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[theunpressuredclub]

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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[theunpressuredclub]

She starts a bit at the nudge on the door. Finds herself with a hand resting tentatively on the knob as she listens.

There's a rough sob that escapes from her lips, soft but still audible, as he works through things.

"I shouldn't have-- asked you to choose, Ed." She has to get that out there, as well. It hadn't been fair, after all, to him or to the lives they both had wanted to lead. So much for that, "And I-- I can't ask you to choose this-- choose me, now. This-- you've got a good plan for things, Ed. Always have. I don't-- want to ruin that for you."

And this will. There's no question of whether or not it will.

"I-- I love you." And it hurts to say it, so much, "But-- maybe it's better like this."

[ofthecubs]

"It's not better."

He doesn't know about the rest of it, perhaps. He doesn't really know if she should or shouldn't have asked him, or if he should or shouldn't have chosen differently. All he knows is that his plans--however good--feel like nothing without her in them.

"Rach--" He'd meant to call her 'Rachel,' but the crack in his voice keeps it back. "Rach, it's-- it's nothing at all like better like this. Please, just-- I can't do this. Rach, I can't-- do any of this without you."

[theunpressuredclub]

She's crying again. She's been doing a lot of that, lately, if she's honest with herself. She can't keep it from her voice when she replies.

"I-- Ed, I can't--"

She can't do this to him. She also can't do this without him. It's so hard to express, either way.

[ofthecubs]

She's crying. He knows her well enough--every hair on her head and every tone of her voice--to know she's crying. Shoving at the door again is entirely unconscious.

"We can't keep doing this. We can't. Please, Rach, just-- just let me in. Let's-- let's try talking about it again. Please."

[theunpressuredclub]

Shoving at the door also gets her starting again. It's so hard to breathe like this. His plea to be let in gets her voice rising with panic.

"N-no. Ed, please-- please, just go."

Because he'll hate her for this, she's sure of it. Him knowing that she didn't tell him will ruin any chance they have.

[ofthecubs]

"Then-- tell me how to do this."

Because he can't, anymore. He can barely walk away from the door, let alone any straws he's grasping at here for another chance.

"Rach, if-- if you love me, tell me how to-- keep going without you. Because I can't, right now. I-- I can't."

[theunpressuredclub]

"Find-- find someone else."

And it breaks her heart to say it. She doesn't know that it's a sentiment his father had expressed to try to get him to move on, as well, and is inadvertently the same thing that brought him to her door now.

"Find-- find someone else and try t'be happy with them, or else-- throw yourself into working.'s-- I know you can do that."

[ofthecubs]

He wasn't certain he could get any lower. Apparently he'd been wrong, because hearing those words again--in her voice, in the voice of the woman his entire heart is still desperately wrapped up in and unable to let go if--actually stops him from breathing.

Actually stops him from thinking, for just a moment. Actually brings him teetering to his knees outside her door.

He's just dizzy for a moment, kneeling there. He's just trying to remember how to breathe before he can choke out, "Is.... is that what you did? You... found some... someone else?"

[theunpressuredclub]

The silence is worrying. The way his voice trembles breaks her heart.

She should lie. She should tell him that she's found someone else and doesn't want to see him anymore.

She can't when the question makes her ache so much.

"N-no, Ed." Not in the way he thinks, anyways.

[ofthecubs]

"Then why-- why do I have to?"

Because it sounds like hell, trying to love someone else. It sounds like he'd have to live forever with a crack in his heart and a constant reminder of the fact that he wasn't happy--and wasn't making the woman by his side happy.

[theunpressuredclub]

"Because I-- think you could find someone, Ed. There's-- there's women back home who can-- make you happy. Help you-- do what you want to do."

Not hold him back with a child and the wrong Suit from the get-go.

[ofthecubs]

"They can't." Pressing his forehead to the door doesn't help. His voice still crackles unhappily with hurt. He still can't stand up. "Rach, they-- they can't. I don't-- I don't want to-- just be King and have good Club sons to-- treat the way my father's treating us."

Charles has, generally, been a good father. It's just that Edgar can't imagine, sitting here against this door, ever raising a child under this heavy a burden of expectations. This many demands that went against finding actual happiness.

"I want you. I want-- to make things work with you. Rach, I-- I want to-- get a place in Town so we can-- both go to our own Castles in the morning or-- or live here so it-- won't matter, just-- Rach--"

[theunpressuredclub]

Her breath comes out in a ragged gasp at the words, her own knees buckling beneath her and a sudden, firm kick from the child making her slump.

"Y-you-- don't want--?"

[ofthecubs]

His laugh doesn't sound much like one. It sounds more like a flicker of desperation trying to escape.

"I don't want a throne if I don't have you to share it with. I don't-- Rach, there's-- I want you. I want-- whatever that comes with. We tried this-- being apart and living our own lives, and-- Rach, I don't want it. I just... I just want whatever life we make together."

[theunpressuredclub]

The baby kicks again, leaves her temporarily breathless. There's another quiet sob she can't help but let loose.

