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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."

Comments

[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--"

[ofthecubs]

She's pregnant. Somehow, it's impossible to begin to properly process. It's got his mind reeling and entire being operating solely on instinct.

Instinct to look after her. Instinct to love her. Instinct to make the world spinning around her spin slower. Instinct to try to be safe.

"Rach." He still can't keep the nerves from straining his voice, but he's speaking slowly--with the obvious intention of calm, if not the intonation. "Don't... don't apologize, okay? Just... let's just sit down."

[theunpressuredclub]

He's trying to be calm. He's speaking slowly, staying a careful distance away. It's helping, just a little, to ground her. She still nods a little too fast, but she's going to start moving towards the couch.

"O-okay."

[ofthecubs]

"Okay."

Closing the door behind himself is careful. Leaning against it is also careful, involves just the tiniest bit of a slump. Having the stability--and seeing her properly seated--helps make breathing easier.

"Okay."

There hadn't been much of a plan beyond this. It takes a moment to get more words beyond that.

"So... so we're... Y-you're going to..."

[theunpressuredclub]

Sitting down and having him stay there by the door is easier. Gets her breathing into something more settled again as she shifts to look at him, one hand smoothing over her stomach with unconscious anxiety.

"...'m gonna have a baby," And the rest of the words come out in hasty reassurance; perhaps even justification, "You weren't-- I was-- going t'just give him away. I know 'm-- probably not gonna be a very good mother. I was-- gonna have him an'-- give him t'a good family and then-- probably come back. You weren't meant t'know. You don't-- you don't have t'do anything, Ed. This doesn't have t'... change anything."

[ofthecubs]

She's going to have a baby. She's going to have a baby--their baby, their baby a piece of his brain catches is a 'he.' She's going to have a baby and she's going to give that baby away and come home.

She's right. It's complicated.

He opens his mouth, and for a moment, nothing comes out. Finally, a sigh escapes, his back sliding slightly lower against the door. "You don't have to... do this alone."

[theunpressuredclub]

She doesn't expect him to want this-- not so soon, not coming out of the mess they've made. She fully expects him to agree with her plan and have that be that.

But his words almost imply otherwise. His words throw her off, clear confusion lining her expression.

"You-- I mean, 'f you want t'-- stay until I have him, I-- I guess that's-- all right, but 'm-- 've got people here that have been helping, too."

She can't process the possibility of him wanting to keep the child. Not under these circumstances.

[ofthecubs]

She keeps calling the child 'he.' It keeps hitting him like a blow to the gut.

This isn't just an idea. This isn't just a theory. This is a child that came from their love, that will look like them; that will live and breathe and be taken away.

But that's what she wants.

"...Rach, I... I want to be with you. If-- if this is-- part of that, then... then I want to be here."

[theunpressuredclub]

"Y'y-ou-- You want t'be here."

She has to repeat it to make certain she's heard him correctly.

"Y'want t'-- be with me. Even-- with everything?"

With the fact she hadn't told him. With the fact she'd been carrying their child and hadn't told her.

[ofthecubs]

The shock will wear off, eventually. The hurt will come, likely at night while he fights with all the other demons he's been collecting since she left. But reasoning will come with it. Consideration of the situation--of the way things had been left.

The hurt won't outweigh what's absolutely always been true and hasn't changed despite the tightness in his chest while he tries to breathe.

"I love you."

[theunpressuredclub]

Her breath comes out shaky, still, when he says it at last. She can't quite smile in response, even if it's so wonderfully reassuring to hear.

"I-- love you, too, Edgar."

And she needs him. Needs him so desperately.

[ofthecubs]

It helps to hear. Relief has him sliding, slowly, the rest of the way down to sitting on the floor.

"Then... then we'll do this." And it's crazy, because they're far too young and they don't have a plan, but for a second his heart genuinely wants to mean they'll have a baby--their baby. A slight shake of his head helps. "We'll... we'll figure it out from here."

Together.

[theunpressuredclub]

For a moment, that's what she thinks he means, too. For a moment, the prospect doesn't seem nearly as terrifying as it did before.

"We'll-- figure it out t'gether." And it's clear that eases so much of the worry from her brow, "All-- all right."