his eyes sting and will squeezes them shut, staves off any strong emotions that threaten to swell up and overtake him, swallows the lump in his throat and exhales deeply into the receiver. he can't afford to not get his shit together, already tiptoeing that thin line of what's okay and what isn't with heather like it's some damn sobriety test. will's balance has never been anything less than shitty.
heather's voice is so sad, so clear over the phone that he nearly breaks. instead, he just holds that bundle of blankets closer to his chest, squeezes it tightly with knees curling inwards as though his life depends on it. allows her words to settle over him. it's all but impossible to think of what he can -- what he should say to her.
and still, it's hard not to linger on the whats and the whys of this conversation to begin with. after a drawn out silence, will finally manages: ) I know it's been rough but things are--
Things are okay, right? You're okay there?
( she's never really shown any indication, at least to his oblivious ass, of anything wrong between her and her new boyfriend. after all, he isn't sure if she would move in with the guy otherwise. will would rather drown guzzling a bottle of jack daniels and die instantaneously before giving the allegedly happy couple his blessing, but ...
at the end of the day, heather -- her wellbeing, her happiness -- means more to him than the heart-shattering pain it causes him. )
Yeah, of course. ( the response comes a bit too fast, as if trying to defend herself against an accusation that just isn't there. this new relationship is still very much in the fledgling stage, and she's all too aware how it must look to others. especially to will. dating someone else was bad enough, a betrayal of sorts. moving in with him would have been a punch to the gut. most would probably call it a rebound, but it's never been her style to take things slowly.
especially not when she's in pain, trying to leave her past behind her. )
Everything's...- ( fine? too bland. great? too enthusiastic. too cruel. ) Things are good. ( this is ordinarily where she would tell him how simba almost always sleeps through the night. how he tried his first taste of baby cereal earlier tonight and didn't even spit it up. how he looks so much like will that some days just holding him, watching him sleep is enough to break her.
though she might at least leave out how, on those occasions, she has to lock herself in the bathroom before allowing herself to cry. kyle is sweet, he's kind, he he doesn't understand her lingering attachment or the fact that she might not ever (probably never) get over will. not fully, anyway. ) Still kind of adjusting, I guess.
( it's the first real indication she's ever given that maybe she's still every bit as fucking lost as he is. the only real difference being that she's at least trying to move on.
rolling onto her side, she curls into herself faintly, lets her head rest flat on the couch cushion and her eyes drift shut. tries to remember what it felt like, lying in this position so many times before. her head resting in his lap and his fingers carding idly through her hair while some cheesy old movie or stupid reality show scrolled across the screen. ) Are you? ( she finally breaks the silence. voice soft. fragile, and completely unlike heather. ) Okay, I mean.
( immediately she steels herself for the response. it isn't as if he's made any attempts to act like he's happier than he is, or more settled than he is. not living, just surviving. )
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Date: 2015-03-03 08:42 am (UTC)his eyes sting and will squeezes them shut, staves off any strong emotions that threaten to swell up and overtake him, swallows the lump in his throat and exhales deeply into the receiver. he can't afford to not get his shit together, already tiptoeing that thin line of what's okay and what isn't with heather like it's some damn sobriety test. will's balance has never been anything less than shitty.
heather's voice is so sad, so clear over the phone that he nearly breaks. instead, he just holds that bundle of blankets closer to his chest, squeezes it tightly with knees curling inwards as though his life depends on it. allows her words to settle over him. it's all but impossible to think of what he can -- what he should say to her.
and still, it's hard not to linger on the whats and the whys of this conversation to begin with. after a drawn out silence, will finally manages: ) I know it's been rough but things are--
Things are okay, right? You're okay there?
( she's never really shown any indication, at least to his oblivious ass, of anything wrong between her and her new boyfriend. after all, he isn't sure if she would move in with the guy otherwise. will would rather drown guzzling a bottle of jack daniels and die instantaneously before giving the allegedly happy couple his blessing, but ...
at the end of the day, heather -- her wellbeing, her happiness -- means more to him than the heart-shattering pain it causes him. )
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Date: 2015-03-05 05:36 am (UTC)especially not when she's in pain, trying to leave her past behind her. )
Everything's...- ( fine? too bland. great? too enthusiastic. too cruel. ) Things are good. ( this is ordinarily where she would tell him how simba almost always sleeps through the night. how he tried his first taste of baby cereal earlier tonight and didn't even spit it up. how he looks so much like will that some days just holding him, watching him sleep is enough to break her.
though she might at least leave out how, on those occasions, she has to lock herself in the bathroom before allowing herself to cry. kyle is sweet, he's kind, he he doesn't understand her lingering attachment or the fact that she might not ever (probably never) get over will. not fully, anyway. ) Still kind of adjusting, I guess.
( it's the first real indication she's ever given that maybe she's still every bit as fucking lost as he is. the only real difference being that she's at least trying to move on.
rolling onto her side, she curls into herself faintly, lets her head rest flat on the couch cushion and her eyes drift shut. tries to remember what it felt like, lying in this position so many times before. her head resting in his lap and his fingers carding idly through her hair while some cheesy old movie or stupid reality show scrolled across the screen. ) Are you? ( she finally breaks the silence. voice soft. fragile, and completely unlike heather. ) Okay, I mean.
( immediately she steels herself for the response. it isn't as if he's made any attempts to act like he's happier than he is, or more settled than he is. not living, just surviving. )