Shiloh.
what always seemed to feel settled with shiloh–what always kept him from resorting instantly to walking away and not giving a shit about whether they moved in the roundabout manner in which they did–was that freya, like him, had fallen so weightlessly into a routine; something to hold onto and come back to. he could lose her in an instant, he knew. in the same way that it was entirely possible for her to lose him. but the likelihood of that ever happening was slim to none, if only due to the fact that they, like tightly stretched rubber bands, couldn’t help but crash back into each other once enough pressure had inevitably manifested between them. but the one thing that managed to always aggravate shiloh–what made him want to prolong the distance they mutually imposed between them, this time for his own good–was when freya pulled something reminiscent of this on him. when she’d give him some rendition of the silent treatment, or when she’d try ruthlessly to push him into this divot of recognizing that, for some reason, to her, he was an inconvenience unless she was ready to need him back–as though they had to be desperate to want each other. she had to try so hard to prolong pushing him away, and while he knew that the strength of her tide was something he was too dedicated to stop fighting against, feeling that idiotic at the mercy of her words always made his insides turn annoyedly. she put herself first, sure–and that’s what he hoped she’d do for the rest of her life. but it all urged shiloh wonder if he’d have to one day muster some semblance of strength to just call it quits for the both of them. of course, shiloh needed freya in the same way he needed something sturdy beneath him at all times. so losing her ‘for their own good’ wasn’t a thought he ever entertained for more than an angered millisecond. which is why, when he resorted to calling her a pet name, it was for the sake of getting something–anything vocal out of her yet. just prove that you both still care.
he let her sharp sweetheart rebuttal go, knowing that he had accomplished something, at least; had gotten her to talk. on their own, her insults were rarely a legitimate topic of interest to him. it’s when she answered in quick, cold snaps, that his eyes began to narrow instinctively. then the content of her speech began to spill over, and shiloh almost forgot why he hadn’t just retired to his own apartment and saved her the apparent plight. “barged in here?” his voice reiterated the hostile nature of the words he knew–hoped–she couldn’t really mean. she just wanted a fight she knew she could get from him, right? the implication alone that they were some brand of estranged frenemies made his body tense. he wanted to laugh it off and take her veiled incentive to leave-but-stay-but-leave into his own hands all at once. but god save shiloh if he wasn’t the type to rely, always, on freya’s cue. “you know, i just fucking got here, freya. i could go back to my place and keep my shit to myself, no problem–” he almost choked on his words, then, shaking his head to keep them from finding an unwanted place in his chest. “so if you’re pissed and you want me to get the hell out, then just tell me you want me to get the hell out.” carefully, he pulled his hand back from where she had been cleaning it in front of her. “please, just–” he was newfoundedly exasperated, “–glue. i can do it myself, clean the carpet, and be on my way. i’m not asking to be some fucking inconvenient stray dog in your apartment.”
‘just in case’ seemed to be the common excuse shared silently between the two of them, spoken not with words but with non-verbal intentions behind their not-so-great actions towards the other. one last kiss, one last smirk, one last slap, one last snarled word.. it didn’t matter what it was, so long as they both were aware that it was given just in case. she knew it before she’d even responded to his wry compliment, heard it in the mocking lilt behind the word and she’d acknowledged it in giving him the response he’d been expecting. they’d mastered a rhythm of expectation, an endless give and take that kept them both from losing their minds completely. it was exhausting, though, this endless cycle of push and pull and ebb and flow between them — she thought the sea must feel similarly, to long for rest from the constant rise and crash of waves, waiting impatiently for some level of calm on its surface — and she’d become so well practiced in self-denial that it had become second nature to refuse them both happiness the moment she began to lose control of her emotions. she often wondered what it would be like if she didn’t actively go out of her way to try and make him hate her, but she’d always come up short, having only more of the same to compare it to. it wasn’t strength that urged her to keep him at a distance as much as possible — even she knew that, despite priding herself on her own self-sufficiency — but absolutely crippling terror that he’d leave her one day, not knowing what it was she did to make him not want her anymore. better to give him a reason, she figured, better to be the one to choose why he’d leave than be left wondering. so she’d continue to rage, to poke and prod and grind at his nerves whenever he got too close to the soft bits behind her ribs. it’s better this way, she thinks forcefully to herself as she tightens her hold on his hand, every part of her in disagreement with the notion. you’re both safer this way.
freya doesn’t apologize; it’s practically a staple of her personality, but god, if she didn’t feel the guilt festering in her chest. no one else could make that particular knife twist between her ribs, could plant a seed of remorse in her mind for crossing that line ( no one even came close to meaning enough to her as he did, much to her constant frustration. it didn’t confuse her, as she was very well aware of why she cared so much, of why he had become the single person in her life who had her complete and utter trust — that was a frightening thought, trusting, but yes, it frustrated her to no end ). she was a walking, talking contradiction of a person, doing things and saying things she knows good and well she’ll immediately regret but doing them anyways without even a moment’s hesitation — masochism at its finest. “ y’know, barged? walked in unannounced? figured you’d be familiar with the term considering i do the same to you all the time. ” admittedly not an apology ( one would not be coming ), but her tone was casual enough to hopefully convey a makeshift olive branch. she was at her most comfortable when they were fighting or arguing or disagreeing, but it still felt so wrong at times to deliberately pour salt in his wounds. pausing in her ministrations, her gaze slowly met his as she raised a brow at him, a spark of mirth in the corner of her eye. “ sit still, ” she replied calmly, noting the flush in his cheeks and along his neck as his irritation boiled into anger. she’d be lying if she said she didn’t admire him in a rage, but she’d rather he not disappear so soon after finally showing up again. swallowing the lump in her throat, she offered a smirk as she ran a hand through the unkempt hair on his forehead. “ i don’t want you to get the hell out, ” she offered, dropping her hand and returning her attention to repairing his hand. “ not right now, at least. ” sighing, she scowled at her own stupidity, hands moving almost unconsciously as she grit her teeth against the next words out of her mouth. “ you know i go for the jugular first and ask questions later. ” amusement seemed to be in a state of constant flux with her tonight, as she grinned, tying off the last of the bandage around his knuckles. “ also known as the most obvious commonality between me and you. ”
