Even through the tick of despondency, a pained expression wrinkled Gabrielâs face, brows drawing together tightly. The grimace grew as he sighed, and struggled his way to sit up, immediately regretting the choice to sit so low in an already uncomfortable chair. Idiot.
Leaned back over his own mug, he stared down into it, contemplative. Part of him was sincerely glad they had had their throw-down and bloodletting, the claws out, fists clenched, shouting at the top of their lungs worrying the kids reunion that not even Reinhardt had dared interrupt. Now it was all this, whatever it was. Recovery, Angela had said. You need to keep moving forward.
âYeah.â Finally, along with a sigh. Rose-brown eyes lifted once more looking at still vibrant, ice chip blues, and he felt himself falling.Â
âYou know how goddamn hard it is, feeling you so close?â He swiped a hand over his mouth, pulling at his beard. Might as well just get it out. âSo close, yet so far. Do you know how hard it is not to just,â he heaved in a breath, âtake that thing inside of you so I can just have you with me all the time, Jack?â It was possessive, violent, probably worrying, but the only way he could describe the hunger he couldnât sate, the need that had engraved itself right down to the very essence of his own being.Â
âI didnât know I was killing a part of myself that day, and I regret it every fucking minute.â
Jack could still feel the bruise in his jaw from their reunion. He sipped his coffee, hoping the warmth would soothe his muscles as he patiently waited for Gabe to finally unfurl the depths of himself that heâd been hiding for god knew how long. He rubbed it idly, remembering the flurry of emotions he felt when he saw his face.
When their eyes met, he knew he may have made a mistake in asking. He realized he wasnât sure he was ready to hear what Gabe had to say and panic settled in, though he didnât look it-- though Gabe might still remember the signs.
He swallowed roughly, those words twisting his core painfully tight. He almost felt guilty for sitting down, as if his presence was actively hurting Gabe. Though it all stirred something inside of him, something he hadnât expected to ever feel again--- but now that white hot feeling only burned and scalded.
âGabe, I--..â His eyes lowered to his own coffee, voice low before daring to lift them once more.
âI never blamed you, you know. If I hadnât pushed you away so much... Maybe things would have been different if I had just...â
His head fell, a hand immediately finding his white hair and tugging aimlessly as if somehow it would allow him to come up with the word she had been practicing for years, in the off chance Gabe was still alive.
âIâm so sorry, Gabe..â
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