CM fic: For fear of falling - part 4
Part Four - JJ
You stand in the corridor of her apartment and somehow you can’t bring yourself to go. You know you should, she explicitly told you so. Almost begged you, even.
You shudder, remembering her voice. It sounded so empty that your heart broke all over again. And the knowledge that you were the one who took the feelings out of her voice makes you hate yourself even more than you’ve already done those last weeks.
No, you don’t have the right to be here anymore. She was right to throw you out. The least thing you can do is to respect her wishes now.
You take the first step towards the door when you hear it. The sound of someone crying, sobbing in a way that makes your skin crawl.
It’s Emily. Emily’s crying.
For once your heart overrides your brain and in a matter of seconds you’re standing in the door to her bedroom. You feel tears welling up in your eyes at the sight that greets you.
She’s lying on her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest and she’s pressing her fists into her eyes. Her breast is rapidly rising and falling, her body heaving with sobs. You take a step towards her, everything inside of you yelling to go and comfort her. Everthing inside of you screaming to do something, to somehow make it better. Her pain is ripping through you, your guilt is slicing you to shreds.
Seeing her like this is breaking you. Still you hesitate. You love her, but you’re not sure that’s enough right now. Because she doesn’t know. Because the only thing she knows is that you left her to be with some Southern detective.
You realize she’s hyperventilating and as you move to be closer to her you notice that she’s pressing her fingernails so tightly into the sensitive skin of her palms that they’re about to break it.
You can’t hold back any longer and inspite of all your doubts, your guilt and your fear you reach out to touch her.
You just place one hand on her back, but the reaction is immediate. From one second to the next her body goes utterly still. For an instant she just lies motionlessly, then she turns to look at you.
Her dark eyes are glistening with unshed tears, a few of them hanging from her lashes. Her lips are deep red from where she bit down on them. The expression in her eyes is one you can’t place.
She’s asking what you’re doing here, why you left her, what she’s gonna do without you and if you’re gonna stay. All in one long, deep glance. You sigh and move your hand to touch her cheek. For a second she allows it, before drawing back again. You sigh once more and lower your head.
Now it’s time to confess.
You’re afraid of what she’s going to say. But you won’t hold back. She deserves the truth and if she still wants you, if she can find it in herself to forgive you then you’d be the most blessed person in the world.
Because it would mean that maybe the two of you can start again. Maybe. Just maybe. You tell yourself not to get your hopes up, because after everything you did to her you know you don’t deserve to be taken back. But you have to do this.
Even if she doesn’t take you back, perhaps it’ll take a bit of her pain away to know that it was your fault and your fault alone that things turned out like this. That she never did anything wrong.
On the contrary. That everything she did felt so damn right it scared you. Which was why you ran away. God, you don’t even understand your own reasoning anymore. And if you don’t even understand it yourself, then how are you supposed to make her understand?
Nevertheless you softly take her chin into your hands, slightly surprised that she allows the move, and make her look into your eyes. Then you launch into your explanation.
*****
You stand in the corridor of her apartment and somehow you can’t bring yourself to go. You know you should, she explicitly told you so. Almost begged you, even.
You shudder, remembering her voice. It sounded so empty that your heart broke all over again. And the knowledge that you were the one who took the feelings out of her voice makes you hate yourself even more than you’ve already done those last weeks.
No, you don’t have the right to be here anymore. She was right to throw you out. The least thing you can do is to respect her wishes now.
You take the first step towards the door when you hear it. The sound of someone crying, sobbing in a way that makes your skin crawl.
It’s Emily. Emily’s crying.
For once your heart overrides your brain and in a matter of seconds you’re standing in the door to her bedroom. You feel tears welling up in your eyes at the sight that greets you.
She’s lying on her bed, her knees drawn up to her chest and she’s pressing her fists into her eyes. Her breast is rapidly rising and falling, her body heaving with sobs. You take a step towards her, everything inside of you yelling to go and comfort her. Everthing inside of you screaming to do something, to somehow make it better. Her pain is ripping through you, your guilt is slicing you to shreds.
Seeing her like this is breaking you. Still you hesitate. You love her, but you’re not sure that’s enough right now. Because she doesn’t know. Because the only thing she knows is that you left her to be with some Southern detective.
You realize she’s hyperventilating and as you move to be closer to her you notice that she’s pressing her fingernails so tightly into the sensitive skin of her palms that they’re about to break it.
You can’t hold back any longer and inspite of all your doubts, your guilt and your fear you reach out to touch her.
You just place one hand on her back, but the reaction is immediate. From one second to the next her body goes utterly still. For an instant she just lies motionlessly, then she turns to look at you.
Her dark eyes are glistening with unshed tears, a few of them hanging from her lashes. Her lips are deep red from where she bit down on them. The expression in her eyes is one you can’t place.
She’s asking what you’re doing here, why you left her, what she’s gonna do without you and if you’re gonna stay. All in one long, deep glance. You sigh and move your hand to touch her cheek. For a second she allows it, before drawing back again. You sigh once more and lower your head.
Now it’s time to confess.
You’re afraid of what she’s going to say. But you won’t hold back. She deserves the truth and if she still wants you, if she can find it in herself to forgive you then you’d be the most blessed person in the world.
Because it would mean that maybe the two of you can start again. Maybe. Just maybe. You tell yourself not to get your hopes up, because after everything you did to her you know you don’t deserve to be taken back. But you have to do this.
Even if she doesn’t take you back, perhaps it’ll take a bit of her pain away to know that it was your fault and your fault alone that things turned out like this. That she never did anything wrong.
On the contrary. That everything she did felt so damn right it scared you. Which was why you ran away. God, you don’t even understand your own reasoning anymore. And if you don’t even understand it yourself, then how are you supposed to make her understand?
Nevertheless you softly take her chin into your hands, slightly surprised that she allows the move, and make her look into your eyes. Then you launch into your explanation.
*****