[He makes an effort to veil the injury he feels at her response. He doesn't know that he had expected her to make any sort of decision; really, he hadn't even planned on having this conversation, but stumbled his way into it because he had been too damn eager to see her.
It was too much. He's always too much— and yet somehow, never enough. If he'd been more confident, more charming, more romantic, it might have worked out differently, but instead he's bumbled his way through something that demanded a great deal more care and thought than he had given it, all because he could not leave well enough alone.
To not know, to need time to think— that would have been one thing.
"I don't want to deal with whatever this is."
That, on the other hand, speaks quite plainly.]
I apologize. [The words are solemn, subdued as his own walls go up in a desperate attempt to shield himself from whatever might follow. He grips the counter, white-knuckled for a moment as he gets back to his feet with purpose this time, then pushes the chair he'd been occupying back into it's rightful place.] I must have misread things.
[He doesn't believe that for a moment. Even to him, saying it aloud rings hollow.]
I shouldn't have come— but it has been exhausting, to constantly pretend and try to convince myself that I'm not in love with you.
She freezes, her back turned to Gale and then whipping around, eyes wide with shock, and her voice nearly subdued from any kind of reply. All she can ask herself is "Why is he doing this to me now of all times?"
When Briar left the world, a significant part of her heart went with him, leaving it a shell. Attempts were made to fill in the gaps by being with other people and seeing if they could inspire some deeper level of passion.
But no one could be Briar.
Gale is not Briar.
But he's done the one thing that has her frightened beyond reasonable comprehension and that was making her realize how much space he's taken up in her mind and heart and making it feel full like it was in her early youth. Only Gale Dekarios, after all these years, would dare. Thorns, thorns, it's like thorns and it's making her heart bleed, and when it bleeds, it hurts, and when it hurts, she's uselessโ]
...
[Her fingers grip the sides of her arms and she bites her lower lip.]
Then maybe you should have pretended a little longerโ
[For being such a tall man, Oren has the most silent of strides that stops short of the entryway. He interrupts Amelia's sentence by shifting himself until half of him, holding four pizza boxes, is visible. Amelia blinks, suddenly aware of his presence and turns to stare at him, gobsmacked and somehow brought back down to earth.
Oren let's another painful thirsty seconds pass before he speaks up.]
Can I put these away?
[Amelia mumbles something and swiftly moves past him, disappearing into the hallway and into her bedroom where the door slams shut. Gale is left with silence, pizza, and a very stoic Oren.]
[The slam of the bedroom door in the distance reverberates through him as soundly as though he'd been slapped, the icy delivery of her last words before Oren had interrupted them leaving him feeling frostbitten, uncomfortably numb.
There's a long, long moment of silence as he stares in the direction she'd disappeared in, then at last turns his gaze to Oren and exhales, burying his face in one hand before raking his fingers through his hair in frustration, making a vain effort to collect himself.
This was not how any of this was meant to go. How had they gotten here from hangover cures?]
... apologies, Oren. I'll get out of your way— I was just leaving.
[Oren is a simple man. He sees a mess, he cleans it up.
Meaning he's setting down the pizza boxes so that the milkshake doesn't sweat and melt all over the counter. But there's also this other mess in front of him and though his face doesn't emote it...]
Stay.
There's cheese pizza.
[There's something caring, almost nurturing behind that command.]
[Gale hesitates a moment longer, surprised by the offer, and some of the neutrality he had fought to pull into his expression melts away, leaving only worry behind. He glances towards the hallway again, giving a brief shake of his head.]
It's very kind of you to offer, but I don't think Amelia would want me to stay. I'm— not so sure I'm welcome, at the moment.
[He has no idea how much Oren may or may not have overheard, but the tension in the air was undeniable regardless.]
[There's another long pause before Gale exhales and nods his concession, easing back into the seat he had occupied only a few moments earlier.
Oren is likely right. Better to calm down, though he wouldn't call himself angry, necessarily— or even upset, but certainly frustrated, with himself more than anything.]
I can hardly turn down an invitation like that. It would be terrible manners.
[He offers Oren a brief, grateful smile, though it's obviously strained.]
I imagine you heard enough of that to have an opinion?
[Oren doesn't continue at first, opting to pull out two paper plates and setting aside a third piled high with red pepper flakes and powdered parmesan packets. And then he opens up the first pizza box to serve a large slice of cheese to Gale.
