This part. That makes her chest suddenly drop out, utterly hollow, and her eyes go straight past pricking up into almost watery in a way nothing, since it happened, has yet managed to overwhelm her into. The touch of his forehead. The way his eyes close, even as she stares at his face with all the space gone as he says those words.
This is so much worse. Than the blank, unseeing rage in his face. Than having no warning. All her instinctual trust of him gutted in mere seconds. Than the terror left lingering in her bones. This is why she had to be here. Today. Right now. Even though it's not fair, to either of them, and it's not. None of this is fair or good or sweet or romantic. That she has to do this. That he had to do that. None of it is what they signed up for on any of the many lines that led them here, at home or in this place. But they were not so often any of those things every day, were they.
And those two words own it all.
The action. The pain. The helpless. The utter lack of control, and where it fell out.
The way there is no way out of him holding on to the fact he did this. Has to apologize. His hands. Her body. Chose The Mark. Chose the fallout. For not fixing himself already.
All the things she doesn't carry for him, or this at all. Jo's hand moves. The smallest twitch first, before she can leave that hand there at her cheek alone, without her own like some guard rail, necessary and too much all at once. Shifts to his cheek, his neck. "I know." It's so soft. She knows. She knows him. She shifts. Just for a moment. Leans up, placing a kiss on his forehead. Mummurs it into his skin. "I do. I know."
"C'mere." She pulls him closer. Into her arms, hand sliding up to cradle the back of his head and pull him into her shoulder. "I've got you."
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This part. That makes her chest suddenly drop out, utterly hollow, and her eyes go straight past pricking up into almost watery in a way nothing, since it happened, has yet managed to overwhelm her into. The touch of his forehead. The way his eyes close, even as she stares at his face with all the space gone as he says those words.
This is so much worse. Than the blank, unseeing rage in his face. Than having no warning. All her instinctual trust of him gutted in mere seconds. Than the terror left lingering in her bones. This is why she had to be here. Today. Right now. Even though it's not fair, to either of them, and it's not. None of this is fair or good or sweet or romantic. That she has to do this. That he had to do that. None of it is what they signed up for on any of the many lines that led them here, at home or in this place. But they were not so often any of those things every day, were they.
And those two words own it all.
The action. The pain. The helpless.
The utter lack of control, and where it fell out.
The way there is no way out of him holding on to the fact he did this. Has to apologize.
His hands. Her body. Chose The Mark. Chose the fallout. For not fixing himself already.
All the things she doesn't carry for him, or this at all. Jo's hand moves. The smallest twitch first, before she can leave that hand there at her cheek alone, without her own like some guard rail, necessary and too much all at once. Shifts to his cheek, his neck. "I know." It's so soft. She knows. She knows him. She shifts. Just for a moment. Leans up, placing a kiss on his forehead. Mummurs it into his skin. "I do. I know."
"C'mere." She pulls him closer. Into her arms, hand sliding up to cradle the back of his head and pull him into her shoulder. "I've got you."