[ He knows he fucked up even before she hides her face. They can’t rely on the things that made their relationship work before, not when so much changed.
She doesn’t get up and leave though, and he’s pathetically grateful for that. He’s not sure he can let her go just yet. Sighing, he wraps his arms around her again. ]
Could be better, if you let me. Only been dreaming about it for half my life.
[ He’d started dating around after she turned him down a couple of years ago, determined to get over it now that he finally had an answer. But wartime has changed the question altogether, shifting everything into sharper focus. He can’t afford to be flippant about it now, whether she believes him or not. ]
Yeah? [ She sniffs, but she doesn't fight his embrace, just snuggles and curls up into him as if she can make herself fit like she used to. ] That why you dated all the women back home except me?
[ The past is a moot point when the war has the future dying in its chokehold, but the serum hadn't healed her bruised heart and now past hurts were slipping through. The women he'd dated didn't like her, and they'd made sure she knew and heard all the stories about his 'exploits'. She only didn't fight them because she didn't want him to hate her. What right did she have anyway? She was just his friend.
But her outburst is fleeting. Those memories pale against the one of him lying half-dead on that operating table, and she places a hand on his chest, over his heart, to feel it beat beneath her fingers. He's here now. Alive, real. That's all that matters.
She peers up at him. ] I love you too. I always have. You just never noticed. I know I'm not... wasn't... pretty like the others, or anything special. Guess I have Lady Liberty to thank for fixing that.
Edited (added words for clarity) 2025-06-16 09:10 (UTC)
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dysmorphics) wrote2025-05-07 07:46 am
no subject
She doesn’t get up and leave though, and he’s pathetically grateful for that. He’s not sure he can let her go just yet. Sighing, he wraps his arms around her again. ]
Could be better, if you let me. Only been dreaming about it for half my life.
[ He’d started dating around after she turned him down a couple of years ago, determined to get over it now that he finally had an answer. But wartime has changed the question altogether, shifting everything into sharper focus. He can’t afford to be flippant about it now, whether she believes him or not. ]
I love you. That hasn’t changed.
[ Even if they both have. ]
no subject
[ The past is a moot point when the war has the future dying in its chokehold, but the serum hadn't healed her bruised heart and now past hurts were slipping through. The women he'd dated didn't like her, and they'd made sure she knew and heard all the stories about his 'exploits'. She only didn't fight them because she didn't want him to hate her. What right did she have anyway? She was just his friend.
But her outburst is fleeting. Those memories pale against the one of him lying half-dead on that operating table, and she places a hand on his chest, over his heart, to feel it beat beneath her fingers. He's here now. Alive, real. That's all that matters.
She peers up at him. ] I love you too. I always have. You just never noticed. I know I'm not... wasn't... pretty like the others, or anything special. Guess I have Lady Liberty to thank for fixing that.