[ he doesn't need his instincts to be able to sense that there's something here, something unspoken between them that's being purposely ignored, dodged at every corner for about a thousand reasons that it should be. if he were a little more sober, he might have a better sense about it, aware that there's certain things he shouldn't have, and of everyone, she's the last person he should be dangling this risk with.
after the last few months in recognizing how much she manages to keep him stable, keep him from steering off the edge, it isn't worth sabotaging, not when he already knows where taking this road leads.
but her eyes don't leave his, and maybe if they did, he'd have an easier time stepping away, able to piece himself back together to counter what the alcohol is trying to deceive him into pursuing. but she's breathing so closely on that same dangling thread, a secret acceptance that teases the temptation to peer down at her lips with every uttered word she speaks. ]
Then I'll leave. [ he says finally, when the bottle touches his chest without nudging to further their distance. without that encouragement, there's nothing to stop him from moving forward in contrast to his own words, stepping in between the parting of her knees, his legs nudging forward against the fabric of her skirt. his hands remain on either side of her thighs, though the tips of his thumbs graze a light touch, like he's aware he lacks the permission for anything further than that.
but he's leaning in closer now, feeling the heat of her breath near his mouth. ]
I'll leave if you tell me you don't want me to stay.
[ he knows it's a terrible thing to ask when he knows she can't tell a lie, but he also knows how carefully she phrases her words, and right now, everything she's told him doesn't tell him what he needs to hear, doesn't tell him what she wants. and maybe that's the final nail on the coffin that he needs to be able to walk away from this, to be able to will himself in remembering that he isn't supposed to have this (even if only for a night, even if it's just the desire to have something good again no matter how fleeting), even if everything in his body pulses in telling him that, right now — (because of the whiskey, because he's selfish, because she's given him things he's warned her not to give, because he's hungry to feel this with someone) — she's what he wants. ]
no subject
after the last few months in recognizing how much she manages to keep him stable, keep him from steering off the edge, it isn't worth sabotaging, not when he already knows where taking this road leads.
but her eyes don't leave his, and maybe if they did, he'd have an easier time stepping away, able to piece himself back together to counter what the alcohol is trying to deceive him into pursuing. but she's breathing so closely on that same dangling thread, a secret acceptance that teases the temptation to peer down at her lips with every uttered word she speaks. ]
Then I'll leave. [ he says finally, when the bottle touches his chest without nudging to further their distance. without that encouragement, there's nothing to stop him from moving forward in contrast to his own words, stepping in between the parting of her knees, his legs nudging forward against the fabric of her skirt. his hands remain on either side of her thighs, though the tips of his thumbs graze a light touch, like he's aware he lacks the permission for anything further than that.
but he's leaning in closer now, feeling the heat of her breath near his mouth. ]
I'll leave if you tell me you don't want me to stay.
[ he knows it's a terrible thing to ask when he knows she can't tell a lie, but he also knows how carefully she phrases her words, and right now, everything she's told him doesn't tell him what he needs to hear, doesn't tell him what she wants. and maybe that's the final nail on the coffin that he needs to be able to walk away from this, to be able to will himself in remembering that he isn't supposed to have this (even if only for a night, even if it's just the desire to have something good again no matter how fleeting), even if everything in his body pulses in telling him that, right now — (because of the whiskey, because he's selfish, because she's given him things he's warned her not to give, because he's hungry to feel this with someone) — she's what he wants. ]