Rae looked up at him when he told her that he wasn't going to yell. Was he acting so distant because he didn't care? Because he was giving up as much as she was giving up on herself right now? She pushed some hair from her face and looked up at him. "You should," she told him quietly. "I deserve it."
When she saw the bit of anger in his expression, it was odd, the swell of relief it brought over her. If he was reacting, he was feeling something. Right? If he was feeling something, he wasn't giving up on her. Right? Don't give up on me, she thought. As much as he probably deserved the right to, she wished beyond all wishing that he wouldn't. She needed him. It was hard not to put any stock in what Brandon said, when he said it so often and so vehemently. And there was so much evidence to support it. Sometimes, she just wanted to completely cut herself off from human contact. If she thought, for even half a second, that she could ever actually do that.
He wasn't mad at her? She frowned. "You should be," she repeated. And then he said exactly what he was angry about and she lifted her eyes to look at him again. "Wh-but... you can't always be there," she pointed out. "Sometimes there will be circumstances that like... sometimes you'll have to go with other people or I'll have to go out with other people and... are you going to... will you like... will this happen every time?" she asked him. Any and all rebuttal she'd been thinking about completely drained away at his next words. The best thing to happen to him? She looked up at him, eyes red and puffy, and sniffled. "Do you... you really feel that way?" she asked.
"You didn't," she reassured him. "You didn't mess up..." she elaborated. "I think I knew that you'd react this way. I think I thought you'd react worse. I think... I think I thought you'd just leave, or something. Decide I wasn't worth it." She still didn't think she was, really. "I know I'm hurt right now," she told him, alluding to the fact that the black eye wasn't all there is to it. "But I'm a survivor," she said, trailing off before she allowed herself to call him by his nickname. "I'm tougher than I look. I can survive a lot." A lot of people forgot that. "I'm alive. I helped Bea fight them off, and everyone's mad because I got hurt, not glad I'm o--glad I'm alive, or proud that I won that fight."
She shook her head no. "You aren't a fuck up," she reassured him. "I just want..." she pulled her lower lip into her mouth and dared herself to step forward, limping on her sore leg to close the distance between them and looking up at him. "I just want you to hold me," she admitted sheepishly, leaning forward against him and sniffling. "W-will you?" she asked.
No, she wouldn't guarantee that she wouldn't put stock in Brandon's words again, because when things like this happened, it felt more and more like he was right every time. But she wouldn't draw attention to that feeling right now. For him.