"It's-- Edgar, if we did it'd-- be so complicated." So much more complicated than he knows, at the moment. "There's-- I've made such a-- such a mess of things."

[ofthecubs]

"We both did. We-- we both made this mess."

And he'll look back, someday, and understand more properly exactly how true those words were.

"Rach... Rach, it wouldn't-- We could stay here. Out here. No one-- no one would care. We'd tell Drew and Argine and-- and then we could just live our lives. How's that complicated?"

[theunpressuredclub]

"Because it-- is, Ed. It's--"

She can't tell him. She has to tell him. She's so torn in both directions she can't actually think straight.

"'f we-- stay or if we-- go home. Either way 'f we're-- together, it's complicated."

Because of the baby, mainly, yes, but also because of the nature of who they are. Of what they both want or thought they wanted out of their lives.

[ofthecubs]

"We love each other."

He knows he loves her. She says she loves him--and believing anything else is, in this moment, far too overwhelming. Far too entirely painful.

"That's-- that all it is. That's simple." His forehead presses more firmly against the door between them, voice rough from the struggle to keep speaking. "Everything else is-- is just us making it complicated."

[theunpressuredclub]

"Love's complicated, Ed," comes the reply, "It's-- it's complicated and confusing and it can-- hurt people."

And that was a lesson she'd started to unlearn with him, before things had gone south. It's not unexpected-- although likely it is painful-- to find her reverting to that way of thinking again when she's been under so much strain.

"I don't--"

Don't want to hurt him, and doesn't want to be hurt again.

[ofthecubs]

It sets his nerves on edge, the way she says it. It feels so much like progress--real, genuine opening up into someone who felt safe and secure and properly loved--has been cracked by this mistake.

His mistake. His mistake in handling what was her mistake in asking, but still his mistake.

"If..." It's a little easier to speak if he drops his voice down to a murmur, hopefully just loud and low enough to carry through the door. "If I could, I'd... I'd promise you wouldn't-- ever get hurt again. But-- I can't. That's not... that's not how love works."

And really, for better or worse, loving the way Eichelns did--almost all-consuming--only ever made that worse.

"All I can promise is... is doing my best. Is-- is putting everything else-- everything less important, Rach, which-- is everything."

[theunpressuredclub]

It's a little harder to hear, admittedly. Still, it's not hard to figure out what he's saying based on what she can catch. It's not entirely unlike anything he's told her before.

It also reminds her just how much he's set in this. Just how determined he'd been, when they were still together, to give her a love that was solid and safe and beautiful. If he's truly as determined as he seems to be now, there's no convincing him away from things with words alone.

She has to tell him. She has to tell him, face to face. She's absolutely terrified as she shifts, gets more properly to her feet to rest a hand on the door knob again.

"Don't-- don't promise anything yet, Ed."

Not when he doesn't know. Not when she hasn't quite worked up the courage to open the door and show him.

[ofthecubs]

He can't help being set in this. He's tried--made actual earnest efforts, the way he makes earnest efforts at everything--to let her go; to imagine himself being happy with someone else.

But who else could there ever be?

"I can't help it," he half-laughs, tight and choked, against the door, still kneeling where he's slumped. "I know how I feel."

[theunpressuredclub]

"We'll see," she answers, more to herself as she moves to unlock the door, "'m-- opening the door. But b'fore I do... 'm-- really sorry."

Sorry that she's not told him, yes, but also sorry that the fact she didn't is likely about to change his mind on whether or not he still loves her.

She opens the door, then, shaking so hard it's almost difficult. She's going to back away as far as physically possible once he makes the move to come in.

It's going to be impossible to hide just how very pregnant she is, after all, and it's impossible now for her to be any less terrified, quiet tears still streaming down her face.

[ofthecubs]

She's opening the door. It takes effort to scramble to his feet, to lean against the door frame upright so he'll be able to meet her eyes properly. It's got him breathing just a little heavily with the nerves of it--of knowing he's finally going to see her again.

It's impossible not to see she's crying. It's just as impossible not to see she's pregnant. His mind, already reeling, isn't quite sure which to handle first.

This wasn't the plan. Even with the plan he'd thought he had--of being the good son, of rising to king, of marrying and fathering grandsons for his own parents because it was expected and right--thrown somewhat out the window, this wasn't the plan. This was too soon. This was sticky. This was overwhelming beyond belief.

This wasn't something she should be handling alone.

"...all right." A step closer, slightly lurching, has her moving away, so he freezes, both hands held up and attention refocused on her face. "All... all right, Rach. Just... just let's... sit down, okay?"

[theunpressuredclub]

She's breathing so quickly she's almost hyperventilating. She's leaning just a little against the back of the couch to stay standing. She can't help the way she flinches when he moves closer.

It helps that he halts. Helps that he's looking at her and he doesn't sound angry, even if he can't quite manage calm.

She can't quite manage calm, either. Can't quite process what he's asking her to do because her mind is racing, "'m sorry. I'm sorry, Ed--'m--"