I'm Sorry I Hurt You

Mood: 

Exhausted

Who: Gavin and Janie
When: nighttime
Where: on the pontoon boat on the lake

Janie had done remarkably little since being pulled from the burning bulding. Since Gavin had gotten her out. She wasn't catatonic. Not yet. Though there were large parts of her that longed for it. But no, her mind hadn't shut down. Her body hadn't either. And while she made little to no response to anything much during the entire day--save to curl up closer to Gavin when he was in the vicinity, that didn't mean she was out for the count. They'd gotten to the boat house, that part was slightly fuzzy for her, she didn't remember exactly how it had happened. But, they were on the pontoon boat, and they somehow had gotten ahold of one of the emergency blankets from one of the first aid kits. Millie, maybe. Nurse-woman. Whatever. Either way, sometime after sunset, Janie moved.

She got up, leaving the one card she'd managed to hold onto by Gavin, and she unhooked the boat from the...plank or whatever the fuck it was that it was tied to. She pushed it out, the got back onto it as it started to drift out onto the lake proper. She didn't want to go far. Just...not in there. She sat down as they drifted, the lake's natural current not taking them far. Her eyes were up on the sky for a few long moments, then they drifted down to Gavin. "...are you okay?" she asked, voice hoarse. She wondered if that was because she hadn't spoken, or from smoke inhalation, but it was a dim sort of pondering. Nothing that mattered. It hurt to talk a little. But she was okay with that.

Gavin had been drifting in and out of pained consciousness most of the day. Dave had assessed that his ribs were cracked but not broken, which was a good thing. It just meant that laying down -- which was what he really wanted to do forever and ever, amen -- was terribly uncomfortable, almost any way he tried to do it. He'd found a position that only ached some and was somewhat bearable on the pontoon boat, blanket pulled up over him. His eyes rolled open from the brief bit of sleep he'd been in when the boat started to move. He watched the roof of the boathouse move away from above him, then looked at Janie. At least she'd spoken. "No," he murmured back, watching her. She looked strange without glasses. Incomplete and dreamy. Or maybe that was just him. "Are you?"

"No." she answered in return. She liked the moonlight better, it meant that the blurs were slightly more recognizeable. Like the Gavin-blur. "One of the only things I've had with me that I actually wanted to keep were my cards. They've...been there. Through everything. And now they're gone." She frowned, then tried to refocus herself. "How bad are you hurting?" she asked. She realized he was. She didn't quite know exactly the specifics, but she knew that much.

Part of him wanted to snap at her. His laptop was gone, too. The writing he'd brought with him. The only photo he had of his dad. His fucking clothes, but you hadn't seen him putting his life at stake to save them. Fighting off someone who was trying to save him. But that was just pain and stress talking. He didn't know how to feel about anything, he just knew there was a pain in his chest that had nothing to do with his ribs. "Pretty bad," he said quietly, eyes drifting off to the edge of the lake. What he could see of it. "But I'll live."

"...good." Janie said. She moved closer to him, to lay on her stomach, to reach over the side of the boat to trail her fingers down into the water. It was kind of a stretch. She did it though. "I didn't mean to hurt you." she added after it almost seemed like she'd forgotten they were talking. Her voice was distant. Not quite there, but not quite gone either. She felt like she was in some half-state.

As it had done a few times back in the chapel -- which made him grateful they'd been off in a corner and mostly forgotten about while people worked and got things set up -- Gavin's throat closed off at her words and his eyes burned with tears. He let them spill over, just taking quiet long breaths through it so it wouldn't really be noticeable. He knew he was a wreck, he didn't know how else to be at the moment. "You didn't," he said after his own pause, and his voice was mostly steady. Besides the whole way she seemed to want to burn to death for her goddamn cards.

She noticed the pause more than anything, and she shifted, propping herself up next to him, hand supporting her head. She considered him, trying to get her eyes to cooperate so she could see him better, but ha! Yeah that so didn't happen. She also knew from experience that squinting did fuckall in that department. All that would accomplish was making the world a narrower, dimmer blur. So, she reached out instead, with her good hand. She wasn't really used to this kind of thing, though some dim part of the back of her mind piped up that she'd better get used to it. She was going for finding his cheek, and was being overly careful so she didn't poke him in the eye or anything. "Yeah I did." she said quietly. Not even she was sure if she meant physically or otherwise. She was just aware that there was fault in there.

