Henry walks out onto the porch after a small bout of cleaning, i.e. throwing things that are in many piles into one big pile. He slides the glass door shut quietly, seemingly worried about Claire waking up. He doesn't really feel the need to say anything, he just leans on the railing next to Liz and looks out at the lights in the town.
He puts one arm across her back and squeezes her shoulder. Funny, that's what Claire did a few hours ago. Not the same situation, but...
"I know...I know you didn't. But..." He pauses to make sure he words it right, or at least in some sort of way that makes sense. "But you still wanted to, right? You wanted to kiss her? And...I don't know, maybe more than that?" He says this very softly and quietly, a sharp contrast to the tension. He could be putting effort into that.
"...yeah. Well, I mean...I liked kissing her. But I don't want to do anything else, I don't think...I really...I can't be sure." She screws up her face, one hand scrabbling frantically for his fingers. "I won't, though. I won't do anything, I won't even--do you want me to not hang out with her anymore?"
This is a pretty big thing; Liz would miss Claire a lot. She doesn't have many--any, really--other female friends, except for sort of Donna now, she guesses, and that isn't the same thing. She doesn't expect Donna to start waving at her in the halls now just because Liz listened to her. And she really does like Claire; she makes her laugh, and she thinks underneath that acidic exterior there's a corrosive sadness that's very, very familiar.
But if Henry says no, she won't see her anymore. And she'll hate herself for a long time, but that's better than hating herself and being alone.
He blinks a few times. "What? Uh...no. No, that's not..." He's quiet again, but obviously thinking. What does he want? There's a part of him that feels betrayed, inadequate- why? Because Liz wants to kiss someone that's not him? He wouldn't mind kissing Claire again, himself, now that he thought about it. It was new and weird, but good, and...Jesus, why is he thinking of this now? And how could he deny Liz thinking of that too? Even if it might mean he's not doing something right, or enough, or...something.
"No..." he repeats, sounding a little frustrated. "But...you can't just...just ignore it or whatever. Because what if...what if next time you do end up doing something and you don't talk about it with anyone before and then you feel bad about it and then you don't tell me or something because you feel bad and...and..." He trails off. He finally ran out of 'and's.
"I could though," she says earnestly, peering very closely at him. "I could. I really could. And I wouldn't do anything. I could have tonight, and I didn't have to tell you, but I did. I could, and it would...it'll go away. Honestly, it will." She squinches her eyes closed, as if willing everything she's feeling to just stop right now.
This is probably a terrible time to ask, as if there's ever an appropriate time for this. "Do you not ever think about anyone else? I mean...we're really young. Do you think about being with me forever?"
She does, in fact. Things with Claire have not changed that. It may be completely naive puppy love, but she can't imagine a future that doesn't have Henry in it. She says as much. "I really...sometimes I'll see someone and I'll think they're cute, or whatever, but it always goes away. There isn't...you're everything."
There's another long pause as Henry takes a break from thinking, rubbing at his face as if he wants it to come off. When he's finally done with that, he says, "I'm everything...but you still would like to make out with Claire." There's no sharpness to the sentence- the words are said slowly and carefully. He's just trying to understand.
"I do think about being with you forever...I don't know if I can think about not being with you. And I hadn't thought about anyone else...until just now, anyway." His eyes follow a trail along the floor to the couch where Claire's sleeping. He thinks he's being inconspicuous about it.
Then he looks up at Liz again. "I know you say you could ignore it, but...you didn't tonight. And I...I don't know if you should. If it's what you're feeling, then..." He shrugs, then pulls a hand through her hair, careful not to pull on the few tangles that have surfaced during the night.
She goes white, her face glowing in the darkness. "Stop it. What are you saying? What do you mean you don't know if I should? It sounds like you're either pimping me out or breaking up with me." Her voice is a little louder now, sharp and brittle. "And I did ignore it. I could have kissed her a million times. I could have had sex with her in the bathroom! No one was paying attention."
She paces the short length of the balcony, prowling like something trapped. "All I did was put my head on her shoulder to try and make her feel better.
Henry lets out a sigh of frustration before pulling himself off his leaning spot and standing in the way of Liz's pacing. "That's not...it's not what I meant. I just...I don't want you to be unhappy, or frustrated or anything like that. You didn't do anything, but it sounds like you were both thinking about it a lot. If there's something you want to do with her, it's not really okay of me to keep you from it. I mean, if she wants to do it too, obviously. I...it's...it's not me breaking up with you, or trying to- whatever- but it's me trying to make sure you're...you're okay with everything and that you're as happy as you can be. I can do that, easy. I just-...it's..." His rambling dies off in a fit of sputtering.
