"I would like to," Erin murmurs, without hesitation. "I'd like to sleep in the bed my friend made with her own hands, out of thoughtless kindness. I'd like a door I can lock when the world is simply too much, so I can read or cry or just roll the dice on a nap. And..."
"...I'd like to keep being your friend, Helena. If you'll have me."
She blows the match out before the flame can burn her, and drops it in the ashtray.
She doesn't want to be touched without warning, Helena knows. So when she extends her hand on the table, palm up, it's a deliberate thing. An offer, if she wants it, for the reassurance that chosen touch can bring. Reaching out towards her, so that she's not the one that has to put in all the effort.
It's as easy as choosing to walk back, to where there are clothes not steeped in the smoke of stress and misery, to where her bed has been neatly kept, to let a very long day wind down. The shrapnel's been extracted from the wound, now what it needs is care and time.
There's a lot Helena doesn't know, won't know, unless it's given out or thrust into her lap. But that's all right - she's still learning the shape of this particular thing. It has softer edges than she first thought it did.
It's a long moment of wrangling immediate, irrelevant thoughts that try to distract Erin from the reality of Helena's choice; Erin should put the juice away, she needs to get her sculpture from Crabb's room, Helena doesn't have the full story -
(It doesn't matter, Peters. Suck it up.)
She reaches out, and takes her roommate's hand with a shy smile.
"Alright," Erin murmurs softly. "...I can do the laundry in the morning."
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no subject
"...I'd like to keep being your friend, Helena. If you'll have me."
She blows the match out before the flame can burn her, and drops it in the ashtray.
no subject
She doesn't want to be touched without warning, Helena knows. So when she extends her hand on the table, palm up, it's a deliberate thing. An offer, if she wants it, for the reassurance that chosen touch can bring. Reaching out towards her, so that she's not the one that has to put in all the effort.
It's as easy as choosing to walk back, to where there are clothes not steeped in the smoke of stress and misery, to where her bed has been neatly kept, to let a very long day wind down. The shrapnel's been extracted from the wound, now what it needs is care and time.
There's a lot Helena doesn't know, won't know, unless it's given out or thrust into her lap. But that's all right - she's still learning the shape of this particular thing. It has softer edges than she first thought it did.
no subject
(It doesn't matter, Peters. Suck it up.)
She reaches out, and takes her roommate's hand with a shy smile.
"Alright," Erin murmurs softly. "...I can do the laundry in the morning."
Things...
Might just be okay.
Wouldn't that be new?