and I am done with my graceless heart
In a way, he supposes he always saw it coming.
In a way, he supposes that's why he's so calm about it, too. Eduardo might be among his own harshest critics, and he might be a great many things - foolish, too guided by his heart, occasionally blind - but he isn't so self-deluded to have not known, on some level, that this had to have been inevitable sooner or later. Really, that's all he was trying to say in the first place. Granted, he'd have guessed that it would be the island itself that caused such a rift between himself and Mark, the two of them bound to go back to different times, no matter what Mark had to say on the matter, but like this, it's still not all that surprising. It'll just be one more thing he wasn't good enough at, trying to hold things together while it was still an option, to make the most of it while they could.
Because they may have fought before, but he suspects it will be different this time around. Mark isn't the sort to come apologizing, and for once, he refuses to be the one to do so. There's a lot he'll give, but in this, he doesn't have it in him to. It isn't even that moving ahead doesn't come all that easily; it's that it would be a mistake, after what was done to him. He fucked up, too, to put himself there at all. Now, all he can do is learn from it.
He's kept his expression carefully neutral as he's hobbled his way back to Olive's, but that starts to slip, just a little, when he walks in (a constant battle between crutches and doorknob that he doesn't look forward to continuing over the next month). It's been few enough days since Olive extended the invitation for him to stay with her until his cast is off that he isn't sure it's all completely sunk in yet, the enormity of the fact that they'll be living together for the rest of the month, but letting himself in rather than knocking is one thing he's managed to get used to. Now, worn down both physically and emotionally, he wouldn't want to stand around waiting anyway, heading right for the bench as soon as he's managed to get the door shut behind him. "Olive," he calls as he goes, glancing towards the bedroom. "You in?"
In a way, he supposes that's why he's so calm about it, too. Eduardo might be among his own harshest critics, and he might be a great many things - foolish, too guided by his heart, occasionally blind - but he isn't so self-deluded to have not known, on some level, that this had to have been inevitable sooner or later. Really, that's all he was trying to say in the first place. Granted, he'd have guessed that it would be the island itself that caused such a rift between himself and Mark, the two of them bound to go back to different times, no matter what Mark had to say on the matter, but like this, it's still not all that surprising. It'll just be one more thing he wasn't good enough at, trying to hold things together while it was still an option, to make the most of it while they could.
Because they may have fought before, but he suspects it will be different this time around. Mark isn't the sort to come apologizing, and for once, he refuses to be the one to do so. There's a lot he'll give, but in this, he doesn't have it in him to. It isn't even that moving ahead doesn't come all that easily; it's that it would be a mistake, after what was done to him. He fucked up, too, to put himself there at all. Now, all he can do is learn from it.
He's kept his expression carefully neutral as he's hobbled his way back to Olive's, but that starts to slip, just a little, when he walks in (a constant battle between crutches and doorknob that he doesn't look forward to continuing over the next month). It's been few enough days since Olive extended the invitation for him to stay with her until his cast is off that he isn't sure it's all completely sunk in yet, the enormity of the fact that they'll be living together for the rest of the month, but letting himself in rather than knocking is one thing he's managed to get used to. Now, worn down both physically and emotionally, he wouldn't want to stand around waiting anyway, heading right for the bench as soon as he's managed to get the door shut behind him. "Olive," he calls as he goes, glancing towards the bedroom. "You in?"