How lovely, then. Such a tragedy it would be if you disturbed me while I was worrying over exactly how much damage I've lately done. *obviously not good with words*
If I were to find that out, it would significantly lower the number of things on my list of Things I Have Fucked Up Badly With Bossuet, to say the least.
It would, as then changing whatever you say, would be moved to the much longer list of Things I Must Do To Attempt To Redeem Myself (Even Though I Don't Deserve Redemption). The former list at the moment just says, "1. Most everything".
When I'm the one begging you not to hate me, that generally gives me the feeling that it's my fault. *shrugs* You certainly didn't do anything.
Er, nothing particularly out of the ordinary, that is, until you came back and weren't the same and I thought you'd soon enough leave me for someone else, which ah! has always been a fear of mine, but seemed plausible, and panic and the need to be attached to someone set in. Or something of that sort. *buries face in hands* That isn't what you wanted to hear, is it?
No, nothing. Only wrote a thrice-damned love letter to a mutual friend. That's not much, though, I'll wager. *sooo much self-loathing*
*gently pulls Joly's hands from his face and holds them* Jolie. When I came back, I was ill. I had a fever, it was disgusting, I didn't want you or anyone else to see me, and I went and acted despicably towards you, I'll be the first to admit. But I didn't have any intention of leaving you for someone else, and I wasn't different. I'm better now, for example. Case in point. Or point in case. Or something. What I mean to say is I wasn't about to throw you over. I was simply wretchedly out of sorts on account of the illness. You didn't need to--what I mean to say is, I'm sorry. I apologise. I certainly will admit I'd rather not have found out that was the reason behind everything, but hell! I don't hate you.
*curious half-twitchy little hairstroke* In fact, ma belle, I love you.
That's.. nothing, do what you like, I suppose. As much as I might ever wish it wasn't the case, there's not exactly anything I could ever do to stop you.
Of course. And if you hadn't thought of leaving then, did you afterwards? *bites lip* But please don't apologise, as you hardly did anything, and it all just makes me feel worse when you do, though 's a bit late for me to think of regretting anything now. I'm the one who should be, and is so sorry that no matter how many times I were to attempt to say it, it would never be enough. Would perfectly understand that if you didn't hate me, per se, you'd still be nothing short of terribly angry.
Funny, that. As I love you too, but really don't feel worthy of such from you, now.
*lightly* A month or so ago, we were going to be married. Ah, what carefree souls back then! What spirits! By God! Jolie, do you understand marriage? It's meant to be a sort of seal on fidelity. It doesn't always work that way, of course, but there's generally an underlying theme of 'love' and 'mutual respect' and 'getting on' that's fairly important. What I'm saying is, will you stop being an ass and throw me out? --Or tell me we're going to sort it out and stop taking faults upon ourselves?
When I found out about your thief? Yes, then I did. I'll be perfectly honest with you and say that I'm still hovering on the edge of it. But I told you, I love you, and that's doing a dramatic good job in preventing me from striding away. That's what always did a dramatic good job of preventing a great many things. If I didn't love you, do you think I'd be here in this damned afterlife with you?
I did things, you did things, and I'm damn well going to apologise for what I did. *rarrr, stop guilting!* You want to apologise too? That's fine
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..I'd never throw you out; how many times must I repeat myself? God knows I would certainly like to sort it out, or else I likely wouldn't be talking to you at all about any of this. And am hoping you realize I do understand the concept of it.
See, at least one thing is straight, then, we love each other terribly. So it's obvious that there's nothing in debating over that anymore. I'm not even going to think about you still wanting to possibly leave, because that's a good portion of the reason I'm saying things you'd rather that I didn't. So.
Fine. Just-- look, I'll stop. If it makes it worse, I shall not say another word about that, again. *covers mouth with hand and breathes deeply* Are we good on that, then?
*laughs at an inappropriate time* No, I don't think you're God, dear thing. Such a good Catholic boy as myself could never say such blasphemy. Don't turn philosophical on me right now, though, that hardly makes a difference at all to me. And, sorting things out is exactly what I've been trying to do, and God knows I've
( ... )
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*buries his face in his hands* God, I love you.
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...What happened while I was away, belle?
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...About him what?
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You know. Your pretty thief.
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Er, nothing particularly out of the ordinary, that is, until you came back and weren't the same and I thought you'd soon enough leave me for someone else, which ah! has always been a fear of mine, but seemed plausible, and panic and the need to be attached to someone set in. Or something of that sort. *buries face in hands* That isn't what you wanted to hear, is it?
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*gently pulls Joly's hands from his face and holds them* Jolie. When I came back, I was ill. I had a fever, it was disgusting, I didn't want you or anyone else to see me, and I went and acted despicably towards you, I'll be the first to admit. But I didn't have any intention of leaving you for someone else, and I wasn't different. I'm better now, for example. Case in point. Or point in case. Or something. What I mean to say is I wasn't about to throw you over. I was simply wretchedly out of sorts on account of the illness. You didn't need to--what I mean to say is, I'm sorry. I apologise. I certainly will admit I'd rather not have found out that was the reason behind everything, but hell! I don't hate you.
*curious half-twitchy little hairstroke* In fact, ma belle, I love you.
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Of course. And if you hadn't thought of leaving then, did you afterwards? *bites lip* But please don't apologise, as you hardly did anything, and it all just makes me feel worse when you do, though 's a bit late for me to think of regretting anything now. I'm the one who should be, and is so sorry that no matter how many times I were to attempt to say it, it would never be enough. Would perfectly understand that if you didn't hate me, per se, you'd still be nothing short of terribly angry.
Funny, that. As I love you too, but really don't feel worthy of such from you, now.
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*lightly* A month or so ago, we were going to be married. Ah, what carefree souls back then! What spirits! By God! Jolie, do you understand marriage? It's meant to be a sort of seal on fidelity. It doesn't always work that way, of course, but there's generally an underlying theme of 'love' and 'mutual respect' and 'getting on' that's fairly important. What I'm saying is, will you stop being an ass and throw me out? --Or tell me we're going to sort it out and stop taking faults upon ourselves?
When I found out about your thief? Yes, then I did. I'll be perfectly honest with you and say that I'm still hovering on the edge of it. But I told you, I love you, and that's doing a dramatic good job in preventing me from striding away. That's what always did a dramatic good job of preventing a great many things. If I didn't love you, do you think I'd be here in this damned afterlife with you?
I did things, you did things, and I'm damn well going to apologise for what I did. *rarrr, stop guilting!* You want to apologise too? That's fine ( ... )
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See, at least one thing is straight, then, we love each other terribly. So it's obvious that there's nothing in debating over that anymore. I'm not even going to think about you still wanting to possibly leave, because that's a good portion of the reason I'm saying things you'd rather that I didn't. So.
Fine. Just-- look, I'll stop. If it makes it worse, I shall not say another word about that, again. *covers mouth with hand and breathes deeply* Are we good on that, then?
*laughs at an inappropriate time* No, I don't think you're God, dear thing. Such a good Catholic boy as myself could never say such blasphemy. Don't turn philosophical on me right now, though, that hardly makes a difference at all to me. And, sorting things out is exactly what I've been trying to do, and God knows I've ( ... )
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