She looks up at him for a second before jerking her hat down over her face and making a muffled scream sort of noise. When she's visible again her hair is a mess, sticking up in all directions with static. She shoves the hat into the pocket of her coat. "Why do you have to make this so hard? Why can't you just say 'you're my girlfriend and I don't want you to kiss anyone else'? Yes, I'd like to make out with Claire some more, but maybe you shouldn't give me everything I fucking want all the time. Are we going to start being..." she trails off, trying very hard not to chew on her lip, "oh, what's that word. Poly-something. Polyamorous. Where you say 'oh, this is my girlfriend or my boyfriend or whatever but we both just fuck everyone we want to all the time?'"
Henry stares at the floor for a long time. In fact, he continues to stare at the floor when he starts talking. He's feeling too hurt to look up at Liz right now. "...no. But you deserve to be happy, Liz. And if there's something I can't...I can't do for you, and you can find it somewhere else, then you should."
This is not a conversation an eighteen-year-old should be having with his sixteen-year-old girlfriend, he notes. But then, they never did go about things normally.
"You've told me about Claire twice now, and it just...I don't think it's going to go away. So...I don't know if ignoring it is the answer. And I don't want you to stop being friends with Claire- hell, I don't want to stop being friends with Claire. She's a good person, and I don't have very many friends, you know that." There was supposed to be an end to that argument, somewhere he was going with it. But he's forgotten and his quiet tone has long since reached the point of mumbling, so he just stops.
"The only thing you couldn't do that Claire can is...is have a vagina!" she finally bursts out, not sure if she wants to laugh or cry or maybe punch Henry in the face. "And how the hell do you know if it's going to go away? It's only been a couple days. And we were drunk. I don't think being drunk suddenly unlocked the magical secret of my hidden lesbianism. It hasn't even been a week since it happened and so yeah. Things are gonna be weird for a little while. And maybe I'll have to kick myself a couple times and go 'stop looking at Claire like that,' but I will."
She balls her fists up and looks at him warily. "It's really pissing me off that you're like, telling me I can't control myself. Or that I'm lying. Or that I'm wrong about how I'm going to feel in the future but somehow you know better than I do."
He looks up at her, scowling. "I didn't mean it like that! I don't think you're lying or can't control yourself or whatever- and I didn't say that, so don't put words in my mouth. You always get so pissed off when I do that to you."
He turns his head away from her sharply, looking at the sliding glass door. He'd been getting kind of loud; now he speaks quietly, but no less angrily. "I just meant that I don't know if you should have to control that. And I don't know what's going to happen! I didn't exactly expect this, you know? I'm trying to figure out what I think about it and what I need to be ready for. If it doesn't go away."
It's not coming out right. It's not, and it's really important that it does now. He kicks the railing and retreats to one end of the very small porch. "Fuck, this is so stupid...I just want you to be happy, so why are you getting so fucking angry at me?"
"Because I want you to stand up for yourself!" she yells back. "I want you to think about what you want sometimes. And not just roll over and let me do whatever I want because you want me to be happy. Stuff that makes me happy isn't always good for me. How can I get better if you just...you just let me fuck up all the time and I need..." She gets very quiet now, leaning her forehead into her hands.
"I need there to be consequences. Ok, so everyone got drunk and we played Spin the Bottle and that shit happens. But when we woke up the next morning, I should have said no. And you should have said no. I'm not saying it's your fault, because it's not, not at all, but I need you to tell me if I'm doing something stupid and horrible that's hurting you."
She folds her arms and sticks her pointy little chin out, jaw set like stone.
"Liz..." All that built-up anger collapses in a heap. Now he looks more like a deflated balloon than anything else. "Liz, that's the thing. It isn't hurting me. Even if it had been, I don't know if I would have known then. This is...not something I thought about before. I don't know what it means, or if it means anything. Which is why we're talking about it."
He leans on the palm of his hand, looking out at the lights. He feels a lot older, suddenly- it's probably the subject matter. "Look...if something was hurting me and I knew about it, I'd tell you. Can you trust me to do that? I'm not hurt, I'm just confused."
He blinks slowly, then decides to rephrase that. "Okay, so maybe right now I'm kinda hurt...but that's because you got mad at me for not being mad at you, not because of anything that's happened with Claire... Honestly? I don't mind the idea of you making out with Claire. At least I don't think I do. It doesn't hurt me. I just get these stupid things in my head, and I know they're stupid, but they
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"I know...I know you didn't. But..." He pauses to make sure he words it right, or at least in some sort of way that makes sense. "But you still wanted to, right? You wanted to kiss her? And...I don't know, maybe more than that?" He says this very softly and quietly, a sharp contrast to the tension. He could be putting effort into that.
