It's early days, is the thing. Everything is peaceful so far, easy and simple, sharing a place feeling like a natural extension of how they've been and become over the last half a year or so. Eventually, Olive feels sure, that won't be the case, and then it will be again, once they've had time to get ticked off by each other's habits and then to squabble over them and adapt to them. And no sooner will that be done, probably, then he'll be back to the hut next door, but that isn't really the point. It's good just to have him here now and to be able to be a help while he's injured, and to hear the door open and know he's coming home.
She glances up from her textbook over her shoulder, expecting him to join her, unfazed when he doesn't (his leg hurts him, she can see why he wouldn't want to walk even a few yards extra after coming back from wherever he was). "In here," she says, even as she slips the bookmark into place and rolls to her feet, padding out. She leans in the doorway, head against the frame. "Hey, you. Everything okay?"
Eduardo smiles when he sees her, expression betraying just how tired he is, but fond nonetheless. Looking at Olive, it's impossible not to be. Especially at a time like this, when what he's without - what he was always going to be without, be it here or back home - is weighing so heavily on his mind, he's more grateful than ever for her presence alone, its accompanying steadiness. He's never known anyone like her before, and he doubts he ever will, a thought that's still as powerful now as when he first realized it. Whatever else happens, he still has this, and that means he still wound up unbelievably fucking lucky
( ... )
Brow furrowing, Olive slips around to sit beside him, shaking her head. "What happened?" She's always expecting it, if she's honest. She's come to trust Mark on her own front, even to think of him as a friend, but when it comes to Eduardo, she's never stopped being wary. There's a part of her that's written it off as a kind of jealousy, serving no purpose but to make her feel stupid, but mostly she just worries. She has since day one. As she's said before, though, she never wanted to be right.
For all she knows, though, this is just a petty battle, soon resolved or already finished. He doesn't seem to be doing as badly as she would have expected from something serious, at least. Her hand lights on his shoulder as she tucks her legs beneath her, hoping this is a case of her imagination running away with her, not another fight that causes Eduardo lasting hurt.
Eduardo turns his head to kiss her cheek as soon as she's sitting beside him, an arm draping loosely around her. It isn't to distract himself, necessarily, but rather to continue serving as a reminder of what good he has, to keep everything in perspective. This fight, the finality that he thinks was attached to it, sucks, but each day he and Mark spent on good terms with each other was one they were never supposed to have gotten in the first place. Knowing that does little to assuage the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it still helps. And, like before, he might not be blameless, but he can't put this on himself, either, which is a small comfort, but is one
( ... )
Though Olive curls close, she doesn't let herself rest her head on his shoulder. She sits up and listens, watching him, her hand finding his wrist for something to hold onto as he speaks. She's not entirely sure what he's saying for that matter, the words leaving her floored, a little confused. Mark's always meant the world to Eduardo one way or another, and it's a fact that's by turns comforted and scared her. At least, she's always tried to tell herself, he'll have someone if and when she vanishes. At least he won't be alone. She's just never been sure, when it comes to Mark, if it isn't almost the same thing. Though Mark's been so much better than she expected, she's been wary. Eduardo is the kind of man who gives without asking; she thought, in the case, he'd always give too much
( ... )
For the moment, at least, he's okay, more than, relieved above anything else that he isn't going to have to try and fight his position to her, too. Eduardo doesn't think he ever really expected that he would have to, but it's no less significant because of that, no less comforting. Fingers curling around hers, an instinct as much as it is for the anchor it provides, he gives himself a few seconds to just breathe, keeping himself composed, reminding himself that this is fine, that this is alright, that it's as logical as it is surreal, something that makes little sense but also seems to be the only way of describing this. To think of it as over, after all the lengths he went to, is still just odd in the immediate aftermath, but they were never going to stay friends. In that way, he isn't sure why he's not even less surprised than he was from the start
( ... )
"Oh, Eduardo," Olive says, soft, though if she's distressed, it's all but entirely for him. Though she doesn't believe he's lying to her, she knows it can't be easy either, to have experienced or to say now. If it makes her a terrible friend that she has trouble worrying much about Mark right now, she doesn't really care yet. She can feel bad for it later, figure out what this means for their friendship at some other time. Mark's not the one here now, he's not the one she's in love with, and she cares more about taking care of Eduardo than any part of it concern herself
( ... )
"Fuck," Eduardo says, neither meaning nor expecting to, voice breaking as he leans in close to her. Calm as he's remained, it isn't, it isn't fucking easy at all, and he can't pretend it is. If nothing else, he'll tell himself he owes her that much (and a hell of a lot more). Because, overly complicated though his feelings regarding this past encounter might be, in the end, this is the thing, this is how it always works, and one more reason why it shouldn't surprise him: he gives and he gives and he gives, and he tries so fucking hard to be the one holding things together, but not only is it never enough, it also winds up being their undoing. He should have known better, he should have known from the start, maybe he should have even kept his distance in the first place, but isn't that the story of his entire fucking life, at least where Mark is concerned
( ... )
"Okay." That isn't easy either, not for Olive. Staying with him, she can do, that's natural. Knowing she can't do anything but be at his side, though, it hurts. There isn't a thing she can think of that she wouldn't give to see him happy, and she knows it doesn't mean she's helpless if all she can do is be here; something as small as that can make all the difference in the world, she knows. She still wishes she could give him more. It breaks her heart to hear him hurting and know there's nothing she can do to put that right. In the end, it turns out, knowing she warned him doesn't make her feel even a tiny bit better after all
( ... )
Eduardo nods, and though he knew that - believed it, anyway, which isn't the same but comes close enough - it still comes as a relief to hear. Olive told him once, or possibly more than once, that not everyone would be like Mark or his father, and he never sees that so vividly as in her, in these moments when it feels like there's nothing left but the two of them. Whatever he did to deserve someone like her, he doesn't know (nothing, probably, and this is instead some fluke of karma), but he couldn't be more grateful for it if he tried. He's said from the start that she's better to him than anyone else has been. In contrast to a fight like he had a little earlier, one that's left him feeling confused and betrayed all over again, and so, so much older than his years, that means even more than usual, and he's never let himself take it, take her, for granted
( ... )
Olive lifts her head to press a kiss to his temple. "Hey, no," she says quietly. "You don't have to anything. If you want to talk about it, you can, but you... you don't have to thank me, okay?" There's not one person on the island who means as much to her as he does. It's not like she ever thinks to rank them, considers who means more than who else, but when it comes to him, it doesn't take any thought. Her friends are wonderful, but no one else is him. No one could be. If what he needs from her is for her to accept that all she can do is sit with him, then that's precisely what she'll do. If there's anything more she can do, then she'll do that in a heartbeat.
