overlapping lives | closed | aceomalley

ace-omalley:

iamthefirechild:

She glanced over at him, and sniffed a couple times, hard. “I’m sorry,” she managed. “I didn’t mean to bring that up for you. It’s just — it’s been months, but I can’t seem to forget. I’m really sorry. I’m not normally like this.”

After a moment she shook herself, smearing her hands across her face, and picked her way back to her nest in the centre of the mess. She’d managed to put Jesse out of her mind, mostly. Every so often something came up, though, that reminded her sharply of the way they’d broken — of how much she’d lost.

Her laugh was a little bitter. “I guess we’re just the unwanted people of the world, huh.”

Ace let her apology go through one ear and out the other. She was sorry for feeling, for being human.

But then again, the lad always found himself doing the same, because he didn’t want to accept that some people just had this… this power over him, and soon became corrupt at having the upper-hand.

Just thinking about the pain he used to feel drove flashes of anger through him, and his eyes dropped to his lap, digits curling into a fist so his nails dug into the heels of his palms.

“You get used to it after a while. You’re their Jesse, and you tell them you don’t want to wind up in the box again, and for a while, they listen, but… in the end I guess my place really is on the Island of Misfit Toys, huh?”

“You too?” Her voice was soft, sympathetic. “I figure I was just born broken, and nobody wants to take the time to figure out how to fix me.” She busied her hands among the beads, but she wasn’t really doing anything with them — the equivalent of playing with her food.

“And as soon as they realise that the things they want to fix aren’t the things I want to fix — that’s the end.” She really can’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. She ran the half-finished piece through her hands and asked, in a musing tone, “Do /you/ think it’s bad for two people in a relationship to fight?”

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