Gavin knew what she was doing as soon as she reached for him. He brought a hand up to catch her's, moving it to the side of his neck instead while he slid the free one up to wipe at his cheeks. She'd know, but for some reason he didn't want her to feel it. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to break it down, all he wanted to do was sleep. And smoke a cigarette and have a drink. Only one of the three was possible. "Doesn't matter," he muttered. Because it didn't. They were out, they'd survived, and now everything was pretty fucked. There wasn't room for stupid emotions in there anywhere.

Janie was of a mind that it not mattering was a matter of opinion, and his didn't count. At least, not right then. She was frowning again, particularly with what he'd done there with her hand. Now she didn't suspect he might be crying, she was sure of it. It sent a tiny thread of worry through the black recesses of her mind, not like it would have with a normal person, but for her it was something. "I think it does." she said after another long silence. She didn't know what to add after that though, and she wished she did. Her statement felt incomplete to her.

He realized he was still holding her hand to his neck, but didn't stop. She wasn't going to understand, so he didn't want her to have evidence on her fingers. He was just ... having a hard time dealing, was all. He'd done something absolutely selfless, done it against her will and gotten himself hurt in the process. He'd saved her life. He was fucked up in the head, not stupid: he knew that she would've died if he hadn't been there. The life of the loved one he'd abandoned and lost had been paid forward into another one that he'd actually managed to do something about. Gavin just also knew that she probably would never see it that way. Probably wasn't even grateful, because she'd lost almost all her cards, and that had been his fault, and what did it even matter that she lived or died? She would've let herself, if he hadn't been there. He didn't know how to process that. "Don't worry about it," he said quietly, after his own pause.

Usually, she didn't. Usually she didn't really worry about anything. It was all going down the toilet anyhow, right? Lately, however, that tried and true method wasn't holding up as much. It was a slow progression, but was occasionally clear to her. Times like nowish. "I am worried about it." she insisted, and she was frowning, looking a little lost and confused, even if she wasn't aware of it. The expressions very much reflected what was going on in the deeper parts of her mind, where she was wrestling with all of this, trying to figure it out when she felt like she didn't have all of the pertinent information.

"Don't," Gavin repeated. He shifted himself forward, letting her go in order to pull the blanket up and drape it over her as he got in against her. Weird how he felt the irresistable urge to get in close to her when it felt like she was the one who'd put the pain in his chest. Sometimes warm bodies helped, yes, but he didn't think that this was what that was. Not all of it, at least. He wanted her to hold him, maybe play with his hair. Something. He just didn't know how to ask for it but for getting closer and planting his face into her upper chest. Which was what he did.

Gavin got part of what he wanted, anyways. When he got in close like that, she did start playing with his hair, shifting around carefully so she didn't jar him. But she got it so that she was resting differently, against him, and kind of half holding him with one arm, the other letting her fingerst drift through his hair. It felt ineffectual to her, though. Like it wasn't quite right. Wasn't quite what she was supposed to be doing, like all of a sudden she had certain objectives she had to follow and she just didn't know what they all were. Like steps to a dance no one had taught her. She leaned down a little, smelling the smoke scent clinging to his hair. Hers probably smelled that way too. "I don't think that's possible." she said eventually, quietly. "It's there." The worry. She didn't know what to do with it.

It was physically relaxing, but didn't do anything for his mental state. It wasn't like they weren't floating on a boat in the lake because they wanted to be, it was because the house had burned down. Exploded, even. And she would've been inside it if he hadn't dragged her literally kicking and screaming out. It was a lot to absorb. Gavin kept his eyes closed and tired to focus on feeling her heart beat against his forehead. She was alive, he'd done that much. He didn't say anything, not sure what he could say. He just counted her heartbeats and tried not to think.

She kept up what she was doing, letting the silence stretch out. It was for both of them. Giving him time to do...whatever. Giving her time to try and puzzle things out some more. Not that she really managed it. She didn't. She still felt very much like she was missing huge chunks of the picture, and she didn't know where she'd misplaced them. One thing drifted to the surface of her mind, so she said that. "I'm sorry." She just didn't quite know what she was sorry for. Janie had no idea what exactly she'd done, or what it meant to him, just that she was aware of the whole hurting him thing and that wasn't okay with her.

