We’re getting there, slowly but surely.

*

Eleanore groans, sinks further back into the couch. The voices are not as louder now but a mummer at the back of her mind—it’s a blissed relief. Staring up at the ceiling of her apartment, she lets out another sigh. She’s greatful to Charlie, she is, truly. It’s just that he keeps pestering. Wearing that serious, hard look with his eyebrows drawn. Concerned.

Nora.... please I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what the problem is.

His voice, low, vunerable. Raw in a way that made her skin crawl, uncomfortable. Eleanore couldn’t look at him, her stomach tangling up making her nauseous. (Guilty, something inside her whispers.)

She made excuses again, brushed him off, cut their session short. One day, Eleanor will have to tell him. Might even spill something accidently. She’s not ready for that. Just the thought of it makes her....

Her tongue stays stuck on the hood of her mouth unable to form the words. Struck in that memory. He was alive and she snuffed the life out. Bled him dry.

Sometimes, she thinks she can feel his blood crawling under her skin.

Breathing out, Eleanore curls her legs in and wraps her arms around self. Buries her head in her knees. God, She’s shivering. The voice are rising again, the pounding in her head louder. Something in the back of her mind, screeching in demented grief and sorrow. It’s too much. She clenches her eyes and grits her teeth against the pain. It’s okay. She has dealt with harder stuff. She can push through this.

(can she though?)

A cry escapes her mouth. She’s breathing hard and trembling so bad. And She hates how her mind immediately goes to Charlie, her hands twitching as if to get her phone and send him a text.

She grips on to her trousers to force them not to move.

She’s relying on him too much. She can’t keep doing this. Interrupting his work, strolling into the hospital and pulling him away to hold her hand like a baby. She’s a leetch, sucking up all his energy and time. He’s getting noticibly worse eyebags and permanent crease lines on his forehead. He deserves better.

Not to be saddled with some baggage that need high maintence.

She swallows down the scream and tears. Bites down on her cheek, tries to drown the voices, nails digging into palms.

She’s been living without Charlie for years. Eleanore can do this.

(She has to)

some time later...

After fail attempts of trying to distract herself from the pain, Eleanore spends her time on the couch. Curled there in a small ball, in a state of overwhelming pain for a hours... or is it seconds? Time slips by her when she’s like this.

The phone rings, a sudden sound, piercing through her head and Eleanore cries out, begging for it stop. Please.

They do, eventually and she can breathe....a little. The pain elevating slightly.

She can’t see it but feels the phone glaring at her. Accusing. She knows it’s Charlie. Who else would it be? He’s probably worrying himself sick over this, imagining the worst and glancing down on his phone constantly even as he streams through his work. Which is already heptic.

A click startles Eleanore out of her thoughts, it rings through her head and Eleanore grits her teeth. That’s the front door. Panic rises and she stumbles through her fractured and chaotic thoughts on who could it be when she hears a familar voice. Charlie.

He is saying something along the lines of you weren’t picking up your call, I was worried.

The Key, she is reminded with a jolt. She gave him because she couldn’t deal with the sound of the bell—she needs destroy it that damn thing, doesn’t even why she still has it—and because she knew that Charlie would keep on coming despite what she said, so she shoved a spare key in his hands. A impulsive action to silence him. It worked but Eleanore didn’t think it would come to bite her back.

She’s remembering this, with dread now as he gets closer. Her eyes widen. He can’t see her like this! Desperately, Eleanore tries to get up from the sofa, create a scene where it looks like she’s fine. Perfectly well and at the top of her world.

She’s pale and barely standing, a death grip on the arm of the couch when Charlie steps into her living room.

Nora!

She flintches at the loudness of his voice. Well, that’s plan thrown out of the window. Eleanore curses and bat away his hands away.

I’m fine. She grits out, despite knowing how unreasonable she’s being.

Charlie doesn’t give up however, scowls his face. This is not the time for you to act on your stubborn pride. He says, annoyed.

Stubbornly, Eleanore continues to fight against his hands that are trying to steady her. She must look ridiculous like this. Clearly on the brink on fainting and insisting that she’s completely fine, glaring at her saviour. But Eleanore knows but she can’t. Can’t give in to the tempting warmth of Charlie’s hands that’s singing so sweetly out to her now.

If she gives in now, then—

Charlie’s stern expression drops. Suddenly, he looks so very tired. His hands fall and he bends his head low.

Please, Eleanore.

He pleads.

She falters at the use of her full name and how his voice cracks. And one moment was all that was needed. All at once, the screams craw at her and it’s all she becomes. Harsh, raging reds ripping at the edges. Tearing up from inside out, bones and blood and screams.

No, no, no, no, no, no—

Dark, cold narrowed eyes widening shifting from agorance to fear. A crack lancing through her head like a gunshot. She freezes, standing there for g*d knows how long. There’s blood pooling around her feet, rising up, twirling around her feet like vines leaving imprints of fingers. Up, up, up. She’s watching them, unable to move. Slowly finding herself struggling to breathe, wanting to scream but no words coming out. Her eyes lock onto the man’s eyes at her feet. Blank, unfocused. And someone, someone is screaming, hands are grabbing at her from all directions, blinding white and she’s

—warm. Eleanore gasps, jolting back to reality. There’s single point of warmth on her wrist spreading all over her as she slowly comes to realisation. She clings on to it with all her strength, an anchor in this wash of confusion, spiralling emotions.

Quirking a smile that she doesn’t feel, Eleanore looks up into Charlie’s wide eyes.

Guess this is the place where I say thank you?

You think this is funny??

No, Eleanore doesn’t. At all. She’s trembling, shock from the memory or—whatever that was and hasn’t let go of Charlie’s shoulders yet. Doesn’t want to. The voices are hovering at the back of her mind, ready for her anytime she lets go.

Nora..?

She buries her head into his shoulder, curls her hands on his shirt. Just a little longer... Just this one, and she won’t ever...

The hammering in her head quietens down and it’s silent again. She doesn’t want to ever let go.

Charlie doesn’t say anything, holds her wrist through it all. A steady warmth. It’s all she wanted and needed. Tears prickle her eyes but...

Can she have it? Is it okay? Is it—

You’re thinking out loud, Nora.

Charlie says, sternly and Eleanore give a little yelp when he suddenly wraps his other arm around her, pulling her closer.

Just let me help you

He says, brushing his lips on the top of her hair. Eleanore relaxes, letting all the tension out of her muscles.

Just this once. She mumbles into his shirt, strangely feeling shy, all of a sudden.

He doesn’t reply and Eleanore can’t see his face but she knows for sure that he’s smiling. And the most surprising thing—so is she.

(maybe she can have this)

(maybe it’s okay to lean on to him)

(maybe....)

Nora.

Charlie says, sternly, interrupting her line of thought. And her smile spreads to a grin.

okay, okay i’ll try to keep a lid on my thoughts. can’t help it though, you consume my every thought... with your handsomely...

Eleanore pulls back as she says this and is deliciously rewarded by a flustered expression. She laughs. That trick always seem to work on him.

He narrows his eyes. Annoyed and ticked off but still has that blush on his cheeks. How adorable. She laughs harder. And he sighs.

His annoyed expression breaks away, a fond smile replacing it. It’s too much having those eyes staring at her like that, makes her chest ache. How the tables turned. Eleanore can feel her cheeks heat up. Abruptly, she pulls away from his embrace and coughs. Trying to regain her lost dignity.

Well, Mr. Evans. Don’t you have somewhere to be?

Not right now.

He says, the tone of her voice makes her turn back to him, eyes wide. And he reaches a hand over to her wrist, that blissful warmth spreading along her skin. Oh...

I can stay a few more minutes

It’s an open question. There’s that crinkle in his forehead that means he’s worrying again.

She doesn’t fight it, gives in, instead.

Okay.

She says. Charlie is startled by her response. By this time, she usually kicks him out but—

Instead, she gives him a smile.

Come on. Are you planning to stand there?

Finally. I was wondering when you’ll offer me a seat.

Charlie lets out an exaggerated sigh as he sags down on the couch. Eleanore bites on her lips to stop from snorting. She has a reputation to maintain. Besides wouldn’t want him to think he’s actually funny now, would we?

