The Window
The Window, TenToo/Rose, pg
He knows, when she’s in one of her moods. She stands at the window for hours at a time, her arms wrapped around herself, her teeth worrying her bottom lip., 296
There are days when it’s harder than usual.
Those days are the worst for him.
There’s nothing he can do; he’s not what she wants. He’s a copy, an echo, a useless duplicate.
He knows, when she’s in one of her moods. She stands at the window for hours at a time, her arms wrapped around herself, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. He does things like bring her tea and biscuits but she ignores them, ignores him.
It makes his chest feel hollow and he feels like he’s being stabbed.
She always apologizes later, but it doesn’t lessen the hurt.
He knows logically that she’s not doing on purpose. She’s not a naturally vindictive person and he knows somewhere deep down that she does love him, but he understands that it’s not the same.
And then one day something changed.
She was standing in front of the window; he was in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching her.
She turned suddenly, looking at him with a look in her eye that he couldn’t quite identify. Outside the moon was starting to come up and the sky was a dusky purple color. She walks toward him slowly, not speaking. He just watched her, afraid to move.
When she reached him she looked up at him and then wrapped her arms around him, laying the side of her head flat against his chest; he still didn’t move. He could feel her breathing change and realized she was listening to his heart beat.
“I love you,” she said softly, “I really do.”
He finally moved and wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on top of head.
“I love you too, Rose Tyler.”
That was the last day she stood at the window to brood.
He knows, when she’s in one of her moods. She stands at the window for hours at a time, her arms wrapped around herself, her teeth worrying her bottom lip., 296
There are days when it’s harder than usual.
Those days are the worst for him.
There’s nothing he can do; he’s not what she wants. He’s a copy, an echo, a useless duplicate.
He knows, when she’s in one of her moods. She stands at the window for hours at a time, her arms wrapped around herself, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. He does things like bring her tea and biscuits but she ignores them, ignores him.
It makes his chest feel hollow and he feels like he’s being stabbed.
She always apologizes later, but it doesn’t lessen the hurt.
He knows logically that she’s not doing on purpose. She’s not a naturally vindictive person and he knows somewhere deep down that she does love him, but he understands that it’s not the same.
And then one day something changed.
She was standing in front of the window; he was in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching her.
She turned suddenly, looking at him with a look in her eye that he couldn’t quite identify. Outside the moon was starting to come up and the sky was a dusky purple color. She walks toward him slowly, not speaking. He just watched her, afraid to move.
When she reached him she looked up at him and then wrapped her arms around him, laying the side of her head flat against his chest; he still didn’t move. He could feel her breathing change and realized she was listening to his heart beat.
“I love you,” she said softly, “I really do.”
He finally moved and wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on top of head.
“I love you too, Rose Tyler.”
That was the last day she stood at the window to brood.