Allison Cameron (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
as_damaged) wrote2008-02-04 04:38 pm
as_damaged) wrote2008-02-04 04:38 pm
Entry tags:
☎ voicemail
| ☎ voicemail ☎ text message ☞ action |
[ooc: you know the drill, if you need her and there's no recent post &c &c. whatever. ♥♥♥]
[ooc: you know the drill, if you need her and there's no recent post &c &c. whatever. ♥♥♥]
who are we to tell ourselves that we're misunderstood
There are too many 'befores' to choose from, really. Their friendship - relationship - has taken enough uptilts and downturns to please a hardened rollercoaster enthusiast. Somehow he misses the bickering and betrayal when he looks back over it (or feels oddly fond in recollection - he misses it).
"Or is this it? We're stuck barely speaking until a curse forces us to make-out?"
who are we to tell ourselves that we're misunderstood
"There are limits to how close we can be," she says quietly, after a moment. "To how far I can trust you."
It's surprisingly candid, for her, only because she doubts he'll follow it to the right conclusion.
who are we to tell ourselves that we're misunderstood
It's almost a joke, on his part, the impossibility of that, the certainty of his bridges being burned. So he forces something close enough to a smile to go with it for just long enough to finally pay attention to his coffee. It's cooled to the point of unpleasant already, and he finds himself wishing he'd drunk it still hot enough to burn.
"Come on, you never liked me that much to begin with."
who are we to tell ourselves that we're misunderstood
"It doesn't matter how much I like you, or don't like you."
Maybe that's too cryptic. She sips at her drink to avoid saying anything more.