goodloved : 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚.
honey’s face glows with melancholy while the tension grows solid between them, something tangible. the shift in his intonation, evident weariness, outright admittance that somethings wrong here. it’s enough to give her whiplash from the daunting ( and somehow exponentially preferable ) silence they’d been slumped in mere moments ago. she’s taken to blame herself less, or at least would rather internalize the mountains of self loathing than to dribble them in puddles at charles’ feet. even if she’s ridiculing herself for things out of her control. she can’t remember the last time she’d allowed herself to so much as shed a tear in front of him and maybe that in itself is a form of neglect to their relationship. it wouldn’t be so far fetched if she’d sabotaged it all –– set herself to fail in this for some sort of self fulfilling prophecy that she’s not enough. she offers up nothing but a tired sigh for the few seconds that follow, adjusting in her seat in awkward discomfort. thinking it might be nice if he could be just a nudge closer because even them not being skin to skin is wildly uncharacteristic.
“ are you waiting for me to throw in the towel? ” a plain-spoken quip enters the uncomfortable fog they sit between before she can bite it back. it’s said in a tone dipped in playful tease. there’s the ghost of a giggle that dots her i’s and crosses her t’s, offers up some ease to its blunt roughness because it wouldn’t be her if anything but soft. it’s a challenge, an honest wondering that nearly triggers the nausea in the pool of her belly to shoot up her neck and spill out in chunks all over the dining table. there’s a glint that decorates irises now, a tilt of her head that invites a fresher breath of air into her lungs. “ i’d do it if it made it easier. ” there isn’t an inch of her that’s prepared to give up, but it less and less matters what she wants. she’s coming to resolve that there might be too little time to put him second anymore, whether or not it leaves her feeling empty and unwanted.
the smile that taunts along his lips is nothing short of melancholic, almost accepting of the chasm that had split through their once solid foundation. his first reaction’s to roll his eyes, tip his head back by the neck to act out the sigh that hollows out his lungs —— but his body keeps still, bones and muscles alike still clinging onto the hope that this won’t completely fade away. neglecting impulse hadn’t ever been his strongest suit, and maybe the only positive of this torrential downpour of unspoken disdain has made it so charles has no choice but to think before his actions. “ if i somehow implied i wanted that, i didn’t mean to. ” losing her was the last thing he wanted, even before the shambles. before the millisecond of hesitance to tuck himself beneath the same comforter, before the ominous countdown of an inevitable end had set onto his shoulders like dumbbells. there had been a point where he couldn’t be in the same room as her without crowding her space, hands all but glued onto any part of her that fingers could hold on to for the simple pleasure of warming fingertips against her skin.
“ i’m saying i want to try fixing whatever .. this is. ” he’s only realized his line of vision had yet to shift from the edge of the table, too concerned with keeping the flicker of candlelight in his peripheral to face whatever look might have settled into the fine lines of her features. green irises serve his sorrow like dinner plates, he knows, a flaw that he’s never quite admired. the side of his thumb runs along the edge of the table as a lone fountain for tension to spout out of, a loose distraction responsible for keeping any irregularities from his tone. “ because i’m tired of doing this thing, of pretending that this is normal. it’s not supposed to be this exhausting. ”
