theunpressuredclub | (no subject)

Entry tags:

rp,
with: edgar

(no subject)

It's so different from the Deck.

The city in which Ophelia has helped her set up has nothing of the suffocating smallness that her home has. Nobody here knows entirely who she is except for the small handful of people the Queen had pointed her in the direction of-- and even they only really know her as a Diamond, not necessarily a Suit-switcher. It's refreshing.

It makes it tempting, almost, for her not to come back, regardless of whether or not she decides to raise the child growing inside her-- a decision she's still struggling to make, this far along. Because yes, while she knows the boy (and it's a boy. Edgar would be thrilled, in other circumstances) would remind her almost constantly of his father, she's also not certain if she doesn't want the reminder. She misses Edgar Eicheln, after all.

But missing him certainly does not mean expecting him to show up at the door of the apartment she's staying in. Thank goodness she looked through the peephole before opening it.

It's tempting to not respond to his knock. But she also knows just how resilient he can be if he thinks there's anything like a chance.

There's a crack in her voice as she calls through the door, "Please leave."

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She's not sending him away. She's not telling him there's someone else. She's not making it clear there isn't anything left.

She's saying 'together.' She's saying she loves him.

For a moment, he has to just close his eyes and breathe that in; let it become more real so that the rest of what's real--and much more overwhelming--can feel less dizzying.

"Can... can I come sit...?"

Her breath catches at the query, but she relaxes after a moment. Settles back into the thought that he's safe-- he's always been safe, even when he's been angry with her.

He doesn't seem angry, now. He seems relieved, if a little shell-shocked. It's not going to be a bad thing, to have him close.

"O-okay, Ed."

He tries to stand up. Honestly, he does. It's just he can't quite keep himself steady beyond kneeling. There's too much shaking in his frame for walking.

So it's a stumbling sort of crawl to cross the room. It's a careful, slow moving to lean against the couch close to her.

It makes it easier to feel the reality of the situation. To really feel the weight of the truth settling on his shoulder.

It leaves him in speechless contemplation again.

Somehow, it helps to know he's just as unsettled. That it takes all the energy he has to just make it to the couch. Somehow, it helps to know he's just as alarmed.

It takes her a few moments of calming down again once he's settled beside her, but one hand does, very tentatively, reach out for one of his.

"--Hi."

The pause as she reaches isn't hesitance; it's curious. It's to watch her face for a moment to be certain she's really reaching, not just shifting. That he isn't imagining it.

His grip might be a hair too tight at first, but he forces himself to relax it.

"Hi, Rach."

Relaxing his grip gets a much easier to smile. It's a shaky one, but a smile nonetheless.

"--I've missed you."

"'ve just-- been going absolutely insane without you."

Which is true. Which is probably why he's sitting in so much shock rather than getting worked up.

"We can't-- we can't do that again, nn?"

There's always a bit of a lull after moments of extreme emotion; a sort of numbness to let the mind and body recuperate. The baby shifts, elbowing her, and her other hand automatically drops to her stomach even as she nods.

"Def-definitely not."

She wouldn't be able to survive it. She'd barely made it this time.

He can't help the way his attention snaps to her hand moving to her stomach. He can't help that a piece of his heart leaps at the image of her--however tired and strained--pressing her hand against the swell of her child.

Their child.

"...good."

The way his eyes drop to her stomach naturally catches her attention. Her hand stills on her stomach, her gaze sharp on him.

Things are still shaky. She squeezes his hand just slightly, "...Do you want-- t'feel him?"

It would be the most natural thing in the world. It would absolutely have made him smile in any other circumstance.

But.

"Won't... won't that just... make it harder?"

Since the child--their boy--wasn't going to be theirs?

"Might," she admits freely, a shadow of sadness touching her face. Now that he's here, she's even more uncertain about whether or not she wants to give the child away. She didn't think she'd have been a very good mother alone but-- Edgar had a way of helping her balance. It might be easier.

She doesn't know if she wants to think about it. The conflicting emotions flicker across her face for him to easily see, this close, "'ve been thinking it might-- make it easier. Let me-- feel like I knew him before I-- let him go.'"

Her voice cracks just slightly towards the end of the sentence. The thought is quite suddenly an incredibly painful one.

He wants this to be easier for her. He wants whatever's going to make this hurt both of them less. He wants her safe and secure and without this broken look on her face.

His breath comes shaky before he forces himself to nod. His fingers tremble as he lifts the hand not holding hers carefully to her stomach.

To where their son is growing.

It's dizzying. It makes his breath come short.

Her hand comes to rest over his, and it hurts, her breath coming out shaky, but at the same time it solidifies the fact that she's not alone. That no matter what happens, they're going to do this together.

For a few moments, they can just sit in the quiet. Then, the baby shifts and her gaze glances back up to his face to see his reaction.

He doesn't have clear memories of Max being born, but he does remember Toby. He knows the sensation of having something alive move while hidden from sight like this.

He'll blame the shock, later. He'll blame being dazed and overwhelmed and still deliriously relieved that she's letting him stay. It's just that this is even more intimate than when his mother was pregnant. This is even closer to his heart.

This is their son, even if only by blood. He can't stop himself from smiling, awed and humbled, before remembering that having a son isn't part of the plan.

She can't help but smile back at him, however briefly, however shakily. Her hand stays resting atop his.

"He likes to move around a lot," she murmurs, "'s as restless as you."

His breath comes out shaky as he ducks his cheek, just briefly, against her stomach. Just to feel a little bit closer.

"When... when we're ready, Rach?" The words are whispered softly against where her stomach swells with the child. "You're... you're gonna be a good mom. I know it."

Her own breath trembles; sounds almost as though she's about to start crying again.

"Y-you really think so, Ed?"

His smile is small, but for a moment it's completely real, completely without a shadow.

"I know it."

He knows it here and now more than ever.

She manages an equally tiny smile back at him, before her face falls as she glances towards her swollen belly.

Her voice is incredibly quiet as she murmurs, "I... wish it were now."

Wishes she could keep their boy, even with everything.

For half a second, she's smiling. For half a second, they're just happy. But then reality settles again. Then he remembers that they've both run away from home, that they're unmarried and she's accidentally pregnant and things are barely being pulled back together between them.

His sigh is soft as he squeezes her hand.

"There's already... a family, then?"

She shakes her head just slightly, squeezing his hand back.

"No, not yet. I was-- still looking. There's a couple options."

It doesn't change how young they are. It doesn't change how underprepared they are. It doesn't change the fact that he's thinking through the haze of shock.

But.

"...oh."

She raises her eyes to him, a look of concern on her face.

"Oh?"

"Just... something to sleep on, I guess."

Because it wouldn't do to make more promises now. It didn't make sense to try and reason through possibilities she'd already shut out now.

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sorry for vanishing; they turned off the internet here abruptly.

's all good. I figured you'd dozed off <3

/crawls back to

/snuggles

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