girl_at_the_window | are you looking for an answer

"It's nice," he says, too quickly, and forces himself to relax. Chill out, Eddie. "Really. A lot nicer than the last time I saw this place. It's got a nice lack of twists and turns this time around."

There. See? Humor. He's doing great.

Susan's smile is a little taut. She didn't mean to make him uncomfortable, after all. "I've been workin' on the roof," she tells him, when the silence has stretched out just a little too long. "Lost some tiles a while back, but I never got to it before. Sandin' down the floorboards, too. Guess I can get back to it, now I'm..."

Alive. That's... still harder to say than it should be.

"Oh, yeah?" He's trying to be relaxed as much as possible, because it's pretty clear now that they're both picking up on this weirdness, and by God, he doesn't want it to be that way between them. "D'you need any help? I've never...done anything like that, but I'm sure I can learn."

He wonders vaguely what might happen if he were to just bring it up. To ask her why things are weird right now. But that's a probably a bad idea.

Susan smiles. It's a nice offer, and a tempting one, if she's honest. Spending more time with him would be nice. Having help would be nice.

Given that awkwardness between them, though, spending more time with him might also be a really bad idea. She needs to get the hell over this stupid crush, and watching him roll his sleeves up and put in a good day's work... probably not the best way to do it. Hell, she's feeling a little hot just thinking about it, and that's not a good sign.

"I mean, uh, if you like. I could teach you, for sure. But I don't mind doin' it myself. Takes my mind off things."

"Yeah?" He gives her a grin, and nudges her in the ribs with his elbow. "Well how about you just tell me if you ever run into trouble and I'll jump right in and give you a hand. And try my damnedest not to fall off your roof and break my neck."

She winces a little - she's still achy, and it isn't so much his elbow that hurts as her instinctive shift away from it - but she answers his grin anyway. "I'll tell'ee. Thankee, Eddie. It's good to have a friend here. Real good."

Eddie doesn't miss her wince, and his face contorts apologetically. "Sorry. Forgot you're probably still not feeling too great." Her thanks draw a genuine smile from him.

"Don't mention it. And I don't just mean handyman shit—you tell me if there's anything else you need, alright? Anything."

He searches her face, wondering if she understands the offer he's making. The one that twists his gut with guilt and fills it with warmth all at once.

She understands. Or... well, she thinks she does. Thinks, or maybe just hopes that the intensity in his look is what she wants it to be.

Does she want it to be? Does she want to stumble headlong into something like this again, into men she shouldn't be with and broken promises and dishonour? Dark-haired young men with too much intensity in their eyes seem to be her weakness.

Susan bites her lip, and opens her mouth to say Don't say what you don't mean, or It's best we quit talkin' this way, or something else hard-headed and sensible. What she ends up doing, instead, is leaning in impulsively and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth - brief and chaste and deniable, if she's misread everything. She pulls away, but not far.

"Thankee. I'll try."

He knows that this isn't the right choice. He's married, for Christ's sake. But he's been told—by multiple people, even—that if there's a chance of being happy here, he should take it, wife or no. That a place like this changes more than just your body and your mind. Changes your relationships. And, shit, it's been a year. If his wife was going to show up, he'd think it'd happen by now.

And part of him feels almost like this is a mistake he's meant to make, anyway. Susan, Susannah. Maybe ka is trying to tell him something. Or maybe he's just trying to justify these feelings he's been having. Either way, he doesn't move away when Susan leans in, the way he really ought to. Just presses his eyes closed when he feels her lips there on the corner of his mouth, and without even asking it to, lets his hand come up to cup her jaw before she can move away too far.

He wants so badly to just kiss her, to go ahead and stumble headlong, but he restrains himself, searching her eyes for any sign of repulsion. Any sign that she might not want this.

"Tell me I'm...too old for you," he croaks. "Or something." He doesn't sound at all like that's what he actually wants.

She doesn't know what she expected, or even hoped for. It would've been a lot easier if he pushed her away, pulled back, said he didn't want her. Unfortunately, that sounds like the opposite of what he's saying, and things just got even more complicated.

