[ Time's not the first thing on his mind, either. He stays as long as she needs him, and it's only when she pulls away that it occurs to him they've both just been standing there. Part of him isn't sure where to start, but there's another, bigger part of him that isn't stuck on that. He's not thinking ahead, he's not thinking anything; he's just reactingā€”stepping back to give her space when she does, brushing back her tangled hair when she scrubs her eyes. ]
Me, too.
[ For a few heartbeats, it's quiet enough he can hear tires rolling over gravel outside, the dull thunk of a soda can hitting the bottom of a vending machine. In the end, whether it's her nudging him there or Logan telling her she oughta sit, they wind up on the small couch together. He sinks into the ancient cushions, old springs digging into his ass, and he doesn't put as much distance between them as he might've before. The TV, perched on its scratched up stand, reflects the lamp behind them on its empty screen.
He leans forward, watching her askew, his gaze drifting between her hands and her face. Something's happened, he realizes, between then and now, in how thoughtless it is to be close to her. He doesn't ask himself anymore if that's what she might want, doesn't ask if it's what he wants, what either of them wants. Because it is. It is. ]
I, umā€” [ Shit, what's there to say? He's glad she let him in. He's glad she's unhurt, even if it might not feel that way for a while. He's glad it's at least fucking over. (Even if it took far too long to get there.) ] You need anything?
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Me, too.
[ For a few heartbeats, it's quiet enough he can hear tires rolling over gravel outside, the dull thunk of a soda can hitting the bottom of a vending machine. In the end, whether it's her nudging him there or Logan telling her she oughta sit, they wind up on the small couch together. He sinks into the ancient cushions, old springs digging into his ass, and he doesn't put as much distance between them as he might've before. The TV, perched on its scratched up stand, reflects the lamp behind them on its empty screen.
He leans forward, watching her askew, his gaze drifting between her hands and her face. Something's happened, he realizes, between then and now, in how thoughtless it is to be close to her. He doesn't ask himself anymore if that's what she might want, doesn't ask if it's what he wants, what either of them wants. Because it is. It is. ]
I, umā€” [ Shit, what's there to say? He's glad she let him in. He's glad she's unhurt, even if it might not feel that way for a while. He's glad it's at least fucking over. (Even if it took far too long to get there.) ] You need anything?