Who: Carson and Rylee When: Late Evening, Thursday, October 19 Where: Their apartment Status: Complete
Having to wait on and talk to Brad had soured Rylee’s already touchy mood considerably. After her shift ended, rather than drive home, Rylee drove to the Back Porch for a drink. She thought about texting Zan to join her, but she knew her friend would be able to pinpoint her mood and Rylee didn’t feel like talking about it with anyone. She couldn’t talk about it with anyone. Well, that wasn’t true, she could talk to Carson, but what good would that do when he was the reason she felt this way? He wouldn’t understand, but he would upset and get that hurt look on his face and she would just feel shitty about being angry with him. She had no right to be, but… she couldn’t exactly control how she felt. It just seemed like everything had spiraled out of her control and Rylee couldn’t help but feel a bit lost in all aspects of her life. She had some websites saved on her laptop at home for the local community college, but something kept her from registering. Fear of failure, probably. Any therapist would probably zone in on that real fast. And then there was Carson, and Rylee had no idea how to deal with it. To say she felt stuck was an understatement.
So she sat at the bar for an hour or so, and after a few beers, Rylee paid up and left a tip before slipping into her car to drive home. She wasn’t drunk, but she was definitely feeling buzzed and a little light headed, so she drove carefully, feeling her bones ease with relief once she had pulled into the parking lot at Castle View safely. Grabbing her bag, Rylee locked up and headed inside the apartment building. It took her a couple tried to get her key in the lock, which told her that maybe she was more than just buzzed, but what did it matter? She didn’t work tomorrow morning, so she could just sleep it off and she would be fine.
Once she managed to unlock the door, Rylee stepped inside the apartment and hung up her jacket and bag before heading directly for the kitchen and the fridge. She pulled out a beer and leaned back against the counter as she used her shirt to twist off the cap. It had been a long time since Rylee had gotten really drunk, and maybe this was the perfect night for it.
Carson had been spending a lot of time in his own room that week, in an effort to give Rylee space. He’d also been gone as much as he could be, but without being actively working, that was kind of challenging. There was only so much driving around a person could do, and he was still relying on a crutch to do much walking. His leg was healing, but it still hurt to put a lot of weight on it for a long time. He’d had his follow up appointment, chatted with Adam the nurse -- who apparently lived in their apartment complex, fancy that -- and he’d delivered the envelope of cash from Brad to his contact at The Wounded Warrior Project. That had been the highlight of his week, sad as that was to say. Let it go to vets who needed it more than he did.
Carson had been putting on an all right face for all the people he saw, but he’d truly fallen into a funk. A deeper one than he’d been in before. His stomach was often upset, he was having trouble concentrating on anything, he just felt ... morose. He hated being on the outs with Rylee, it felt super lonely and sad, but he didn’t know how to fix it. He’d fucked up and he just had to live with that. So he’d been doing a lot of lying around and watching TV and he was pretty sure he’d gained ten pounds since that asshole wolf had bitten him.
He was in his room when he heard Rylee come home, the TV on low since he wasn’t really watching it, propped up in bed with his laptop open, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram. Some of his followers had sent him nice messages, asking him where he was, but it all seemed so muffled and far away. Carson paused, his head lifting to listen for what Rylee was doing, but he didn’t hear her come down the hall. He wanted so badly to go out and talk to her, see how her day was, have a late snack, pick a show, all the normal shit they used to do, but he didn’t feel like he could, so he just ... sat there.
In the silence of the apartment Rylee could hear the muffled sound of Carson's television. She hadn't expected him to come out and greet her considering how much space he had been giving her this week. She was both grateful for it, and a little annoyed. If the roles had been reversed, she wouldn't have let him avoid her. But Rylee knew they were two completely different people, and she had always been a bit more aggressive than he had. Rylee stayed where she was for a moment, feeling the distance between them more acutely than ever. She just didn't know how to fix it. She couldn't stay mad at him forever, and honestly, she wasn't really even mad anymore. Just... disappointed. And maybe she was feeling a little defeated. Rylee pushed away from the counter to walk down the hall toward her room, fully intent on changing and climbing into bed to watch some television, beer in hand.
