Hayley Radcliffe is strictly hands-off (glovedup) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-03-30 13:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | rogue, werewolf of london |
Who: Will and Hayley
What: Sadness, guilt, and a hug
Where: Monarch Industries lab
When: Monday, after feelings go fwoosh
Warnings: Intense awkward
If Hayley were better at introspection, she might have noticed that she seemed to feel guilty for every little thing that happened. She might have realized that she was probably overcompensating for her dangerous ability by taking every little mistake personally. Maybe she'd have come to the conclusion that trying to control the world around her by feeling guilt over everything wasn't the most healthy way of coping.
Unfortunately, Hayley was terrible at introspection, and so all of this eluded her.
She sat at her desk, feeling her hands shake as she tried to work. It was impossible. Her mind was going a mile a minute, running around the same old racetrack. Whatever pain she thought she had felt upon absorbing Will's ability was nothing compared to what he had gone through. And while the first change wasn't her fault, the second surely had been. She had taken a painful process and tripled it, all because she had been sloppy. It made her want to cry, especially when he had always been so kind to her.
After sending her apology, she waited for a response. And waited. And waited. Nothing. Either he hadn't gotten it, or he didn't want to speak to her. She wasn't sure which was more likely, and she didn't stop to think about what she was doing until she was doing it. Abandoning her desk, she strode back into the lab, prowling around a bench as a door opened. It was Will. Her heart started to race, the guilt and concern and upset showing plainly on her face. Biting her lip, she approached him.
"Will," she said quietly, voice strangled. "I-I wasn't sure if you got my e-mail, but..." She hadn't thought this through. At all. She was floundering, but she didn't think of stopping. She just kept on. "I'm so sorry, and I just had to tell you, you've got nothin' to feel responsible for. What I did to you was my fault. All my fault, a-and I..." She made a sound of confusion, upset, and complete helplessness.
Normally, she'd have kept her distance. But in her confusion and upset, she didn't quite think. She knew that she was covered, opera-gloves nearly closing the gap with her T-shirt sleeves, and he was protected. Without thinking, she surged forward, head held down so her forehead came to rest against his chest, arms threading around his skinny frame and hugging him tightly.