“Hey I told you I wanted to watch hoarders.” Tony laughed and grabbed her hand. “Whatever you feel like you need to do to make yourself not all broken or whatever, I’ll do what I can to help.”
Summer shook her head, looking up at him. “That’s why I put up with you. Because you say things like that, and I just … I love you.”
“What can I say? I’m a big lovable teddy bear. ” Tony smirked and kissed her on the cheek. “And I guess I think you’re pretty okay for a nerd girl,” he winked.
“Well, can I have some attention, or shall I let you go back to your show? I should probably at least look over these chapters again for class tomorrow.” Despite her words, Summer held on to Tony, to his warm, safe nearness.
“Maybe you should try to relax more often,” Tony suggested, kissing the back of her neck lightly. “Have you tried yoga? Or booze? Seriously there’s nothing a beer can’t fix.”
“Don’t do that,” she muttered. “I tried getting drunk in Cozumel, and not only did I not get drunk, I could hear /everyone’s/ feelings.” Summer shuddered, convulsively. “It was the most awful thing ever. I /try/ to relax. It was just such a horrible day, and I just — and then you — pleh.”
“Hey I told you I wanted to watch hoarders.” Tony laughed and grabbed her hand. “Whatever you feel like you need to do to make yourself not all broken or whatever, I’ll do what I can to help.”
Summer shook her head, looking up at him. “That’s why I put up with you. Because you say things like that, and I just … I love you.”
“Besides the fact that you’re somehow patient enough to put up with my shit?” Tony smirked and wrapped his arms around her.
Summer breathed out a soft laugh. “Yes, besides that. That — thing. That just happened. It happens more often lately. And I … remember how I lit the candle? When I got your text,” she paused, chewing on her lip, “I made fire. There’s a burn mark where I was sitting. I didn’t even think about it; it was just /there/.” She turned her face into his shirt and mumbled, “I don’t know what’s happening to me. And I don’t know how to find out, either.”
“Maybe you should try to relax more often,” Tony suggested, kissing the back of her neck lightly. “Have you tried yoga? Or booze? Seriously there’s nothing a beer can’t fix.”
“Don’t do that,” she muttered. “I tried getting drunk in Cozumel, and not only did I not get drunk, I could hear /everyone’s/ feelings.” Summer shuddered, convulsively. “It was the most awful thing ever. I /try/ to relax. It was just such a horrible day, and I just — and then you — pleh.”
“If you’ll remember correctly, you were trying to interrupt my show anyway.” Tony smirked, pulling her onto his lap. “I just wish you could understand the beautiful piece of television history that is hoarders.”
Summer bit her lip, abashed. “Yes, but you told me to stop. I just … ” She shuddered. “That level of mess just disturbs me. I’d far rather watch Mythbusters, or Top Gear. Or if there must be mess, let it be sensical — explosions, punkin chunkin. Something like that.” She cuddled her head into his shoulder. “I think there’s something wrong with me, Tony,” she whispered.
“Besides the fact that you’re somehow patient enough to put up with my shit?” Tony smirked and wrapped his arms around her.
Summer breathed out a soft laugh. “Yes, besides that. That — thing. That just happened. It happens more often lately. And I … remember how I lit the candle? When I got your text,” she paused, chewing on her lip, “I made fire. There’s a burn mark where I was sitting. I didn’t even think about it; it was just /there/.” She turned her face into his shirt and mumbled, “I don’t know what’s happening to me. And I don’t know how to find out, either.”
Tony stroked her hand with his thumb, squeezing lightly. “Don’t apologize babe. What happened?” he asked softly, looking down at her.
“You were angry,” she muttered, “and I didn’t shield.” Her whole body ached now. “I was stupid. I was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.” She flushed, embarrassed by the way she’d reacted. “I’ve interrupted your show.”
“If you’ll remember correctly, you were trying to interrupt my show anyway.” Tony smirked, pulling her onto his lap. “I just wish you could understand the beautiful piece of television history that is hoarders.”
Summer bit her lip, abashed. “Yes, but you told me to stop. I just … ” She shuddered. “That level of mess just disturbs me. I’d far rather watch Mythbusters, or Top Gear. Or if there must be mess, let it be sensical — explosions, punkin chunkin. Something like that.” She cuddled her head into his shoulder. “I think there’s something wrong with me, Tony,” she whispered.
Tony looks back at her and quickly jumps off the couch. He wraps his arm around her and carries her back to the couch. “Summer Baby. Deep breaths,” he instructs as he holds her hand.
She can feel his hand on hers, now, and his strength at her back, but it’s too late to take back control of her body — it’s gone until his emotions drain out of her skin. She can’t help thinking that, knowing it’s not quite right, but even her thoughts are chaotic and convulsed right now. She holds on tight to his hand, tears starting in her eyes and teeth gritted, until her body is her own again.
“I’m sorry,” Summer gasped, blinking away the tears. She didn’t let go of his hand, though her grip slackened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to see that, I’m so sorry.”
Tony stroked her hand with his thumb, squeezing lightly. “Don’t apologize babe. What happened?” he asked softly, looking down at her.
“You were angry,” she muttered, “and I didn’t shield.” Her whole body ached now. “I was stupid. I was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.” She flushed, embarrassed by the way she’d reacted. “I’ve interrupted your show.”
“Summer, I’m not going to sit here and coddle you like a damn baby, I love and respect you too much for that.” Tony said, firmly, looking back at her. “If you want to sit down and explain why you’re mad at me or whatever like an adult I’ll gladly listen.”
