contact part deux

[bouchonne]

if this were modern times byerly would probably make you listen to total eclipse of the heart before you were able to leave a message

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[bouchonne]

[ By's lips press together. For a moment, he struggles to give voice to what's in him. What comes out is: ]

Bastien is fragile. More fragile by far than you or I, when it comes to matters of the heart. He could be easily shattered. So perhaps I pay him more mind, yes, I'll confess it, but it's because he needs it. Truly needs it.

[ Then he runs a hand over his face, and says on a breath out: ]

And if I held you like you were all that mattered, in that dream, it's because you were the only thing I loved left alive. We talked about this. You know that I can't give you all of me. Even if he weren't here, I couldn't.

[coquettish_trees]

[ It makes her flinch. ]

How many times have you watched me fall to pieces. Watched me break, watched me run. Watched me do both again just now, over a mere gesture of comfort and welcome. I ruined my own life and burned swaths of yours for matters of the heart, but I do not need to be paid mind. Not truly.

[bouchonne]

Am I not paying you mind? Am I not here now?

[ Frustration rises. And then, with a puff of breath: ]

And, frankly, no. You're resilient. He's not. I'm not. You are.

[coquettish_trees]

[ That pulls a laugh from her, short and bitter and hollow. ]

Yes, you are here. You are here telling me I do not need what I say I do, as earlier you were here saying you care for his needs because he tells you them.

And then you are confused when I say I am afraid that you do not want me.

[bouchonne]

[ The frustration rises higher. ]

Because I don't trust you, Lexie. [ A noise of taut unhappiness - ] Not yet. And you come at me like a wave, and I don't know how to swim.

[coquettish_trees]

I will try to be less of a wave. [ A breath, long and deep. ] But if I am to be successful then I cannot yet see you with someone you do trust, someone whom you feel free to love in a way we cannot yet have.

[ She looks down and shakes her head slowly. ]

I cannot be here if he is too, not when this is how things are between us. I will go mad.

[bouchonne]

[ A real pain rips through his face. ]

What are you proposing, then?

[coquettish_trees]

That you must keep us separately for a time.

It does not bother me unless I am there to see the both of you. I am happy that you are happy with him, truly, but to see the difference so acutely makes me jealous and despairing, and it is then that I behave wretchedly.

[bouchonne]

Oh.

[ A bit of the tension goes out of him. ]

So - not that I must...choose.

[coquettish_trees]

No. I should not ask that.

[ Another headshake, and she sits up to rest her chin on her knees and manages a smile. It is tired and sad and small but it is a smile. ]

I ask only for the kindness of not being made to witness what I wish for and cannot have.

[bouchonne]

[ A small nod. That's fair. Though: ]

It's never going to be what it was. You know that, right?

[coquettish_trees]

It could not be. Even if things had not happened as they did, we are neither of us what we were. What is ours now is to find out what is left, and if we wish to keep it.

But it was beautiful.

[ She is crying again, but it is slow. And she is still smiling. ]

Thank you for the swing.

[bouchonne]

[ He's quiet a moment. And then, softly: ]

You were the second person who ever loved me. In my life. [ Just his sister, and then Lexie. ] It - was - important to me.

[coquettish_trees]

[ And he had lost them both cruelly.

Softly: ]

You were the second person who ever looked at me like I was something more than I thought myself to be, and the only one who was not lying.

It was important to me too.

I am sorry I repaid you as I did.

[bouchonne]

It doesn't matter.

[ Or maybe it does. He doesn't know. Sometimes it makes him feel righteous and furious, at times when he's backed into a corner, makes him feel like someone who was wronged; sometimes it just makes him feel ashamed, to have drawn that out of her. He still doesn't really understand it, not fully. On an intellectual level, yes; he understands the Game and the moves that one makes, and he understands her fear. But it's still so difficult to comprehend in his heart. He's always scrabbling for what he did wrong, that she thought this was the way of it. ]

I was a fool back then. It would have happened at some point or another.

[ That much, at least, is true. Though it likely would have been less agonizing if it had come from someone else. ]

[coquettish_trees]

It matters. You did not deserve to be hurt so any more than I did. It was Rolant's fault when he hurt me, and it was mine when I hurt you.

It is mine again today.

[bouchonne]

No, it's not.

[ At that, a wave of guilt and shame comes up to choke him. He made her cry. He made her miserable. And why? Because he can't say a few pathetic words? ]

It's mine. I frightened you back then. And now, it's - I'm not deserving of your affections. Truly.

[coquettish_trees]

Do not be so greedy.

[ She rests her chin on her knees. ]

I frightened myself then. You did nothing but love me. It is not your fault that the feeling of vulnerability my realization of the extent of my tenderness towards you evoked was entwined with the memory of unspeakable betrayal, and it is not your fault that I did not give you the barest moment of opportunity to prove it could mean something else.

It was a trap set in me, waiting for the moment I loved again. I do not think it would have sprung, had I not been in earnest.

[ Wry humour joins the tired and sad in her little smile. ]

Is that not truly the most awful way to be sure one loves?

[bouchonne]

[ But he gives a small shake of his head. ]

Come now. If that were true, then you'd have never been able to love anyone at all. [ He forces an unconcerned, easy smile onto his lips. ] You were hardly the first person to see danger coming from me, and nor were you the last. I know there's something sinister in me.

[coquettish_trees]

[ He’s doing it again. It’s as if he can’t hear her at all, as if there is a demon that thrives on misery in his ear translating—

Is—

Is this what she is doing? Not truly listening, but hearing only what she is most afraid to hear every time he speaks?

The frustration melts from her face, replaced by furtive curiosity as she sits up. ]

Can we not hear one another?

[bouchonne]

[ His gaze comes around to her. ]

What do you mean?

[coquettish_trees]

[ She looks absent for a moment, frowning slightly in thought as she touches the new idea on different sides to see what it is, then looks at him again, her head tilting to the side. ]

Do I frustrate you because sometimes when you speak I hear things you do not mean, and am hurt by them?

[bouchonne]

[ He hesitates, then says - ]

Yes.

[coquettish_trees]

[ A slow nod. Her gaze turns inward again, outward again after a moment. ]

You do it as well. Hear things I do not say.

[ She uncurls, lets her knees fall to the side. Rests her hands in her lap. ]

Bastien can hear the both of us, what we mean, but sometimes we cannot hear each other. Often, perhaps.

[bouchonne]

[ In his defense - ]

You often say what you don't mean.