Usually, Ness respects his recoil from earnest emotion. She doles her affection and admiration out in small doses, titrates up every so often as he develops more of a tolerance—there is no surer way to put someone off a thing than to force it on them, after all.
"Stephen."
She says his name, and stops there. She won't continue until he looks at her, and perhaps when he does he can see the exact moment that she decides to approach his desk, to lean forward and hold his hand, the way he had held hers in the library.
"I trust you. I trust your mind, and your medicine, and your hands. My skull or my arm, it makes no difference to me."
Edited (i didn't want you to think i was rejecting your subject) 2025-03-28 02:32 (UTC)
And it’s not the physical touch, or the emotional appeal, or the compliment, or the exacting list of back-and-forth rationale and justification. It’s all of the above, like the ceaseless tide wearing away at a rock until it finally crumbles into the sea. As Ness takes his hand, Stephen feels the moment that he gives in at last, and feels his reasoning falling away.
There’s a defeated sag to his shoulders, a twist of his mouth, his hand squeezing hers back once.
“Alright,” he says. Because he’d promised, too, that he would at least consider it if she gave it time. Didn’t rush it. Came back to him after a year. It’s sooner than planned, but all of his arguments against it have been punctured and meticulously deconstructed. “It’s your choice.”
And if anyone’s going to do it for her safely, of course it’s going to be him.
He says alright like he's just signed her death warrant, with such defeat it hardly even feels like a victory—but it is a victory, albeit one she won't be crowing over any time soon. Ness squeezes Stephen's hand back, then lets it go.
"Thank you," she says, sincere as ever, "for trusting me back."
There will be time for them to discuss the particulars of how they're going to accomplish this later. For now, Stephen's just agreed to something he'd prefer not to do, and Ness won't make him deal with her any more today. She gathers her notes, says her goodbyes, and leaves Stephen to contemplate what he's just signed up for.
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portalling) wrote2022-04-02 01:17 pm
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🔪🔪🔪
"Stephen."
She says his name, and stops there. She won't continue until he looks at her, and perhaps when he does he can see the exact moment that she decides to approach his desk, to lean forward and hold his hand, the way he had held hers in the library.
"I trust you. I trust your mind, and your medicine, and your hands. My skull or my arm, it makes no difference to me."
🎀?
There’s a defeated sag to his shoulders, a twist of his mouth, his hand squeezing hers back once.
“Alright,” he says. Because he’d promised, too, that he would at least consider it if she gave it time. Didn’t rush it. Came back to him after a year. It’s sooner than planned, but all of his arguments against it have been punctured and meticulously deconstructed. “It’s your choice.”
And if anyone’s going to do it for her safely, of course it’s going to be him.
He always has to be the one holding the knife.
🎀!
"Thank you," she says, sincere as ever, "for trusting me back."
There will be time for them to discuss the particulars of how they're going to accomplish this later. For now, Stephen's just agreed to something he'd prefer not to do, and Ness won't make him deal with her any more today. She gathers her notes, says her goodbyes, and leaves Stephen to contemplate what he's just signed up for.