There was a long silence that was nothing short of torturous. It hung between them, the things unsaid thick enough to steal the breath from her lungs. And yet she couldn't move. She couldn't find the will in her limbs to push past him the way that she needed too. She couldn't even find her voice. It had dissipated the moment his had become present. The moment it had spoken her name, just as it used too, but carrying so much more.
"Lior..."
His voice was heavy. It was trying so hard not to be broken, but Angel could hear the way that it splintered as it carried over the air.
Her knee jerk reaction was to comfort. To soothe. But she couldn't. Not anymore. That voice, as familiar as it was, had changed. It was infected by the past... a past where he had asked her to trust him, and she had, and he had- he had-
"...I can't talk to you."
"Lior, please-" Aaron made to move forward and she instantly, sharply, took a step back. It was as if she had physically slapped him. Because as soon as he saw her retreat, as soon as he saw her afraid and unwilling, he was jarred to a complete stop. His breath tremored as he stood there, silent, but the quiet was doing more damage than the noise ever could.
They had always been able to talk to each other. When the world was going to shit around them, when there was nothing more to be said, there had been comfort in knowing that there would always be a safe port at home.
And now... now that didn't exist.
The safe port was now just another extension of hell. The worst part of it. The part where the person she loved the most in the entire world was now also the person who had caused her the most excruciating pain. And when she looked at him... she couldn't stop herself from remembering it. Every. Single. Moment. The way he had kissed her, and the way his hands had settled on her hips, and the way he had left the room only to come back and-
"-I can't" Lior repeated, breaking the train of thought, "Please, Aaron... just go". She couldn't stand being here. Shame filled her so thickly that there didn't seem to be room enough for anything else. And if Daemon saw that they were talking...
She shuddered. She didn't want to think about what twisted game he would have them play next... and she couldn't take being hurt that way again. Not ever. What he had killed inside her that day was something she knew she'd never get back, and sewn in its place was something, a grotesque and irreparable feeling, that she knew she'd never be rid of. She would willingly sentence her soul to an eternity of being with Daemon if it meant that there would be no more of that specific brand of hurt...
She didn't have to look at Aaron to know that he was barely holding himself together. That something in him had broken that night. Something that couldn't be repaired, only managed. He was looking at her in a way that he never had before, even when she had been in the hospital all those years...
...he looked at her with guilt. And regret. And
fear.
He was afraid.
So was she.
Because what did they do now that they were so broken? What did they do with the knowledge that things were never going to be able to go back to the way they were? How did they look at each other anymore without seeing what had happened? And what if... what if it never stopped hurting so goddamn much?
Silent tears ran down her cheeks, the weight of the thoughts making her feel even smaller... even more isolated... even more hopeless...
"Don't do this alone".
Her fingers tightened down by her sides.
Aaron didn't move any closer but he also didn't show any signs of moving away. He seemed to be picking up on her thoughts almost seamlessly... and she wondered, for a moment, if that was because they might have been a mimic of her own.
"I'm not going to let you do this alone".
She bit into the side of her cheek as the feelings swelled under her skin, making it feel too tight. As her lips parted, a stuttered breath escaped them. Words wanted to pass. They did. But she couldn't make them come. She couldn't make them assemble in a way that would express how trapped her felt... or how his offer of help terrified her when she knew how manipulative Daemon could be. And how easily manipulated they both were when it came to each other...
...even now.
"Aaron... just... just stop" came her voice, broken, a slip of a thing that matched exactly how she felt on the outside, "You'll only make it worse. So... so please..." Eyes moved up briefly, barely able to keep steady with the ones that were so desperately trying not to fall apart. It killed her to see him like this. Her Aaron. Her fount of strength since they were just kids. It broke what was left of her into pieces to see him hurt in this way... and to know she couldn't offer anything to help him through it. Because what could she offer when she was just so... so
cold
on the inside... "please... I'm begging you. Just..." her breathe flickered across her lips, "just stay away from me."
Aaron looked like he had just taken a shot to the gut. But not even the hurt could stop him from pressing forward again, "I can't".
"You have too".
"I won't".
"You
have
too" Lior replied, more insistent this time, although her gaze kept flickering off to the side to check for any signs that Daemon was arriving.
"Lior, I-"
She didn't let him get any further. She couldn't. And because she couldn't, her voice became a hard snap, "Stop it
now.
I'm not asking you. I'm telling you."
Aaron pursed his lips.
It was a tone she had never taken with him. Her passiveness had always denied it, even when frustration or anger felt like it was truly unmanageable. But this... this was something else entirely. She understood where the desire to help was coming from. She did. And had it been any other situation other than this one, she would have let his insistence slide... but not now. Not this moment. Fear was too high. It overwhelmed her to think of what could happen if something went wrong. In this moment she was sure that if Aaron succeeded in anything, it would only to be ignite Daemon's thirst to play sadistic games... and that wasn't something that they needed to encourage when it was already something so close to the surface.
She looked to him, feeling wetness against her cheeks that she knew must have been coming from her eyes. His face, thick with hurt, only made the horrible pit in her stomach deepen. She wiped at her eyes quickly with the back of her hands. She didn't want him to feel worse. She didn't want to hurt him more with her tears... and even though she had every right to cry, old habits were hard to break, "...I have to go".
