evite | ✈ open post 2kforever

[ he's so close. from the couch to the chair, there had been the buffer of space between them. the coffee table, the rug beneath it, the ugly carpet floor. her empty glass. things to look at between them, to trap her gaze, to make it less — anything? personal? she doesn't know. but he's right there, so close, his body a hair's breath from where hers stops on that small couch, and it takes more willpower than daisy thought she even had to restrain herself from getting up and running away.

he's so close, the reality of what she's trying to say hits her like a freight truck. hits her like she'd hit the car, even, the shockwave of reality slamming into her, and daisy swallows hard once, twice, three times before she manages to speak. ]

You've — you're — [ god, she can't do this. she doesn't know how to say this without sounding like a completely batshit insane person. the kind of person who's had feelings for someone who absolutely does not return them for years now, who's watched them fall in love and fall out of it, who's watched them have a kid and lose their kid and nearly lose their mind as a result. but she is that person, isn't she?

and he knows, for better or for worse, because she's already fucked up and said something she shouldn't. this is just... this is just finalizing it. clearing the air. maybe she'll feel better after. (probably not, but she'll cling to that.) ]

I know we're not together. [ better. she can actually release the breath that's been clutched in her mouth. ] I know because I've thought about it a million times since I met you.

[ her gaze finally, finally meets his, and there's a sense of resignation in it. not quite sad, but... accepting. ]

And it's never been — good timing, I guess. You were with Lorna, and then you weren't, and I just. [ she blows a breath out, lips vibrating ] I don't want things to be weird between us because of it.

[ she pauses for half a second, her tongue darting out to push through her lips before pulling back. ]

We don't have to talk about it. You can ... you know, put something on, and I'll wait for Caitlin to come back, and we can just.

[ move on. ]

[ well, the warning about not making things weird makes more sense now. she starts speaking and his stomach roils, twisting and turning with the revelation. he stares at her, surprise and shock commingling. had he picked up any sense of this? no. at first it had been because he hadn't taken time to know her. she was a good person and good in a fight but he'd been caught up in other things.

then, when he'd finally woken up and paid attention, he'd found her good as a person as well. warm and funny and kind and honest and unafraid. she'd stayed up nights talking to him when he hadn't wanted to be alone and shoved him awake on mornings when getting up was hard.

and now she was confessing something like this. something so big, full of possibilities. ]

Daisy, we've known each other for...years now. [ she'd been feeling this way for years? was that why she was throwing herself in front of bullets and bombs? was that why she was thinking of herself last in every single equation? ]

Some things make a little more sense now. [ their argument of earlier being the prime example of that. he blows out a breath and peers over at her. ]

Why did you — what made you tell me now? [ he hasn't dipped into his own feelings yet, hasn't examined them and told her what he feels and what he wants to do. he doesn't know if he's read for that just yet. ]

You wouldn't stop staring at me.

[ like she had six heads, like there was something wrong with her. the question of why she'd blurted out something like that, unintentional as it had been, had hung thick over them both. she'd known it wouldn't just go away. he'd wonder about it until she confessed, and things would be uncomfortable until she did.

they had to work together — but it was more than that. marcos was more than just someone she worked with. he was her friend. family, in a way. she couldn't just tiptoe around him and ignore the question forever. ]

And I just … I don't know. I got tired of John's stupid knowing looks. [ he may not be able to read minds, but he'd always been able to read her. ] There just wasn't a good way to tell you. A good time, I guess.

[ "break up with the mother of your child?" or "oh wait, you just did, now here's a bombshell you're not prepared for?" or "hey i know the world is about to end but here's a fun fact nobody asked for?" ]

Now's not really a good time either, I know.

You told me not to make things weird. What else was I going to do but stare until you told me why?

[ so really, it was kind of your fault, wasn't it? marcos rubs his thumb against his lower lip, still trying to digest this very new, very...unexpected news. they were friends, yeah, but had he ever thought she'd say she wanted more? that she'd thought about more? that she'd looked at him that way?

no. because he was a mess and a wreck and didn't know how to deal with his own issues. why would anyone want that? ]

And you and John talked about this? [ had he buried his head so far down in the sand to miss that? he swallows and tears his eyes away from her, staring straight ahead now. ]

I'm sorry. [ oh wait, that sounds bad. like he's going to let her down easily or something and he hastily clarifies: ] I'm sorry that I didn't notice any of this.

Yeah.

[ many times. he'd known before daisy had even let herself acknowledge the feelings were there — he'd known when a casual attraction had shifted into something far more painful, when the sound of her heartbeat went from skipping to torturously slow. when sitting through meetings with lorna sprawled on his lap had been like being stabbed, john had given her tasks to do that would take her eyes away. helping sage with monitors, processing new security protocols, heavy lifting or construction, anything she could do to avoid being in the room.

and when things had gotten worse, when lorna had left, he'd helped her work through her feelings so she didn't carry the weight of them with her every day. he'd helped her detangle what was personal and petty from what she could work through — being glad, on some level, that she was gone; being sad, too, for her friends; being hurt by the betrayal and being angry at the impact of her loss. ]

John's known for a long time. [ simple as that. ] I asked him not to say anything. I didn't … I didn't want it to be another thing you had to think about, after she left.

[ and now she was back, and somehow, it felt like worse timing. but he apologizes, and daisy's brow furrows a bit, confusion evident in her expression as her gaze tips back up to his. ]

What are you sorry for? I'm not — I wasn't expecting you to notice. Or to feel the same way, or anything, I just. Had to tell you, at some point.

[ he's surprised. he is. he hadn't really expected daisy of all people to look at him like that. to feel like that about him. not when she could have anyone's eyes. why would she want someone who was such a mess? someone who had a kid and could barely manage his own emotions? he frowns, looking down at where her legs were laying across his lap. ]

This has been — years? [ he has no idea how she's managed to deal with this for so long. to keep it down and away from him for years upon years? she's a stronger person than he is. that's the only explanation. ]

I'm sorry. [ that she'd had to watch him be with lorna. even if he loved lorna, adored her then, he still can't understand how that must have felt to her. and then it fell apart and she'd still stood beside him.

he blows out a breath. ]

You're not nothing, you know. Not to me.

[ years, he says, like the idea is impossible to fathom; he apologizes, offers condolences, says all the right things, and daisy just... exhales. she doesn't know what else to do in the wake of confessing something she never intended to tell him in the first place. ]

When we first met, you were so — I don't know. Confident? Capable. People looked to you and John for answers, for direction; you held the Underground together, and when I was trying to figure out where I fit in, you always found a place for me. [ a friendship, once she'd proven herself worthy of one. ] And I'm not going to lie, I had a horrible crush on you at first. I think it's the beard.

[ john had called her out on it almost immediately. not to be cruel, but to let her down gently, to clue her in on the state of affairs so that she didn't do something she'd later regret. she'd worked on stuffing those feelings down immediately thereafter, to only some success. ]

I knew nothing was going to happen. I mean, you were with Lorna, and I was — a mess, honestly, when I first got there. But the more I got to know you, the closer we got … it wasn't just a crush, you know?

[ now it's her turn to look down, gaze skimming down the length of her legs to where his hands rest. she's acutely aware of the heat of them against her skin. ]

I almost left so many times, but I couldn't. I didn't want to be alone, I didn't want to abandon what we were fighting for, I didn't want to — to leave you, as stupid as that sounds.

[ maybe it explains why she reacted so poorly to lorna leaving when she did. because she'd had reason to leave and never took it, even if it would have been easier. ]

I think I'll always — [ feel something? she shrugs. ] But telling you … I guess it just doesn't feel like this big secret anymore.

The beard.

[ it's the least important of anything she's said but that might be exactly why he catches on it. it's a bit of levity in an otherwise very personal, very vulnerable batch of words. his hand comes up and rubs at said beard, thicker now than it had been a few weeks ago. stress will do that to you, he supposes.

he shakes his head, stops thinking about his beard and what she might have imagined in regards to that. her hands and her cheeks and — yes, time to turn that part of his brain off. she doesn't need that right now. ]

It doesn't sound stupid. I'm glad you didn't leave. I don't want you to leave. I would have — [ it would have been a loss. a big one. one that would have devastated him in some kind of way. ]

You're not nothing. [ he says it again. ] Not to me.

I know.

[ it comes out softer than she means it to, but she does know that, at least. she knows that she matters in as much as any member of the underground matters, especially with their dwindling numbers and shaken faith. she knows that leaving would be unfair to him and everyone else, that turning her back on them would be a betrayal she could never take back or erase — and she knows she never will.

even if it hurts her in the process, daisy will never quit. she'll jump in front of a bullet, but she won't quit. ]

I'm not going to leave, Marcos. [ that, she can promise him. that, and something else, something more weighty that's been sitting on her chest since he snapped at her earlier. ] But, listen — I know I'm, like, the last person in the world who needs to comment on this...