Exahling out, Eleanore folds her legs under her and leans back to. Turning her head to stare at Charlie. He looks comfortable like this, eyes closed, an arm resting on his stomach. The other one...

Her eyes follow down his arm to his fingers curled on her wrist and wonders. Why him... There’s no anwers, only more questions and Eleanore pushes the thoughts away, no point in dwelling something she doesn’t know. It raises...other things she doesn’t want to focus on now. Her attention goes back to Charlie again. The slow rise and fall of his chest. Her eyebrows furrow in concern.

The lines around his eyes are more deeper and she’s no doctor but she knows that a normal person isn’t suppose to be breathing that fast. Charlie wasn’t tired before like this. There’s only one conclusion to be drawn.

Didn’t catch on your sleep?

He cracks an eye open, smiles.

Careful there, Nora, I might be thinking you actually care.

Of course... wouldn’t want you to be thinking that, now would we?

So, She shuffles closer, Why haven’t you been sleeping, Mr. Evans?

Charlie raises an eyebrow. Eleanore lifts hers back in challenge and he relents. She would have him know that she was a champion this back in her....prime days. (Well, expect Phil. He could stare her down and eventually, she’d reluctantly give in.)

you do know that i am a nurse right? and that comes with absurd hours of working and no time to rest.

I know...I am talking about when your shifts over. You should be stealing time then to sleep not -

Her throat closes up and there it is again—that awful, awful twist in her stomach. Guilt.

She breathes out, opens her eyes (when did she close them?) to Charlie sitting up straight, gazing at her with intensity. When she holds his gaze, he eases up, softening the sharpness to his expression.

Is this what was bothering you?

This time she doesn’t say anything, shifts her face away. It’s an answer in itself. She feels Charlie move closer, that feeling of warmth stirring as he slides his fingers across her skin in a back and forth motion, calming her nerves.

Nora - He starts and Eleanore knows that tone so well. She bites down her cheeks, hating this, how open she feels right now. Waiting for that deep sigh and tired voice that she doesn’t want to hear, only—

I want to be here. I’m here because I want to help you. It’s not...some guilty thing or what ever thing your mind came up with.

He says. Her eyes widen and her heart picks up.

You’re not inconveniencing me.

Deliberately, Charlie tightens his hold on her hand. Saying, I want to help you, let me to her.

Eleanore doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t want to say anything at the moment.

She focuses on the warmth bleeding into her from him and lets it surround her and distances her from the unpleasant tangled of emotions that she doesn’t want to deal with now.

Breathes out, tears burning behind the eyes.

And Charlie doesn’t say anything more. Has said his share, shifting back to lay down on the sofa and close his eyes.

Eleanore sneaks in glances here and there, watching the peaceful of his face and wondering....

/I want to be here. I’m here because I want to help you./

She remembers his words, they echo in her mind. And without her consent, tears prickle her eyes. Simple words, but everything she needed to hear.

What ever did she do that to deserve such a person?

And thinking of that doom hanging over her. That inevitable moment where Charlie finally finds out of what evil lurks in her past. What she did.

He would leave, wouldn’t he? Of course, he would.

Eleanore doesn’t still know what prompted him to not give her to police that night but knows, with certainty—he wouldn’t forgive that.

She’s imagined different scenarios of what would happen if she... did tell and each version ended with Charlie leaving.

you took his look, cracked open his head, spilled his blood and now, it demands yours in return...

Eleanore flinches. No, she moans out but it’s already coming for her, screetching white hands reaching out. She scrambles out of her mind, barely. Breathing heavily, she realises she slipped her hand out of Charlie’s and goes to hold immediately and it all stops. Eleanore lets out a relief sigh.

Charlie hasn’t noticed her episode. Still closed-eyed and sleep. Good. She doesn’t know what that was, or what is happening to her these days.

They’re closer, she can feel it. They are coming for her...

She won’t be able to resist anymore.

Eleanore grips Charlie’s hands harder. Just a little longer... She begs. Just a little longer.

Unconciously, in his sleep, Charlie squeezes her hand back in that moment.

.

.