Re: Marta / Seven
"I don't even know what I'm asking! I just want..." She trails off, not knowing that either. She knows she's greedy for something, for the way he makes her feel when they're not caught shouting at each other (though even that makes her feel alive and a little wild), the way she's felt safer around him, the way there's sometimes sweetness in his eyes that makes her stomach go soft and warm. She wants to know more, to stay, to learn, to have more of the good feelings and less of the bad, to touch him and sleep next to him and know he's there. But she doesn't know how to say all those things, not when they keep yelling and she has to watch him as he looks like something is unravelling in front of him. "All of it, I don't know!"
I might fucking be in love with you. She's about to open her mouth, to reply to something he's said, screwed-up hearts and the assholes that screw them up. But those words, so foreign and unexpected, make her brain fuzz out to grey for a second. Two. Several. Nothing else makes it through for a minute, and for that slow ticktock of time, it feels as if there's something warm and tight around her head. A distant, small part of her brain wonders if she's about to pass out. "I... what?" She doesn't even hear herself breathe out the words before even that is an impossible task.
It takes a bit before her body forces her to take a gasping breath, unaware that she's been holding it since that confused whisper. With the oxygen returning, she watches him press his hands to his head as her own mind attempts to reboot itself and convince her that she's hearing things that weren't there. She doesn't know what else to do other than push past it. Or try to. It doesn't feel 100% right to ignore it if it was real, it deserves a response, but...
"How am I suppose to know that?!" More than just young, it comes out desperate and something she's certain is almost whining. Needy. And fuck, she wasn't ever supposed to be that. She was supposed to stand on her own, but she never quite realized how unstable it all was until she had another support to help prop everything up. "We fucked once when everything was fucked up by the hotel, and you've barely gotten close enough to even touch since then. And if that's the way it is, fine, you're not the only one that's fucked my body because of shit with the hotel and then doesn't want to get near me after everything's back to normal. I'll get you his name, maybe you guys can start a club." The words keep on spilling out even though she doesn't necessarily want them to. Too much stress and worry, and now this, and the feelings she's been trying to keep pushed down have nowhere else to go but out. "You can call it 'Fucking Marta's fine when the hotel is doing its thing but the thought of it afterwards makes me want to vomit' or something. It's a long name, but if you make it small enough it'll probably still fit on the t-shirts and membership cards-" I might fucking be in love with you. The thought tumbles back into her brain, the same stressed cadence as before, and it make her rant about special, awful clubs stutter to a stop.