His silence is deliberate, not because he doesn't want to reply, but because he's the type of man who's slow to speak and takes time and consideration for his mostly short statements.]
No one was wrong here.
I think you couldn't help yourself. And I think she's just confused.
Confessing love after she cried over someone she was sad about hurting just yesterday is a questionable move.
[wow this is the most oren has ever spoken to gale]
Like I said. Couldn't help yourself. In deeper than you thought.
[He serves himself a slice from another box (jalapenos, pepperoni, sausage, and red onion), but doesn't take a bite from it yet. Oren remains standing across from Gale and looking at him as if expecting him to take the first bite.]
Why though? She's a pain in the ass.
[Though his exact relationship with Berna has been left in the air, there's no doubt that they are of the same mind on several topics, including their opinion on Amelia's fluctuating emotional maturity.]
[After another soft grumble of assent, Gale reaches for his own slice and lifts it to take a bite, pausing midway as Oren's follow-up remark takes him by surprised.
Rather blunt, isn't he?
Though he raises an eyebrow in response to start, he does take a bite of his pizza and chews thoughtfully before swallowing and giving his answer.]
It's— difficult to say, if only because it feels somewhat reductive to do so.
[But not because he doesn't know why. He does, and he's almost certain Amelia knows why, too. Why both of them had decided to push past that initial awkwardness to become friends, and why they had kept themselves in enough denial to remain so.]
Have you ever met someone that you feel as though you simply fit with? Everything comes easily, almost frighteningly so.
[He thinks back to that first night, when he had recognized loneliness in her and offered up his own. It was only supposed to be for one evening, but now that they knew one another better, now that he knew her— it seemed a terrible waste that either of them should feel lonely when her company made him feel the way it did.]
[He makes a sound, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His fingers take hold of several red pepper flake packets and he rips them open one by one.]
You're a romantic at heart then.
[But Oren understands to an extent. Amelia wouldn't go out of her way to befriend someone that wouldn't share some traits both on and under the surface.
He said nothing on the morning he picked her up from Gale's apartment building and had assumed the same thing they all had; it was just the one time and nothing more.
But here they are months later sharing sadness pizza. Funny how life works.]
[Gale lets out a mirthless chuckle as he helps himself to another bite, a weak smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.]
I suppose I am, for better or for worse.
[Which it was tended to depend on who you asked, but even after all he'd been through, despite his best efforts, he had been unable to curb that part of his nature. He doesn't know that he wants to.
He pauses before giving a careful nod in response to Oren's assessment, his brow furrowed.]
It's not only that, but... no, I don't. I don't believe she wants to be, either.
[But some part of her believes she has to be, or deserves to be, he thinks. He understands that better now, after what she had shared with him yesterday.]
[Don't mind Oren as he covers his slice in red pepper flakes to the point where it's covering up the actual toppings...]
Prideful. But also hard on herself. Strong in some ways, weak in others.
So, like a person.
[wow insightful
But Oren's point, it seems, is that Amelia's fastidiousness and stubbornness to be independent has shaped her into a person who is reluctant to be taken care of. Whatever happened between her and Gale was an indulgence she allowed herself, a moment of weakness she hadn't predicted would have spiraled into this.]
[Despite his own focus on the topic at hand, Gale does stop to let his gaze linger on Oren's red pepper flake masterpiece for a few moments.
Clearly, this man is built remarkably different.
Gale exhales, giving the other man a rueful look.]
I hadn't quite gone to that extreme, but the reassurance is nice all the same.
[Amelia doesn't hate him, but whatever was between them was complicated, as was her history— as was his own. He imagines there are a great number of conflicting feelings involved, confusion not the least of them.]
I know that she believes things need to be a certain way. She's determined to do everything on her own. Quite stubborn, as well, though I'm sure I don't need to tell you.
It sounds like you've dealt with your share of Amelia upset.
[Of course, who would know her better than her friends? From what Amelia herself has told him, Berna and Oren have both been a part of her life for a long, long time.]
I don't think of it as trouble.
[Perhaps a personal failing, given what he had allowed himself to endure in the past, though that had been without knowing. This, though challenging, doesn't feel like trouble. Perhaps because he's sure he's right, at least about some of it. He had said, in the heat of the moment, that he must have misread, but he hadn't believed it.]
It isn't all up to me, though. What she wants— whether or not I agree with it, I have to respect it.
