( he lets her. of course he does. he presents as someone who doesn't need or invite much contact, and that's a learned skill. a carefully managed projection. based on a kid that was stubborn enough to never cry out again when a nun didn't show up to hold his hand, and a mentor that was so insistent that connections were dangerous that he'd been willing to disappear the second it seemed like Matt was making one.
it's so much easier to remain distant if he keeps his physical distance, too.
of course, that doesn't mean it is his preference. it's a conditioned response, a self defense mechanism that he almost doesn't realize he's doing any more, he's been doing it so long. of course in actuality he likes touch, he likes to be close to people, he craves that reminder that he's not alone in an undeniable, grounding way. he pulls her hand over his chest and idly traces out lines in her palm, staring off towards the dark skyline he can't see. )
You don't have to be sorry. You have no control over it. ( which is just about equally upsetting as the boy being gone in the first place. the next person he cares about, whether he wants to or not — hell, Elektra herself, the person here he cares about most — the next person to disappear could happen at any time, even if he's careful, and protective, and checks in as often as his paranoia mandates. and it won't matter how long he searches or how badly he wishes things were different.
they won't be. )
You should lay down, ( he suggests, finally, pulling away from his circling and depressing thoughts. ) I'll take the first shift.
no subject
it's so much easier to remain distant if he keeps his physical distance, too.
of course, that doesn't mean it is his preference. it's a conditioned response, a self defense mechanism that he almost doesn't realize he's doing any more, he's been doing it so long. of course in actuality he likes touch, he likes to be close to people, he craves that reminder that he's not alone in an undeniable, grounding way. he pulls her hand over his chest and idly traces out lines in her palm, staring off towards the dark skyline he can't see. )
You don't have to be sorry. You have no control over it. ( which is just about equally upsetting as the boy being gone in the first place. the next person he cares about, whether he wants to or not — hell, Elektra herself, the person here he cares about most — the next person to disappear could happen at any time, even if he's careful, and protective, and checks in as often as his paranoia mandates. and it won't matter how long he searches or how badly he wishes things were different.
they won't be. )
You should lay down, ( he suggests, finally, pulling away from his circling and depressing thoughts. ) I'll take the first shift.