[ not that it's ever stopped her before ]

If you and Lorna — please don't feel like you can't, you know. If it makes you happy, if that's what you want, please don't think I'm the reason you can't. The last thing I want is to be some homewrecker in your relationship.

Stop talking about Lorna.

[ he shake his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to keep himself from getting angry at yet another push towards lorna. he and lorna weren't going to reconnect. not like that. they were working on a friendship but the intimate relationship they'd once had was broken beyond repair. ]

If I wanted to go back to Lorna, I would. But that's not what I want so stop assuming it is. [ please. ] Me having a kid with her doesn't mean I'm just going to forgive and forget.

[ he loved them both, lorna and dawn alike. he always would. ]

She's not what I want. Not anymore.

[ 'stop talking about lorna' probably doesn't mean 'stop talking at all', but that's basically what happens. mostly because marcos snapping at her to stop making assumptions feels like a slap in the face — and so daisy sits back, her gaze dropping to look down at the floor off the side of the couch.

what can she say? there's nothing to say — condolences are hollow and they both know it. it's no secret that daisy's as bitter about what lorna did as anyone else, only forgiving her the small amount necessary to work with her moving forward. it'll take more than a crisis and a shared enemy to rebridge that gap. but she can't be hopeful, either, because what kind of friend allows hope to surge up in their chest when a relationship falls apart?

apparently whatever kind of friend daisy is (a shitty one) because she feels it. but she won't — can't — say that. so she says nothing. she nods her head, jerky and uncertain, and her mouth pulses in and out of a sharp line, an uncertain but accepting expression if ever there was one. ]

That didn't mean stop talking altogether.

[ unless lorna was all she was going to talk about? that couldn't be the case though. he knows that her relationship with lorna was strained at best and nonexistent at worse. he hopes that maybe they could be civil and supportive since it appeared that lorna was back for good but it wasn't something he was going to push her towards either. ]

But you're not the first person to make the assumption that I'm just going to forget everything and go back to her. I want to make my own choices.

[ and not just be pushed back towards someone who'd nearly wrecked his life when she'd left. ]

And she's not who I choose.

I'm sorry I brought it up.

[ she wouldn't have said anything if she'd thought he would react that way. though, in hindsight, daisy's not sure what she expected. she'd intended to be friendly, reassuring — trying to assure him that she wouldn't hold her confession against him, that she didn't expect anything of it. apparently she'd just rubbed a raw spot, upsetting him in the process. ]

I just want you to be happy. That's all.

[ whatever that means for him. no matter what kind of feelings she had, she'd always be his friend. she'd always support him in finding that happiness, the same as she always has. that was loyalty, to daisy. ]

I know, I get it.

[ he swipes a hand back through his hair and sighs. she wants him to be happy and he wants people to stop taking away his choices. stop throwing themselves in front of buses for him and saying he didn't get a choice. stop giving him the proverbial shove towards lorna. ]

I'm happy that you're okay. I'm happy that you're alive. I'm happy that I get to spend time with you alone even if you're a frustrating person.

[ he means that in the best way possible. really. ]

Trust me.

A frustrating person? [ daisy laughs, a huffed sound as she shakes her head, but she doesn't take offense. ] That's probably the nicest thing you've said to me all day.

[ kidding. but she understand what he means. they've had to see too many people make unbelievable staggers back to life from injuries — like john, stomach riddled with shotgun shell, and lauren, too weak to move. it's probably fair to say they could do with a bit of a break. ]

Though, [ head tilting a bit as she looks back up at him, the hint of a smile curving up the corner of her mouth. ] I like spending time with you too. Obviously.

I call them like I see them.

[ he starts to say something else, circle back to the confession she'd made when caitlin strides in. she looks both rattled and shaken but pleased that daisy's at least following instructions and hasn't gotten up. caitlin shoos marcos away, tells him to go lay down and rest and after some resistance, he eventually goes, shooting daisy a parting look.

caitlin takes her time with the exam, making sure daisy's not suffering a more serious injury. and while there's no way to be sure without proper equipment, she thinks it's okay to let her get up and move. no strenuous activity and no stress for a few days. she gives her some painkillers and then sends her on her way.

eventually, day stretches into night. a light rain falls, cooling things off. john, lorna and clarice have come back and they've met in private with marcos about what they've seen. it's late but not terribly so when marcos finally gets up the nerve to find daisy's apartment.

he knocks and then curses because she's probably asleep so he starts to walk away, intending to see her tomorrow. maybe. ]

[ she isn't sleeping. she's watching cat videos in an oversized t-shirt she stole from someone back when they were still in atlanta, eating french fries she got from mcdonalds after hacking into their rewards app, trying not to make too much noise and wake anyone up.

but a knock on her door might just signal an emergency, so she opens it. sans pants and all, because if it is an emergency, it can't wait.

so suffice it to say she doesn't expect to see marcos on the other side of the door. ]

Um. [ jesus. ] Hey.