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This is a pretty big thing; Liz would miss Claire a lot. She doesn't have many--any, really--other female friends, except for sort of Donna now, she guesses, and that isn't the same thing. She doesn't expect Donna to start waving at her in the halls now just because Liz listened to her. And she really does like Claire; she makes her laugh, and she thinks underneath that acidic exterior there's a corrosive sadness that's very, very familiar.
But if Henry says no, she won't see her anymore. And she'll hate herself for a long time, but that's better than hating herself and being alone.
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"No..." he repeats, sounding a little frustrated. "But...you can't just...just ignore it or whatever. Because what if...what if next time you do end up doing something and you don't talk about it with anyone before and then you feel bad about it and then you don't tell me or something because you feel bad and...and..." He trails off. He finally ran out of 'and's.
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This is probably a terrible time to ask, as if there's ever an appropriate time for this. "Do you not ever think about anyone else? I mean...we're really young. Do you think about being with me forever?"
She does, in fact. Things with Claire have not changed that. It may be completely naive puppy love, but she can't imagine a future that doesn't have Henry in it. She says as much. "I really...sometimes I'll see someone and I'll think they're cute, or whatever, but it always goes away. There isn't...you're everything."
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"I do think about being with you forever...I don't know if I can think about not being with you. And I hadn't thought about anyone else...until just now, anyway." His eyes follow a trail along the floor to the couch where Claire's sleeping. He thinks he's being inconspicuous about it.
Then he looks up at Liz again. "I know you say you could ignore it, but...you didn't tonight. And I...I don't know if you should. If it's what you're feeling, then..." He shrugs, then pulls a hand through her hair, careful not to pull on the few tangles that have surfaced during the night.
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She paces the short length of the balcony, prowling like something trapped. "All I did was put my head on her shoulder to try and make her feel better.
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Liz's conception of polyamory is somewhat skewed.
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This is not a conversation an eighteen-year-old should be having with his sixteen-year-old girlfriend, he notes. But then, they never did go about things normally.
"You've told me about Claire twice now, and it just...I don't think it's going to go away. So...I don't know if ignoring it is the answer. And I don't want you to stop being friends with Claire- hell, I don't want to stop being friends with Claire. She's a good person, and I don't have very many friends, you know that." There was supposed to be an end to that argument, somewhere he was going with it. But he's forgotten and his quiet tone has long since reached the point of mumbling, so he just stops.
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"The only thing you couldn't do that Claire can is...is have a vagina!" she finally bursts out, not sure if she wants to laugh or cry or maybe punch Henry in the face. "And how the hell do you know if it's going to go away? It's only been a couple days. And we were drunk. I don't think being drunk suddenly unlocked the magical secret of my hidden lesbianism. It hasn't even been a week since it happened and so yeah. Things are gonna be weird for a little while. And maybe I'll have to kick myself a couple times and go 'stop looking at Claire like that,' but I will."
She balls her fists up and looks at him warily. "It's really pissing me off that you're like, telling me I can't control myself. Or that I'm lying. Or that I'm wrong about how I'm going to feel in the future but somehow you know better than I do."
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...crap. Liz is shouting. At Henry.
She figures she probably knows what it's about. Claire starts preparing for a stealthy escape.
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He turns his head away from her sharply, looking at the sliding glass door. He'd been getting kind of loud; now he speaks quietly, but no less angrily. "I just meant that I don't know if you should have to control that. And I don't know what's going to happen! I didn't exactly expect this, you know? I'm trying to figure out what I think about it and what I need to be ready for. If it doesn't go away."
It's not coming out right. It's not, and it's really important that it does now. He kicks the railing and retreats to one end of the very small porch. "Fuck, this is so stupid...I just want you to be happy, so why are you getting so fucking angry at me?"
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"I need there to be consequences. Ok, so everyone got drunk and we played Spin the Bottle and that shit happens. But when we woke up the next morning, I should have said no. And you should have said no. I'm not saying it's your fault, because it's not, not at all, but I need you to tell me if I'm doing something stupid and horrible that's hurting you."
She folds her arms and sticks her pointy little chin out, jaw set like stone.
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He leans on the palm of his hand, looking out at the lights. He feels a lot older, suddenly- it's probably the subject matter. "Look...if something was hurting me and I knew about it, I'd tell you. Can you trust me to do that? I'm not hurt, I'm just confused."
He blinks slowly, then decides to rephrase that. "Okay, so maybe right now I'm kinda hurt...but that's because you got mad at me for not being mad at you, not because of anything that's happened with Claire... Honestly? I don't mind the idea of you making out with Claire. At least I don't think I do. It doesn't hurt me. I just get these stupid things in my head, and I know they're stupid, but they ( ... )
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