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#spring 1994? me checking our timeline to make sure it makes sense ;)
erinevrly · 1 year
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the  confession  alone  is  more  than  enough  to  throw  erin  completely  off  guard,  but  it’s  the  sound  of  the  all-too-familiar  voice,  echoing  in  the  foyer  of  her  two-bedroom  condo  again,  after  what  feels  like  an  eternity,  that  makes  the  muscles  in  her  legs  stiffen  and  the  hair  on  the  nape  of  her  neck  stand  up.  her  natural  instincts  urging  her  to  pull  him  into  a  hug,  assure  him  that  everything  will  be  okay  in  the  end,  pretend  he’s  still  hers  and  she’s  his  —  that  it’s  the  two  of  them  against  the  world,  the  way  it  used  to  be  a  few  years  back.  oh,  how  easy  it  would  be  to  forget  about  everything  and…  but  the  more  rational  part  of  her  wants  to  just  stand  here,  linger  in  the  doorway  for  a  while  longer,  and  pretend  she  hadn’t  heard  him,  wishes  the  ground  beneath  her  feet  would  open  up  and  swallow  her  whole,  get  her  out  of  this  strange,  uncomfortable  situation.  why  would  he  say  this  now?  why  did  he  have  to  say  this?  
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clearing  her  throat  as  she  contemplates  her  response,  she  absently  brings  one  of  her  now  shaking  hands  to  her  dainty  necklace  and,  to  occupy  her  fingers  with  something,  anything  that  will  help  her  fight  off  the  urge  to  reach  for  the  redhead,  begins to  fidget  with  a  small,  heart-shaped  pendant.  she  opens  her  mouth,  but  closes  it  almost  immediately,  her  heart  pounding  away  in  her  throat,  keeping  her  from  forming  any  coherent  sentence.  for  someone  who’d  been  subconsciously  dreaming  of  something  akin  to  this  moment,  she  feels  completely  lost  and  unprepared,  nowhere  near  ready  for  this  kind  of  conversation.  the  gifts  and  letters  that  he’s  been  sending  her,  all  the  flames  that,  perhaps  involuntarily,  they  have  slowly  rekindled,  every  little  thing  that  she’s  been  trying  to  ignore  for  the  sake  of  their  significant  others  and  her  own  peace  of  mind…  they’re  standing  right  in  front  of  her  now  and  she  can  no  longer  run  away  from  the  feelings  that  she’s  so  desperately  tried  to  suppress  for  the  past  few  months.
gaze  dropping  to  the  floor,  examining  the  pink  nail  polish  on  her  toes,  she  struggles  not  to  get  emotional,  not  to  overthink  the  meaning  of  this  unexpected  visit.   ❝   𝐚.𝐱𝐥,   ❞   she  whispers,  a  soft  plea  ringing  in  her  voice  —  not  here,  not  now,  let’s  not  go  there…  she’s  just  managed  to  put  her  life  back  together,  to  move  on,  or  at  least  that’s  what  she’s  telling  herself.  if  they  have  this  conversation,  it  will  leave  her  nothing  but  a  shell  of  the  woman  she  is.  but  she  can’t  just  close  the  door  in  his  face,  tell  him  to  leave  because  it’s  her  weekend  with  sebastian,  scold  him  for  complicating  every  little  thing,  remind  him  that  he  should  be  writing  letters  and  sending  flowers  to  a  different  woman.  god.  she’s  never  been  strong  enough  to  stay  away  from  him.  she  doesn’t  want  to  stay  away  from  him.   ❝   would  you  like  to  come  in?  it’s  almost  dinner  time.  i’m  making  ‘ghetti  and  meaty-baws,   ❞   she  offers  shyly,  a  hint  of  a  smile  on  her  lips  because  that’s  how  sebastian  calls  them.  meaty  baws.  she  thinks  it’s  adorable.   ❝   speaking  of  bastian,   ❞   she’s  quick  to  change  the  subject,  although  it  breaks  her  heart,   ❝   he’s  been  grouchy  all  day.  i  think  he  might  be  coming  down  with  something.  he  keeps  complaining  about  his  throat  and  has  a  stuffy  nose,  watery  eyes,  sneezing…  you  know  the  drill.  but  i’m  sure  he’ll  be  so  happy  to  see  you,   ❞   she  explains,  opening  the  door  a  little  wider  and  inviting  the  singer  to  come  in  with  a  subtle  hand  gesture.   ❝   see  the  pile  of  blankets  on  the  couch?  he’s  in  there  somewhere.  would  you  like  something  to  drink?  we  have  apple  juice.  i  can  make  you  coffee  or  tea?   ❞
@rcsechild​
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