[ hey? yeah, just hey. that's all she's got. ]

[ oh, those were...those were her legs. yeah, those were her legs peeking out from underneath a shirt that was too big for her. he swallows and tries to think about the unsexiest thing possible.

what he gets is her in a shirt in his room instead of hers. NOT HELPFUL. he blows out a breath and steps back closer since she'd opened the door and all. ]

I just came by to see how you were doing. [ you know, in your lack of pants. no no, that's not right. after her check in with caitlin. that's right.

he scratches the back of his head and sighs. ] I wanted to talk to you too.

I'm okay. [ she says it casually, like it's no big thing. and really, it's not. she's lived through worse than a bad headache. ] I've been taking it easy, I promise.

[ the most activity she's done is walking down a few flights of stairs to meet her uber eats driver in the lobby of their apartment complex. beyond that, she's been in bed. ]

We can talk, sure. [ she eyes him for a moment, the hand in his hair, but pushes aside the curiosity. not the time. ] You want to come inside, or did you want to just talk in the hallway?

[ maybe it's a short conversation??? ]

Inside is probably best. Privacy and all.

[ he doesn't mean to sound foreboding but he wants to talk about what she'd said earlier and doing it in the hallway where anyone could come by seemed...a little too out in the open. ]

I won't take up too much of your time.

[ he honestly has no idea what he's going to say. he has a general idea of what he wants to express to her but the hows and whys remain a mystery. ]

[ her eyes shift a bit — ooookay — but she steps back enough to let him in all the same, shutting the door behind him. there's exactly five seconds of a beat before daisy walks back to her bed, closing the laptop with a click and settling it on the floor; once the bed's clear, she climbs in, sitting cross-legged atop the comforter.

it's probably unfortunate for marcos that she's not wearing pants, but this isn't news. daisy almost never wears pants when she doesn't have to, and being alone in her bedroom isn't usually a time when she has to. she does, at least, drop a pillow into her lap. how decent. ]

You're fine, really. I wasn't doing anything important anyway. What's up?

About, uh, earlier...

[ so, he was just going to jump right in, no small talk, no preamble nothing. dive right in head first and see what happens when he comes up for air. it's probably for the best to get right into the crux of things because if he doesn't, he's going to stare at her and her lack of pants, using just a pillow for a little modesty. ]

Is it going to be a problem?

[ okay. okay, he knows where he's going now. he knows what he's going to say at least after whatever she answers with. unless she goes completely into left field with her answer.

then he might have to regroup. but he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it and just stand there, arms at his sides and expression curious. ]

About — [ oh. right. she thought they were past that. she'd told him how she felt, he'd stared at her a bit and then pointed out his lack of interest (or just failed to express any at all, which daisy was perceiving as not having any), and that was that. she thought it was, anyway. ]

It's fine.

[ she's not heartbroken or anything. she didn't think he returned the sentiment, anyway. she can deal with it. she's been dealing, hasn't she? granted, not exactly always in the most healthiest of ways, but she's managed just fine. ]

Is it a problem for you? Because I can — [ something. stay somewhere else, maybe. find another apartment complex. go transfer to work at another underground location, worst case scenario. she knows baltimore needs help. ]

What if I want it to be a problem?

[ #smooth.

but, he steps forward, fingers working nervously at his sides now that he's taken this step. he stops when he's a few feet from her bed, still uncertain but committed. ]

What if that's a choice I want to make for myself?

[ no one was going to step in front of him and stop him from this, no one was going to mention lorna. this was for him. this was for his happiness. ]

[ uh. what? her brow furrows, mouth twisting in obvious confusion as her head jerks back slightly, trying to make sense of that ridiculous question. ]

You ... want it to be a problem?

[ what does that even mean? why would he want her unrequited crush on him to be a problem between them? daisy can't even connect the dots. she has no idea. ]

I mean, if it's a problem — like I said, it's fine, I can figure it out. I can go see wherever Esme's staying, if that makes you feel more comfortable? I don't have to stay here.

[ why is he getting closer???????? she does not understand. ]

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