|Victor Brannigan (sciomachy) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2012-12-07 01:56:00
|Entry tags:||aoife gallagher, victor brannigan|
WHO: Aoife Gallagher and Victor Brannigan
WHAT: Aoife having a little freak out
WHEN: Very early morning (either Thursday or Friday because I don't know what day it is ffs)
WHERE: Victor's house
WARNINGS: Aoife's language!
It was fortunate, at least for Aoife, that Victor was not a heavy sleeper. The knock on his front door was enough to rouse him even though his bedroom was situated far from the entryway. Victor groaned and ran a hand over his face before turning to the clock to discover it was two in the morning.
There was another knock and it was then that Victor's brain caught up with his body. Someone was at his door at two in the morning. This was not a regular occurrence. Something terrible had happened.
He jumped out of bed, nearly careening into his bedroom wall. "Augh!" he hissed and then he dashed to the door clad only in pajama bottoms, and pulled it open so quickly it made Aoife jump. Victor blinked at her in worry and then he pulled her gently inside before even asking why she had stopped by or how she knew where he lived. It was freezing outside and she wasn't wearing a coat. She looked more miserable than he had seen her since meeting her at the scene of her father's murder.
"Christ, Aoife," he whispered. Her arm felt like ice. He flicked on his lights and then fetched a blanket from his sofa than he wrapped around her shoulders. "You're freezing! What happened, are you hurt?"
Aoife sniffed then she leaned against Victor heavily. She didn't speak, nor did she answer Victor's questions, but words weren't necessary to convey how distraught she was.
"O-okay, let's go over to the sofa." He led her there, his arm around her the entire time. He sat her down, wondering what he should do here. "Do you want something warm to drink?" he asked gently.
Aoife sat with the blanket draped over her shoulders. She started at her hands, her head bent like she was praying to a god she didn't even care for. She said nothing. Victor started to get a sick feeling deep in his belly and he honestly hoped what he had begun to dread was wrong. Something terrible had happened to Aoife and it had stolen the light she seemed to always have in her eyes.
He had only known her a short time, but he adored her. His feelings for Aoife were different than his feelings for Kat, which was fortuitous. Aoife had lost a father and he knew how that felt. His heart broke for her. He couldn't help that it made him feel incredibly paternal and protective.
Instead of asking her what she needed, because that was too demanding of someone who clearly didn't have it in them, he moved to the kitchen to make her some tea. She needed something to warm her up. She was shaking and he didn't know if it was from the cold or something else. He also took the opportunity to pull a black t-shirt over his head so he was no longer topless.
He carried the mug to the living room but he set in it front of her so she could reach for it if she wanted. It sat on the table, ignored.
"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to," he said softly. "But I am going to ask a few questions which you can ignore if you want. Am I going to need to arrest someone?" If someone had harmed her in any way he would go out there and hunt them down himself so they could be brought to justice.
Aoife shook her head and Victor felt a knot inside his chest loosen. He let out a sigh of relief and then he placed a hand on her back. "I'm glad for that. Is there anything I can do?" It seemed better than just constantly asking her what was wrong.
Finally, Aoife spoke. "Can I sleep with you in your bed?" she asked, her voice small and broken.
Victor chewed on his lip as he considered that. He was dating Aoife's friend and while he knew his feelings for Aoife were innocent and Kat didn't seem like someone who really bought into jealousy, that didn't mean Aoife might not still try something in her grief. Grief made people do things they wouldn't normally do. He didn't want to even invite the opportunity for something to happen. It just didn't feel right. "How about I give you my bed to stretch out in and I sleep out here on the sofa. Would that work?" When she nodded, Victor heaved another sigh of relief but it kept it inward.
"If you were upset and you didn't know where to go, I'm glad you knew you could come here, Aoife. I really am." He didn't mind being woken up if she needed him and he wanted her to know that.
"I was just out on a date," she said, still staring at her hands. "It was just this girl I met while I was shopping and she was fine and it was okay, I guess. We went to dinner and a movie and then afterwards she went home and I wasn't tired so I decided to go dancing." Victor didn't interrupt, he just rubbed her back a little to show he was still listening.
"I was there for hours just dancing and then I left the dance floor to drink some water and I thought 'I should really check my phone to see if Dad called because he might wonder where I am'." She bit her lip and when she finally looked up at Victor, her face crumbled. "He's dead and I forgot. And when I remembered I just...I had to get out. I couldn't breathe. I sat in the park and my throat closed up and my chest felt like it might explode and I- I couldn't- My dad is dead." She burst into tears and Victor wrapped his arms around her. She sobbed into his chest and he did the only thing he could think to do. He stroked her hair and let her cry.
"He's dead and it sucks!" she wailed. Victor suddenly understood why she had wanted to sleep with him in his bed. She was grieving for a father figure, of course she would want to be close to someone she saw as a surrogate father.
"It really does," he agreed. He remembered walking around in a daze after his father had died. It hadn't really hit him until a week later. When it finally did, he had spent an entire day in his room, sobbing into his pillow so his poor mother hadn't had to hear him.
"I don't know what to do and I hate it and I miss him." Aoife leaned up and she gazed at Victor. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?"
"You're supposed to love him," he replied. Her tears caused her hair to stick to her face and he pushed the stray strands back and tucked them behind her ear. "As much as you ever did. There's nothing else you can do. Remember him, love him, and know he loved you."
Aoife sniffed and she clung tightly to Victor's arm. "You think he loved me?" she asked, her voice small.
"Aoife," Victor's voice was gentle and warm, "of course he did. It's impossible not to."
That brought a smile to her face, even if it was small. She leaned against him again, but this time it was so she could hug him. "Thank you."
"You're absolutely welcome. I'll sit up with you as long as you want me to. Are you hungry, do you need something to eat? I can whip up something?"
Aoife shook her head and she sat up so she could wipe at her face. She reached out to grab the tea so she could sip at it and warm up a little. "I just want to sleep. Are you sure I can stay here tonight?"
"Aoife, you can stay here as long as you need to." He had seen the penthouse apartment she lived in and he figured she wouldn't want to be away from the luxury for more than a night, but the offer was still there. "I can find something for you to sleep in if you'd like. Something warm? You're still shivering."
Aoife nodded and Victor retreated to find some clean pajamas for her. They would be far too large for her, but probably better than sleeping in her clothes. "Here. I'll show you the bedroom. If you need anything I'll be right out here though, okay?"
He helped her up and she nodded again. Then a tiny, wicked smile crossed her face and even through her extreme grief she still teased him as she said, "nice chest, Scruffy."
Victor chuckled and he shook his head at her. "Thank you, I think?"