i won't even make you talk about it if you don't want to( gonna just hum some songs he's been writing for her instead or something because it hurts to see her upset like this, to know she's been hurt. )
grief and anger doesn't have to make sense. it's almost worse sometimes when people are nice?( cringing internally remembering his own freak outs over people telling him he didn't do anything wrong -- like that wasn't two weeks ago. ) but--- yeah
it's fucked up and stupid and hypocritical i'm right there with you
drinks are ready, i'm at your disposal ( the overhead lights aren't on, eddie's lit some candles that give a warm glow to the place along with oil lamp that's by the new bed frame. if jem's face is splotchy, he won't see it.
he's smoking, waiting for her in the little kitchenette with drinks made and tea brewed if they want another round. he even found jam to put in the spiked tea along with honey, the damn things should taste like something from home. but when jem comes in, eddie stubs out the smoke in a makeshift ashtray and pushes off the counter so he can meet her half-way from the door; he wraps his arms around her and pull her close, press his lips to her forehead and the top of her head like it'll do any good. he wishes he knew how to make it better, how to fix the goddamn mess of the last few months. ) I'm sorry.
[if there is a big sniffle, she sincerely hopes he pretends not to hear it. she makes the effort to press right into his space, arms wrapped right around his middle and squeezes tightly for dear life.
the problem, of course, is that the big sniffle turns into another one and before she knows it, she's crying all over again, out of anger, out of grief, out of exhaustion.]
( he doesn't say anything, doesn't call it out. he simply keeps his arms around her and pulls her close, sways a little bit mostly keeps pressing gentle kisses into her hair and rubbing her back. he can offer gentle 'it'll be okay' and he hopes it will be, hopes that it's not bullshit.
he holds her until she stops shaking, until the tears slow down and her breathing evens out. she asked he not call out the tears, so he tries for something else instead. maybe he'll make her laugh by asking it, can make it hurt less for just a moment: ) Have a nice laugh?
[She does laugh, even if it comes out just as wet and hollow. She always feels so stupid when she cries like this, like she’s lost control of some deeply important aspect of herself. People who have their shit together don’t cry and bawl at the drop of a hat, at every argument or inconvenience. ]
No, not really. [She feels like shit. Real shit; like a six day hangover kind of shit. She feels empty, she feels too much, too full. She wishes she were in a closed room in complete silence, had the ability to remove herself from the psychic web that makes up all of the void touched. ]
Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your day too, or Billy’s.
( the sound vibrates through eddie’s chest, makes it ache in places he didn’t know existed. he unwraps a hand from her waist, lifts it and leans back so he can cup jem’s cheek and tilt her face up toward his. the candlelight dances over her cheekbones as he leans in, pressed a gentle kiss to her brow and rests his forehead against hers. ) You didn’t ruin anything, princess. Billy’s—- in a tough spot.
Everyone’s just on edge and fucked up. ( all of them are falling apart, trying to hold each other together from shattering. )
I'm not - choosing. That's so fucking shitty, Eddie.
[She can't stop thinking of Billy, Billy, Billy. Hershershers. Jem's only ever made a choice between one person another once. No one asked her to it. She did it, because Kieren is the only person she would choose. The only person she would ever consider making a choice like this for. She keeps thinking what if he makes Billy choose and that feels so shitty, too.
She keeps thinking: he didn't even care that I died. She can't stop thinking it, and it feels deeply hypocritical given her death was a choice.
You don't have to. ( not right now, hopefully not actually ever. Eddie's pissed at the prospect of it but he doesn't think saying that'll make it better. )
Billy loves you, baby. ( and that's something Eddie's certain of; Billy wouldn't hurt Jem by choosing anyone but her. There's still so much uncertainty when it comes to the three of them, to Eddie and Billy, but there's no doubt in Eddie's mind when he catches the way Jem and Billy look at one another. )
[She hiccups a small I know, and means it. Doesn't doubt it, they way she couldn't ever doubt that Eddie loves her. She cries a little longer, because once she starts it's hard to stop. It's a wet venting, and just the tip of a larger dam waiting to break. But after a while, it comes to a pathetic sniffle, becomes her hand scrubbing at her nose and eyes, her wandering out of Eddie's arms to go splash cold water on her face.
Then she strips and crawls into bed - demands, feebly, that he come in too. She doesn't think she'll sleep, really. What she wants is to feel Eddie's heart beat under her hand, to feel the tickle of his hair against her face, and to know he isn't going anywhere else, either. ]
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but i'll take the spiked tea and a cuddle
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coming up so that's ready when you walk through the door
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i didn't even do anything wrong, did i? i was just trying to be nice
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he's just taken a 'me vs them' stance and you're on the wrong side of it
it doesn't matter what you say
he's not listening
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it's fucked up and stupid and hypocritical
i'm right there with you
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i thought we were friends.
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don't be easy on him when he comes back around and realises what a dick move it all is
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he's smoking, waiting for her in the little kitchenette with drinks made and tea brewed if they want another round. he even found jam to put in the spiked tea along with honey, the damn things should taste like something from home. but when jem comes in, eddie stubs out the smoke in a makeshift ashtray and pushes off the counter so he can meet her half-way from the door; he wraps his arms around her and pull her close, press his lips to her forehead and the top of her head like it'll do any good. he wishes he knew how to make it better, how to fix the goddamn mess of the last few months. ) I'm sorry.
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the problem, of course, is that the big sniffle turns into another one and before she knows it, she's crying all over again, out of anger, out of grief, out of exhaustion.]
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he holds her until she stops shaking, until the tears slow down and her breathing evens out. she asked he not call out the tears, so he tries for something else instead. maybe he'll make her laugh by asking it, can make it hurt less for just a moment: ) Have a nice laugh?
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No, not really. [She feels like shit. Real shit; like a six day hangover kind of shit. She feels empty, she feels too much, too full. She wishes she were in a closed room in complete silence, had the ability to remove herself from the psychic web that makes up all of the void touched. ]
Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your day too, or Billy’s.
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Everyone’s just on edge and fucked up. ( all of them are falling apart, trying to hold each other together from shattering. )
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[She can't stop thinking of Billy, Billy, Billy. Hershershers. Jem's only ever made a choice between one person another once. No one asked her to it. She did it, because Kieren is the only person she would choose. The only person she would ever consider making a choice like this for. She keeps thinking what if he makes Billy choose and that feels so shitty, too.
She keeps thinking: he didn't even care that I died. She can't stop thinking it, and it feels deeply hypocritical given her death was a choice.
She says, hiccupping: ] It's so fucking shitty.
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Billy loves you, baby. ( and that's something Eddie's certain of; Billy wouldn't hurt Jem by choosing anyone but her. There's still so much uncertainty when it comes to the three of them, to Eddie and Billy, but there's no doubt in Eddie's mind when he catches the way Jem and Billy look at one another. )
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Then she strips and crawls into bed - demands, feebly, that he come in too. She doesn't think she'll sleep, really. What she wants is to feel Eddie's heart beat under her hand, to feel the tickle of his hair against her face, and to know he isn't going anywhere else, either. ]