hearthwarming | reverie 🦋 inbox

[ and here we have two grannies texting each other. ]

Hello to you too, Henry...

[Two olds, having an awkward text exchange.

Obviously, he did not even think about starting this off with a "hello". That feels needlessly hollow.]

I thought a "hi, how are you?" would be tone-deaf, all things considered.

[ Oh, now he's being considerate... ]

Shall we take a walk outside, then?

[Now that he's not utterly unhinged, he can manage his usual facade of conscientiousness, yes.]

Where do you want to meet?

Outside the motel. We can go from there.

[ And she will, of course, be waiting there for him. ]

[Outside the motel. He meets her there, and the difference between now and before is... striking.

No more anger that practically borders on madness. No more endless hatred in his eyes, and no more proclivity for violence -- or at least, the latter sleeps inside of him, layered deep once more.

A long pause.]

I thought you'd be upset.

[She still could be.]

[ It really is such a stark difference, more of an echo of their old, neutral encounters. More like when she'd first met him. But she would be a fool to think that that hatred and anger are gone entirely; they are simply sleeping beasts deep within him, at the moment. That sort of thing doesn't come out of nowhere. ]

... I am upset.

[ said while she's still... smiling a little bit, something faint and barely there. ]

I don't suppose you're here to talk about spiders, this time?

[Ori, honey. He ALWAYS wants to talk about spiders.

But today, that's a little lower on his priority list.]

No.

[She might sense that this is... new to Henry. The way he lets pauses creep in between each reply, as though he's trying to gauge which words to speak. No longer guiding the conversation along with polite ease, a sort of detached amiability, like she's used to.

No, like this, he's nigh awkward.]

I think I owe you an apology.

[Let's start there.]

[ That practiced politeness is indeed absent, and... Wow, he's super awkward.

But so is she, at times. How could she meet this with anything but the utmost patience, the same as she always has? ]

Ah..? And what for, exactly?

[What for? He looks at her almost disbelievingly.]

That can’t be… a serious question.

It is.

[ She offers the barest hint of a smile. ]

I want to know what exactly you think you should be apologizing for.

[Now she's smiling? ~~is this a trick question~~

Henry pauses, unsure really how to proceed, because this is not how he expected the conversation to begin. But, in the end, he speaks plainly:]

For hurting you.

[ She nods. ]

It wasn't just me you hurt. When you hurt someone, you hurt the people they care about, too. Maybe not physically, like you did with me, but... You can understand it now, can't you? How much it hurts to see someone you care about in pain.

[In his own way, he understood even before Alec had his heart stolen. Knew that pain would spiderweb from one person to another, grief and sadness and anger so potent and insidious that it infiltrates the minds of those who are closest to the ones who hurt, too. Of course he knows that; he had seen and sensed it in so many minds before.

But to experience it himself was... far, far too keen. It uprooted every thought, devoured him whole. Yes, it hurt.

So, yes, he understands better, now. He doesn't know what to think about that, how he should feel being more informed (empathetic), but he can deal with that thought later.]

I hated it.

[That feeling. But now, Henry is still trying to get a sense of where this conversation is going, perhaps to little avail.]

I thought you would be angry at me. I don't understand.

[ She draws in a deep breath, and exhales it in a shuddering breath. She is not angry. Or upset. But her hands are shaking at her sides.

Perhaps she's a little afraid of him, still, despite her attempts to appear calm. ]

Alec came to talk to me. And when it comes down to it, I... I understand why you were lashing out at everyone. Especially after I saw what it was like, for Alec...

Of course I was hurt, and upset, and scared, but... I understand. That doesn't make things right. But it makes me not want to be angry. As long as you promise not to do that to me again, or to anyone.

[He feels... strangely raw, having this conversation with her. Presented with the offer to make a promise he is not sure he can ever uphold -- or at least, a certain part of it.]

I can promise not to do it again to you, Ori.

[But to anyone? That net is too, too wide. His anger is always just a serpent, waiting to be prodded just hard enough to strike. It wouldn't be a promise, it would be a lie. He owes Ori more than that, because she's important to Alec.]

[ Her lips drawn into a thin line at his response, although she doesn't look all that surprised. She'd known that it would be a difficult promise for her to ask most anyone to keep. But she'd wanted to test the waters, in any case. Somehow, there's a small measure of relief, at it. At least he's not making an empty promise.

Would he have come to apologize to her if she weren't a friend of Alec's? She has to wonder, even if in the end it doesn't really matter. ]

Alright. That's good enough for me.

[ ... ]

Did you really think I'd be angry?

[A lot hinges on Alec. Henry's own wants and desires have been welded onto his, running parallel now, in a way that might not be completely healthy -- but it does make him, in some ways, better. Willing to apologize when he's done something wrong to someone who matters to the other man. Maybe in time, he can grow from there.

Maybe, maybe not.

For now, this will just have to do.]

For hurting you when you did nothing wrong? Yes. Most would see that as unfair.

[And unfair is always what sparks his rage.]

Even if you understand why I did it.

[ It will do. ]

Ah... That's true. But you know, in a way, I'm glad it was me. There are others here who couldn't have fought back...

[ sorry Ryunosuke Naruhodo, whoever you are ]

[whomst]

You really are too forgiving.

[He lets out an exhale, something uncoiling in him. Awkward, still, but tension leaving his shoulders so very minutely.]

At least that hasn't changed.

[ It helps, tremendously, that Alec had come to talk to her about this before... Though ultimately, she would have forgiven him regardless. ]

Alec has said the same thing. [ a little shrug of her shoulders. ] If I held a grudge against every single thing that's tried to hurt me my whole life, I'd be...

[ Well. Like Henry, probably. ]

...I'd be very tired. Even more so.

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