It's early days, is the thing. Everything is peaceful so far, easy and simple, sharing a place feeling like a natural extension of how they've been and become over the last half a year or so. Eventually, Olive feels sure, that won't be the case, and then it will be again, once they've had time to get ticked off by each other's habits and then to squabble over them and adapt to them. And no sooner will that be done, probably, then he'll be back to the hut next door, but that isn't really the point. It's good just to have him here now and to be able to be a help while he's injured, and to hear the door open and know he's coming home.
She glances up from her textbook over her shoulder, expecting him to join her, unfazed when he doesn't (his leg hurts him, she can see why he wouldn't want to walk even a few yards extra after coming back from wherever he was). "In here," she says, even as she slips the bookmark into place and rolls to her feet, padding out. She leans in the doorway, head against the frame. "Hey, you. Everything okay?"
Eduardo smiles when he sees her, expression betraying just how tired he is, but fond nonetheless. Looking at Olive, it's impossible not to be. Especially at a time like this, when what he's without - what he was always going to be without, be it here or back home - is weighing so heavily on his mind, he's more grateful than ever for her presence alone, its accompanying steadiness. He's never known anyone like her before, and he doubts he ever will, a thought that's still as powerful now as when he first realized it. Whatever else happens, he still has this, and that means he still wound up unbelievably fucking lucky
( ... )
Brow furrowing, Olive slips around to sit beside him, shaking her head. "What happened?" She's always expecting it, if she's honest. She's come to trust Mark on her own front, even to think of him as a friend, but when it comes to Eduardo, she's never stopped being wary. There's a part of her that's written it off as a kind of jealousy, serving no purpose but to make her feel stupid, but mostly she just worries. She has since day one. As she's said before, though, she never wanted to be right.
For all she knows, though, this is just a petty battle, soon resolved or already finished. He doesn't seem to be doing as badly as she would have expected from something serious, at least. Her hand lights on his shoulder as she tucks her legs beneath her, hoping this is a case of her imagination running away with her, not another fight that causes Eduardo lasting hurt.
Eduardo turns his head to kiss her cheek as soon as she's sitting beside him, an arm draping loosely around her. It isn't to distract himself, necessarily, but rather to continue serving as a reminder of what good he has, to keep everything in perspective. This fight, the finality that he thinks was attached to it, sucks, but each day he and Mark spent on good terms with each other was one they were never supposed to have gotten in the first place. Knowing that does little to assuage the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it still helps. And, like before, he might not be blameless, but he can't put this on himself, either, which is a small comfort, but is one
( ... )
Comments 56
She glances up from her textbook over her shoulder, expecting him to join her, unfazed when he doesn't (his leg hurts him, she can see why he wouldn't want to walk even a few yards extra after coming back from wherever he was). "In here," she says, even as she slips the bookmark into place and rolls to her feet, padding out. She leans in the doorway, head against the frame. "Hey, you. Everything okay?"
Reply
Reply
For all she knows, though, this is just a petty battle, soon resolved or already finished. He doesn't seem to be doing as badly as she would have expected from something serious, at least. Her hand lights on his shoulder as she tucks her legs beneath her, hoping this is a case of her imagination running away with her, not another fight that causes Eduardo lasting hurt.
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment