learning to lie here in the quiet light | charlie

The silence between them was noticeably not the comfortable kind, rather the tense kind with so much hidden behind metaphorical doors, so much unsaid that the doors were bending and swelling. She knew he felt it as much as she did, and that left her with only a couple of options: fall back into the familiar routine they had when they’d seen each other post-divorce (only a couple of times had it not ended in copulation), or do the right thing and leave.

Leave him here and leave him hanging, like he deserved, or do what she really wanted to do. Both options were likely to leave her unsatisfied and yearning, but the first would deprive him of the satisfaction that she was something to be used; someone to love him only for a few minutes before they went back to disparate lives. He could easily use the excuse that his leg was broken and that was the only reason she hadn’t made a move, though, so she needed to do something that made her reasons for abstaining clear.

“You’re welcome,” She replied to him in a soft voice, thinking fast concerning her lingering dilemma of not wanting to send the wrong message. Kate’s head tilted back up, previously bowed to inspect his palms, and she stared at him for a long minute, ending the space with a single nod. “Yeah, I should go.”

Instead of standing all the way to her feet, Kate leaned up on the balls of her feet to cup his jaw in her hand, still from below on the floor. The way she kissed him wasn’t chaste, but there was a certain degree of restraint exhibited too, and as the seconds ticked by, she reminded herself it should end. She pulled back to breathe and kissed him one more time, letting her hand fall off his face and back to her side.

“I’ll see you. Hope you enjoy.” She told him as she backed up toward the door, wondering if she should tell him whether or not she should say call if you need anything--but that would sort of defeat the purpose of this whole parting being mysterious and ambiguous, wouldn’t it? There were other women he could call.

As the door clicked shut and latched behind her, she leaned up against it with her legs bent for a minute, trying to breathe and remind herself of the reasons she shouldn’t burst back in there and--

When she squinted her eyes, there was a lady looking down at her from the window across the pebbled street anyway, and she couldn’t risk any attention being drawn to this, so Kate rounded the corner and decided she’d walk home instead of apparating. Charlie liked walking.

out

You’re welcome. Once she lifted her face to look at him, Charlie kept his eyes on Kate’s, unsure what was happening—or about to happen—here. He daren’t look away first, then she did and agreed: she should go. Charlie prepared himself for an awkward goodbye—hopefully she could just let herself out so he didn’t have to get up—and when he looked back at her he mistook her motion for a hug, almost brought one arm up to join in— Then her cool fingers were on his jaw, her soft palm cupping it, and he realised what she was doing a millisecond before she did it.

He kissed back, almost immediately, but fought the urge to lean into it — it would be better if she came to him, if this was going to happen. Her tongue sought out his and he frowned softly, unsure what to do with his hands as he reciprocated. Then she pulled back and it was no longer a problem. He opened his eyes in time for her to kiss him again, and thought that was it, decision made—he leaned into it this time, just barely—

And she had made a decision, but not the one they usually settled on. Charlie opened his eyes (again) slowly and licked his lips, feeling disappointed and relieved all at once. He flicked his attention up to the brunette’s face as she stood, nodding before really comprehending what she was saying (she’d see him? When? Enjoy what?).

He didn’t move, didn’t so much as let his eyes follow her as she walked around the sofa and through the kitchen. He was still sitting forward, breathing a little heavier than he had been before she’d ambushed him with a snog, when he heard the front door latch click. Safe—supposedly—he let out a deep exhale and flopped back against the sofa, eyes closing again; what the fuck had just happened?


[ end ]