abraxaslogs | • OPEN •

[but even if there are parallels there, it doesn't take away from the fact that matt is going through something right now—acting so unlike himself (or like himself?) that it's leaving wanda to feel rather helpless. her hands tighten into fists on the glass shards, which disappear without bringing harm to her at all, as she walks over to where he's decided to sit.

at least, he's not telling her to leave; at least, he's not left. he didn't have to meet her here if he hadn't wanted to.

wanda compels mary to lie down still where she is, allowing them space, as she herself crouches down beside matt's chair. a hand reaches around the armrest, to grab lightly at his wrist.]

Won't you talk to me, Matt? Tell me what's going on?

( he doesn't pull away from her when she touches him even though the urge is there. he doesn't want her getting pulled closer and closer into his orbit where he could hurt her.

he bows his head, shoulders slouching. )

It doesn't matter.

( he knows that she'll disagree. maybe he's just trying to stall for time and figure out what to do here. )

It does.

[she'll insist, pulling her hand away from his wrist. sure, he hasn't turned away from her like he had before, but he's pushing inward, onto himself, like he isn't sure he wants to be here. instead of taking her hand back for herself, she draws it closer to him, over his neck, behind his head. a light, gentle touch.

whatever it is, she deserves an explanation—at the very least.]

...are you breaking up with me?

[maybe that'll give her a better idea of where they stand.]

( he should. it would be safer in his estimation.

but, he's greedy and he doesn't want to especially when he remembers her touch now that her hand is on him again. )

It'd be safer that way, Wanda. I know what I do to people now. How I hurt them, how I pull them into things they don't deserve to be involved in, how I lead them into danger.

( and he can't do that to her. he can't. )

[he doesn't really give her an answer to her question, but it makes her heart stutter nonetheless. arguably, it sounds like he doesn't want to make that decision. wanda won't cry about it, though; she refuses, steeling herself, her hand moving from the back of his head to his face, to pull at his cheek lightly, so he's turned to face her.]

You know who I am. What I do. If you're destructive, then I am, too. If you put others in danger, then I am the danger that others risk themselves to be in.

[matt cannot refute this—he knows as much is true.]

I don't want us to break up.

[that's a choice that he ought to respect.]

When I was in a dark place, you were the one who brought me back. You were the one who kept coming to see me, to try and reach me—to show me that I wasn't alone. I won't leave you, Matt. [her hand reaches for his shirt, sliding down to where his beating heart would be, and she grips there tightly. her words a mutter; a parallel of another life, of another love worth fighting for.] I want to stay.

Everything's gone.

( he blurts it out after a moment of looking at her even if he's not able to see. it used to be that he could hear her heartbeat, smell her perfume, everything.

now, he only knows that she's there because she's so close to him. he shakes his head, knows he needs to clarify. )

I woke up — that morning, I woke up with new memories. From home. And everything's gone. I can't hear you. I can't see you.

[it seems to be the right thing to say; matt says what he's been keeping to himself, his words dulled by his apprehension and the suffering he's been going through. wanda couldn't ever understand what it's like to be blind, to be robbed of one of her senses.

to have the ability to sense more than what he's been allowed, like a gift from god himself. only to have it taken away.

wanda readjusts herself, taking his opening up about this a sign that he won't push her away as she scoots his legs a bit so she can sit with him on the plush armchair—just barely over the edge of it, a hand on his knee, the other on his face, thumb caressing under his eye.]

But— you're alive, Matt? [if she's understanding this right, that is—] Even after the explosion?

It doesn't feel like it.

( physically, he's alive but he's felt empty and hollow and, well, dead inside since it happened. and he doesn't know how to fix that.

he shakes his head, feeling like he should shy away from her touch. that he doesn't deserve it. )

I don't feel alive.

[it's not physical, then. not exactly. there is something even more intrusive within matt that has attached itself to him, ever since he's managed to—somehow—make it alive from the explosion that he had told her about. had shown her.

when he tells her that he doesn't feel alive, wanda pulls closer and wraps her arms around him, her head pressed to his chest.]

I could fix it. I told you, with my magic—

[but that's not what he wants. he doesn't want to see "as normal". and it's just putting a bandaid over a bleeding wound.]

We're both here, Matt. Don't give up.

( he shakes his head at the offer as he'll always do when something like that is given. he doesn't want to take that route.

she moves closer to him, pressing close and he, finally, drops his head down to let hi sforehead rest against her hair. )

I don't know what to do.

( he doesn't feel whole anymore. )

I can't hurt you. I can't.

You won't.

