[ Those weeks were horrible for Jesse. Not that she would say they were worse than what Alan experienced. She's kept it to herself. Her management team could tell how much she worried, but they were also used to the idea given her visits to Dylan over the years. She didn't ask for hourly updates on Alan's condition. They came in when the medical team felt it was relevant to share. She spent a lot of time in her office. Time keeping herself busy. Otherwise, she'd just hover, and that would get in everyone's way.
Her expression falls at his words. Not at the fact he'd want to return the favor, but at the fact that living seems so difficult. Alan has been existing for so long, that maybe even their not-normal is too difficult to really grasp. Maybe she's tried to pull him down the path faster than he can keep up. She may have misread the entire situation in trying to help him.
Hands still on his back. A moment passes where she does nothing and says even less. They stay resting on his shoulder blades. She glances up at the ceiling, frowning, trying to keep those emotions she controls so tightly in their place. Another moment passes before she begins to move.
She quietly lays down on him, arms moving to circle around him. Her head rests between his shoulder blades. Comfortable, but able to move in an instant if he'd prefer she not be so close to him. This may not be what he needs either.
The position brings to mind the memories of the Writer's Room. Hiding her face in his back as some of her darkest things were put on display for him to see and know her by. Alan probably doesn't remember them--can't remember it--but that doesn't change the fact she does. Her gaze lowers to the back of his t-shirt. ]
I'm sorry that I'm so bad at this. [ Her eyes close as she gives him a gentle hug. She wants to hold onto him tighter. Love him more. Alice probably could of done this so much better. She probably did it better. Would do it better. ] What do you need me to do to help?
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Her expression falls at his words. Not at the fact he'd want to return the favor, but at the fact that living seems so difficult. Alan has been existing for so long, that maybe even their not-normal is too difficult to really grasp. Maybe she's tried to pull him down the path faster than he can keep up. She may have misread the entire situation in trying to help him.
Hands still on his back. A moment passes where she does nothing and says even less. They stay resting on his shoulder blades. She glances up at the ceiling, frowning, trying to keep those emotions she controls so tightly in their place. Another moment passes before she begins to move.
She quietly lays down on him, arms moving to circle around him. Her head rests between his shoulder blades. Comfortable, but able to move in an instant if he'd prefer she not be so close to him. This may not be what he needs either.
The position brings to mind the memories of the Writer's Room. Hiding her face in his back as some of her darkest things were put on display for him to see and know her by. Alan probably doesn't remember them--can't remember it--but that doesn't change the fact she does. Her gaze lowers to the back of his t-shirt. ]
I'm sorry that I'm so bad at this. [ Her eyes close as she gives him a gentle hug. She wants to hold onto him tighter. Love him more. Alice probably could of done this so much better. She probably did it better. Would do it better. ] What do you need me to do to help?