break down these walls that we've built around ourselves
It had been a long night. A better night, in fact, than usual, which really should have been Lucy's first indication that something had to give. Usually, good was something relative here, just meaning that anything awful had been kept to a minimum, but this, it was something different, something to be acted on. Out on the boardwalk, her bony shoulders were hunched forward, covered with a cardigan she had pulled on over the tank top she'd meant to be sleeping in; sleep, though, hadn't happened. She'd paced instead, then gone for a walk to clear her head, only to find that it was impossible. For all the time she had spent trying to ignore the way being around Bruce made her feel, for the sake of her sanity as well as their friendship, now, it seemed, everything had come to a head, and it was time to put an end to it. She had to tell him.
She hadn't ever spent a lot of time at Bruce's hut, but getting there was somehow instinctive, not requiring a whole lot of thought on her part, which was good, given that her mind was going in a dozen different directions already. There was still every chance that this could be a mistake, in any number of ways; it just had also become inevitable. It didn't matter, then, that it was the middle of the night, that she would probably be waking him, since she didn't expect him to be as busy thinking about this as she was. What mattered was finally, finally getting it off her chest, knowing where they stood. She'd had a hell of a lot of heartbreak on the island already; she could deal with some more.
Standing at his door, she looked tired, young, softer, somehow, than usual, and was distinctly aware that she wasn't quite herself, at least not how she'd been trying to be. It was a cycle she'd run through so many times before, attempting to stay closed off to keep herself from getting hurt, and failing at that now - there was really no other word for it - left her worn down. All the more reason to get this over with. Knocking a few times on his door, loud enough that she hoped it would get his attention, she bit down hard on her lower lip, before figuring maybe she ought to say something. "Bruce?" she called, unable to hide the slight hesitation in her voice. "It's Lucy."
She hadn't ever spent a lot of time at Bruce's hut, but getting there was somehow instinctive, not requiring a whole lot of thought on her part, which was good, given that her mind was going in a dozen different directions already. There was still every chance that this could be a mistake, in any number of ways; it just had also become inevitable. It didn't matter, then, that it was the middle of the night, that she would probably be waking him, since she didn't expect him to be as busy thinking about this as she was. What mattered was finally, finally getting it off her chest, knowing where they stood. She'd had a hell of a lot of heartbreak on the island already; she could deal with some more.
Standing at his door, she looked tired, young, softer, somehow, than usual, and was distinctly aware that she wasn't quite herself, at least not how she'd been trying to be. It was a cycle she'd run through so many times before, attempting to stay closed off to keep herself from getting hurt, and failing at that now - there was really no other word for it - left her worn down. All the more reason to get this over with. Knocking a few times on his door, loud enough that she hoped it would get his attention, she bit down hard on her lower lip, before figuring maybe she ought to say something. "Bruce?" she called, unable to hide the slight hesitation in her voice. "It's Lucy."