Of course it is. It's what Derrica had asked, isn't it? For Ellie to say such things, ask when she needs them.
When she kisses Ellie this time, it's just as gentle. But brief, a brush of lips before Derrica sits back slightly. It's only to create a little space, acknowledge what Ellie's asked for.
She doesn't need to tell her again: of course, Ellie can change her mind too.
The kiss is there and gone, so soft and brief that it's just a lingering warmth before Ellie can properly decide how to feel about it. Both a reassurance and a sting.
The sting, she feels now. The reassurance will grow stronger, later, when she's rearranging all the pieces inside herself. It'll be warmth, and a cracked-open door. A reminder of what they haven't lost.
"Yeah," Ellie whispers back, and it's rough around the edges. She squeezes Derrica's hands again, makes herself look her in the eyes properly. Her color's high, her eyes a little bit shiny.
"I feel like shit right now," she says, and it hurts even coming out of her mouth. She holds the words on her jaw for a second before she lets them out, measuring each one.
"But. I'd have really felt like shit if you'd said yes. And then I found out it wasn't want you wanted."
The right thing to do is let Ellie go. Process and settle this discussion without Derrica watching her, exacerbating whatever hurt she's carrying. Her grip loosens on Ellie's hands, but doesn't quite break, Derrica's face tipped up to watch Ellie's expression as she gets to her feet.
"Thank you for thinking of me," is a soft offering in return. "For asking me."
When it would have been so easy for Ellie to have glossed over any part of what Derrica thought or wanted.
"Don't be a stranger?"
Regardless of what decisions Ellie makes, what outcome she arrives at after this conversation settles in her mind.
Ellie knows it hurts for Derrica to be the source of any pain, and she wishes that she could let her in, for this. Could let her try to fix Ellie's hurts, to heal her with her own hands. She knows how important it is to her that leave things better than she left them.
But this is one thing that she just can't, neither of them can.
(She wishes it didn't feel like a betrayal, even if that's not a logical thought.)
Shaking her head, Ellie squeezes her fingers back, brings both of her hands up; leans forward to kiss her knuckles. It's light but warm, and hopefully that'll lessen the blow of pulling away.
"Okay," she manages, before her throat closes, and she leaves before she can reach the breaking point of the pressure in her chest.
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no subject
Of course it is. It's what Derrica had asked, isn't it? For Ellie to say such things, ask when she needs them.
When she kisses Ellie this time, it's just as gentle. But brief, a brush of lips before Derrica sits back slightly. It's only to create a little space, acknowledge what Ellie's asked for.
She doesn't need to tell her again: of course, Ellie can change her mind too.
"You know where to find me when you're ready."
no subject
The sting, she feels now. The reassurance will grow stronger, later, when she's rearranging all the pieces inside herself. It'll be warmth, and a cracked-open door. A reminder of what they haven't lost.
"Yeah," Ellie whispers back, and it's rough around the edges. She squeezes Derrica's hands again, makes herself look her in the eyes properly. Her color's high, her eyes a little bit shiny.
"I feel like shit right now," she says, and it hurts even coming out of her mouth. She holds the words on her jaw for a second before she lets them out, measuring each one.
"But. I'd have really felt like shit if you'd said yes. And then I found out it wasn't want you wanted."
She squeezes once, hard, and gets to her feet.
are we approaching bow territory
"Thank you for thinking of me," is a soft offering in return. "For asking me."
When it would have been so easy for Ellie to have glossed over any part of what Derrica thought or wanted.
"Don't be a stranger?"
Regardless of what decisions Ellie makes, what outcome she arrives at after this conversation settles in her mind.
yes ;;
But this is one thing that she just can't, neither of them can.
(She wishes it didn't feel like a betrayal, even if that's not a logical thought.)
Shaking her head, Ellie squeezes her fingers back, brings both of her hands up; leans forward to kiss her knuckles. It's light but warm, and hopefully that'll lessen the blow of pulling away.
"Okay," she manages, before her throat closes, and she leaves before she can reach the breaking point of the pressure in her chest.
She leaves the scroll with the sketch behind.