Silas shrugged. “They suck, same as usual,” he replied. “Feel shaky as shit most of the time still.” It was hard to put into words how he felt most of the time because a lot of it was just a visceral feeling of being miserable, though none of it was out of the ordinary. It was all pretty textbook actually. Same old drill. “Itchy.” It might not be the explanation or answer that Rae was looking for, but it was honest.
“Same,” he mumbled. “I like that there are places that can do that.” He scanned his eyes over the edge of the building before returning his gaze to Rae. “Never had a lot of places with memories attached to ‘em.”
All the fight to argue with Rae went out of him with her last sentence. Who was he tell her how she felt; if she thought she was partially responsible, he should let her have that feeling. Or wait until he felt better to try and talk through everything. “You can have some it,” he relented. “But most of it’s still on me.” She hadn’t been that bad, even if she’d been thinking of herself. There were more selfish things she could have done, not that he could think of an example right then. It took too much energy.
“Wasn’t just you though,” he mumbled. “I needed space from everything.” Brandon and Regan had made themselves comfortable in his little room of misery, but he hadn’t asked them to, and the first couple days he hadn’t enjoyed having them present. “It hurts you more not to be there, but it’d hurt me more if I hurt you.” They were at opposites ends and he couldn’t really see where their two opinions could find some common ground or compromise. It felt like talking in a circle, he said one thing, she said another, and it just kept going round and round. “I know it doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense, but I couldn’t carry the guilt.” If he hit her or worse, it would be something he’d carry with him, even if she recovered from it. If wondered if she was thinking about the emotional repercussions that came with injuries, but he wasn’t going to ask.
But then he was opening his mouth before he knew it and adding, “Could you really fucking trust me if I hit you?” His expression was open, honest and wondering. “That first couple of days after Brandon and Reg showed up I gave ‘em more than my fair share of bruises.” He wasn’t trying to scare her. “Wasn’t thinking clearly, and I don’t know if I could of kept from retaliating on you, whether or I love you or not.”
He bit into his cheek, pushing back the frustration at himself for not being able to give Rae what she wanted, for not being able to let her selfishly have what she wanted. “Please understand,” he pleaded lowly. “It’s not what I want, so don’t fucking say it that way. I don’t want any of this shit, but it’s the only way I can think to start. Baby fucking steps, or what the fuck ever.” He took a deep breath, exhaling on a sigh. “Don’t make me feel like I’m the fucking bad guy here, babe.”
He wouldn’t change it either; he hoped that she knew that. “Wouldn’t change it either,” he murmured, just in case she hadn’t realized it.
“Not sure if I knew you were a Bronx woman,” he said out loud, glancing at her as he curled an arm around her shoulders. “My apartment in Brooklyn had the worst views, but I loved the place.” Admittedly he’d never danced on the rooftop either. “Sorry, don’t have the energy for a dance, but I’ll give you a rain check, how ‘bout that?” Even if she said it was better, he wouldn’t mind a dance on the rooftop with her, when all this shit was done. He never used to dance much before he met Rae.