Elizabeth watches as he works on her hands. She has to wonder why it's always her hands, how it's come that he's taking care of them so often, how good he is at taking care of them. There are those burns that remain. She slammed them to the wall after her father took her to juvie. Even the super glued banana, he's had to time and again take her hands, gently get them clean.
She wonders if it means anything or if it just... is. Either way, she's grateful for it. It means something. Maybe it means everything even. It always means something to know now that no matter what happens, she has someone to come home to, that will want to take care of her even when she doesn't want to take care of herself. It's a relief to know that no matter how angry either of them get, it doesn't change the love under it all. She doesn't have to worry about messing up or being smart enough or anything else. The love will be there.
It feels as if it's been awhile since she had that, if she ever did. It's been like walking on eggshells with her father since she was old enough to look like her mother. He couldn't look at her. He hated how stupid she was, not that he ever used that word with her, but she felt it when he looked at her report card or when she told him how she was struggling. Elizabeth, you need to focus. This is important. Elizabeth, these need to be A's. Elizabeth. Elizabeth.
And she felt that if she were smarter, if she had A's, her dad might be able to look at her again. Love isn't about that, however. It's something that she didn't learn until she loved Josef and found that he loved her too. She's an open book in general, but he still knows her better than anyone else can or could. He sees the things that she doesn't always talk about. He knows when somethings wrong before she even opens her mouth.
Josef recognizes that angel part, and she thinks so many of the other people she knows, they wouldn't. They wouldn't be able to tell, because she shares so much of only that one part of her but she shares almost everything with him.
"Yeah," she admits when he fills in the sentence that she couldn't finish, and it's still hard to admit it. Even saying the yeah as affirmation as opposed to saying the words herself is hard. He says that it's fine, and she knows that it is, but the angel is saying it's not. The angel says a lot that she hasn't listened to.
"I wouldn't want to be normal from the start." Because then she would never have met him and that's not acceptable. She swallows thickly and clears her throat. "Just for like a week or to have like a switch to turn it off sometimes when it gets... like this. But I know it's me. It's separate but it's not. I don't--"
Elizabeth knows that he understands. It's impossible to describe, but she knows that he gets it so she stops trying to put it into words. It's too frustrating to keep trying when it doesn't really matter.
He kneels in front of her, and she can't help but feel like she should be on her knees too. It's weird to be standing when he's kneeling, and she doesn't last long in a standing position. After a second, she slides down on her knees too. And then he's speaking, and her focus is back on him and him only. The sound of his voice pulls her forward. The words make her chest tighten again, and it's for a different reason this time.
She places her hands on either side of his face. There's only love in her gaze as she looks at him, not heaviness, not the darkness still clinging to her ribs like oil. Sticky, thick. Elizabeth leans in and presses her lips against his, lingering there. For once, she is the one that can't say anything in response or describe what that means to her to know, to hear him say.
She wonders if it means anything or if it just... is. Either way, she's grateful for it. It means something. Maybe it means everything even. It always means something to know now that no matter what happens, she has someone to come home to, that will want to take care of her even when she doesn't want to take care of herself. It's a relief to know that no matter how angry either of them get, it doesn't change the love under it all. She doesn't have to worry about messing up or being smart enough or anything else. The love will be there.
It feels as if it's been awhile since she had that, if she ever did. It's been like walking on eggshells with her father since she was old enough to look like her mother. He couldn't look at her. He hated how stupid she was, not that he ever used that word with her, but she felt it when he looked at her report card or when she told him how she was struggling. Elizabeth, you need to focus. This is important. Elizabeth, these need to be A's. Elizabeth. Elizabeth.
And she felt that if she were smarter, if she had A's, her dad might be able to look at her again. Love isn't about that, however. It's something that she didn't learn until she loved Josef and found that he loved her too. She's an open book in general, but he still knows her better than anyone else can or could. He sees the things that she doesn't always talk about. He knows when somethings wrong before she even opens her mouth.
Josef recognizes that angel part, and she thinks so many of the other people she knows, they wouldn't. They wouldn't be able to tell, because she shares so much of only that one part of her but she shares almost everything with him.
"Yeah," she admits when he fills in the sentence that she couldn't finish, and it's still hard to admit it. Even saying the yeah as affirmation as opposed to saying the words herself is hard. He says that it's fine, and she knows that it is, but the angel is saying it's not. The angel says a lot that she hasn't listened to.
"I wouldn't want to be normal from the start." Because then she would never have met him and that's not acceptable. She swallows thickly and clears her throat. "Just for like a week or to have like a switch to turn it off sometimes when it gets... like this. But I know it's me. It's separate but it's not. I don't--"
Elizabeth knows that he understands. It's impossible to describe, but she knows that he gets it so she stops trying to put it into words. It's too frustrating to keep trying when it doesn't really matter.
He kneels in front of her, and she can't help but feel like she should be on her knees too. It's weird to be standing when he's kneeling, and she doesn't last long in a standing position. After a second, she slides down on her knees too. And then he's speaking, and her focus is back on him and him only. The sound of his voice pulls her forward. The words make her chest tighten again, and it's for a different reason this time.
She places her hands on either side of his face. There's only love in her gaze as she looks at him, not heaviness, not the darkness still clinging to her ribs like oil. Sticky, thick. Elizabeth leans in and presses her lips against his, lingering there. For once, she is the one that can't say anything in response or describe what that means to her to know, to hear him say.
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