But she found herself outside of Carson's bedroom, her hand reaching out to push open his door a little. He came into view and Rylee leaned against the door frame, watching him. There was a sudden urge to be snarky and I saw your boyfriend today was right there on her lips, and Rylee seemed to have enough clarity to realize it was the alcohol and hurt feelings talking. She bit back on the words, quite literally as her teeth bit down on the inside of her lip for a moment. She looked at the television, staring at the screen without really seeing it for several moments before her gaze ticked back to Carson. "I want things to go back to the way they were," Rylee said, not caring that it was abrupt or maybe out of the blue.
Carson saw the movement of the door swinging a bit wider in his peripheral vision, and he looked over to see Rylee standing there. His heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze-thump and started beating harder. He spotted the beer in her hand, and the silence between when she showed up and when she spoke seemed like an eternity. He was half prepared for her to lay into him again, though part of him bristled a little at the thought. He’d apologized and tried to explain himself, what else could he do? What Rylee did say was ... well, he didn’t know how to respond to it. Carson set his laptop aside and nudged his glasses up. That didn’t quite sound possible. “The way they were at what point?” he asked, looking at her. To say their relationship had evolved over the years -- and especially the past few months -- would be a vast understatement.
Rylee parted her lips to respond, then found she didn't have the answer. What point? She didn't know. Before they made each other come in his bed? Before she told him she loved him? Before, before, before. Hell, maybe she meant before they were twelve and kissing each other for the first time. Rylee closed her eyes and rested her head against the wood frame as she inhaled deeply through her nose. She knew none of it was possible. They couldn't go back. But they couldn't go forward either, could they. All they had now was this weird uncertainty, this tension she hated feeling. It wasn't normal, because she didn't make him feel normal. That's why he fucked Gym Bunny Brad, wasn't it? To feel normal, because Rylee couldn't do that for him. "I don't know," she murmured before opening her eyes to look at him again. Her head felt kind of dizzy, so she didn't risk moving. "Before everything hurt. I miss you, and I feel like everything's changed."
The thing about Before was that Carson could barely remember what that was like. He felt like they’d opened the floodgates on how they felt about one another, and it was going to be very difficult to close them again, if it was possible at all. He felt just as stuck as she did, and Carson hated that they were both in pain because of it. He watched her face from his spot on the bed, his brow furrowing into a pained expression while her eyes were closed. Carson smoothed it slightly on purpose when her eyes opened again, then gave a soft sigh and looked away. He felt like everything had changed too, and it was scary. Carson pushed his glasses up onto his head to swipe at his eyes, then looked at Rylee again and motioned for her to come join him on the bed. That might not be the best idea, but he wanted her closer. “I miss you too,” he murmured. “C’mere, let’s talk.”
Rylee used her shoulder to push away from the door frame before she stepped into the room. She hesitated for a brief moment before setting her beer bottle down on his night stand and climbing onto the bed to sit beside him, though she left a comfortable amount of space between them. Sitting at least kept the room from spinning and she took a breath, letting her head rest back against the headboard. She had no idea what they could talk about. It felt like they were just going around in circles every time they tried. And Rylee wasn't entirely sure talking would be a good thing right now, with how much she'd been drinking. When she opened her eyes again, she turned her head to look at Carson beside her. "I don't know what I am to you anymore."
Carson didn’t know what else to do but talk. They’d always talked, about everything, and now it felt like they couldn’t and he hated that. Why did romantic bullshit always fuck everything up? Maybe he just needed to go be a hermit in the woods or some shit, to save him and everyone else all this heartache. He wanted to touch her, to reach out and take her hand, to pull her in to cuddle, but Carson knew he couldn’t do that either. Now that she was closer, he could smell that she’d had a few drinks before coming home. Maybe that would hurt this conversation, maybe not. Maybe he needed to get drunk too and they just needed to yell at each other and be done with it, who the fuck knew. Carson looked back at her. “I don’t know either,” he said honestly. “I don’t think there’s a word for ‘person I’ve loved for years who is also my best friend but can’t be with because society.’” Carson gave her a faint smile, then murmured, “We should make one up. ... what do you want to be, Rylee? Really. I’m just fuckin’ ... clueless, here.”
"I don't know. I don't know that I can be anything," Rylee said. "Like you said, Carson, it's... you can't be with me. And I know that now. I was trying to justify it in my head before, how to make it work. But it's like..." She waved her hand as she tried to sort out her thoughts. Everything felt so jumbled in her head and her emotions were convoluted and confusing. What she really wanted didn't really matter anymore, because she couldn't have it. "I told you how I felt about you, and then you slept with someone else. And I guess I get why you did it, but I don't think I was prepared for how much it would fucking hurt. And now I just don't know how I feel, or what I'm supposed to do." She exhaled slowly and shook her head. "I think... you would be better off just... finding someone who did make you feel normal. I hate that I can't."
