[ Her entire posture stiffens at his tone. Hands curl slightly, shoulders rise. A reflex defensive measure against what he says. It's not that she denies that he hurt her--probably in the worst way imaginable. It's the fact she doesn't want to think about it anymore. She doesn't want that conversation (argument) to be the thing that defines and haunts them for the rest of ... however long they have. It should be the good things that come to mind when he's gone away again. Not the goodbyes.
Jesse shakes her head slightly. The motion is so small that he may not even notice. She isn't going to say any of it out loud. Saying it makes it more true than it already is.
« Can't we just move past that fucking room? I hate it. I hate how all of that ended. I want--it should be like it was before that damn room. Before the Clicker, and that stupid shoebox, and the page inside it. I HATE that room. It made him leave. It made him... he left me behind because of it.
He promised he wouldn't leave. »
It was a stupid promise and she knows it. Something unbelievable and unrealistic that she chose to believe in anyways. It was what she wanted to hear. What she wanted to pretend was actually possible, just like pretending he was actually home now. Except, they're past pretending.
Jesse looks down at the floor in the space between them.
« I hate that fucking room. »
She just wants all of it to stop hurting.
With her gaze cast down, she misses the smile on his face. The tone in his voice has shifted and that is more of what she picks up on than the words themselves. ]
I'm the crazy one. Remember? [ Her response is quick, biting, filled with bitterness all directed inwardly at herself. An air of destructiveness in a tone. ] So crazy I can't hold down a job, I can't keep a roof over my head. Crazy Faden arguing with people about industrial accidents and writers that aren't--
[ Jesse immediately cuts herself off. Locks it all back down in an instant. She can't let him know that it's all gone to hell because of her. Because she can't keep her mouth shut about Ordinary. She can't stop insisting Polaris is real. Dylan isn't dead, he's a hostage of the government. That Alan Wake isn't dead, he's missing, and he wasn't some insane serial killer that went from party to party killing...
She lowers her head until it rests against his chest. Green eyes close. ]
--Yeah. It, it sounds nice. That's--please. [ Before her walls break entirely and he sees what the last two years have done to her. ]
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Jesse shakes her head slightly. The motion is so small that he may not even notice. She isn't going to say any of it out loud. Saying it makes it more true than it already is.
« Can't we just move past that fucking room? I hate it. I hate how all of that ended. I want--it should be like it was before that damn room. Before the Clicker, and that stupid shoebox, and the page inside it. I HATE that room. It made him leave. It made him... he left me behind because of it.
He promised he wouldn't leave. »
It was a stupid promise and she knows it. Something unbelievable and unrealistic that she chose to believe in anyways. It was what she wanted to hear. What she wanted to pretend was actually possible, just like pretending he was actually home now. Except, they're past pretending.
Jesse looks down at the floor in the space between them.
« I hate that fucking room. »
She just wants all of it to stop hurting.
With her gaze cast down, she misses the smile on his face. The tone in his voice has shifted and that is more of what she picks up on than the words themselves. ]
I'm the crazy one. Remember? [ Her response is quick, biting, filled with bitterness all directed inwardly at herself. An air of destructiveness in a tone. ] So crazy I can't hold down a job, I can't keep a roof over my head. Crazy Faden arguing with people about industrial accidents and writers that aren't--
[ Jesse immediately cuts herself off. Locks it all back down in an instant. She can't let him know that it's all gone to hell because of her. Because she can't keep her mouth shut about Ordinary. She can't stop insisting Polaris is real. Dylan isn't dead, he's a hostage of the government. That Alan Wake isn't dead, he's missing, and he wasn't some insane serial killer that went from party to party killing...
She lowers her head until it rests against his chest. Green eyes close. ]
--Yeah. It, it sounds nice. That's--please. [ Before her walls break entirely and he sees what the last two years have done to her. ]