He considered asking her if she was even remotely grateful that he'd saved her life. If it had even occurred to her yet. But what did it matter? That's right, it didn't. They were still fucked, she still didn't feel the same way he did about things at all ... it wasn't like he expected her to gasp and hold her chest and swoon, all 'my heeeero!' or anything. Just ... she'd been half-gone all day. She still sort of was, by the sound of her voice. And he didn't want her to be, didn't want to be left alone after that. His arm moved around her waist. "For what?" he murmured into her chest.

Janie took her time in answering that. Mostly because she wasn't sure exactly how to do it. But she supposed his repsonse was better than blowing everything off, so...she didn't know quite what else to do there. "Whatever I did that's hurting." she said. "I don't...I'm trying to think about everything, but it feels like I don't know the whole story. And I wish I could figure it out, but I can't put the pieces together. I'm aware that I hurt you, and I want to stop that, or figure out how to make it right, but I don't know the extent of what I did. I just know I didn't do it on purpose, and it's really bothering me that I did it at all. So...I'm sorry. For..." she paused, trying to come up with the right words. She failed. "Everything, I suppose. For...me."

Gavin didn't know how to answer for a long time. That really hadn't been at all what he was expecting to hear, as much as he expected anything. Whatever it was, it hadn't been that. "Don't be sorry for you," he said finally, his arm tightening around her to draw her in closer, even though it hurt his ribs to do so. "I just ...I don't want to lose you, Janie. I can't. And I almost did." He said it very quietly and half-hoped that she wouldn't hear him at all. It didn't want to come out of his throat at first, so much in him balking at making himself that vulnerable. But she looked so lost, sounded so confused. What did it matter if she knew how vulnerable she made him, anyway? He was, and it'd all end up hurting in the end, so ... fuck it. "I can't do it again. I had to ... bring you out."

She listened to him, adding that information into the broken puzzle that was her thoughts. She supposed it should have occurred to her that this had something to do with his dead girlfriend. That it would echo back for him. Though she knew it was at it's base her, too. She gave him the lightest of squeezes, since she didn't know how bad he hurt, and didn't want to make it worse. She knew she should probably say something about not losing her, that she'd be there, but well. She couldn't do that. For all she knew, she wouldn't be, because she'd die tomorrow or something. And half the time, she went away without even leaving. "I'm sorry." she said quietly, almost a whisper as she curled in a little closer, hugging his head to her chest a tiny bit more.

He held her tighter, unable to help the emotion that swelled up and out yet again. He couldn't even swallow most of it down this time, face twisting against her chest as he started to cry again. Some part of him reminded him that he was a emo pussy as always, but he honestly couldn't help himself. Maybe he got a pass for this. It had, after all, been one of the more stressful days he'd ever had. Long and hurtful in all kinds of ways. Gavin clung to her, back shaking as he dragged in air in pained little gasps. He didn't want reassurances that she wasn't going anywhere; he knew how false those were here. How empty. He just wanted assurance that she was there now and that she wanted to be.

As far as Janie was concerned, her mind wasn't anywhere near the emo or pussy sort of label mindset. She was just thinking about him, really, and how all of this felt fucked up, and she needed to figure out how to make it better, if that was even possible. She was there though, holding onto him and letting him cry. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she wondered if she should be too. If because she wasn't, if that was just one more glaringly obvious proof of her being fucked up. Probably. Sadly, she could do nothing about that. But she could hold him. And let him cry. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." she said again, a soft little whisper she didn't even know if he'd hear.

Gavin heard it, and took a breath to hold it hard against an actual sob. Pain flared in his ribs at the pressure, which actually kind of helped. He hated doing this, this wasn't her problem. This was shit for him to do in private, and he tried to remind himself of that enough to calm down. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually he managed to shove it back down. They were in a crisis sort of situation, even if it was at a standstill for sleep, he didn't need to dissolve into a blubbering idiot. Not that he was helping much anyway. Still. Fuck. He stilled and didn't say anything, taking the time to breathe and smell her under the clinging scent of smoke

Janie was really wishing she knew even the slightest way of dealing with this. At all, really. But it felt like the only thing she was really capable of didn't help that much. She still played with his hair, and held him, and pressed a little kiss to the top of his head. She wondered just how bad it was, for him. Or if it would get any better. Vaguely, she wished she could just this once come up with better words. Just for now. Normal people had the ability to comfort one another. Why couldn't she right now?