Carson huffed some air out of his nose in the middle of that, his eyes ticking to the TV for a moment -- she made it sound like he hadn’t expressed reciprocal feelings, and that he’d run right out and fucked Brad the next day. Like all of this was his fault and it would’ve been fine and dandy if he’d just done the right thing. But what the fuck was the right thing in their situation? Conducting a secret relationship since they lived together? Never getting to be open about being in love? Saying fuck all societal taboos and openly dating as cousin-lovers? Losing their whole family -- none of whom would understand, he was pretty fucking sure.
“You’re putting a whole lot of this on me,” he said tightly after a moment’s pause. Carson looked over at her, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he grit his teeth. “I know I fucked up and hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. But it’s not my fuckin’ fault that the world is how it is. That we’d be constantly judged and shunned if we were open about this. That our family would freak out. It’s not my decision, it’s not my fault we can’t be together, Rylee. It’s a stupid accident of birth. So stop sounding like I’m making some conscious effort to reject you. This is hard on me too, really hard, and I’m gutted just as much as you are. More, maybe, because I’m the fuckin’ bad guy now.”
Oh, he was angry now. Rylee stared at him, alcohol pumping through her blood, intensifying the sharp emotions that had been raging through her for weeks now. Maybe anger was easier to deal with, and that was fine. She would much rather yell than deal with the painful tightness in her chest. She was tired of being sad and miserable and unsure. "I never said any of this was your fault," Rylee said, her tone colder now than it had been. "I never said you were the bad guy. You know, I'm so sorry, Carson, for having my feelings hurt because you had an intense need to stick your dick in something normal." Rylee turned to scoot off the bed, her voice rising as she started to lose control of her emotions. "Maybe you had the right idea. Maybe we should both just fuck our way through town and see if that helps. And I'm sorry you take that as me blaming you for all of this. I know how the world is." She got to her feet where the room started spinning again, but she stayed upright as she looked at him. "We can't be together, fine. It is what it is. Whatever... happened... it's over and done with. Cousins, friends. Just shut everything else down so we can stop fucking talking about it."
Anger was easier to deal with somehow. Carson had spent the last week in a depressed fog, feeling like he’d fucked up the entire world, everything gray and cloudy. The anger was like a lightning bolt through that haze, lighting everything up in sharp relief, momentarily chasing away the shadows. Color rose in his cheeks and he glared at her. “You did say it, you are fucking saying it, it’s between every word you say,” he snapped. “I can’t be with you, you’re the one who confessed feelings, never mind that I did too. And then I made one desperate mistake in a goddamn confusing situation and you’re saying I wanna fuck the whole town? Have I been doing that? No. I’ve been wallowing and crying and beating the shit out of myself for a goddamn week because I hurt you. But that doesn’t count for shit, I guess, because I’m just a heartless bastard who can’t keep his dick in his pants. I can never be normal, don’t you think I know that?” He hated that she’d gotten stuck on that word, as if that was ever a possibility for him. He was a brain-damaged amputee who was in love with his cousin. But he could briefly trick himself sometimes into feeling it, and Rylee had no idea how much he needed that when things got too overwhelming. It was a flaw, but apparently he wasn’t allowed those.
"Stop putting words in my mouth," Rylee shouted. "Jesus Christ, Carson! Yes, you made a mistake and yes, it hurt. But because you've been wallowing and crying all week because of it, I'm supposed to flip off my feelings and fucking coddle you because you feel bad? I'm glad you feel bad. You should feel bad. It was a fucking shitty thing to do. And you know, fuck you. I didn't care about... the fucking world out there. After Saturday, I was willing to make that sacrifice because I wanted to be with you and I didn't fucking care about anything else or anyone else. I didn't care if I had to hide it for the rest of my life." Rylee stopped, her chest heaving before she ran her hands through her hair to brush it away from her face. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, already tired of shouting, and feeling stupid for admitting how willing she was to ruin her life just to be with someone else. Rylee exhaled and looked at Carson again, her hands resting against the nape of her neck under her hair. Her throat felt tight and uncomfortable and she wished she could find the energy to get angry again. "You're not a heartless bastard. And you're not normal, but neither am I. I forgive you for fucking Brad, okay? All of that, it's just... over and done with."
