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[noburden]

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parallelelelelel except she doesn't want your help

[noburden]

No one is treating Jill well tonight, including the road.

She wishes the bike made less noise as she pulls up to the house, stopping in the driveway to gingerly climb off. No garage tonight. She knows if the engine itself hasn't woken up Joshua or Clive, the garage will with its whirring and creaking. She still hopes there's a chance neither will be up. Or if they are, they'll leave her be. She's too tired to argue or explain or do anything but look miserable.

It's a poor mood that wasn't helped by a mistake she can't even recall, and she's upset with herself for it, because it's just one more thing. The drive was to help clear her mind, but all it did was set her thoughts swirling around her head. Dion. Clive. Joshua. That awful night and her terrible choices and how alone she feels despite having the ones she loves near.

She barely minded the traffic signals as she weaved through the city, but she thought herself practiced enough to instinctively stop at a red light. She doesn't remember seeing it. All she remembers is the sting of her hip and elbow and her bike on its side some feet away and some angry soul berating her from a car about splattering her.

She's a reckless fool. Some miserable part of her wonders and so what? if it had been worse than skinned limbs that will ache in the morning. Fool. Already, as she stiffly walks up to the porch and opens the front door, she has to make an attempt to move normally. She was lucky. Her clothes, not so much. Her white blouse is stained with black and red from elbow to wrist, and the light wash jeans have a similar streak of black on the same side, right at the hip. Tomorrow, she will have to see if her bike's nice new paint needs to be touched up.

If she can walk.

For now, she just wants to creep up the stairs to her room and soak in a bath.

mean.............. he just wants to love....

[rosarianoath]

He hears the bike as it turns onto the street, and for a long moment, he wills himself to stay where he is, sprawled out in bed. But when she kills the engine, he doesn't hear the garage door, and after a few even longer moments, he worries something's happened. Fuck it. By time he's up he hears the front door, so he takes the stairs up to the main floor.

"Jill?" he calls, softly.

[noburden]

Damn. Caught. She nearly hisses with her frustration at this problem she brought upon herself.

Jill stills and forces herself to stand upright. The left side of her body already feels like one giant bruise, so much that she doubts she can get past Clive without it being obvious.

"It's me," she says carefully. "Sorry to wake you."

Was he asleep? Time got away from her.

[rosarianoath]

“I was already awake,” he assures her.

The way she moves is alarming, even in the dark. He watches the C of her silhouette straighten and he frowns as he reaches to flip the light on.

[noburden]

Nowhere to hide with the light on. Jill grimaces.

"Took a tumble," she explains, because he's not blind. She can downplay how much her body hurts, maybe. Nevermind how just standing upright for this short amount of time burns. "Don't worry."

[rosarianoath]

He hates that fucking bike so much.

Clive sighs, concerned, horrified and startled all rolled into one.

“I’ll get supplies,” he says, firmly. “Go lay down, I’ll be up in a moment.”

[noburden]

In the pause that follows, it's clear she wishes to argue. She watches him for a long moment, trying to settle on one thing, but she's sore and tired.

Caught, she sighs and lets herself hobble towards the stairs. This will hurt. She'll manage.

[rosarianoath]

Try me, he wants to say: argue to go to bed in pain, to twist into knots to reach the parts furthest from one’s reach. But she relents, and so he goes to fetch the first aid kit, and is back before she’s made it far.

“I am carry you,” he says, hot on her heels.

[noburden]

"It's not that bad," she tells him, and puts a little more effort into holding onto the railing and hauling herself up to the second floor. She's going to be one giant bruise in the morning.

Fair, she realizes. At least her face didn't get destroyed.

lol that’s the stupidest fucking typo I love phone tagging

[rosarianoath]

He keeps behind her, an arm out to help her, but after a few steps he just sets down the first aid kit on the stair and stoops to duck his head under her good arm, an arm going around her good thigh.