[she says, like a promise, her throat tight. wanda herself feels a little helpless, because even with all her magic and her best intentions, she can't really do much while in the horizon. the comfort she can offer is very small, hardly there—an imprint of an emotion she hopes can be with him when he wakes up from being here.

but, despite it all, this is progress.]

You need to let yourself be helped, Matt. Maybe it's — temporary.

I don't need help.

( he says it fiercely, firmly. he's letting her in but he doesn't know how long this will last, this wanting to talk. he doesn't want to risk anyone else. )

There's nothing anyone can do, Wanda.

[there it is, that darkness welling up again within him. that need to push her away. wanda remains, pressed against his chest, quiet, because the fact alone that he's allowed her to remain like this contradicts his words—his thoughts.

they've made it this far to just let go.]

I'm not going anywhere.

[even if the horizon is temporary. even if there is nothing she can do while in solvunn.

all matt has to do is talk to her when he thinks he's ready. her hold tightens around him, feeling his heartbeat. all matt has to do is remember that she's going to be here.]

( she's stubborn and he knows that, if he wanted to, he could be nasty, terrible, say awful things to make her leave but he can't bring himself to do it.

he sighs. )

I'm not worth it.

( said miserably but he does sound like he believes it right now. )

That's not for you to decide.

[she can hear it in his voice, just how miserable he sounds about everything. it's not fair to himself, but wanda does not want to swirl his emotions more than what they already are. she can help him sort himself out, but he's the one who has to take those steps himself.

wanda doesn't move from where she sits, though she does wiggle a little, feeling the compactness of the chair hurting her back a bit.

and so — she makes it so the chair becomes a couch, and that way she can scoot to the side, bring him closer against her, so that she's holding him instead, leaning into her.]

We'll figure this out, Matt. I promise. Your sight [—that extra sense that he got from being blind—] we can figure it out. I promise.

( he doesn't pull away, a testament to what he truly does want. his body shudders and he closes his eyes but he still remains somewhat stiff and tense. )

Don't make promises.

( because there's a possibility that they can't be kept. this from a man who was so adamant about the one day in new york.

it's hard to remember that right now. )

[she could, really, remind him that he's the one who always makes impossible promises to her, but for once she doesn't want to argue with him about it. wanda can already feel that hollow emptiness in him that merits some kind of serious empathy.

stiff and tense, despite being wrapped by her arms.

wanda noses against the side of his head, closing her eyes.]

Let me just stay with you for a while.

[if she can't fix it right away, the least she wants is to remind him, through her presence, that she is here for him.]

I don't want to keep you from other things.

( but matt knows what she'll say to that. he knows that she'll say this is all she has to do.

he knows that because it's what he'd say to her if their positions were reversed. he sighs and does allow his head to rest against hers. )

There are better things to do.

[wanda isn’t about to tell matt that he’s being stupid for saying those things to say, because she knows that he knows what her response would be. this is all she has to do, and this is all she wants to be doing at this point in time.

when matt does relax against her, just a touch, she presses a kiss to his temple.]

Probably. [—better things to do—] But I won’t be able to focus on anything else knowing that you’re feeling like this.

[it makes her feel helpless, not being able to be there for him in person.

the next questions she asks quietly,]

—what happened, Matt? After the explosion?

I didn't die but I might as well have.

( with everything that he'd lost, everything that he'd felt had been taken from him. he shakes his head. )

I feel like I did.

( he feels like a husk of the person he'd once been. )

[it is a feeling she can understand all too well, and wanda frowns, empathizing with his pain. she wraps her arms tighter around him, holding him close.]

Because everything hurt? Because of your sight—

[or…

even quieter still, she asks,]

Because of Elektra?

[he can’t hide that name, nor those feelings, from her.]

( he takes an unsteady breath at all of that, shaking his head, trying to dismiss it, not wanting to talk about it lest he dredge everything up again. )

It doesn't matter.

( that and 'i'm fine' are his standbys. )

It happened.

[it happened, and there’s nothing that can be done about it—that much is true, but… it’s not something that he has to take on all on his own. wanda’s quiet, wondering if he’ll say something more, but he seems to be pretty set on what he wants and doesn’t want to say; what he wants to avoid feeling.

she squeezes tightly at him, not wanting to let him go.]

If you ever want to talk about it, you know you can tell me.

[it is the very least she can offer—for matt, who had been for her, to talk to her when she felt so overwhelmed with her feelings of loss and pain.]

You’re here now, Matt. With me.

( he knows. he nods slightly because he knows and maybe he will want to talk to her soon. he can't just bring himself to do it right now.

he doesn't want to delve into his head right now, into those thoughts. he doesn't even know how to explain it. )

I know.

( but does he? he feels off balance more than anything else, like he's...like he's not sure of his place in this world right now. )

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