She managed to catch his eyes, but he wasn’t seeing the problem. “T-Tony,” she tried again, desperate to unlock her jaw enough to say something. And then darkness, and the convulsions taking her muscles and shaking her like a rag doll, bowing her entire body backward.
Tony looks back at her and quickly jumps off the couch. He wraps his arm around her and carries her back to the couch. “Summer Baby. Deep breaths,” He instructs as he holds her hand.
She can feel his hand on hers, now, and his strength at her back, but it’s too late to take back control of her body — it’s gone until his emotions drain out of her skin. She can’t help thinking that, knowing it’s not quite right, but even her thoughts are chaotic and convulsed right now. She holds on tight to his hand, tears starting in her eyes and teeth gritted, until her body is her own again.
“I’m sorry,” Summer gasped, blinking away the tears. She didn’t let go of his hand, though her grip slackened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to see that, I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t show someone you care about them by fucking them, Summer.” Tony growled, moving his eyes back to the TV just to piss her off more. “And if you remember correctly I did sit here and reassure you. Or are we just not counting the time I listened to you complain about those bitches?” He crossed his arms and moved as far away from her as possible. “Are we just not counting that because you didn’t get what you wanted in the end?”
It hadn’t been enough, and she didn’t know why it hadn’t been enough. It wasn’t even because he said no to sex — waiting was familiar, was normal. His anger was painful. Was that why it wasn’t enough? Anger was rejection, was denial, was being unwanted.
Except he’d said she should come back. Could come back. It wasn’t go away forever.
But it /hurt/. The pain swelled up her throat and bent her spine into an arc backwards, sliding twitches through her muscles. Her legs trembled, and her arms, and she bit her tongue on a whimper.
Tony ignored the sound coming from Summer and kept watching TV. She had this idea that Tony would always want to have sex. He would happily admit that it was usually on his mind but sometimes he’d rather just sit around and talk. He stood from the couch and walked into the kitchen and pulled out another beer. He drained it quickly before pulling out another and returning to the couch.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe, and she couldn’t move, and her limbs wouldn’t stop shaking, and Tony was oblivious. He probably thought she was faking, to get his attention. The thought cut like a blade.
One spasm released her, and she dragged in a breath, and then the next was seizing her muscles, cording ligaments and tendons against her olive skin. “Help,” but she wasn’t sure the sound made it past her own head.
“Summer, I’m not going to sit here and coddle you like a damn baby, I love and respect you too much for that.” Tony said, firmly, looking back at her. “If you want to sit down and explain why you’re mad at me or whatever like an adult I’ll gladly listen.”
She managed to catch his eyes, but he wasn’t seeing the problem. “T-Tony,” she tried again, desperate to unlock her jaw enough to say something. And then darkness, and the convulsions taking her muscles and shaking her like a rag doll, bowing her entire body backward.
“You don’t show someone you care about them by fucking them, Summer.” Tony growled, moving his eyes back to the TV just to piss her off more. “And if you remember correctly I did sit here and reassure you. Or are we just not counting the time I listened to you complain about those bitches?” He crossed his arms and moved as far away from her as possible. “Are we just not counting that because you didn’t get what you wanted in the end?”
It hadn’t been enough, and she didn’t know why it hadn’t been enough. It wasn’t even because he said no to sex — waiting was familiar, was normal. His anger was painful. Was that why it wasn’t enough? Anger was rejection, was denial, was being unwanted.
Except he’d said she should come back. Could come back. It wasn’t go away forever.
But it /hurt/. The pain swelled up her throat and bent her spine into an arc backwards, sliding twitches through her muscles. Her legs trembled, and her arms, and she bit her tongue on a whimper.
Tony ignored the sound coming from Summer and kept watching TV. She had this idea that Tony would always want to have sex. He would happily admit that it was usually on his mind but sometimes he’d rather just sit around and talk. He stood from the couch and walked into the kitchen and pulled out another beer. He drained it quickly before pulling out another and returning to the couch.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe, and she couldn’t move, and her limbs wouldn’t stop shaking, and Tony was oblivious. He probably thought she was faking, to get his attention. The thought cut like a blade.
One spasm released her, and she dragged in a breath, and then the next was seizing her muscles, cording ligaments and tendons against her olive skin. “Help,” but she wasn’t sure the sound made it past her own head.
“When we first met you said you knew my type. Something about being the kind of guy that’s only interested in sex or some bullshit like that,” Tony grumbled, not looking at her. “You still think of me as that type. The type that wants to fuck everything that moves. Sometimes I just want to sit around and watch hoarders and have some snarky banter with you, okay?”
“Today I was thinking of you as the type who would reassure his girlfriend when she’d had a shit day,” Summer spat back, fingers digging into the cushions. “The type who would put his show on record because she wanted to— to fuck someone with a brain.” Her throat hurt, and there was a ringing in her ears. “Sometimes /I/ just want to believe that I’m a person worth being cared about.”
“You don’t show someone you care about them by fucking them, Summer.” Tony growled, moving his eyes back to the TV just to piss her off more. “And if you remember correctly I did sit here and reassure you. Or are we just not counting the time I listened to you complain about those bitches?” He crossed his arms and moved as far away from her as possible. “Are we just not counting that because you didn’t get what you wanted in the end?”
It hadn’t been enough, and she didn’t know why it hadn’t been enough. It wasn’t even because he said no to sex — waiting was familiar, was normal. His anger was painful. Was that why it wasn’t enough? Anger was rejection, was denial, was being unwanted.
Except he’d said she should come back. Could come back. It wasn’t go away forever.
But it /hurt/. The pain swelled up her throat and bent her spine into an arc backwards, sliding twitches through her muscles. Her legs trembled, and her arms, and she bit her tongue on a whimper.