#brutalperception.

his words hit closer than she expects, and that’s what nearly does her in. not the love (you can armor yourself against love if you’ve had enough practice) but the ease of it. the way he says it like weather, like gravity, like a fact that doesn’t require a counterargument. you’re allowed to have a shitty time. i still like you. it lands in their chest and presses, hard enough that their eyes burn before they can stop it. she hates that sensation. hates how quickly their body betrays them, how tears crowd up even when they don’t want them, even when they’re determined not to let them win. she swallows, her sharp jaw tightening, blinking hard until the sting dulls. crying has always felt like losing control of the narrative, like handing someone proof they didn’t mean to submit. she presses her face further into his chest, using the angle as cover while she gets herself back under control. it isn’t that they don’t believe him. that might be the worst part. she does believe him — and believing means she has to sit with how badly she’s expected the opposite. how deeply they’ve assumed that being difficult would make them disposable. her fingers curl lightly into his shirt again, grounding rather than desperate this time, as if reminding herself that this is happening, that he’s still here, that nothing has cracked open beneath them. “i just hate that this is what you get right now,” they say quietly, once their voice feels usable again. it comes out low and careful, measured like she’s stepping across thin ice. “you show up and i’m… stuck. boring. miserable.” their mouth twists, not quite a smile, or a grimace. “i don’t like being seen when i’m not useful.” that’s closer to the truth than she usually lets herself get. they shift slightly, enough to look at him for half a second before their gaze drops again. there’s too much feeling in her chest to hold eye contact for long. “and i know you keep saying you don’t need apologies,” they add, stubbornness creeping back in, quieter but still there, “but i still wish i was better at this. better at… being normal.” the word tastes wrong, but it’s the one her mind keeps offering up. his love you sits with them, heavy and warm, and they don’t push it away. she lets it exist without trying to qualify it or pay for it. after a long beat, they nod once against him. “i love you too,” she murmurs, the words pressed into his chest like they need the contact to stay true. then, they exhale, the tension leaking out in increments rather than all at once. “thank you for not making this a thing i have to fix tonight.” she settles again, her eyes closed now and breathing gradually aligning with his. the tears stay where they are — unshed, held back by stubborn will — but the pressure behind them eases. they’re still having a hard time. she’s still stuck. but they aren’t alone in it, and for tonight, that feels survivable.

"you didn't have to step in tonight, ben. i had it handled." they sighed, "you know i can fend for myself, right?"

- ringtone: is it really you? by loathe - last text: u better get back here to the green room and lemme kiss u senseless