She watched him, quiet as he spoke. She heard what he said and she moved to take off her glove.
Gently, so she could place a hand on the back of his shoulder.
"I try to be strong. Try to help with others when I can. And support can be hard to accept." Her fingers curled around his shoulder. "And while I understand you want to support me, some things? I'm not ready yet. We're still getting to know each other. And a lot of assumptions can't be taken from a breach."
He looks up a little quickly at her touch, more surprised by it than anything, but his expression softens nonetheless.
"I know. And... I didn't mean for it to come across as forcing you to tell me everything, truly. I just see a lot of myself in you, in the way you... hide your feelings, so you don't worry others. And I don't want to force you to talk about anything you're not willing to."
He shucks one of his gloves off and lays his right hand on hers. "Do you know what an elephant is, by chance?"
It was true enough. "And I've done that a lot, lately. Still. I don't do well with ultimatums. I don't think you do either. I know it came from a place of worry and love, but let's not hurt each other like that."
She turned her hand to give it a squeeze. "Those are the large herbivores with trunks right? Elephants?"
"It's been John's and my philosophy for years now," he hums. "Whenever we start getting overwhelmed by a problem, we... look at it in pieces. Pick something small that we can control, or act on. One bite."
He gives her a little squeeze, and moves to put his glove back on. "I'll stop trying to push you so hard. But I will say this: if the whole thing at once is too terrifying to contemplate, then... maybe try focusing on some part of it that's just annoying. And work your way up from there."
There's a brief moment where Arthur does look like he wants to fight back at her dismissal, but instead he just sighs quietly through his nose, and gives her a gracious smile.
"You're welcome." And he'll start grabbing for more weeds again, though there's a lighter, dry edge to his tone when he adds, "And I know you were upset when you said it, but I'm still- vaguely offended that you called the way I treat John and Sheehan a dictatorship."
"To be fair, I wasn't talking about what you, John, and Sheehan have. I don't know what it's like with the three of you."
She shook her head as she went back to pulling bits of grass and other dead leaves and dander from the edge. "But it felt like you were trying to order your way into what I was feeling, and reveal everything to you. My government was a dictorship, and not to get into details, but I have been pushed a lot in my life, personally, to do things I don't want to do. There's a difference between asking and demanding Arthur."
"I hear you," he says plainly. "But I also don't recall at any point that you should be telling any of that to me."
He looks back at her, not unkindly but with a certain steel behind it. "I told you to talk to someone. Quite literally anyone, so you had someone who could understand what you were going through. You are the one that accused me of trying to rip it out of you then and there."
"I did." She put down her tools, placing her hands on her knees. Even if it meant she got grass or dirt over her dress, she didn't care. It wouldn't be the first time.
"I'm sorry Arthur. I'm just..." She pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "I wasn't fair to you. I'm still not being fair. It still makes me...nervous."
He pauses his own work too, sitting back to watch her with gentleness on his face, the steel still present but blanketed.
"The standard I hold John and Les to," he says, slow and steady, "and anyone else that I care about, quite honestly - is that you need to tell someone when you are suffering. John tends to tell me, because we understand each other for practically everything the most. Les tells me because I'm his husband. But they're under no obligation to tell me, and frankly if I demanded that of them they'd be well within their rights to tell me to fuck off."
He puts his dirty gloves hand on Aerith's, but he chews on his lip for a moment before he says, soft as anything. "I'm aware that something... complicated. Happened between you and Armand. I-I didn't seek out any details, that wasn't my place, but... I understand why talking about yourself to other people might be more fraught lately. When you've been made a victim of someone you were leaning on."
Her breath hitched. She stared down at her knees, and her fingers curled into themselves. She didn't ask how he knew. Trevor was clever enough to figure it out. She had looked drained, been a wreck. She hadn't been the most discreet, though she had tried to be.
And, well. Sam had made that post, and people knew he was Armand's warden. Arthur wasn't stupid.
She didn't know what to think for a few moments. She wanted to scream. Run. Cry. She had been trying so hard not to think about it, not speak of it, avoid Armand as much as possible.
But Ashton had done something stupid for her sake already, hadn't they? She didn't know. She wasn't sure anymore.
Her breathing hitched, and her hand came up, and dropped. She could feel the tears in her eyes, before she blinked them rapidly back.
"There isn't anyone to talk to." Her voice was very, very quiet. "Because it was my own fault. I made the choice, every step of the way." Her fingers curled into fists on her lap, and she bowed her head. "It's my fault."
It's the same soothing shushes that Wayne used, and Arthur doesn't hesitate to twist towards her and wrap both arms around Aerith and tug her in close.
"You didn't choose to get manipulated, Rissy." The nickname comes without thinking, but he squeezes her tighter for it. "You might have put yourself in a bad position, but that doesn't mean it was your fault someone else chose to make it worse."
"I didn't mean for it to happen." Her voice came out in a whisper. She could feel herself shaking, soft trembles as she let Arthur take her close. She couldn't bring herself to move. She was just shaking.
