honest_johns | (no subject)

(no subject)

The sun is slipping below the horizon, casting blood-red light on the evening's patchy clouds. The sky billows red and orange and pink.

Red at night, wayfarer's delight, Alain thinks absently.

He's sitting on Roland's rock. Smoking, and not thinking about anything in particular. It's become terribly easy to do that, recently.

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Lilly's been looking for him, and after a quick check of his room she puts on a coat to brave the cold outside. Scotland winters are not a California girl's idea of fun, but she'll deal since Alain's out there.

"What up, sai?"

He glances at her, pulled back to here and now, and then smiles slightly.

"Wèi."

Lilly sits next to him, wrapping her arms around herself.

"So, you have fun last night?"

She's grinning.

"I still can hardly believe Duncan was really there. I'll probably have to throw another party next week just so everyone can meet him. Any ideas for a theme?"

He slips an arm around her. Automatic affection, but also for warmth; he's wearing a heavier coat than she is, and he's more used to winters.

"I did." A small smile, exhaling smoke. "And no idea, say sorry. I leave those to you."

Alain is not much of a party planner.

Alain is also still kind of distracted.

Lilly's starting to pick up on that, if not on what it actually is. She leans her head against his shoulder and looks up at him.

"Something on your mind, 'lain?"

Alain breathes in, and exhales.

"Kind of."

He's looking out at the

(red as heart's blood)

sky.

This is not a particularly reassuring answer, and Lilly's suddenly not quite so relaxed against him.

"Any chance you could elaborate on that?"

He wishes...

Wishes don't change anything.

Low, "It's soon, I think."

He doesn't need to clarify what 'it' is.

"It's getting stronger. Much stronger."

He hates this.

Lilly sits up a little straighter, eyes fixed intently on his face. The smile's long gone.

"Soon? So like... a few weeks, or something?"

Alain is silent a long moment. Looking down.

He swallows. Low, and a little rough:

His eyes flick to her. Helplessly.

Looking at her -- at what he's doing to her -- it hurts. Oh, gods, it hurts.

Days. One word, but it's all it takes to shatter the denial she'd been protecting herself with. Not some vague, lengthy time period but... days. Just days.

Her throat feels thick, too thick to say anything, so she doesn't. Just looks up at him with stricken eyes and concentrates on remembering how to breathe.

Last night she was laughing, tipsy and giddy and glad.

Alain closes his eyes against the pricking of tears, pulling her a little closer. He stubs out his cigarette against the rock, too abruptly.

Streets are filled with broken hearts.
She's motionless in his embrace. Not pulling away or resisting, just frozen.
Broken words never meant to be spoken.
"..things?"
Take a deep breath, feel like you're chokin'
It's all she can manage before a shuddering breath that gets caught halfway.
Every time you leave and go off someplace
Things fall to pieces in my face
He's leaving, and talking to her as if he has anything to give her that might help.
Seem like every time you stop and turn around
Something else just hit the ground.

Everything is broken.

He doesn't want her to have to read a dead-letter. Find them in an empty room.

Maybe that would be easier for her, though. He doesn't know.

I don't know how to not hurt you more, he thinks again, wretchedly.

It's all he can say, it seems, low and thick-voiced, and it doesn't help. It doesn't help a damn thing.

And it's still days.

The lake is blurring before him.

Lilly nods, staring down at the rock. He's sorry, and he's leaving. Nothing's changed, no matter how hard she tried to fool herself into thinking it had.

He's still not lying to her. He's still just leaving her.

It's getting dark, the sun set without her even noticing it. She's getting cold, but she doesn't notice that either.

(dark and cold)

None of it matters except for the one thing she can't do anything about.

He wants to say something. Do something.

Fix something.

The silence is painful. He wants to fill it, wants to...

It doesn't matter. None of it means a damn thing.

He can't think of anything to say.

And he can't fix anything.

All he can do is sit here, numb and silent.

One question in her mind since he'd told her, one that she'd been trying so hard to ignore.

How long?

Lilly has an answer now. She wishes she could still wonder.

There was another question, though, that he didn't answer, and so she repeats it.

"Things?"

He nods, a little. She's close enough to feel the motion.

His free hand rises, to touch the jade eagle pendant hanging from his neck. Maybe it'll help.

The book he taught her to read the Great Letters from. The pouch she'd given him for his birthday. The pendant.

It'll be all she has left of him.

"Okay."

It won't help.

And so it comes back to this.

Awkward silence that hurts like a knife to the gut. He wants to break it, and can't.

Sitting alone together.

Lilly breaks it, eventually. It's what she does.

"I should..."

She's pulling away from him, moving to stand up.

"I should go."

Find someplace that she can cry that's not in front of him.

He doesn't want to be someone she can't cry in front of. Doesn't want to be someone she has to flee.

Too bad, gunslinger, he tells himself bitterly. You are.

(No lying. Just leaving.)

He can't even say I'll be here. It's true for a few days more, and the words would be a slap in the face.

All he can do is watch her, wretchedly.

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