WHO: Daphne Greengrass and Clint Warrington WHAT: Talking WHERE: Clint's place WHEN: Wednesday evening; 18 May 2002 RATING: TBD STATUS: In progress
Ever since Friday night, when Daphne and Clint had finally shagged, things had been incredibly weird. Weird wasn't even a strong enough word for what things had been, really. Daphne had already felt awkward enough about everything that had happened. She'd practically had panic attacks every step of the way and Clint had been amazing and patient and gentle and really, it had been fun. But it had hurt. A lot. And it had brought back a memory that she'd spent a few weeks trying really hard to forget. It had put her in a weird place mentally and all she'd really wanted was for Clint to hold her or something while she tried to get over it and cry or something. But ever since then, he'd been so weird. He'd been coming home incredibly late, mostly after Daphne had already gone to bed, then he'd been leaving really early the following morning. Things just hadn't been...right.
And that had just put Daphne in an even worse place mentally. She knew she'd done something wrong. It was probably all of her freaking out or something. Or maybe being with her had made him realize that he didn't actually want her. That was the more plausible explanation, really, and the thought of him not wanting her just killed her. He'd probably break off the engagement and then no one would want her because she'd already slept with someone and was no longer pure. But surprisingly, that wasn't the main reason that the thought hurt her. Daphne really liked Clint. She always had. And the thought that she'd fucked up her chance with him? That was bloody painful. But she didn't blame him. Not really. He deserved someone who could shag him properly...without crying the next morning or everything. But still. No matter what the other was feeling, they needed to talk at some point. Figure out something. Because Daphne couldn't take this much longer.
It had been an all right day at work. Cal had stopped by and tried to corner her, but she'd gotten surprisingly good at escaping him lately. The rest of the day had flown by and now she was home. Well...at Clint's home. She'd changed into some grey sweat pants of Clint's and a pink tank top of her own. Her curled hair was in a somewhat messy ponytail and Daphne was sitting on Clint's couch, a glass of wine in hand. She wasn't sure where or when she'd developed this drinking habit, but she actually liked it. It made her feel good. She wasn't sure what time it was, but she'd made it her goal of the day to stay up until Clint came home, so it was probably pretty late. They needed to talk and get things figured out or be on the same page or something and it was going to happen that night if Daphne had anything to say about it. She liked him too much for them to just be in one of those disjointed pureblood relationships. She could deal with a lot of shite, but she had learned recently that she more than likely couldn't handle that. She wanted Clint to be happy and if that meant him being with someone who didn't freak out when he touched her? Then she'd let that happen. But she was tired of being in the dark.