"But it was still-people still tried to help but I didn't. I didn't let them. It's on me. I made the choice." She was crying. Others, like John mentioned manipulation, but it didn't feel like it was the right word. "It's my fault."
"Darling, I promise you it's not." His hand rests on the back of her head, gently stroking her hair while his other arm remains comfortably tight, giving her support against him. "And I know the difference, trust me."
He presses a kiss to her temple, soft and sweet. "If you think you have something under control, then you don't let people help you. And it can take... longer, to recognise it, that you don't after all. Sometimes too long, and then reality comes crashing down around you and you realise how deep you're in it."
He gives her another squeeze. "But people will still want to help you. And they'll only be relieved that you're ready to let them."
She made a soft noise- a whimper- as she shook her head. He was being so gentle, and sweet, and...for all that he was offering all this comfort...
Aerith covered her face with her hands.
"I can't." The words burst out, and she tried covering her eyes. "I don't deserve it. I don't deserve to be-helped. I haven't done enough and I- what happened with Armand- I betrayed Zack. I betrayed myself and I-I don't. I can't. I-I can't Arthur."
"I spent more than a year after the fact drinking myself blind. I wasn't..." He takes a deep breath. "I didn't have it in me then, to just. Kill myself. But I would wake up in the gutter in a miserable autumn rain, disappointed that I was still... me."
"I never really liked alcohol. But I just...I couldn't sleep. Food hasn't been as good as it used to be." She stared at her hands. "I'm not really hungry anymore. And...I still have trouble sleeping. I've been drinking more. Socially. I don't like it very much, but people want to help so...I drink."
"None of it will start feeling better until you let someone in," he says, plain and gentle. "It took Parker to get me started on it, but I didn't... understand it until I was on the Barge. And at the start, it feels... wrong."
He loosens his grip a little, only so he can look at her again and brush one of her bangs free from her tear-sticky cheek. "When you feel as awful and unforgivable as that, any joy or love you experience feels... fake. Undeserved. Like you're a fraud for receiving it when you still feel so fucking rotten inside."
She nodded a little, feeling more tears trickle even as he brushed her hair away. He had someone- the sharp eyed Parker. She had all her friends. And the fact that any one of them, that Arthur wanted to help too...
And she couldn't bring herself to do it, that it did feel fake- it made her hate herself even more.
"I don't feel like I deserve to be here, helping people." She couldn't look him in the eye. "It's...I don't...I felt happy and content when we were...doing things. And after I felt like the worst person in the world. I don't feel...like myself anymore. And I...I don't...I can't talk about it. I can't do this Arthur. I just...I can't."
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Re: A few days after their talk
Gently, so she could place a hand on the back of his shoulder.
"I try to be strong. Try to help with others when I can. And support can be hard to accept." Her fingers curled around his shoulder. "And while I understand you want to support me, some things? I'm not ready yet. We're still getting to know each other. And a lot of assumptions can't be taken from a breach."
Re: A few days after their talk
"I know. And... I didn't mean for it to come across as forcing you to tell me everything, truly. I just see a lot of myself in you, in the way you... hide your feelings, so you don't worry others. And I don't want to force you to talk about anything you're not willing to."
He shucks one of his gloves off and lays his right hand on hers. "Do you know what an elephant is, by chance?"
Re: A few days after their talk
It was true enough. "And I've done that a lot, lately. Still. I don't do well with ultimatums. I don't think you do either. I know it came from a place of worry and love, but let's not hurt each other like that."
She turned her hand to give it a squeeze. "Those are the large herbivores with trunks right? Elephants?"
Re: A few days after their talk
"Right. Massive bloody things, ten feet tall and weigh multiple tons. So there's a question about them I learned, quite some time ago."
He looks up at her with a cheeky light in his eyes. "How do you eat an elephant?"
Re: A few days after their talk
"Um." She blinked. Eat an elephant? That wasn't something she thought about. "Very slowly?"
Re: A few days after their talk
Re: A few days after their talk
Re: A few days after their talk
He gives her a little squeeze, and moves to put his glove back on. "I'll stop trying to push you so hard. But I will say this: if the whole thing at once is too terrifying to contemplate, then... maybe try focusing on some part of it that's just annoying. And work your way up from there."
Re: A few days after their talk
"I'm not sure it's what I need, but it's a good problem solving idea." She offered. "Thanks for offering."
She might use it with Ciel but with her trauma and things she didn't like talking about...she'd have to consider it.
Re: A few days after their talk
"You're welcome." And he'll start grabbing for more weeds again, though there's a lighter, dry edge to his tone when he adds, "And I know you were upset when you said it, but I'm still- vaguely offended that you called the way I treat John and Sheehan a dictatorship."