“Hold on,” he says.

love u knew the intention kept the hilarity

[noburden]

A month ago, she would have laughed at him scooping her up. Now, she tenses, partially because she's sore and partially because she doesn't know what is happening between them anymore.

Hold on or risk getting grabbed somewhere that's unpleasant right now--so she holds onto him, biting her tongue.

She hasn't been in his arms in a month. She hates how she immediately wants to sink into him the moment she's there.

"Very well," she murmurs, resigned, and doesn't look at him.

Publicly shamed for comedy

[rosarianoath]

He can feel the tension radiating off her, and he’s sure it isn’t all the injury. He ignores it for now, lifting her off her feet with one arm around her upper thigh and the other laid carefully along her abdomen. She isn’t hard to carry.

But she does smell nice, her hair so close to his face.

He spirits her up the stairs and to her bedroom, and he doesn’t set her back down on her feet until he’s at her bedside.

[noburden]

Unnecessary, but she thanks him all the same once she's on her feet. There she remains only a moment before sitting, turning her arm to look at her ruined sleeve. No wonder she was encouraged to get leathers. Going any faster and she might not have skin left on her arm. As it is, it's more filthy than bloody, and she begins to gingerly pull the fabric away from her skin.

It hurts. It's clear in the pinch of her brow, but she grimaces and carries on.

She's not sure what to say to Clive. She hasn't known in weeks.

[rosarianoath]

He excuses himself quietly to retrieve the first aid kit and turn off the lights to not disturb Joshua, and when he returns to Jill’s room, he closes the door behind him.

“Let me do that,” he says, kneeling before her and slowly reaching for the fabric.

[noburden]

She looks at him, the concern for her on his face, and slowly offers him her arm.

"Pity. I liked this one," she sighs softly. Good thing she has a wardrobe full of white blouses by now.

[rosarianoath]

“Tell me what you need for a new one and I’ll bring you cloth or coin or both,” he murmurs, finding an edge and beginning to peel, hands cool to soothe.

[noburden]

A silly conversation when he knows she lacks for nothing material. An attempt to distract, then.

"It's fine," she says, on a sharp inhale. It hurts most where the blood has dried. "Daresay I have too many to begin with."

[rosarianoath]

“It’s not about the shirt,” he says gently, and his touch grows even more careful, but he’ll let it go. “What happened?”

[noburden]

Her fingers flex, trying to distract herself further from the pain.

"Careless mistake, that's all," she says. "My fault."

[rosarianoath]

"I hope you weren't distracted." He gets the sleeve loose, takes it at the top of a tear, and carefully rips it wider so it is out of the way.

[noburden]

"I was," she admits. There's nothing worth keeping secret anymore. Her mind was on him, on Dion, on Joshua. "As bad as being sleep-deprived, on the bike."

No headwounds, at least.

[rosarianoath]

"Oh, Jill," he says, with a sigh. He glances up at her, away from the mess of her skin, with a softness behind his eyes that he just can't hide. "I'm relieved you're in one piece."

[noburden]

That look pulls at her heart. She can't stop herself from lifting her good arm to ghost her fingertips over his hair, dropping her hand onto her lap after.

He loves her.

She loves him, too.

She only wishes it were as simple as that.

"It only looks ugly."

[rosarianoath]

He has to avert his eyes when she touches him in turn, as if his expression could guilt her into too much undeserved tenderness. He just swallows his breath and unbuttons her blouse to remove it entirely.

"It hurts you. I can see it in how you move."

[noburden]

Not long ago he'd be unbuttoning her blouse to lay her back onto the bed, to kiss and make love to her until something called them away. She's quiet, studying his face, wishing she could kiss him now because she misses him and she's been so terribly lonely.

"It hurts, but not as bad as it looks," she clarifies, and gingerly rolls her shoulders to get the blouse off. "I'll be fine with some rest. Torgal's done worse."

She's sure he dislocated her shoulder with the leash, once.