Again she was incredibly appreciative that he seemed to know what she wanted without her having to verbalize it. Him giving her the space she required to compose herself, while still initiating some contact by holding her hand was exactly what Charlotte needed. She was very much ready to move on from the subject and try to salvage what was left of their day. If he had more questions she would answer them, but that might have to be left for another day. This wasn’t something she wanted to have consume the entirety of their time together, and it was such a sensitive topic that it had the potential to derail her altogether if she didn’t get off the subject.
She smiled at his offer, a tiny laugh, that sounded more like a release of breath than anything else, escaping her. Charlotte gently tightened her grip on his hand, wishing she could also throw him a grateful smiling, but she was still avoiding his gaze. “I’d like that… but water would be fine.” She reluctantly dropped his hand and stood, smoothing her skirt out of habit. The propriety of the action was fairly pointless given the fact that her shirt was halfway undone. Noticing, she did up a few buttons as she spoke, simultaneously beginning to walk towards the bathroom. “I’ll be right back; I can only imagine the state I’m in.” She already knew without looking that her face would be puffy and there wasn’t much she could do about that, but at least she could wash off any residual makeup. ”If you have trouble finding anything just give me a shout.” She added, calling over her shoulder. It felt odd to have carried on a conversation while keeping her face turned resolutely away from him the entire time, but her pride had stubbornly taken control.
When she flicked the bathroom light on and saw exactly what she was dealing with Charlotte was instantaneously relieved she had avoided facing Marcus. She was a wreck, plain and simple. The fact that she had applied heavier makeup this morning had slipped her mind and the mascara tracks leading down her cheeks were worse than she had anticipated. While she took to washing off the smudged remainder of her makeup it finally sunk in what she had done. She had confided in someone and her world hadn’t come crashing down- in fact it had felt liberating. Of course, Marcus wasn’t just ‘someone.’ They had yet to put into words what their unconventional relationship was, but Charlotte knew it was something equally as genuine as it was wonderful. Her feelings for him only continued to intensify with each interaction and she didn’t see that changing any time soon.
After her face was bare Charlotte studied her reflection with a critical eye, toying with the idea of reapplying her makeup. The cool water had helped diminish a bit of the puffiness, but her eyes were still bloodshot and her face still pink and tear-stained. In the end she decided against makeup. It was a silly, vain thing to be so preoccupied with anyway. Not wanting to change her mind and let her self-consciousness get the better of her, she turned without a second-glance at the mirror and made her way out into the hall. She paused for a moment before entering the living room, not sure what to say after the dark nature of their previous conversation. When Charlotte did walk back in she, unsurprisingly, was still unable to find the appropriate words and could only smile shyly as she took a seat next to him once more.
If Marcus understood anything, it was the need for personal and emotional space. He didn't like people asking him questions unless he was willing to answer them, and he didn't like them lingering around when he was feeling emotionally vulnerable. It went without saying, that he could get downright cranky if he felt violated in any of these ways, and it was something that he thought he and Charlotte had an innate understanding of when it came to one another. Her way of dealing with it was a little different than his, but he very much could grasp what it felt like to feel so exposed after having just opened up to somebody. Given what she had just shared with him, that was probably a feeling multiplied by ten fold. She had to be exhausted, and he wasn't sure if this unplanned detour into her past was a good thing or a not so good thing, but despite the heaviness of it all, he knew it was important that it had happened, and that was a good thing. If they were continued on with this relationship, as unorthodox as it was, walls had to be broken down; and what was exposed was not going to be easy to share. Marcus had spent so long avoiding this, it was a stark reminder of what it was like to truly be an adult.
He nodded as she stood, reluctant to let her go, but again, entirely aware that it was necessary. She was shy again, self-conscious of her disheveled appearance; already attempting to put herself back together. He could tell her that none of that mattered to him, that she looked just as beautiful as ever, just as he couldn't fathom judging her for what she had just told him, but he knew that she knew how he felt, and it would still be difficult for her to accept. He didn't want to push it, and instead he smiled up at her as she turned to head down the hall towards the bathroom. "Okay, I should be fine." Once she was gone, he stood and made his way into the small kitchen. Finding two glasses wasn't very difficult, and he opened to fridge to see that she had a pitcher full of filtered water; probably a better choice than the tap. He poured them both a glass full, returned the pitcher, and meandered back into the living room. The house was virtually silent now, and in it Marcus could still hear the sounds of her crying in his head; pain and release at once, and he had to wonder how long it had been since she had broken down like that, to anyone.
Could he do the same? He knew he needed to tell her, it was only right after her show of such deep trust to him; not that he felt it was 'owed', but that she deserved to have his trust returned on a similar level. He hadn't talked to anyone about it in years, whenever his therapists had tried to bring it up, he had shut down. Grief consoling had been a complete and utter waste, and even if it could have offered something, he hadn't been willing to listen or try. It wasn't a violation, it was not a betrayal like Charlotte had experienced, but it was a moment where he had felt part of himself torn away, a moment that would impact the rest of his life and leave him a person that would never be the same. He had to tell her, but he didn't know if now was the right time. Soon.
He settled back down on the couch, taking a few sips of water from his glass, relieved that she had suggested water over tea; the cool relief was all at once a necessity. He heard the bathroom door open and close, and she eventually emerged back into the room; her make up mostly gone now, but that didn't matter whatsoever, her natural beauty shone through, and if Marcus was being honest, he just wasn't a big make up guy anyways. "I found the pitcher," he said, handing her the other glass and shifting around a little to better face her once she sat down. In the aftermath of their last conversation, an awkward heaviness hung in the air, and he wasn't much better at coping with these moments than she was. He looked down at the glass in his hands, turning it slowly. It wasn't easy to return to a level state after that, let alone back to where they had been before he had exposed her scar, but Marcus also didn't want to just bounce back, because that felt a bit like negating the importance of what she had just shared. God, he was so bad at these kinds of things.
Glancing back up at her, it was probably painfully obvious he was searching for a right way to navigate back into a well timed topic. And then his self-awareness became too much and he shook his head, cringing at his own ineptitude. "I'm sorry, Charlotte....I'm so........" Was 'awkward' even the right word for it? He trailed off, not even able to finish the sentence. Pulling in a breath, he tried again. "Do you want to get some fresh air? We could go out somewhere...." Fuck, that was a terrible suggestion. Finally, he just puffed out an exasperated little laugh and shook his head again; leaning back into the couch cushion and running a hand down his face. "If you can't tell, I'm a little rusty....."
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