"Stop it," she says. Her voice is pained. She should go, a part of her even wants to, but she can't help but be caught by his words. There's something he's not saying or something that he's talking around and it's drawing her in again. Hope. He's giving her hope again and he really should stop it because it's confusing. Feeling as if she wants to press up against him and flee for her life both at the same time is utterly confusing and she just wishes she'd make up her mind. She thought she had until he began talking again.
"Stop talking about what I should need or should have. What I should have is exactly the thing that makes me happy. That puts a smile on my face. That makes me feel safe. You don't have to list all of your faults. I probably know them better than you do, but I love you anyway. Or maybe because of them. Because of the way I'll come into the study and find you asleep on your book. Because of the look you give to the women you pick up at the pub. I might hate it, but there are times when I want you to look at me in that way."
She pauses, not exactly sure what to say next.
"Stop sounding like you're...like you're... Brothers let their sisters go. Parents let their children go. If that's what you feel for me, like some kind of little sister or my protector, you should be able to let me go. If you can't," she says, laughing humorlessly, "then maybe it's for the same reason that I can't seem to leave even when I think you're going to break my heart. Even when you already have. I love you, no, I am in love with you, and even if there is the slimmest hope that you might return those feeling I can't leave. I can't just walk away and forget all about you, about this. You're wrong. I don't care about what you own. The one thing you can offer me is something much more precious to me. Love. Not dutiful love, not safe love."
The thoughts in her head are so scrambled that she simply acts on instinct and goes to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She doesn't kiss him, though. She searches his face with eyes that are so vulnerable. She's terrified that he will just stomp on her heart one final time. After a moment, one hand slides down his neck and presses to his chest.
"I want this," she whispers. She looks down at her hand and, when she looks up, her eyes are yellow. It's a sight for him only. "After everything that I should or shouldn't want, should or shouldn't have, this is all I want. All I need." She wants him to kiss her. She's already taken that first step and she desperately wants him to take his, but her eyes are already beginning to well with the tears that will come with his rejection. In her imagination, she can already begin to feel him pull away.
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"Stop talking about what I should need or should have. What I should have is exactly the thing that makes me happy. That puts a smile on my face. That makes me feel safe. You don't have to list all of your faults. I probably know them better than you do, but I love you anyway. Or maybe because of them. Because of the way I'll come into the study and find you asleep on your book. Because of the look you give to the women you pick up at the pub. I might hate it, but there are times when I want you to look at me in that way."
She pauses, not exactly sure what to say next.
"Stop sounding like you're...like you're... Brothers let their sisters go. Parents let their children go. If that's what you feel for me, like some kind of little sister or my protector, you should be able to let me go. If you can't," she says, laughing humorlessly, "then maybe it's for the same reason that I can't seem to leave even when I think you're going to break my heart. Even when you already have. I love you, no, I am in love with you, and even if there is the slimmest hope that you might return those feeling I can't leave. I can't just walk away and forget all about you, about this. You're wrong. I don't care about what you own. The one thing you can offer me is something much more precious to me. Love. Not dutiful love, not safe love."
The thoughts in her head are so scrambled that she simply acts on instinct and goes to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She doesn't kiss him, though. She searches his face with eyes that are so vulnerable. She's terrified that he will just stomp on her heart one final time. After a moment, one hand slides down his neck and presses to his chest.
"I want this," she whispers. She looks down at her hand and, when she looks up, her eyes are yellow. It's a sight for him only. "After everything that I should or shouldn't want, should or shouldn't have, this is all I want. All I need." She wants him to kiss her. She's already taken that first step and she desperately wants him to take his, but her eyes are already beginning to well with the tears that will come with his rejection. In her imagination, she can already begin to feel him pull away.