"It's exhausting, sometimes." The admission comes quiet, like Rover can't believe she's speaking it aloud, much less to him. Yet the words slip their leash, curl around his ankles like misbehaving creatures, out of her control, out of her consideration (and oh, how she has to consider everyone but herself, doesn't she?). "The expectation."
Palms on his shoulder, heavy with the weight of all he knows about her that she does not yet remember. That she cannot know she's placing there even as she nevertheless uses him as a crutch- uses him to prop herself up, warily, wearily, as every new tidbit of information makes her wonder just who she had been, what she had done, before.
"What is it, then," she wonders, leaning closer, lips brushing his ear, only scant molecules between his skin and hers, "that you expect, Scar? And why..." A pause, weighted, wary. "Why... doesn't it feel like it's nearly so heavy?"
A low rumble, deep and visceral, stirred within the cage of his chestβa sound more primal than human, but Scar kept his gaze anchored to her, unblinking, unwavering. She could be everything, and he knew it, but that knowledge was a dangerous thing. Her wordsβsoft, fraying at the edgesβwrapped around him like serpentine whispers, coiling tighter with each passing second. They were restless, burdened things, these words of hers, yet there was a vulnerability in them he couldnβt deny, even as it threatened to unravel them both.
βExhausting, ain't it?β His voice, low and velveted, threaded through the thick air between them, a hum that vibrated through his chest and into hers, the closeness undeniable now. The ghost of a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, though it lacked its usual venom. Her palms pressed against his shoulders, and he felt the weight of herβno, more than thatβthe weight of her past, the fractures in her memory, the vast, hollow uncertainty hanging between them like some spectral entity neither could fully banish. βExpectations,β he continued, his tone a slow drawl, deliberate and edged with dark amusement, βhave a funny way of crushing people, y'know? If you let 'em.β
He shifted beneath her touch, the barest movement sending a ripple of tension through his body. His fingers, twitching at his sides, ached to close the distance between them. To pull her closer, to respond to the unspoken plea hidden in the trembling air. But noβhe wouldnβt. Couldn't. Not yet. Not until he knew that this was what she wanted, needed.
Her lips hovered near his ear, close enough that he could feel the heat of her breath ghosting over his skin, each exhale sending a shiver of something sharp through him. He would never admit it, never give voice to the thrill that coursed through his veins like wildfire, but his heart beat a fraction faster, his pupils dilated ever so slightly. βWhat do I expect?β His voice dropped, low, smooth, though the edge was unmistakable, a blade hidden beneath silk. βOf what, my dear Rover? You? Or of the world?β The smirk twisted, sharpened, though his tone softened, laced with a dangerous affection. βI expect you to break, Rover. Eventually. But here's the thing...β He leaned in, their foreheads nearly brushing now, and he could feel the way her breath hitched, the way her pulse fluttered like a caged bird beneath her skin. βBreaking doesnβt make you weak. It makes you human.β
The pause that followed stretched, thickened, the weight of his words sinking into her, as heavy and suffocating as the exhaustion she wore like a second skin. He could feel it, her weariness, the way it seeped into him, but he let it wash over him without resistance. βBut youβre better than that. Youβll adapt. Youβll evolve. Just like you always have.β His grin widened, wolfish now, teeth bared in something that wasnβt quite a smile.
A long, deliberate breath followed, his gaze roaming her face, tracing every line, every imperfection, every crack in her carefully constructed armor. She was ethereal, fragile and strong all at once, just as he had always suspected. And still, she clung to him. He let her, let her weight press into him, allowed her to lean on him because, in the end, he knewββI donβt need you to hold me up, Rover.β His voice, softer now, a low, resonant hum. βBut you...β His grin curled further, that predatory gleam never fading from his eyes. βYou might need me to catch you when you fall.β
He leaned in, closer now than ever, the space between them vanishing into nothingness as his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, an intimacy meant to sear into her very soul. βI told you Iβd be here for you, didnβt I?β His breath was warm against her skin, his words a promise laced with malicious intent. βAnd I will be. Iβll be waiting... for when that happens.β
