[Part of him wants nothing more than to see her walk out his apartment door. Part of him wants nothing more than to have her spend her day with someone else, because, in the end, he never wanted to expose her to his problems. He has plenty. It's a lot of baggage, even if he were to ever allow the burden to be split into two, which is something he will probably never do. The problems he has are his. They're made up of mistakes he's made and things he's done that are his and his alone to take responsibility for. They shouldn't be anyone else's—let alone hers—to bear for even half a second. He never wanted that.
He likes it best when she laughs. When he knows she's she's out there somewhere, living the kind of life she earned for herself a long time ago. It's the kind of life she deserves, and it's supposed to be a happy one. She should be out there now with her brother, not doing stupid, childish things. She shouldn't be negotiating her way across two balconies because he refused to let her in the door. She should be out there in the sun somewhere, not in this tiny, enclosed space. He can see the city just outside his window. That's where she should be right now.
He can handle the self-imposed isolation, because that's what he's always done. It comes almost automatic now, to push rather than pull. He's dealt with this day before. It shouldn't be her concern or problem. So maybe she should leave so it doesn't have to be.
But another part of him wants her to stay right here. It's confusing. It's half of why he hadn't let her through the door. He didn't want her here, yet he did. And he knows as soon as she leaves, he'll miss her. It's a damn strange feeling when taking into account everything else. To want to be alone—because today the demons that he sees are his to endure—but not at all, because at the end of the day, he never really wanted to be alone—it was just better for everyone else that way, so he might as well learn to be lonely. But now he might as well just accept his fate as Schrodinger's cat at this rate: to be both but either but neither, all at the same time. See how that goes.
The only solution, then, was to not put himself into a situation where this would become a problem. And he walked right into it. Or she did, rather. And stupidly, he might add (and will always add). All he can do now is look over at her, smile a smile devoid of any emotion really, and be honest.]
I want you to go. But I want you to stay. So stay, if you want.
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He likes it best when she laughs. When he knows she's she's out there somewhere, living the kind of life she earned for herself a long time ago. It's the kind of life she deserves, and it's supposed to be a happy one. She should be out there now with her brother, not doing stupid, childish things. She shouldn't be negotiating her way across two balconies because he refused to let her in the door. She should be out there in the sun somewhere, not in this tiny, enclosed space. He can see the city just outside his window. That's where she should be right now.
He can handle the self-imposed isolation, because that's what he's always done. It comes almost automatic now, to push rather than pull. He's dealt with this day before. It shouldn't be her concern or problem. So maybe she should leave so it doesn't have to be.
But another part of him wants her to stay right here. It's confusing. It's half of why he hadn't let her through the door. He didn't want her here, yet he did. And he knows as soon as she leaves, he'll miss her. It's a damn strange feeling when taking into account everything else. To want to be alone—because today the demons that he sees are his to endure—but not at all, because at the end of the day, he never really wanted to be alone—it was just better for everyone else that way, so he might as well learn to be lonely. But now he might as well just accept his fate as Schrodinger's cat at this rate: to be both but either but neither, all at the same time. See how that goes.
The only solution, then, was to not put himself into a situation where this would become a problem. And he walked right into it. Or she did, rather. And stupidly, he might add (and will always add). All he can do now is look over at her, smile a smile devoid of any emotion really, and be honest.]
I want you to go. But I want you to stay. So stay, if you want.