The first part really pissed him off more, because Rylee had been doing the exact same thing a minute ago, putting words into his mouth. He didn’t want to sleep his way through the whole town, he’d had one mistake, and he’d done all he could do about that. He didn’t want to be coddled, he just wanted to be actually forgiven and not have it thrown back in his face every moment of every conversation they were ever going to have. Carson knew somewhere that he couldn’t expect Rylee to be over it yet, but she obviously wasn’t when she kept saying she was. And once again, it was his fault for not being able to just decide he didn’t give a shit about the rest of the world. He couldn’t give Rylee what she wanted, it was just another way he was a drain on her. He scrubbed his hands over his own face, trying to swallow back the painful lump in his throat. She kept saying that, ‘over and done with.’ Carson guessed that’s how it should be, even though he didn’t feel like it would ever be over and done with. It hadn’t been since they were twelve, why would it start now? He didn’t want it to be over and done with, but he didn’t know how to deal with it either. “Yeah, you’re right, fuck me,” he said, his voice wavering dangerously. “Get out. Please.”
For a second, Rylee wanted to say no, plant her feet and not move, because at least if they were fighting, there was still a chance of finding some common ground. Of maybe finding a way to get back to where they had been before all of this. And she wanted to fight for him, and have him fight for her, but that didn't feel entirely possible now. If she stayed, she would probably just make things worse. Rylee wasn't even sure how they had gotten to this point, but she had been saying all the wrong things, reacting in all the wrong ways. Her face felt hot and her eyes burned, and she didn't think she could have been able to get the words out even if she knew what to say. He wanted her out, so she would go. Rylee turned away and slipped out of the room, though she didn't go to her own. Her heart was pounding painfully in her chest and Rylee shoved her feet into her shoes before grabbing her bag and keys. She could go to Zan's, or... somewhere. Carson could have all the space he needed. Maybe they both needed it.
Carson’s face had started to screw up and the angry, helpless tears had started to flow when he heard the jingle of keys. That sent a sharp spike of fear through him, and he was moving before he gave it any conscious thought. Rylee should not be driving. Forget how upset they both were, he’d been able to smell alcohol on her, and that was too much to be safe. Carson lurched off of his bed, grabbing onto the nightstand and then the wall to help. He’d been settled, so he hadn’t had his prosthetic on. He grabbed for his crutch, but the first half-hop to get to the doorway sent a stabbing pain up from his calf, and he stumbled into the doorframe. “Fuck, fuck,” he hissed, then bellowed Rylee’s name. He’d wanted her out of his face and out of his room, but not far enough away that she could get into an accident. Carson knew he would never forgive himself if something happened to her, and if that meant chasing after her that’s what he would do. “Rylee, don’t drive.” He got his balance again and started crutch-limping down the hall.
Rylee was startled when she heard Carson yell her name from his room. She thought for a moment that he was hurt, and her heart lurched into her throat as she forgot what she'd planned to do to start back toward the hall to check on him. Then she saw him in the hallway on his crutch, and it took her a second for don't drive to sink in. Rylee stared at him for a moment before looking down at the keys in her hand. Oh, right. Her head hurt and her body felt kind of numb, but she felt alright enough to drive somewhere. At the same time, the last thing she needed tonight was to get pulled over. Rylee didn't think she had the energy to try and flirt her way out of a ticket. Or jail. "Right," she murmured before tossing the keys onto the counter. Oh well. She still had two feet, and she could get just about anywhere in town walking if she had enough patience. Rylee gripped her bag tight and started for the door again, now that she knew he wasn't actually hurt. "Go back to bed, Carson."
He couldn’t even be irritated at being told what to do through the relief that she didn’t fight him all that. Carson was ready to take her keys away and call her an Uber if she insisted. She was still intent on leaving the apartment, which he guessed he couldn’t blame her for. If he was getting around easier, he might’ve done the same. He leaned his shoulder against the wall at the mouth of the hallway to take some pressure off of his injured leg, watching her back head toward the door. He wondered if she would even come home later or not. The jolt of adrenaline had at least pushed his sadness back for the moment. Now he just felt a little shaky and hollow. “I love you,” he said to Rylee’s back. He didn’t want her to leave without hearing that. Their situation sucked and they pissed each other off sometimes, but the love he felt was real.