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recluserose) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sunfloras2024-01-21 09:17 pm
no subject
It was too much. He's always too much— and yet somehow, never enough. If he'd been more confident, more charming, more romantic, it might have worked out differently, but instead he's bumbled his way through something that demanded a great deal more care and thought than he had given it, all because he could not leave well enough alone.
To not know, to need time to think— that would have been one thing.
"I don't want to deal with whatever this is."
That, on the other hand, speaks quite plainly.]
I apologize. [The words are solemn, subdued as his own walls go up in a desperate attempt to shield himself from whatever might follow. He grips the counter, white-knuckled for a moment as he gets back to his feet with purpose this time, then pushes the chair he'd been occupying back into it's rightful place.] I must have misread things.
[He doesn't believe that for a moment. Even to him, saying it aloud rings hollow.]
I shouldn't have come— but it has been exhausting, to constantly pretend and try to convince myself that I'm not in love with you.
1/2
She freezes, her back turned to Gale and then whipping around, eyes wide with shock, and her voice nearly subdued from any kind of reply. All she can ask herself is "Why is he doing this to me now of all times?"
When Briar left the world, a significant part of her heart went with him, leaving it a shell. Attempts were made to fill in the gaps by being with other people and seeing if they could inspire some deeper level of passion.
But no one could be Briar.
Gale is not Briar.
But he's done the one thing that has her frightened beyond reasonable comprehension and that was making her realize how much space he's taken up in her mind and heart and making it feel full like it was in her early youth. Only Gale Dekarios, after all these years, would dare. Thorns, thorns, it's like thorns and it's making her heart bleed, and when it bleeds, it hurts, and when it hurts, she's uselessโ]
...
[Her fingers grip the sides of her arms and she bites her lower lip.]
Then maybe you should have pretended a little longerโ
no subject
. . .
. . .
[For being such a tall man, Oren has the most silent of strides that stops short of the entryway. He interrupts Amelia's sentence by shifting himself until half of him, holding four pizza boxes, is visible. Amelia blinks, suddenly aware of his presence and turns to stare at him, gobsmacked and somehow brought back down to earth.
Oren let's another painful thirsty seconds pass before he speaks up.]
Can I put these away?
[Amelia mumbles something and swiftly moves past him, disappearing into the hallway and into her bedroom where the door slams shut. Gale is left with silence, pizza, and a very stoic Oren.]
no subject
There's a long, long moment of silence as he stares in the direction she'd disappeared in, then at last turns his gaze to Oren and exhales, burying his face in one hand before raking his fingers through his hair in frustration, making a vain effort to collect himself.
This was not how any of this was meant to go. How had they gotten here from hangover cures?]
... apologies, Oren. I'll get out of your way— I was just leaving.
no subject
Meaning he's setting down the pizza boxes so that the milkshake doesn't sweat and melt all over the counter. But there's also this other mess in front of him and though his face doesn't emote it...]
Stay.
There's cheese pizza.
[There's something caring, almost nurturing behind that command.]
no subject
It's very kind of you to offer, but I don't think Amelia would want me to stay. I'm— not so sure I'm welcome, at the moment.
[He has no idea how much Oren may or may not have overheard, but the tension in the air was undeniable regardless.]
no subject
Oren places the milkshake in the freezer and closes the door before replying.]
You can be my guest now. Not her's.
[He turns to pat the counter table, gesturing for Gale to sit.]
Better to calm down first before leaving.
[get your misery slice gale]
no subject
Oren is likely right. Better to calm down, though he wouldn't call himself angry, necessarily— or even upset, but certainly frustrated, with himself more than anything.]
I can hardly turn down an invitation like that. It would be terrible manners.
[He offers Oren a brief, grateful smile, though it's obviously strained.]
I imagine you heard enough of that to have an opinion?
no subject
[Oren doesn't continue at first, opting to pull out two paper plates and setting aside a third piled high with red pepper flakes and powdered parmesan packets. And then he opens up the first pizza box to serve a large slice of cheese to Gale.
His silence is deliberate, not because he doesn't want to reply, but because he's the type of man who's slow to speak and takes time and consideration for his mostly short statements.]
No one was wrong here.
I think you couldn't help yourself. And I think she's just confused.
Confessing love after she cried over someone she was sad about hurting just yesterday is a questionable move.