"I want to be here," she adds, stroking his hair, holding him close. "I love you, too. So, so much." He'll always have that, at least. She probably can't make anything else better, but at least she can promise him that much.
Though he's only ever been half-aware of it at best, Eduardo has dealt in something like substitutes for a long time now, letting one judgment take the place of another. Now, it's the same story. Olive is all her own, has been something different from the very beginning, but while she couldn't be more unlike Mark or his father if she tried, it's the same approval he's looking for, that he no longer has any other source of, evident in the way his eyes stay wide, gaze uncertain as he looks at her. He believes her, absolutely, but he's barely said a word about what actually happened yet, and he wants more than he should to have gotten something right, to not let her down where that inexplicable faith she has in him is concerned. For all that he'll never understand it, it means the world to him
( ... )
Olive was raised to think the best of people. It's proof of how far things have come in the last several months that this now includes Mark, that she immediately scrambles to provide him with reasons - not excuses, necessarily, because he's hurt Eduardo again, there's no excuse for that, but that doesn't mean he didn't have reason to behave that way. Maybe he was just tired, maybe he's had a hard day. Maybe he just feels so incredibly guilty for what he did that he can't carry it alone, has to shift it onto Eduardo's shoulders so he can take that, too, like all the rest. At least that, she reasons, would show how sorry he is, too. That means something, and she's seen enough to feel sure that they both care about each other, even if Mark isn't the most openly emotional guy in the world. They've tried hard to make this work
( ... )
"Yeah," Eduardo echoes, aimless, though he becomes a little more certain of his agreement with each moment that passes. She's right, he has to be, unnatural as it sometimes feels, as much as he hates it, both the feeling itself and the fact that Mark did this to him. Of course he has to be. It's what he was trying to say to Mark from the beginning, what, apparently, wasn't good enough. Nothing was ever going to be, though, and he isn't sure why he ever thought otherwise, except he's always had that sort of hope where Mark was concerned, holding on when all the signs should have been right in front of him. Then, to Mark, that was probably his own fault, too, for believing that nothing he did would be satisfactory when he was only going off all the signs laid in front of him. Fuck expecting too little, or holding the past against him. It wasn't anything like that. It's just the honest to God truth, inescapable no matter how Mark tried to twist the facts. He knows that, and if Olive knows that, too, then he's better off this way,
( ... )
"I know," Olive says, quiet. "I know. It's alright." It's harder now than it would have been months ago. There's a part of her that can't help worrying about Mark now, too, hoping he's alright or will be. The problem is, at the end of the day, if this can't be put right, neither of them is really going to be helped by dragging it out. It'll all only hurt more in the end if they do. If Mark really thinks that way, keeping Eduardo won't help him any more than it will help Eduardo, and it clearly hasn't done that, not with the way her boyfriend sounds now, hurt and listless. He always seems so lost when Mark hurts him, a look on his face that makes her heart ache. Friendship isn't supposed to be like this, and maybe it used to be good, but whatever it was that made them work, long before she knew them, it's broken now. No matter how much she wants to be the one to make things better for him, she can't repair that
( ... )
"I don't think he tried," Eduardo says, shaking his head, mouth pressed into a tight frown. Just saying the words isn't easy, but the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks that has to be the case. That hurts as much as the rest of it. With as hard as he always tried before, there were few things he ever wanted as much as for Mark to try, too, to hold things together. In the time he's been here, though, it's become increasingly clear that that could never be the case. Again he wonders if he should stop - he doesn't really want Olive to choose a side, wouldn't ask for anything from her, except he does want her to be with him on this - but again it's too late for that, and if he's going to talk about it, he might as well tell her. There's no one else he shares half as much with, no one he feels half as comfortable around. "I don't, I... I think he wanted to seem like he was trying, so he would seem like the good guy, but I don't think he ever had it in him to. Shit, Olive, he told me himself, we don't speak for four years back home
( ... )
She glances up from her textbook over her shoulder, expecting him to join her, unfazed when he doesn't (his leg hurts him, she can see why he wouldn't want to walk even a few yards extra after coming back from wherever he was). "In here," she says, even as she slips the bookmark into place and rolls to her feet, padding out. She leans in the doorway, head against the frame. "Hey, you. Everything okay?"
Reply
Reply
For all she knows, though, this is just a petty battle, soon resolved or already finished. He doesn't seem to be doing as badly as she would have expected from something serious, at least. Her hand lights on his shoulder as she tucks her legs beneath her, hoping this is a case of her imagination running away with her, not another fight that causes Eduardo lasting hurt.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
"I want to be here," she adds, stroking his hair, holding him close. "I love you, too. So, so much." He'll always have that, at least. She probably can't make anything else better, but at least she can promise him that much.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment