how wholly unfair it is for him to bleed like this. he fumbles, drunk and clumsy, and she jerks her chin forward, lower lip jutted out and quivering. with ollie gone, the awful, painful silence between them, and fresh pain resurfaced, all she can think about is what PENELOPE LIVY said to her. 

you always did love forcing people to feel dependent on you.

what would you know about a healthy relationship?

...so you still have him on the hook?

she's forgiven him. she's given him her life and her son and she's welcomed him back and is it so cruel to ask him of this? for a small moment of joy? to pretend like -

the sign to turn to rustboro flashes in the headlights and there is a scowl on her face as she misses it, knuckles white as she keeps the car moving straight. her right hand jerks to third gear as the road turns into a winding incline. 

"i don't mean to hurt you, bo."

willow atkins

☉

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he was able to get the volume down, after hitting the wrong button once or twice. he didn’t see the rustboro exit. it flew by, like time he’d long lost track of.[break][break]

he tried to form the words in a numb, loud mouth that he hadn’t been able to shut less than an hour ago. shit was too real, in this tight space with her, alone. having someone like ollie there had made all the difference.[break][break]

”i know.”[break][break]

willow had never been malicious to him. after all he’d done, he still would never expect it from her.[break][break]

”you don’t hurt me.”[break][break]

he bit his lip, thinking, and then deciding he couldn’t hold it back any longer. the drunkenness won over better judgment.[break][break]

”if i could go back in time and do everything over again, i would. i think i would change everything, except for you, but i’d love you forever.”[break][break]

he swallowed a lump in his throat.[break][break]

”i’m still gonna love you forever—and it’s my fault if that hurts.”

she is callous and she is cruel, dragging him along like this. it's wrong of her to miss the exit. she should turn around and do the proper thing and keep her distance and pretend that this is okay. she should give him less of herself and splinter the bridge between them; eventually a river will make its way through. time will corrode the rest of the scars. 

you don't hurt me.

her breath catches. she bites her lip hard. eyes widen slightly in disbelief, going glassy. she blinks rapidly, trying to focus on the road. it's hard and then it's impossible. the car bumps as they hit the curb and she swears, swerving back onto the vacant road. 

"but that's just it. you can't go back and change things. you can't change what you did or how i felt and i just...i see it on your face every time you look at me. all your regrets and your pain. even if you say it's not my fault, it's still there."

is love supposed to hurt like this? third to fourth, fourth to fifth, the little car rocking with each shift. she blinks away the rest of the almost-tears and just focuses on getting them home. none of this matters if they end up dead in a ditch somewhere. 

and finally, finally, they pull up to her driveway. she drives off the gravel and onto the grass, carefully as she takes them close to her shed. the engine dies. she drops the keys in her lap, leans back in her seat, and turns her head to look at him. then down at her hands. 

"and what if it doesn't go away? what if it doesn't stop hurting?"

boruta maher

☉

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”woah!”[break][break]

his stomach lurched as she swerved off the road. survival instinct cutting through the intoxicated haze, his hand flew up to hover towards the steering wheel before she righted the car again.[break][break]

”shit,” he sighed, relieved, and slumped his shoulders again.[break][break]

what came next was everything he feared he wasn’t able to hide well enough from her. he’d been right in assuming she could still read him just as well as she could back in the day.[break][break]

at this point, he’d realized they weren’t heading to rustboro. the hurt only twisted more as she described just how much of a mess he clearly was.[break][break]

he didn’t interrupt. they pulled into the driveway, and he wasn’t surprised to be there. he made no move to get out yet. his eyes were low like hers, but made their way over to gaze idly at the hands he’d once held. [break][break]

he shrugged, ”i dunno. i told you, i’m gonna love you forever. forever doesn’t stop.” no matter how painful.[break][break]

”i’ll be okay, though. always. i want you to be happy, and ro.”[break][break]

fuck, that stung. he thought for a moment, about his actions. shame was mixed with resentment.[break][break]

”i’m sorry about the shit with lance.” sorry that it happened, of course. not really sorry for throwing punches.

here are their faults -

he has never understood her language and she has never been a very good teacher. how many times has she wrapped bundles of flowers expressing her love and her wanting and her hope, only to have them ignorantly looked over, met with a smile drawn only from skimming her surface.

she makes dust from gold, tucking what he gives her away and not giving enough in return. skittish like the stantler he'd brought her, terrified of the rug ripped out from under her and blaming all the rest of the world when chances past her by. 

she takes a breath. "bo, you still haven't asked me what would make me happy."

her nose scrunches at his apology, shoulders shrinking. "that's it. i need a drink. and then i'm hearing from you why you punched him in the face." she reaches for the door and cracks it open. the cold wind greets her face, sending a flush to her cheeks.

the ground is still a little slippery, but not so much she's worried about bo's ability to walk the ten steps up to the shed. she knows he'll follow, so she walks up the steps and turns on the interior lighting. 

then she squats down and grabs a box beside her guitar stand and some loose leaflets of sheet paper. from inside, she withdraws a glass bottle of clear liquid. samuel's scrawl is visible in sharpie on the side. she cradles it close to her chest and sits cross-legged on a pillow on the floor.

boruta maher

☉

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gold eyes raised from her hands to tentatively peer at her expression. there was hope in the words somewhere, almost like if he asked, and she gave him the answer, it might just be that simple to make her happy.[break][break]

”i’m sorry.” for not asking. and he wanted to , but he hesitated, and then they were leaving the car.[break][break]

this was now his opportunity to explain himself about what had happened at the masquerade. . it had felt wrong to simply come out and tell her what LANCE VOLLANS had said, after she’d been so angry. a date night ruined when they were so seldom had, with kid, and chores, and aging mother.[break][break]

”okay.”[break][break]

he followed her, careful up stairs to the shed. his eyes passed to the familiar guitar, and to pages without words yet.[break][break]

then, he realized what was in her hand.[break][break]

”is that… moonshine?” he paused, caught off guard. mom’s secret stash. had roman found it yet?

in response, she unscrews the lid and presses the rim of it to her lips. one taste and bo's unasked question is answered - no, roman hasn't found her secret stash yet. the clear whiskey goes down sharp and volatile down her throat, leaving her with a twisted grimace and a dry cough when she sets the bottle back down. 

she screws the lid back on and then offers it to bo.

"dad's own," she says hoarsely. warmth spreads through her veins, blanketing the nape of her neck. "it's the only reason he grew corn every year."

swaying rows of it just outside the perimeter of the flowers. he'd dreamed of the bee boxes, of making something special with honey and time, but even he hadn't had enough of the latter. turns out helping your seventeen-year old daughter raise a kid kept you busy. 

she nudges the other sitting pillow with her foot and looks up at him. "you don't need to drink, but you do need to talk. please."

boruta maher

☉

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”oh.” with the tiniest moment of hesitation, he took the bottle. ”i just figured it was because he really liked corn.”[break][break]

he stared at it briefly in his hand.[break][break]

”samuel would be rolling in his grave.”[break][break]

he took a sip. fuck you, samuel.[break][break]

her twisted expression was reflected on his face as he screwed the lid back on and set it aside. at her invitation, he lowered to sit on the pillow. story time. he slid the moonshine back her way, and began.[break][break]
”so, lance walked up and started fucking with me about… rocket stuff.” shame swelled in his eyes. ”he said i should just stay away. from you and roman. that i should just leave like i did the first time.”[break][break]

his eyes narrowed briefly, forehead scrunching with contained pain and anger, ”i’m not gonna stop coming around unless you tell me to. you tell me, i’ll leave. i respect you, but i don’t take orders from him.”[break][break]

pacifying the heat that rose with a sigh, he continued after a moment.[break][break]

”he put his hand on my shoulder. i told him to stop touching me. he said do something about it.”[break][break]

he paused. knowing the next part was where he’d fucked up.[break][break]

”so i asked ‘right here?’” [break][break]

he bowed his head.

[break][break]

it burrows deep in her and finally, thankfully, she feels herself loosening up just a bit. it hits her harder and faster than her ciders, that's for sure, and it's why she doesn't reach for the bottle again. just watches bo's thumb press against one of her dad's last notes to her. 

not to bo because he's right; he probably is rolling in his grave, knowing one last piece of himself is going to the man who shattered his daughter's life. but will doesn't know about the other note, the letter with their return address on it - a reconciliation, a plea to return to them as family. 

her hands linger protectively over the bottle, tipping it to the side, but she doesn't move her gaze away from bo's face.

as he speaks, that anxious knot shifts into dread and then anger. her long bangs slip free of the tie, wavering against her cheek. "stupid." how could she be so such an "idiot."

there come her dumb tears, the ones that show up when she's really, finally angry.

"i knew it. i knew something wasn't right. he wouldn't tell me all of it and still i didn't push him. i just...i just left you there." bitterly, wiping angrily at her eyes, she mutters, "maybe penny is right about me after all."

boruta maher

☉

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stupid idiot?[break][break]

”i’m sorry.”[break][break]

willow had indeed left him there, drenched in champagne and shame.[break][break]

”you didn’t do anything wrong. i hit him first, so what you did makes sense and i don’t blame you for it.”[break][break]

obviously, she couldn’t have known the things that were being said at the time. there were few things that warranted punching someone in the face. it was fair to assume he’d overreacted, and he had. it had been fair to go to lance, her partner, and accept whatever answer he had given her, considering the things bo had done, and the secrets he had kept from her. considering who he was.[break][break]

he realized all of it. the fairness of it made him miserable.[break][break]

”who’s penny?”

[break][break]

"penny? penelope livy. she's dating your brother." her brows furrow. does he not know penny? "but that's not - i saw her tonight. at another bar. she said..." that i lead you on. and ollie. and lance. and the words dry up in her mouth because she can't explain all that without explaining herself and she can't explain herself because it's bullshit. 

all of it's bullshit and here's bo, apologizing again after she left him. 

and she hears penny, drunkenly slurring, of course i stood by him. there was no way in hell i wouldn't.

will frowns. she reaches for the moonshine again and unscrews the top, takes a slightly bigger swig than she had before. enough to make her think clearly. enough, hopefully, for her to say things right.

"bo," she says seriously, "every time you've hit someone first, it's because they deserved it." how many times has she patched up his own bloodied nose after he'd stood up for someone else?

boruta maher

☉

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”oh. that penny.”[break][break]

his voice held nothing pleasant in the way he said her name. he was bitter, because he assumed she had manipulated his brother into sharing his story, be it for political gain in some way, or maybe just out of care, ignorant of the fallout that such a thing could cause.[break][break]

the latter was unlikely. bo imagined she was much smarter than that, considering her position on the council.[break][break]

it had felt like cian had been expendable. it had felt like his whole family had been expendable, despite the years he had served hoenn, protecting his community and risking his life at war. it was gutting, angering, and he knew he couldn’t express it without losing his job. so, he had simply added it to the list of things to shut up and drink about.[break][break]

he pulled the bottle closer again, unscrewing the lid. he wondered what she’d said. listened for it, but was distracted by her next words.[break][break]

his mouth skewed a little, like they sat wrong, despite the good intention. he shook his head, eyes dropping to the dusty floor.[break][break]

”i…”[break][break]

it was blatantly inaccurate. he’d hit people loads of times first that hadn’t deserved it at all. people who had been sucked into a terrible life and had been eaten whole by it, and he’d been the teeth to feed the beast.[break][break]

the ability to be like that had come from years of already stumbling down that hill. every time, it had gotten easier to stand up for people because deep down, he craved the fight. [break][break]

he had thought a lot about it.[break][break]

”that’s not true.”

[break][break]

his knuckles still say death. those hands of his he'd hid from her that first day coming back into her life. she'd laughed it off with a guarded heart, curious but cautious. scared but steady. now she's struggling to know which way is up and where they're going - as intimate as this is, the two of them in here, there's a whole world outside. 

it's going to wake up. they're going to have to face it again.

she'd made a decision when she missed that turn. he doesn't know it yet. hell, she doesn't know it yet. she's still struggling her way through this, grappling with her guilt and the weight of bo's own; as he turns inward, so does she.

why can't she ask him? tell him?

i have. the words have always choked at the back of her throat. but she's pressed it into dried petals and tucked it in her hair and strummed it when -

she takes the bottle from his hands and screws the lid back on, nudges it away as she draws herself closer. but only for a moment. only long enough to touch her fingers to his chin and look down at him with a tremble in her lips.

her face is warm with the whiskey blanket. it's easy now, to see why she can't say everything. it's all blocked up, jumbled together from years and years of silence. so she stretches back; wood clunks with a dull echo as she draws the guitar into her lap. 

as her shaking fingers find the starting chords, she exhales. liquid courage brings her over the first hurdle and once she starts strumming, it's easier to focus. green eyes stare intently, willing clumsier than usual fingers to stroke with the muscle memory that's worked its way through her wrists the past few weeks.

"well, you and i have been through this about a hundred times before - " 

her voice is wavers, unsure, but her hands have practiced this enough. she leans into the guitar, eyes half-lidded, going back to the car. he hadn't - couldn't stand to listen to it then, a song about the two of them another lifetime ago. and that's okay. she doesn't want the past. 

"i’ll live savage and free and reckless and wild - "

she learned to live, and to love, without him. and if, after she puts her heart out on the line for him, he can't take it, she'll be okay. her lips tilt, wavering voice growing with her confidence. 

"i will never let you down, if you don't ever let me go. i know you want to give me space, so I have some time to grow"

it's with this confidence, finally, that she can look up at him through her lashes. her fingers catch, scraping the strings, and she winces through a smile: 

"well, this poison in my blood its seeping deep down to my veins, racing straight to my heart, causing pain that will remain - "

but he has to forgive himself. they're tangled up in their pain - in ghosts of empty promises, haunted by the life he fears he'll never have. she will feel that pain, always, but it would hurt more if he wasn't there to share the burden. 

"but this red string in my hand, a spell i must've cast, i know will follow back to you in our story that will last ~ "

her fingers slow and the last notes peter out. worrying at her lip, heart thudding, she opens green eyes she hadn't really realized were closed and looks up. 

boruta maher
<3

☉