduced to silence.
Don't you dare cry.
There was nowhere to run after that. She doubted her legs would work anyway. They never worked properly once she found herself in a fight because all the blood just rushed to her head and heart instead, hello, I'm sorry this happened, I wasn't thinking straight, my fault, is there any way I can make it up to you, I'm so sorry, is there anyway I can make it stop hurting?
She stared at Gale with anguish in her eyes, the shame of it all threatening to crush her. And it shamed her more that her body felt almost as comfortable like this as it did when she smiled.
Maybe I should go.
Maybe I've overstayed my welcome.
Maybe I need to just sit in the snow and freeze.
Or was that running away, too? No, no she couldn't. She wouldn't. She'd promised she would stay, and God damn it she would, even if it was killing her to know she'd driven Gale to this. But breaking the habit might break her first--and maybe that was just what she deserved.
Stormy didn't know how long she stayed quiet; long enough that her eyes started to strain at least, until she was sure Gale's image was burned into her retinas. There were several false starts where her mouth would begin to part, only to close back up again to swallow back the rising fear; but she knew if she didn't say something, she would surely be drained of blood and become nothing but a living corpse on the couch.
Just like so many of her psychiatric visits.
So them came in small bursts, in a small voice, in small sentences: "You're right."
And: "Absolutely right. Not being fair."
And: "I-I apologize for pushing."
Her joints seemed to creak with protest as she fingered first through her layers of clothes and then her collarbone, inching towards the scar. Her eyes hurt and were starting to mist over, and she had to remember how to blink again as she dropped her gaze. "I . . . don't know why I asked," Stormy continued slowly, feeling her shoulders sag under an invisible weight. "I guess--I guess I just . . . wanted to know that you're not so close to the angels that I-I can't reach you from down here." It was not an excuse, it still had been asking too much: but she wanted Gale to know her reasoning, flawed as it was."Please forgive me," she all but whispered. Please come back.
xkurotomato /steals Gale in the meanwhile u presh thing
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Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2014 10:00 pm
For someone that had spent most of his life on Deus fighting to prove himself as an adult, Gale had never felt less like one. In spite of turning eighteen - which, by most standards meant that he was "legal," whatever that meant - he still felt like a dumb teenager fumbling to figure out his first romantic relationship. It was awkward and confusing and terribly, terribly painful, and with every word he spoke, Gale felt further away from Stormy, as though he'd taken two steps back instead of one step forward.
He didn't want to go back, he didn't want to be the person he'd been before Stormy.
It wasn't as though either one of them were blameless where they stood right now; they'd both said things that shouldn't have been said, but once they were said, there was no taking them back. He remembered a silly little tale his mother had once told him about a woman who had been given a bag of feathers and told to drop them wherever she walked; and once she had gotten back to where she started, she was told to go and pick them all up again. Only it was impossible, as the feathers had been blown away, pushed aside, tossed this way and that.
"Like words, and gossip, and hateful rumors," his mother had told him. "Once you put them out there, you can't just go back and pick them up and pretend that they never existed. You've said it, there's no erasing it."
He felt now, like that little child, sitting in his mother's lap and being reprimanded for calling another child names. Gale stood there in front of Stormy with his heart in his throat and his head aching and his vision not quite clear because Stormy's eyes were red and oddly bright. On more than one occassion she opened her mouth to say something, and so did Gale, but then both of them would stop, swallow back the words of whatever it was they'd been going to say.
I'm not perfect, he thought desperately, wanting to say something, anything to break the awful silence. I can't make this just go away, why can't I just make it better? Why did it have to get to this point, why did I have to mess things up so terribly?
And then, finally, after what seemed like ages the words began to come; stuttered and short phrases, Stormy's voice hardly above a whisper; and the frustrated anger that Gale had been burying himself under seemed to ebb a little, ease away off of his shoulders.
