The ticking of the clock that was over the bar sounded loud in her head, despite being unable to actual hear it as the high subsided with the fries that were moving through her stomach in that moment. Thankful that it was Danny that was across from her in that moment, her face almost falling as all the realization came at once, the anxious state of mind racing as she thought of Wren and if he was alright or how the rest of her siblings were taking it late at night. The blasting music that surrounding them sounded silent, as she sat there, eyes completely focused on the hand that was handed out to her but her whole body unable to actually move as her mind took hold of her momentarily to remind her of the flames the engulfed both of her parents in front of her own very eyes as the flashing lights on the dance-floor began to switch between bright red and fire-y orange. Trembling back into her own body, Tatum finally stood up without taking hold of Danny’s hand at first, watching him throw the bills onto the table despite her earlier statement of paying for the food that she would order herself at the bar. “Danny —-,” she finally said loud enough for him to hear it in a faint whisper, allowing her hand to feel his physical contact as her hand fell down into his, fingers freezing from the immense amount of emotions that were rushing through her body at once as the sense of relief was thrown out the window without even one last joint in her pocket to make it stop for the night. “I can’t go home,” she admitted, allowing her glistened eyes to look up at him, almost begging him to agree to her terms. “Look —- I won’t try anything, okay? I’ll literally sit on the other end of the couch and —- and I’ll get Wren to pick me up when the bar closes or — I’ll cab. I won’t do anything, —- just please?” She begged, pressing her lips together tightly and hoping she wouldn’t need to pull the tears to show him how terrified she was to step a foot into the families house without her mind foggy or breath smelling of alcohol.
An automatic and oh so familiar presence of guilt flooded his mind. He felt like everything he did was enough to leave Tatum spiraling in a grieving state. He felt bad for feeling bad, because she was not a frail being. The assumption that she couldn’t take on the world by herself was proven wrong every single time she opened her mouth to demand something from another. He was proven wrong every time he ended up in her presence, not maliciously or out of poor intent, but simply because of how strong she was, and how strong he thought he was until encountering her. He’d never had to grieve, had never known a member of his biological family long enough to have a standing impression of them. Without knowing one’s true parents, how or why they gave they gave him up, there was no reason to feel one certain way or another about anything on the matter. His mouth hung open. His mother’s voice rang out in the back of his mind faintly, something about catching flies, something he would focus on if not for the one in front of him. Danny was trying to say something. Never was he afraid of what she might try, even the blonde had boundaries she stayed within for obvious reasons. If she really did like him, it was a big if— but if she really did, she wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable more than necessary, even though it was quite the simple task. All of a sudden, rapidly, his hands moved up to fall on her shoulders, holding her at an arm’s length. He could hardly tell what type of expression was on his face, one that might be concerned or frightened for her most likely. It was her pleading with him, God, it put him on edge. Loathe was not a strong enough word to convey how he felt about Tatum being in a burdened state. He often felt the sorrow in the air. “You don’t—-” Shaking his head thrice, he pulled her into his body. An embrace of all things surrounded her. It was spontaneous, and certainly not a run of the mill thing he’d do. “You don’t have to go home.” And just like that he gave in. He was putty in her hands, malleable and very easily controlled. But only for her. More shakes of his head, that was all he was doing that night, or so it seemed. The same actions repeated over and over again in his usual rut of ordinary and more or less bland things— until his arms wrapped around the woman in a comforting act. His chin resting atop her head, eyebrows knit together as he stared at the wall in vain. He couldn’t say no, not when she was the way she was.
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