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you're not the answer I should know
Apr. 21st, 2012 08:10 amShe doesn't sleep.
Not even for any lack of trying, at least at first, though she suspects a different girl, a more sentimental one, might have stayed awake on purpose, trying to commit every detail to memory in case this winds up being a one-time occurrence. (She's already done that.) Instead, it's hours, or at least it feels like it, that she lies with her head on Stephen's chest, waiting to drift off, never quite letting herself manage it. Eventually, it becomes too futile, and Molly gives up. At least sleeplessness is nicer here, wearing his shirt and with Stephen warm beside her than in her own empty apartment, which she knows from experience after the couple of weeks she's spent here. This isn't anything new. She thinks, though, that what she knows now might just make it worse. Hating Stephen was never easy, but everything else was easier when she thought she'd done what she needed to. Being dead wouldn't have been quite as terrible then. Now, knowing it was for nothing, it's practically fucking unbearable, especially now that she doesn't have Stephen fucking her to distract her from all those uncomfortable truths. All she has is this, whatever that even is, some fragile thing that she can hold onto in the dark but that she's not sure will last until morning. At least she got this, her answers and one pretty great night, but it's only here in the quiet of Stephen's apartment that she thinks that might be disappointing. She'd never want anything more than this, but she thinks she could get used to it even so.
It's for that reason that she considers leaving when the first rays of sunlight filter through his bedroom window. It would be simpler, God knows, easier than waiting for him to ask her to leave, and it's not like he couldn't find her if he wanted to do this again sometime. She thinks she made pretty obvious last night that she's willing enough to put their past behind them to be with him. In the end, though, that's not a risk she can take, and not just because his chest feels too good under her head for her to care to move. If he misinterpreted that, took it as a sign that she'd changed her mind, the fault would be hers, and having underestimated Stephen once, she has no desire to fuck things up again. He came through for her once before, albeit too late. He could prove her wrong now, too.
All there is to do, then, is wait, excruciating as that is, as the sun comes up, to see what he'll do, if he'll write this off as a mistake or if they might have made their peace after all. That, and to hope, but Molly doesn't want to admit that, even to herself.
When he finally does start to wake up, she can tell, feels it by the change in his breathing, but she doesn't do anything, just stays curled against him with her eyes still shut. It's a cheap trick, maybe, but she won't have to keep it up for long. She just wants to see what he does first, too certain of what she wants and of the fact that she shouldn't want it to make the first move herself.
Not even for any lack of trying, at least at first, though she suspects a different girl, a more sentimental one, might have stayed awake on purpose, trying to commit every detail to memory in case this winds up being a one-time occurrence. (She's already done that.) Instead, it's hours, or at least it feels like it, that she lies with her head on Stephen's chest, waiting to drift off, never quite letting herself manage it. Eventually, it becomes too futile, and Molly gives up. At least sleeplessness is nicer here, wearing his shirt and with Stephen warm beside her than in her own empty apartment, which she knows from experience after the couple of weeks she's spent here. This isn't anything new. She thinks, though, that what she knows now might just make it worse. Hating Stephen was never easy, but everything else was easier when she thought she'd done what she needed to. Being dead wouldn't have been quite as terrible then. Now, knowing it was for nothing, it's practically fucking unbearable, especially now that she doesn't have Stephen fucking her to distract her from all those uncomfortable truths. All she has is this, whatever that even is, some fragile thing that she can hold onto in the dark but that she's not sure will last until morning. At least she got this, her answers and one pretty great night, but it's only here in the quiet of Stephen's apartment that she thinks that might be disappointing. She'd never want anything more than this, but she thinks she could get used to it even so.
It's for that reason that she considers leaving when the first rays of sunlight filter through his bedroom window. It would be simpler, God knows, easier than waiting for him to ask her to leave, and it's not like he couldn't find her if he wanted to do this again sometime. She thinks she made pretty obvious last night that she's willing enough to put their past behind them to be with him. In the end, though, that's not a risk she can take, and not just because his chest feels too good under her head for her to care to move. If he misinterpreted that, took it as a sign that she'd changed her mind, the fault would be hers, and having underestimated Stephen once, she has no desire to fuck things up again. He came through for her once before, albeit too late. He could prove her wrong now, too.
All there is to do, then, is wait, excruciating as that is, as the sun comes up, to see what he'll do, if he'll write this off as a mistake or if they might have made their peace after all. That, and to hope, but Molly doesn't want to admit that, even to herself.
When he finally does start to wake up, she can tell, feels it by the change in his breathing, but she doesn't do anything, just stays curled against him with her eyes still shut. It's a cheap trick, maybe, but she won't have to keep it up for long. She just wants to see what he does first, too certain of what she wants and of the fact that she shouldn't want it to make the first move herself.
