yatesthomas:
tom is watching frank with rapt attention, taking in his words. he’s noticed that frank’s speech changes, at times like these. he commits every word to memory, the hesitation between them, because this is what matters, these moments where frank stops lying and tom gets to see it. he’d think it’s wrong to be so enthralled by other people’s hurt like this, but he’s made his peace. it’s an addiction. it’s not harmful. tom gets to be the listener, just taking it in, and he can leave himself behind and absorb someone else’s story. frank, particularly, has been the first in long years to get his attention in this way. he’s loathe to let it go, relieved to see some of his wall crumble again. his mouth is dry, like he hasn’t had anything to drink for hours. it’s almost a high, every time this happens with him. he shifts on the couch, settling against it but more importantly pressing his knee against frank’s thigh. his hand stays where it is, but it’s something, a gesture he’s sure frank will be acutely aware of. another question comes to mind (are you still hurting?), but it’s too blunt and too obvious for the moment. i wish she’d stayed says as much. he wonders if claire is, or if she’s starting to mend, having taken the first step forward. when tom opens his mouth to speak he’s not sure what he’s going to ask, and he blurts out the question without thinking: “why didn’t you do anything? why didn’t you try to fix it?” maybe it’s not fair — he sighs, shaking his head. “outside of your little renewal. a real fix. you think she might have stayed, if you had?” they’re more questions about frank’s marriage than he wanted to ask today, but they serve a purpose, every answer he gets points him in the right direction. he’s like a compass, and every question is a swing, every answer a pull of the needle.
"she shut me out.“ it’s instinctual, defensive. then he forces himself to calm and think things through. He has done enough of this thinking already, but only alone, only to himself; never to anyone else. Frank has never just admitted mistakes to anyone else. He trusts no one, underestimates no one - he’s made that mistake before and it lost him the Secretary of State position. And it’s so hard to open up to Tom purely on the fact that Tom is under Frank’s skin whether he wants him there or not. Foot in the door. Knee pressed against his thigh. It rubs his skin raw to think about.
"She shut me out and I could feel her shutting me out and I thought we would just fix it. Somehow. I believed in our equality. That our unhappiness would pass the same way unhappiness always passed."
A frustrated shake of the head, hand dropping off the back of the couch and onto his leg. Instead of talking to his wife about their problems he stagnated, his focus elsewhere; in the moments that he needed someone to talk to he talked to Tom, told him about the marriage, shared their problems. He went to the wrong person and as a result their situation only got worse. That, really, is how Tom helped destroy them: by having Frank’s attention more than Claire did.
"I thought I was doing something. I thought securing the presidency was going to secure our future and that things would go better for us both. I wasn’t giving her what she needed anymore. I couldn’t have fixed it. I didn’t know I had to. I just… allowed myself to slip.
Towards you. Towards work. Away from Claire.”