She had really been hoping he would just be quiet and let her go. It was much easier to storm out when they were both angry. Rylee reached the door and heard him speak and she was torn between crying and just screaming in frustration. She also couldn't slam the door on her way out when he said things like that. Her forehead thunked against the door as she focused on breathing and she stayed there for a moment before turning to look at him in the hall. All she really wanted to do was go to him and slip her arms around him and hold him, even if she couldn't do anything else. But he didn't want her to and it was the worst feeling knowing she couldn't. "I love you too," she said, her voice wavering much more than she would have liked. If she hadn't been drinking, Rylee probably could have controlled herself better. She had become an expert at masking her emotions from most people, including Carson, but it had become much harder lately. "But I hate this," Rylee managed to add, bringing her hand up to press it against her eyes that had start tearing up.
Carson’s heart broke a little, and he felt tears bubble right back up to sting the backs of his eyes. He couldn’t keep his distance at that, even if he knew Rylee probably wanted him to. He limped his way over to her, crossing the living room and doing his best not to wince with every step. The pain didn’t matter, only Rylee did. Once he reached her, Carson tentatively touched her raised elbow, then moved to slip his arm around her shoulders. He was ready to pull back if she made it clear she didn’t want him to touch her, but he hoped fervently that she wouldn’t. They’d both hurt each other -- maybe not equally, but still -- and all he wanted to do right then was hold her. “Me too,” he whispered hoarsely.
The brunt of Rylee's anger had dissipated already and Carson's touch was a welcome one, knocking down the rest of the walls she had struggled to keep in place. Everything felt so hopeless and exhausting and Rylee couldn't stop herself from pressing her face against his shirt when the tears started falling. "I'm sorry," she breathed, using both hands to cling to his waist now. "For everything. I'm just sorry." She hated fighting with Carson. She hated things being so strained and tense and uncertain. If she could off her feelings for him, she would have, just to make their lives easier. None of this was fair, and they both knew it. They were just taking their frustration out on each other, and that made everything so much worse.
He sniffed as a few tears escaped down his cheeks, and Carson’s arm tightened around her. “Me too,” he managed to get out again around the lump in his throat. “M’sorry.” Carson knew they were both apologizing for more than this stupid fight -- the whole situation sucked. It was incredibly painful. That part wasn’t anybody’s fault. He kissed the top of Rylee’s head and rested his cheek against it, feeling the wet heat from her tears seeping through his shirt. She didn’t cry in front of him often, and he knew how much it meant. He didn’t try to say anything more, just tried to really be there and let the both of them settle down. They’d both said enough, and now wasn’t the time for more.
The apology did span everything, not only this ridiculous fight. She was sorry for so much, but mostly for the fact that there was nothing they could do about their situation. She knew she had been feeling unsure, even lost, but deep down Rylee knew nothing could be done. They couldn't be together here, and they couldn't leave. There would be too much to sacrifice. It hurt, but as the tears started to dry, a numb sort of resignation settled in. Rylee kept her face pressed against Carson's shirt, comforted a little by the scent of him, and the warmth of his arm around her. The combination of alcohol and emotion had exhausted her and Rylee slipped her bag off of her arm to let it fall to the floor beneath them. "I need to go to bed," Rylee murmured against his chest. "I'm sorry."
“It’s okay,” Carson murmured back. As hard as it was to hold Rylee through those tears, he was glad that she’d stayed. He wanted so badly to offer to go to bed with her, to take her into his room and just hold onto her until they both fell asleep. But that had been a dangerous thing to do lately, and the last thing they needed tonight was the complicate matters further. Carson didn’t know what the solution would end up being, if they ever found one. He didn’t even know what tomorrow would really bring. He just wanted both of their pain to ease somehow. Carson gave Rylee a firmer squeeze, then reluctantly let her go, kissing her forehead as he pulled back and shuffling to get out of her way.
Tomorrow seemed like ages away, but Rylee wasn't giving it a lot of thought. All she wanted to do was strip out of her clothes and fall into bed and sleep. She clung to Carson for just a moment longer before pulling away and moving past him to head for her bedroom. Her body felt heavy and tired and she didn't glance back at Carson before slipping into her room and quietly closing the door. It probably would have felt better to fall asleep in his bed with him beside her, but Rylee knew that was a bad idea, and probably shouldn't happen again. With her eyes closed and already feeling herself drifting off, Rylee tugged off her clothes and slipped under her blankets, asleep before her head even hit the pillow.