He stepped back towards her, maneuvering around the coffee table to sit on it in front of her. One hand reached out and cupped her face, her skin feeling warm beneath his palm, and he brushed a thumb over her cheek, his expression pained.
"Why do you think I'm so far away from you in the first place?" he said softly. "I'm not unreachable, I'm right here within your grasp, and you seem to think that I'm on top of a mountain while you're down in the valley."
A small note of frustration crept into his voice, and now both hands were cupping her face. "I'm right here in front of you."
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Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2014 11:47 pm
She watched him and it was like being at the cinema. Oh, what a familiar scenario this was. Hadn't she used this exact same device months and months before, on that fated day in the infirmary? Had she really gotten so uncreative that she had to recycle?
It was so much easier to focus on herself, to criticize and nag and tear down her ego, than it was to acknowledge that she was hurting Gale by doing so. As far as Stormy was concerned, she had been doing so even before she had met him and had continued, in ways that were usually quiet or looked over or momentarily noticed, throughout their dating. Maybe that's why she didn't know what to do here: whenever Jack called her out on it, she didn't really have to do or change anything, just accept that she was lesser for it and suffer his infuriated words; whenever Papi had to deal with it, he just tried to make her treat it like an x number of steps problem with clear cut solutions, so simple, mija; and whenever she had gone to Mami, they had fed off each other's incongruences, licked each other's wounds, never questioned the why or how but gave silent comfort. Here, it sounded like she was supposed to have an answer to something she thought had been normal all this time.
How did one explain the illogical? To her, he might as well have asked who Stormy was.
She could almost feel herself regressing the more he looked at her, becoming more and more the child she really was. "Is--that wrong to think?" she ventured in the voice of a nine year old trying to understand "the real world". "I-I . . . didn't know?" She stopped picking at the scar once he held her face, conscious of the motion now that he was close again.
On the inside, it was so easy to idealize and romanticize suffering. Being forced to recognize it for what it was--unhealthy--was a monumental task to the dreamer. She felt a sliver of panic."It's . . . But it's normal. It's normal for me." Stormy was visibly struggling with the words; never had her poor verbal expression seemed so insurmountable, her rants nothing but long-winded time wasters that confused instead of elucidated. And because she was still selfish at heart, she tried anyway. "You're far away because I put you there, because I knew me even if in the beginning you didn't, I knew--but you're safe there at the top, aren't you, away from the floods I make? I-I didn't even put you on the mountain, you just climbed it yourself, because you had a goal and had the drive to achieve it, and th-that's what I--" She choked on the word and swallowed hard, shaking a little.
Breathe.
But "sob" was what her body heard, because that was the noise that came out, brief and cut off before it could take over. "I-It's a miracle you're still here," Stormy said shakily, though in a slightly stronger voice. "It's a miracle I'm thankful for every G-God damn day, Gale, because you were good to me before I gave you reason to be, and then somehow you found levels and levels beyond that I-I can't even describe."
She didn't even know where she was going with this anymore. The words just kept spilling out until she shut her mouth. Another priceless moment of digging and digging and then not knowing what to do with what she had unearthed.
Without thinking, her hand--the one not glued to her person--reached out hesitantly until it could curl over where his heart was, trying to seek out the familiar rhythm through layers of clothes. For a few moments her jaw was locked and her own heart was beating a mile a minute, but at least she was looking at him: genuinely apologetic and resigned.
"I'm sorry I'm driving you crazy with . . . this. I'm sorry I keep pulling you down, I really am." Her grip tightened. One tear fell that she tried to ignore. "I-I'm sorry. You didn't deserve any of that . . . Least of all for Christmas. But you just have this way of getting me to talk, to give you pieces of me in the hopes that one day you'll have the whole and understand, and I don't--I don't want you to go j-just because I'm--" She didn't know what word to use here. Unhealthy? Wrong? Afraid?
"Please--Please tell me what I c-can do to fix this," Stormy begged quietly as more tears fell between his fingers. "P-Please tell me what to do s-so you can smile again."
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