I don't want to, either, ( he responds without any hesitation, without the ache of things he shouldn't say clawing at him. it's something that would be true even without what now lingers between them from these past few words exchanged; rene would be lying through his teeth if he ever said out loud that he wanted distance, be it physical or emotional.
the roll of thunder overheard grabs his attention for a moment, makes him look up at the sky as though to question it, look at it accusatorially, making every part of this feel even heavier than it needs to be, with the dramatic streak of lightning in the sky, with the literal weight of his clothes sticking to him, his bag hanging from his shoulder feeling like a mass of all his guilt compacted.
instead, his gaze follows hers down the street towards isabelle's apartment. she doesn't want him to leave — she wants him to stay. there is a part of her that still cares about him, even if he thinks she shouldn't. if he's being honest, and he is, it's nice to feel — wanted again, and not even just in a physical way, even though he still longs to — do something. reach out. link his fingers with hers, give it a squeeze, let her know how much he appreciates her, 'cause he does.
rene doesn't like feeling vulnerable, and from the look on her face, the way he can map out the similarities between the two of them, he knows that isabelle doesn't, either. )
— You gotta take the first step, 'cause I can't.
( can't, mostly because going to isabelle's apartment feels dangerous. makes rene nervous in a way he knows he shouldn't be because he shouldn't be thinking the way that he's thinking. he's always been bad at following the rules, will say as much out loud. )
no subject
the roll of thunder overheard grabs his attention for a moment, makes him look up at the sky as though to question it, look at it accusatorially, making every part of this feel even heavier than it needs to be, with the dramatic streak of lightning in the sky, with the literal weight of his clothes sticking to him, his bag hanging from his shoulder feeling like a mass of all his guilt compacted.
instead, his gaze follows hers down the street towards isabelle's apartment. she doesn't want him to leave — she wants him to stay. there is a part of her that still cares about him, even if he thinks she shouldn't. if he's being honest, and he is, it's nice to feel — wanted again, and not even just in a physical way, even though he still longs to — do something. reach out. link his fingers with hers, give it a squeeze, let her know how much he appreciates her, 'cause he does.
rene doesn't like feeling vulnerable, and from the look on her face, the way he can map out the similarities between the two of them, he knows that isabelle doesn't, either. )
— You gotta take the first step, 'cause I can't.
( can't, mostly because going to isabelle's apartment feels dangerous. makes rene nervous in a way he knows he shouldn't be because he shouldn't be thinking the way that he's thinking. he's always been bad at following the rules, will say as much out loud. )