"...I wish I could," she says, quietly. "That you were... were too old, or too ugly, or too anything. But you ain't." He's not old, by her estimation. Older than her, sure, but he's still young, and handsome, and kind, and she likes him. She lets out a little sound like a groan, and then she's kissing him again, full on the mouth this time, and not nearly so chastely. One pair of her arms come up around his shoulders, another hand tangling in his hair.

All the air seems to deflate out of Eddie, like he's relieved, or maybe just giving in. If she's not going to fight it too hard...if they're both feeling the same things...then he's going to let it happen, and fuck the consequences. Fuck the guilt he'll feel about it later on. Kissing her feels so good after a year of being starved for physical attention. Kissing her feels better than it has any right to.

He lets out a very similar noise as she closes the gap between them, his hand staying right where it is, cupping her jaw. The other slides around her waist. Eddie's heart feels like it's beating double-time in his chest, his gills twitching restlessly as he kisses her with reckless abandon.

She presses up against him, closing her eyes, her kiss hungry and raw. It's been some time since she was kissed, too, since someone touched her with that kind of want. She melts into it, her tongue pushing into his mouth, her clawed fingers scratching lightly against his scalp as she tightens her hand in his hair.

Gods, it feels good. It's like water in the desert, like a breeze on a hot day. She hasn't felt so desperately wanting since...

"Shit." She pulls away sharply, flushed and breathing heavily, her lips kiss-bruised. "We can't. I can't. I can't be that woman again." Can't do to Susannah what she did to Olive Thorin, can't be some harlot who pretends vows are nothing. If you break vows, you don't go to Heaven. She's not sure she believes in Heaven, but it doesn't really matter, because she knows from her own experience that breaking vows is its own Hell. Eddie's her friend, first and foremost. She can't do that to him.

He gives himself just a little while to enjoy kissing her without feeling anything but good. She's a lot more aggressive than he'd have expected, but that's not a bad thing, and he feels his body start to respond almost immediately.

...Which is why it feels like being doused with cold water when she pulls away again. His own breath is coming out ragged, the gill slits on his neck opening and closing erratically, and he can't help the way his ear fins droop downward. He wants her so badly right now that it hurts. But he also understands.

"Right. Right. Okay." He disentangles himself from her reluctantly. She's right. This is a bad choice. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—I should've stopped." He's supposed to be the adult, here.

If she knew he was thinking that, she'd be pretty annoyed by it. She's adult enough, and in her own estimation, more responsible than plenty of her seniors. She doesn't need him feeling responsible for her.

Luckily for both of them, she doesn't know what he's thinking. Not beyond his clear disappointment and - yep, when she glances down briefly, definitely arousal as well. There's a very small part of her that's satisfied about that, that he clearly wants her as much as she wants him, that she can still get that effect out of a guy. It's a very small part, though, and mostly drowned out by guilt and reluctance and the unfortunate tingling throb between her thighs.

She bites her lip hard enough to sting, taking a deep breath. "Shit," she says again, more quietly this time. "What're we going to do?"

If there's one thing her dalliance with Roland taught her (and all too quickly) it's that you can't just choose not to want someone. All you can do is stay away from them - and she sure as hell doesn't want to stay away from Eddie, who's one of her dearest friends.

He's trying hard not to let the full weight of his disappointment settle over him, because he already feels enough guilt as it is, without feeling like a sulky teenage boy who only made it to first base.

Eddie sighs heavily and leans back against the couch, rubbing a webbed hand over his face. "I don't know. I...we have to do the right thing, I know, but I don't want to." Ka help him, he doesn't want to. He wants to have one thing go his way in this fucking place. Just once. He wants things to be easy, and he knows all too well that the easy thing and the right thing are almost never the same.

Susan nods soberly. She's trying not to let her emotions show too clearly on her face, but her antennae are drooping, her lips pressed together.

"I don't, either," she says after a moment, very quietly. She isn't looking at him, but down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. "You're... you've been better to me than any man ever was, I think. And I'm sorry it's taken us down this way. I truly am. You don't deserve this shit."

