theleadingman | avalon: inbox

[As she's watching him, she's cycling through the possibilities of what she can say, what she can do to convince him to leave. If Tifa and Nanaki show up, she'll just have more to explain, considering she gave Tifa the 'low down' of the situation. The last thing she really wants is to discuss why Balthier's... there. But truthfully, if they show up while he's there, he'll probably just leave, knowing Aerith's in good hands.

She's still thinking when he asks her about the tea. Leaning onto her forearms as she eyes him, Aerith offers him a nod.]

Yeah. Nothing in mine, so just the tea itself. If you want anything in yours, there's sugar up there in the cabinets and lemon or milk in the refrigerator. I don't know how you take your tea.

[Does he feel as if he owes her something? He doesn't. Caring for him back then had been unconditional. As is all of Aerith's kindness. But she suspects Balthier is not the type of man who enjoys a debt.]

[He glances back over his shoulder and nods once in confirmation before he goes about setting things up. He helps himself to the appropriate tea from the cabinet, setting it on the counter along with a pair of cups before putting the water on to boil properly. When there's nothing left to be done but wait, he turns to face her, leaning forward against the island to rest his weight on it, hands clasped in front of him as he studies her.

It's incredibly difficult to stay angry when she's this close, even though the past weeks have been, in his opinion, truly miserable.]

Won't be long.

[Gods, but he is terrible at small talk— or rather, he was far better at it when things weren't so tense between them. He sighs, dropping his chin as he does so, his shoulders rolling forward just a bit.

He hadn't thought ahead about this part— about what they might actually talk about if she didn't turn him away or if things didn't otherwise escalate.]

... I don't like arguing with you, you know.

[It's easier when he's not focusing on her. It was easier when he couldn't see her either. As long as he's in her space, Aerith feels that she not only has to have her guard up, she has to come across as very strong. Not that delicate, demure demeanor that she sometimes can give off. In consequence, the moment his attention falls onto her during their waiting game, his posture shifts and she finds herself sitting a tad straighter.

She keeps a healthy distance between them. She didn't have a list of topics to go over with him about. Probably could have asked about the weather. What he starts with is... awkward and uncomfortable.]

We're not arguing.

[And they didn't really argue before either. He either just gave in and voiced his frustration, or she's deferred and said very little. Neither of those really classify as arguing.]

Unless I'm missing something. Pretty sure I'd know if I did, though.

[He raises an eyebrow at her from across the island, questioning.]

Not at the moment, no.

[But in his opinion, they had been— perhaps that speaks to just how little time he's actually spent cultivating relationships close enough to have such conversations. It might have been closer to bordering on a squabble, but even in his limited experience, it's probably safe to say that the last few weeks— and how he's felt throughout— have only served to amplify things, alter his perception.]

Though it certainly feels that way when you've gone out of your way not to speak to me for so long.

[And not see him for even longer than that. He presses his lips into a thin line, raising his hand against the protest he's certain he knows is coming.]

I understand why you did it. That doesn't mean I like it any more, nor do I like that I don't know where I stand with you any longer.

[What she'd said earlier— it was certainly something, yes, and he wasn't about to forget it, but it doesn't change the fact that she didn't want him here.

Apologies, Aerith. This discussion is happening.]

[He's right. She's just steps away from having something to say in reply to him and he manages to keep her from doing precisely that. Not just with his little gesture, but with the rest of what he says.

He doesn't know where he stands with her? She'll do whatever she has to, whatever she can to protect him. It's the same that she'd do for anyone that she cared for. Undoubtedly, her feelings for Balthier go a bit deeper than simply care, but...

For some moments, her lips pucker together, some kind of unamused duck bill fashion of expression before she she shakes her head. He can't make her talk about this.]

We're not going to make a regular habit of this.

[She gestures between the two of them, implying him coming over for tea. At least, not for her. Aerith's not going to tell Tifa she can't spend time with him because they were friends before anything happened and that's simply not how Aerith is.]

I couldn't just send you back out in the cold after you came all this way.

[Which she's... still not exactly happy about, but she's doing a very good job of holding herself together.]

No, I imagine it won't become a habit no matter what I say.

[She's made her decision, sour as he is about it, but there's nothing to be done about it if she isn't willing to budge. She's convinced this is the best way to protect him, but given her interest in protecting everyone she cares about, he has to wonder what comes next. Will Tifa, too, be shoved to arm's length? Nanaki? Or will they be exempt because friendship was somehow safer?

He frowns, shifting so that he's leaning back against the counter behind him now, arms folded in front of him. Just as Aerith has put effort into making herself strong and unflinching, so too does he seek to close himself off, regardless of whether or not he realizes it.]

I came because I doubted I'd ever get to see you otherwise. You've made it clear you don't want that— I was nearly here already when you suggested the flower shop.

[That doesn't necessarily make it better, but his tone is injured regardless.]

We're not even going to be friends going forward?

[Of course, even as he says that, he knows it's impossible— it's a foolish question, especially because he has made it clear that's not what he wants. He's been plain that even knowing she's thinking about him just as much as he is her, it's not enough.]

I didn't say that.

[They are friends. And she knows they're more than that. Friends is a simple way of putting it. Friends is the way to put it if she wants to pretend there isn't anything else there. She knows that isn't the case.

Thinking about him to the extent that she does, very willing to put herself in harm's way for him without almost an extra thought, and the pace at which she's been determined to keep him at a distance all tell her that her feelings for him are... Well. They run extraordinarily deep. Much deeper than she expected them to.

When she thinks of him, her heart aches. It's almost consuming.

Aerith drops her gaze from him, leaning onto her arms and in dire need of something to distract herself with, she reaches for the nearby vase of lilies and adjusts them slowly. They're the same type that she gave to him when he first came to her shop and that is all intentional.

It's a way of being close to him even when she feels she can't be.]

I don't want to talk about this, Balthier.

[He can't blame her in the least for looking away, for needing a distraction; even being in the same room as her makes his chest feel impossibly tight, something akin to grief now tangled up in all the rest of what he feels when he thinks of her, speaks to her.

She doesn't want to talk about this. For weeks, he's done what he can to let it be, to respect that a decision was made and that whatever effort he had to put in to talk her out of it would be wasted— because would it ever be worth it, if someone walked back such a choice because they felt pressured to, when it wasn't what they wanted?

But no. This is what she doesn't want. It's what she thinks should be done, and there is a world of difference between those two things.]

I do.

[His gaze moves to where she's begun to adjust the flowers to busy herself, and of course he recognizes them— he had tirelessly taken care of the ones she had given him for quite some time now, though they had begun to droop as of late. Maybe they picked up on her absence, as well.

He sighs heavily as he steps forward, reaching out to lay a firm hand against her wrist.]

Aerith, this is ludicrous. I know what you're trying to do, and it's admirable, but terribly misguided.

[You don't understand at all.

How can he? She won't tell him anything. It wouldn't change anything even if she did. She'd still feel the same. She'd still be trying to do the same thing. He'd still be trying to change her mind. This moment, the very present one where he puts merely touch on her wrist and she can feel it practically resonate along her insides, is precisely why she's not wanted to see him again. He tests her resolve and he hardly knows it.

It's a lot easier to put him aside when he isn't near her. When he doesn't bother to contact her. She just wants to move on. She looks up from her flowers and for some moments, can only stare at him.]

You don't have to agree with why I've chosen to do things as I have.

[After some moments, she settles a free hand atop his and for a breath or two it lingers before she carefully tries to remove his hold.]

Did you really come here to see if I was safe, or was that just an excuse? Did you come here just to lecture me? That's unnecessary.

Edited (don't look at meeeeeee) 2021-11-16 05:19 (UTC)

[When she gently moves his hand away from her wrist, he lets her, though his gaze darkens as his hold falls away, his own brow furrowed. He curls his fingers against the surface of the island, drawing them into a loose fist as he tries to ground himself, and he feels something thick at the back of his throat that he's forced to swallow down.]

No— I didn't come here to lecture you.

[Even though that is, to a degree, precisely what he's doing. Even the word 'lecture' leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, reminding him of the person he's tried very hard not to become over the years. He clenches his jaw, his gaze dropping to avoid hers now.]

I wanted to see that you were safe. Physically, of course, but what we talked about— what you told me, and what I saw of that exchange— I'm worried about you. That's a great deal for anyone to carry— for their mind, their heart.

[That's not the only reason, but certainly a large part of it. Just because she doesn't believe Sephiroth is going to come after her doesn't mean she's safe. There are other ways to hurt, and some are far worse than physical injury, gnawing away from the inside.]

And I've missed you, though gods know why that should be.

[Except he knows exactly why. Even so, he huffs softly, turning his head towards the door leading back out into the living area to further avert his gaze.]

Normally, I take rejection far better than this.

[Normally, he doesn't care this much.]

[At first she isn't inclined to believe him. It's a very good opportunity for him to get out every scathing remark to her face. She couldn't blame him for that either. That's likely why she isn't completely shutting him out. She knows she deserves everything he has to say. She hasn't given him the opportunity to express himself. There's no time like the present, right?

"That's a great deal for anyone to carry—"

At that, Aerith looses a laugh. Kind of. It's a little stilted and awkward, but surprisingly warm. Wearing an amused expression, she turns her attention back onto the lilies.]

I live my every day knowing that each one passing brings me closer to not having any more. I don't even get the chance to fight it or stop it. I just have to accept it and you're worried about my exchanges with Sephiroth?

[She shakes her head, draws in a breath in an effort to cool any additional laughter that might escape from her.]

Sorry—it's a little funny to hear that. I appreciate the concern. I do. I wish you weren't worried, but I understand why you are and I can't stop you from feeling that way. All I can do is reassure you that I'll do the best I can to keep myself safe.

[She can't address the rest. Rather, she won't. For any number of reasons that Balthier is likely already privy to.]

[She laughs, but he pointedly does not, his gaze narrowed as he turns it back on her. Did she think, somehow, that he had forgotten?]

Don't you think that's part of it?

[Part of why he worries— because in truth, he's been concerned since long before what he saw on the network, knowing what he does. What living with that kind of knowledge must do to a person, how heavily it must weigh, how it colors each and every one of their actions, their choices.

He thinks he understands better than she gives him credit for.]

I have thought about what awaits you every day since you told me, wondering how knowing something like that must change a person, and it's too much, Aerith, for you to bear on your own. Not because you're not strong. Nobody could do it— and even knowing what you know, even being so certain as you are, I don't believe in inevitability.

[Not that he can change it for her, not that anyone can— but if he had learned anything, anything from his time caught up in the struggle for Dalmasca, from the Occuria themselves, it was that fate has far less of a hold than such powers would have men believe.]

It hasn't happened yet. You're living life as if you're already gone, pushing people away from you.

[So it was a mistake to tell him, is what she's hearing. It's what has made it so difficult to tell Tifa what little she could. She's kept it to herself because she knows what it does. Balthier has never deserved to get pulled into all of that and now he can't even look at her without thinking about it. If he's trying to reassure her, it's not working.

"Not because you're not strong."

Is she, though? What she displays--is that strength or cowardice? Both, maybe. Why can't it be both. She can feel her heart steadily attempt to lodge itself into her throat. She's never talked about it like this with someone before. Talking about it makes it weigh heavier. It's still heavy just thinking about it, but in her thoughts at least she can distance herself.

She feels boxed in. As in she doesn't have a place she can retreat to.]

I should just be grateful that I have your attention, right? That I have Tifa and the others to look after me? [She can feel herself getting heated over it, something she wants to crush under foot.] ...I am grateful. It's so much more than I deserve. I want to sit here and say that just having that is good enough. If I say it, I'm lying. I feel like a part of me is dying every day. Before, at least I could just keep it to myself. Now I have to live with you feeling the way you do. With Tifa feeling the way she does. That only makes it worse.

[She has to force out another laugh because she knows it she doesn't, she might just cry instead.]

I never should have said anything to you.

["I feel like a part of me is dying every day. ... I never should have said anything to you."]

Aerith, that's not—

[And for the first time in the months that she's known him, his voice breaks— just a little, and only for a moment, but it wavers briefly with the sort of emotion that he never allows to come to the surface, soft and just a little bit desperate.

He can hear the shift in her voice, and he hates that he's caused it.

Suddenly, the island is no longer between them. Somewhere along the way, he'd turned off the burned as something in the back of his head insisted that this was not the time for further interruptions, but both of his hands come to rest on her shoulders as he stands behind her. It's different from when he'd reached for her wrist, cautious and tentative and knowing full well that she might shrug him him away— she'd be well within her rights, to be certain, but in this moment, his focus isn't on his own feelings or his pride.]

That's not what I meant in the least— and it's not about how I feel, it's about how you do. It's—

[He knows how he feels, but still finds himself at a loss for words. Expressing things like this, real and difficult things, has never been his forte.]

I just... wanted to help make your life here one worth living. Conceited, I suppose.

[She doesn't even have a chance to stop him. Not a chance to protest. Aerith folds her hands together tightly, pressing them up against her chest. She could shrug him off. Tell him to get lost. Both of those are more harsh than she rightfully is, however, and she's trying very hard just to keep herself together.

She hates how he sounds then. That's her doing, too. All of this is her doing. That's inevitable, isn't it? It's a stupid, foolish idea that she thinks she can even find happiness and hold onto it. For a day? Maybe. Only to be riddled by the immense guilt that follows after. It's not worth it. But that isn't his fault. She doesn't hold it against him.

Aerith has to force herself to hold onto something that is like composure. A rocky foundation to be sure, but something is better than nothing. In the back of her mind, she thinks of the tea, but that's a greatly distant thought.

Slowly she shakes her head.]

I know what you were trying to do. I know that you didn't mean any harm. You didn't do anything wrong, Balthier. The issue was never you to begin with.

[A part of him thinks he should step away, give her space, but a much larger part cannot bear the thought. He can tell that it's taking more effort than she would want him to know to keep herself together, that her composure could break just as easily as he fears his own might at this point.]

In all this, you're still the one reassuring me.

[It shouldn't be that way, not when she's hurting so badly, has been for who knows how long— and that's the exact reason he worries as he does, because she will give of herself again and again until there's nothing left as dread and knowing hollow her out from within.]

I'm not sorry you told me. You shouldn't be, either.

[He doubts that will change much. She'll feel guilt over it regardless, still worried about how her lot impacts others and determined she would be better off to suffer it alone.]

I don't know that I can convince you that you don't have to do all of this on your own, but there's nothing I wish for more.

It's... never been a case of thinking I didn't have a choice in the matter. I chose to handle things on my own. I chose not to involve you or anyone else. I chose not to permit your input.

[Drawing in a breath, she releases it in a sigh taking the moment to worm her way past him onto her feet, though she does stay footsteps within reach. It's her own home. Why should she have to be the one to run.]

Which you've seen fit to remind me of several times.

[For just a moment, her fingers curl in where they reside. Somehow, and she isn't sure how, she keeps her gaze on his. She sounds so much more even than she feels, but it's all so practised. Aerith can even smile through her suffering and so few would be any the wiser.]

I never wanted this for you. Part of me wanted to be fooled into thinking that I could handle it. That I wouldn't... ruin it all. But I know myself. Me being who I am, what I am, how I am. It's just a disaster.

[She shakes her head.]

I keep going and I keep pressing because if I don't, if I stop, maybe I'll never be able to start again. I bury myself in others not just because I feel like it's the right thing to do, but because I need it. I'm not strong at all. I'm selfish and I'm a coward.

[She lets that linger for some moments as she stares up at him and finally she leaves a hand atop the island for little more than the need to anchor herself to the present.]

I think you've sufficiently pulled enough out of me now.

[He releases his hold immediately when she makes it clear she intends to pull away, taking a single step back as she gets to her feet. It's not his intention to make her feel trapped, but he feels a distinctive pang of guilt when she looks at him that way, reminds him of his own sharp words. He'd been unfair, perhaps, but he doesn't regret having come here, even if it means he now has to watch her keep herself steady when he knows she's feeling anything but inside.

"I'm selfish and I'm a coward."

Familiar words— familiar feelings, though he doesn't say so. His own days had never been so clearly numbered, not the way hers were. He had been haunted by the past alone, while her own ghosts include the future, or lack thereof.]

You're not a coward. You're afraid. There's a difference.

[Who wouldn't be? That could never be held against her.]

I apologize if I was harsh before— but I'm not leaving.

[She doesn't have to tell him anything more— she won't, he's certain, because she's said so much more than she ever wanted to, but he cannot bring himself to leave her in this state. Even if she were to refuse to speak to him for the remainder, he would stay.]

Edited 2021-11-16 08:22 (UTC)

Can't it be both.

[It should be a question and it's not. She doesn't feel strong at all. She feels like she's grasping for strength and little things here and there are making that fall through her hold. When she does manage to grab it again, will it be too late? No. Of course not. This particular moment, the one where she stands with one Ivalician sky pirate in her kitchen, will not be the norm. She doesn't believe it herself, but she understands that she's allowed to have a moment where she isn't carrying the weight of everything around her.

Where he leaves himself has her regard him thoughtfully. She knows why he wants to stay. She's almost certain she's had her allotment of handsome boyfriend'ish companion with sharp, but necessary words. She shakes her head at him, though it seems largely dismissive in nature.]

I don't need you to stay here. I'm sure Nanaki or Tifa will be here soon. I'm not... really keen on the idea of you looking after me because you feel as if you need to.

[She's not keen on the idea of him looking after her at all. But she understands why he wants to. It's not a need. It's all to do with feelings.]

It's not because I feel I need to.

[The correction comes swiftly, bordering on sharp, though he respects the small distance she's put between them. It takes every fiber of his being to do so; part of him is desperate to offer some kind of comfort and immediately disappointed in both the fact that he doesn't know how and that whatever he did offer wouldn't be anywhere close to enough.]

