He sighs, turns to lean against the counter. “Okay. Lets do this.”
Exasperation is written all over her face when she looks at him. “What?”
“You’re spoiling for a fight so lets have it out.”
She blinks, slow like a cat, like she doesnt understand.
It’s a challenge, and hes calm, all the way up until her face falls, washed clean of all feeling. Then he feels a bit uncertain of his steps, because he cant read her at all.
But the moment passes and something tangible changes in the room, shifts, like the tide.
Lets have it out, he said, but she just keeps looking at him, eyes wide and shocked, mouth a little slack.
You look like a little girl when you’re scared, d’you know that? Do you? How deep it cuts to know that?
Those big eyes of hers fill with tears, and he almost flinches. ‘It takes more than that to hurt me’ she’d said, and she’d meant it. He believed it too, because he’d known it all along. Known it for a while. Him though… Yeah, it’s not like that with him. He’s too close, too soft for her, too open: the wrong look can hurt him. He doesn’t really regret it but he wonders sometimes, how much she knows about it. How much she’s used to.
The tears fall, and he can almost laugh at himself, how she opens him up like a knife. How he’s surprised that she can.
It takes the smallest thing to hurt him, alright.
This is not how he wanted to have it out, but it’s all the same, isn’t it? He’d been prepared to give her someone to fight, someone to be angry at (someone to hurt, yeah. He walked right into it and didn’t even know until he was halfway. It’s almost funny some things just don’t change. Almost.) because if that’s what she needed, then he’d give it. It’s that simple. He just didn’t really catch on to what that might mean (halfway. halfway into it and as blind as the Devil, what a joke) until she curls into herself, turns away, head in her hands.
Then he remembers. She’s Karen Page, yeah. She’s Karen Page to him, and he’s … he’s someone, to her. ‘Casually’ is not how they hurt each other.
For one long moment he stands there not knowing what to do, hands heavy and useless at his sides. What does he usually do with those? They seem clumsy to him now, too big, taking up too much space makign him feel like a puppet.
And it’s so stupid, how she ends up always making him question shit like that, before he does some other stupid shit, like kiss her cold cheek like he’s asking for favor or saying thank you, he’s still not sure what-
Or reach for her the way he’s doing now.
She leans into him and he holds her there. Cries in big sobs, shaking, all out. Cries like the whole fucking world is ending and he’s rooted there on the spot, in her kitchen, two feet away from boiling water surrounded by her life, with Karen Page falling apart in his arms and his heart beating so hard against his chest she’s bound to feel it.
Its okay though. Hes so fucking scared hes shaking a little but its okay. Its what he tells himself, what he tells her. He’s got her. It’s okay. Jesus Christ it hurts to have her bleed out like this all over him, but its okay. She wont cry like this forever, she just needs it out, right? She just needs somewhere safe to let it go.
He holds her a little tighter, as something settles deep within him, like a broken bone being realigned: savage pain and then relief.
It’s alright. Let it out. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.
Her fingers like claws balling up his shirt at the small of his back.
Yeah, I’ve got you, it’s okay
w.i.p.