Eddie looks over at her out of the corner of her eye, and it makes him feel a little better at least to see that they're both feeling a similar way. But her words make him feel worse, because if this is anyone's fault, it's his. For not having better self-control. For being an idiot who couldn't leave well enough alone.

Against his better judgment, he reaches out and puts a hand over both of hers. "Don't. Don't apologize, this ain't your fault." His hand gives a brief squeeze and then draws back. "Just...what, am I supposed to stay away from you now? I really don't want that." She's important to him. He's felt that way from the very beginning. And maybe he's being childish, like a kid whose toy is about to be taken away, but losing her would hurt more than he's prepared to accept.

"I ain't sure I can bear that." She says it very quietly, but she absolutely means it. He's one of the most important people in her life, and she can't just let go of that, not when she's just starting to find her place here. It isn't just that they're an-tet (though she has no doubt of it, frankly) but she loves him because he's a dear friend.

She sighs, closing her eyes. "I don't know, Eddie. I don't think we can stay away, and I don't think we can be close, and I... I don't know. Truly. I can't just stop wanting."

He leans forward now, cradling his face in his hands. He's relieved, at least, that she doesn't want him to keep away from her. He'd listen, of course, because he's not a creepy douchebag, but it would blow chunks.

"Me either," he admits, rather miserably. "Should I—do you want me to leave?"

She ought to say yes. It would be the sensible thing to do, not to mention the right thing. But in the end, it isn't even her attraction that sways her. She still feels death's coldness on her, the bleak horror of knowing what happened, the instinctive fear that you can't come back once - let alone twice - and still be the same person.

She's scared, that's the truth. She's scared, and she doesn't want to be alone.

So she shakes her head, forcing a little smile. "Stay. Just 'til Chie comes back, at least."

Maybe, just a little, Eddie is afraid, too. Afraid to go back home and be alone with the realization of what just happened, alone with his shame and guilt and the still-lingering desire he feels for her. So he forces a grin, too, and gets up, moving to another chair just to give her some space. Or maybe to keep himself from temptation.

"If that's what you want, then of course I'll stay."

He's staying, and she's grateful, but now she doesn't know what to say. What can you say, after that? Either you address it, make it ache worse, or you pretend it didn't happen, and that's a falsity she's not prepared for.

So she sits in silence for a long time, looking down at her coffee. At last, she says slowly, "Did aught come of it? Kira and all? Nobody went on killin', right?"

Yeah, this is awkward. He ought to have anticipated that. It's even more awkward when he's still half-hard in his pants and with no way of hiding it that isn't incredibly obvious.

It's a relief when she finally breaks the silence, needless to say. His own coffee is cold and forgotten and he's wishing it wasn't, just to have something to occupy his hands with.

"No," he says. "As far as I know, anyway. Not that the temptation wasn't there, mind you. But I figured that wasn't what you'd have wanted."

"You figured right." She smiles a little, but doesn't look up at him. "It wasn't murder. No more than what I did. Just... justice. The old kind." A life for a life. She doesn't blame Mitsuhide for that, even if she doesn't feel like killing Kira was any sort of a crime. She'd have done the same, in his place.

It doesn't mean she likes it, of course. But it's still a relief to know it hasn't gone on spiralling down the way she was afraid it might, kill leading onto kill leading onto kill. She didn't want to have to carry that.

She sips her own coffee - now lukewarm, too, but she's ignoring that - and sighs. "Gods, Eddie. Why is everything always so bedamned complicated?"

"I figured as much. It pissed me the hell off, but I'm not idiot enough to go after anyone that obviously crazy." Not without another Gunslinger, anyway, and there's no way Jake would have any of that without a damn good reason.

Her question has him looking sidelong at her, and he seems to deflate a little. "I don't know," he admits. "Sometimes I think humans are built to make everything harder than it needs to be." To want what we're not supposed to want, he almost adds, but doesn't. No need making this more painful than it has to be.

help them

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i'll take self-loathing for 500 alex

poor guy

r i p

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