I want to be here.

[He's wanted to be here for weeks, and knowing she would much rather keep him at a distance, he fears that once he does walk out that door, it truly will be the last he sees of her for quite some time. She won't let him pull a stunt like this one again, he's sure, and she's set on her course of action.]

I want to be with you. We can better protect one another together. You may not agree with that, but even if it's just for a little while longer, I want to be here.

You can't—

[Aerith hesitates for a breath. Several, in fact. As she considers how to better address him, she scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip.]

You can't say things like that to me. You can't do this 'I want to be with you' talk. I know that you mean it, so it isn't like I don't know that you're being serious when you say it.

[There is the distinct possibility that he doesn't mean it the way she's taking it. That sweetly, sentimental adoration that she knows she feels for him on some level. He could simply mean it as simply as wanting to be in the same room as her. She doesn't think that's what he means, though.

Lifting a hand, she rubs her temple with a sigh.]

Think it all you want, feel it all you want, but you can't say it to me. I can't hear it. I can't listen to it.

[He could attempt to refute it, to say that he had, in fact, meant this particular moment, the present situation— but it wouldn't matter much, would it? The truth was that he did feel exactly as she said, so whether or not that was precisely how he meant what he'd said— and to be perfectly honest, he can't even be quite sure what he had meant— it held true all the same.

He does feel those things, acutely.

He sighs heavily, tilting his head back as he drags a hand over his face to try and keep himself collected, not wanting anything to slip without his permission.]

I could have said far worse.

[... well. That was a failure, clearly. He clenches his jaw instead, fixing his gaze squarely on her, and he hates that this has become a point of contention between them, that caring for someone has become something unwanted.

They'd talked about it, early on— that he suspected she might try to slip away if she thought it was the right thing, but he'd never imagined it would have happened as quickly as it did.]

I'm worried about what will happen when I do walk out that door.

[Because even if he's refusing to leave at the moment, he'll have to eventually. He can't stay in her home uninvited forever.]

I don't know what you think is going to happen.

[She shakes her head at him slowly.]

It's not as if I dislike you. It's not as if you've committed some great sin against me. It's not as if I would say anything against you. If I've somehow given you that impression, I didn't intend for it. I have nothing except wonderful things to say about you to anyone who would even ask.

[She frowns then, though she's stuck on his words. "I could have said far worse." Is there something worse than hearing he wants to be with her and it's... just not something that can happen? Because to her that sounds like one of the worst things ever.

When she takes note of just how intently he eyes her, Aerith draws her gaze away, a subtle pink touching her features. She feels so worn down when she's in his presence. How is it that the person who brings her the most happiness, a kind she never expected to find, is also the one who inadvertently causes her the most amount of pain. And it's not even his doing.]

I don't know how what else I can say or do to reassure you.

That's not what I'm concerned about.

[He wishes he could sound more certain of that, but he would like to think that for all they don't know about one another, they know the most important things. Aerith is neither unkind nor cruel by nature. She also wasn't the sort to gossip, or spread rumors that were untrue— regardless of whether there was reason for her to do so or not.

He isn't worried about any of that; rather, his concerns are considerably more selfish. He resists the urge to sigh once more, averting his own gaze for a brief moment when he notes the color in her cheeks. He can't even say that it isn't his intention to make this more difficult for her. While he has no interest in causing her pain, he doesn't want her to shove him away and try to forget him.

Moving on is something he's never been particularly good at.]

I worry that once I go, this is the last I'll see of you.

[Save for perhaps random encounters on the street— if that.]

Isn't... it better that way.

[She folds her hands together, quieted by the thoughts that seem to linger over her head. The ones with the same weight that settle atop her shoulders and bind her to the present.]

You'll want to say it isn't, I'm sure. I'm confident that I know you. I... can't forget you if you're around me. I can't move forward. I can't move on. That isn't your fault. It's mine. If I were stronger, it wouldn't matter.

[At least this is what she says. Whether that's true or not... entirely debatable. Whether she sees him or not, Balthier is, undoubtedly, a part of her. A part she was never looking for. A part she never thought she wanted. A part she didn't realise may have been missing. That part is uniquely him.

For just a moment, as she eyes him, it reflects in the way she gazes at him. Not so much pain, but simply... adoration? Devotion? Books would do a far better job of describing it.

"Books are the best kind of neighbour."

...Aren't they, though.]

You have something of mine. Don't you know that I'm always with you, no matter where you go. Far or near.

[Her heart, she means. He has her heart.]

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