[wow this is the most oren has ever spoken to gale]
no subject
Of course, the professor agrees with him, letting out a soft, miserable noise of assent as he accepts the pizza he's served.]
Mmn.
[He slumps forward against the counter to lean on one elbow as he draws the paper plate closer to him with one finger.]
I don't disagree. I'm sure it will come as no surprise when I say that was not planned by any stretch. It just—
[It had just come out in a heated moment. Oren was right, he couldn't help himself.
He sighs. That, he truly wishes he had done differently.]
I don't quite know how we got there.
no subject
[He serves himself a slice from another box (jalapenos, pepperoni, sausage, and red onion), but doesn't take a bite from it yet. Oren remains standing across from Gale and looking at him as if expecting him to take the first bite.]
Why though? She's a pain in the ass.
[Though his exact relationship with Berna has been left in the air, there's no doubt that they are of the same mind on several topics, including their opinion on Amelia's fluctuating emotional maturity.]
no subject
Rather blunt, isn't he?
Though he raises an eyebrow in response to start, he does take a bite of his pizza and chews thoughtfully before swallowing and giving his answer.]
It's— difficult to say, if only because it feels somewhat reductive to do so.
[But not because he doesn't know why. He does, and he's almost certain Amelia knows why, too. Why both of them had decided to push past that initial awkwardness to become friends, and why they had kept themselves in enough denial to remain so.]
Have you ever met someone that you feel as though you simply fit with? Everything comes easily, almost frighteningly so.
[He thinks back to that first night, when he had recognized loneliness in her and offered up his own. It was only supposed to be for one evening, but now that they knew one another better, now that he knew her— it seemed a terrible waste that either of them should feel lonely when her company made him feel the way it did.]
no subject
[He makes a sound, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His fingers take hold of several red pepper flake packets and he rips them open one by one.]
You're a romantic at heart then.
[But Oren understands to an extent. Amelia wouldn't go out of her way to befriend someone that wouldn't share some traits both on and under the surface.
He said nothing on the morning he picked her up from Gale's apartment building and had assumed the same thing they all had; it was just the one time and nothing more.
But here they are months later sharing sadness pizza. Funny how life works.]
You don't want her to be alone.
no subject
I suppose I am, for better or for worse.
[Which it was tended to depend on who you asked, but even after all he'd been through, despite his best efforts, he had been unable to curb that part of his nature. He doesn't know that he wants to.
He pauses before giving a careful nod in response to Oren's assessment, his brow furrowed.]
It's not only that, but... no, I don't. I don't believe she wants to be, either.
[But some part of her believes she has to be, or deserves to be, he thinks. He understands that better now, after what she had shared with him yesterday.]
no subject
[Don't mind Oren as he covers his slice in red pepper flakes to the point where it's covering up the actual toppings...]
Prideful. But also hard on herself. Strong in some ways, weak in others.
So, like a person.
[wow insightful
But Oren's point, it seems, is that Amelia's fastidiousness and stubbornness to be independent has shaped her into a person who is reluctant to be taken care of. Whatever happened between her and Gale was an indulgence she allowed herself, a moment of weakness she hadn't predicted would have spiraled into this.]
She doesn't hate you.
no subject
Clearly, this man is built remarkably different.
Gale exhales, giving the other man a rueful look.]
I hadn't quite gone to that extreme, but the reassurance is nice all the same.
[Amelia doesn't hate him, but whatever was between them was complicated, as was her history— as was his own. He imagines there are a great number of conflicting feelings involved, confusion not the least of them.]
I know that she believes things need to be a certain way. She's determined to do everything on her own. Quite stubborn, as well, though I'm sure I don't need to tell you.
no subject
But don't mind him and his red pepper flake pizza. He's helping an astrophysicist with romance cope.]
She'll need space. Time. It will feel like she hates you. Moody like wildcat.
After that, up to you. Decide if the trouble is worth it or not.
no subject
[Of course, who would know her better than her friends? From what Amelia herself has told him, Berna and Oren have both been a part of her life for a long, long time.]
I don't think of it as trouble.
[Perhaps a personal failing, given what he had allowed himself to endure in the past, though that had been without knowing. This, though challenging, doesn't feel like trouble. Perhaps because he's sure he's right, at least about some of it. He had said, in the heat of the moment, that he must have misread, but he hadn't believed it.]
It isn't all up to me, though. What she wants— whether or not I agree with it, I have to respect it.
[Even if she continues to choose denial.]