He focused on inhaling and exhaling and all that good shit, and the feeling of her fingers in his hair. He'd gotten her out, that was what mattered, right? He'd saved her life. He was square with the universe now. So why didn't it feel any better? "Janie," he murmured quietly, not moving from where he was.

"Yes?" she asked, voice sounding a little strange to her own ears. Scratchy, light, almost unheard. She almost cleared her throat, but didn't, since she knew it would only hurt, and wouldn't actually make her voice any clearer. She looked down at him, even if she couldn't see him well, and it wasn't like he was looking back up at her. Or she could see it if he was.

He knew she was looking at him, but he still didn't look up. Couldn't. "I love you," he said, just as barely audible. He wet his lips, heart beating hard suddenly, and launched into the quiet disclaimer. "I know that's ... confusing for you. You don't have to say it back, I don't expect you to feel the same, I just -- ... I want you to know. Because I almost ... lost you, and that's really real and there and I can't --" He cut himself off, took a quick breath, and tilted his face up to kiss her. "Don't say anything tonight. I just want you to know," he mumbled against her lips.

It was probably a good thing that Gavin didn't want her to say anything right then. Because if anything in the world had rendered her entirely speechless, it was that. She replayed it in her head, because it was still a bit on the shocking side. He'd said the L word. Love. He loved her. Her. Janie Anne Bradberry. That was...totally making her brain shut down in abject confusion. Confusing for her? Um, understatement of the decade. It didn't compute. Like, at all. Nothing about that statement made sense to her. When had that happened? Was he just upset right now, and because she might have died, it was making him say things? Did he mean it, and because of everything today he figured he should say it just in case they die tomorrow? Or she did? Or something? He broke her brain. Entirely. About all she could do was kind of lightly kiss him back, and attempt not to roll off the side of the boat, swim for shore, and start walking out into the woods to...be swallowed by whatever would swallow her up. Though weirdly, it was less an urge to get away from him, and more to get away from the effects he had on her. This had never in her life been an issue. People didn't even like her. Let alone love her. Her own family had always hated her. So what the fuck? How had this ever come about? And what did she do about it? What did she do about the fact that he kind of...made her feel things? Things she wasn't sure how to deal with on any level. She didn't even know what to call most of them. Most people might be ecstatic right now. She just felt...indescribeable. So she kissed him one last time, then hugged him, burying her face in his neck.

Gavin was okay with that. He knew, from conversations they had before and just ... knowing her, that she was probably thrown for a really hard loop. He understood it, because he was on one of his own. He didn't just say he loved people. He'd been serious when he told Zania that he never said that unless he meant it. In fact, he hadn't said it to anyone since Shannon. But Janie ... as much as she fucked his head up sometimes, she was entirely herself. Her dark and beautiful self. He knew it was likely odd of him to have such feelings for the girl, but he couldn't help it. She'd been there for him in a capacity that no one else had touched. She was a weird girl, but she could rule him when she laughed. She made the most pragmatic sense and was complex as hell at the same time. And when the entire fucking house was burning down around them? All he could think about was getting her out. Gavin didn't know what else to call it but love. And now he was really faced with the fact that either one of them really could die tomorrow. For what it was worth to her; he wanted her to know. He wrapped his arm around her and hugged her back, leaning his temple against her's, glad that she actually hadn't said anything. He turned his head to kiss the far corner of her eyebrow before settling his head again.

Sleep was seeming like the best option right now. She stayed where she was, not saying anything, and she was trying to get her chest to kind of stop feeling like it had siezed up in the past few minutes. It was a weird feeling she couldn't describe, and couldn't even begin thinking out a name for it now. So sleep. Sleep was good. Sleep would maybe give her answers. She could hope, right? That her brain would take her on one of it's wild acid trip dream states, and it'd tell her what she needed to know? It was the best and only option she had right now, because she knew goddamn well she sure as fuck wouldn't be coming up with anything resembling coherence. So...she curled up with him. And kept her eyes shut, so the confusing blurs of the world around them didn't add into all of the other confusion, and tried to let her mind quiet and drift off. It was actually easier than she would have thought.