Re: A few days after their talk
She shook her head as she went back to pulling bits of grass and other dead leaves and dander from the edge. "But it felt like you were trying to order your way into what I was feeling, and reveal everything to you. My government was a dictorship, and not to get into details, but I have been pushed a lot in my life, personally, to do things I don't want to do. There's a difference between asking and demanding Arthur."
Re: A few days after their talk
He looks back at her, not unkindly but with a certain steel behind it. "I told you to talk to someone. Quite literally anyone, so you had someone who could understand what you were going through. You are the one that accused me of trying to rip it out of you then and there."
Re: A few days after their talk
"I'm sorry Arthur. I'm just..." She pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "I wasn't fair to you. I'm still not being fair. It still makes me...nervous."
Re: A few days after their talk
"The standard I hold John and Les to," he says, slow and steady, "and anyone else that I care about, quite honestly - is that you need to tell someone when you are suffering. John tends to tell me, because we understand each other for practically everything the most. Les tells me because I'm his husband. But they're under no obligation to tell me, and frankly if I demanded that of them they'd be well within their rights to tell me to fuck off."
He puts his dirty gloves hand on Aerith's, but he chews on his lip for a moment before he says, soft as anything. "I'm aware that something... complicated. Happened between you and Armand. I-I didn't seek out any details, that wasn't my place, but... I understand why talking about yourself to other people might be more fraught lately. When you've been made a victim of someone you were leaning on."
CW: victim blaming
And, well. Sam had made that post, and people knew he was Armand's warden. Arthur wasn't stupid.
She didn't know what to think for a few moments. She wanted to scream. Run. Cry. She had been trying so hard not to think about it, not speak of it, avoid Armand as much as possible.
But Ashton had done something stupid for her sake already, hadn't they? She didn't know. She wasn't sure anymore.
Her breathing hitched, and her hand came up, and dropped. She could feel the tears in her eyes, before she blinked them rapidly back.
"There isn't anyone to talk to." Her voice was very, very quiet. "Because it was my own fault. I made the choice, every step of the way." Her fingers curled into fists on her lap, and she bowed her head. "It's my fault."
Re: CW: victim blaming
It's the same soothing shushes that Wayne used, and Arthur doesn't hesitate to twist towards her and wrap both arms around Aerith and tug her in close.
"You didn't choose to get manipulated, Rissy." The nickname comes without thinking, but he squeezes her tighter for it. "You might have put yourself in a bad position, but that doesn't mean it was your fault someone else chose to make it worse."
Re: CW: victim blaming
"But it was still-people still tried to help but I didn't. I didn't let them. It's on me. I made the choice." She was crying. Others, like John mentioned manipulation, but it didn't feel like it was the right word. "It's my fault."
Re: CW: victim blaming
He presses a kiss to her temple, soft and sweet. "If you think you have something under control, then you don't let people help you. And it can take... longer, to recognise it, that you don't after all. Sometimes too long, and then reality comes crashing down around you and you realise how deep you're in it."
He gives her another squeeze. "But people will still want to help you. And they'll only be relieved that you're ready to let them."
Re: CW: victim blaming
Aerith covered her face with her hands.
"I can't." The words burst out, and she tried covering her eyes. "I don't deserve it. I don't deserve to be-helped. I haven't done enough and I- what happened with Armand- I betrayed Zack. I betrayed myself and I-I don't. I can't. I-I can't Arthur."
Re: CW: victim blaming
He's quiet for a few seconds, just letting that... sit.
"This is why I showed you Faroe."
CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation
"B-because you wanted to hurt yourself after? Even if it killed you?"
CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism
"I spent more than a year after the fact drinking myself blind. I wasn't..." He takes a deep breath. "I didn't have it in me then, to just. Kill myself. But I would wake up in the gutter in a miserable autumn rain, disappointed that I was still... me."
CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism, depression
"I never really liked alcohol. But I just...I couldn't sleep. Food hasn't been as good as it used to be." She stared at her hands. "I'm not really hungry anymore. And...I still have trouble sleeping. I've been drinking more. Socially. I don't like it very much, but people want to help so...I drink."
Re: CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism, depression
He loosens his grip a little, only so he can look at her again and brush one of her bangs free from her tear-sticky cheek. "When you feel as awful and unforgivable as that, any joy or love you experience feels... fake. Undeserved. Like you're a fraud for receiving it when you still feel so fucking rotten inside."
Re: CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism, depression
And she couldn't bring herself to do it, that it did feel fake- it made her hate herself even more.
"I don't feel like I deserve to be here, helping people." She couldn't look him in the eye. "It's...I don't...I felt happy and content when we were...doing things. And after I felt like the worst person in the world. I don't feel...like myself anymore. And I...I don't...I can't talk about it. I can't do this Arthur. I just...I can't."
Re: CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism, depression
Re: CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism, depression
Re: CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism, depression
Re: CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism, depression
Re: CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism, depression
Re: CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism, depression
Re: CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism, depression
Re: CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism, depression
Re: CW: victim blaming, suicide ideation, alcoholism, depression
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