[ (They can be rationalised, so why do they still make him uneasy?)
Right. His door is locked. He made sure of it when he came back to his room - even though he knows by now that locks, in this place, are no more than a sugar pill.
It seems too much to hope that she'd forgive him. What if she's just here to make sure he's not... not dangerous any more?
He's been compiling a list that's similar to Sofia's, and it's still spinning in his head as he pulls himself upright and heads for the door, his movements uncomfortable, trying to slip into some kind of routine that he doesn't have to think about. It differs from hers, though, in the important detail that it's almost entirely critical.
What if she's here to tell him to go to hell?
Alex wishes he could just act like the whole thing never happened. And sometimes that's doable. But you can't walk up to someone you've treated like that and pretend it didn't happen, not if you want to deserve their friendship.
He draws the bolts back. Feels like his body's just a suit he's wearing, unweildy and unfamiliar.
Opens the door. Swallows.
For all the time he's been thinking about this, he hasn't been able to come up with anything better than: ]
Sof', I'm really sorry.
[ ...in a tone which clearly doesn't expect to be shown leniency. ]
no subject
Right. His door is locked. He made sure of it when he came back to his room - even though he knows by now that locks, in this place, are no more than a sugar pill.
It seems too much to hope that she'd forgive him. What if she's just here to make sure he's not... not dangerous any more?
He's been compiling a list that's similar to Sofia's, and it's still spinning in his head as he pulls himself upright and heads for the door, his movements uncomfortable, trying to slip into some kind of routine that he doesn't have to think about. It differs from hers, though, in the important detail that it's almost entirely critical.
What if she's here to tell him to go to hell?
Alex wishes he could just act like the whole thing never happened. And sometimes that's doable. But you can't walk up to someone you've treated like that and pretend it didn't happen, not if you want to deserve their friendship.
He draws the bolts back. Feels like his body's just a suit he's wearing, unweildy and unfamiliar.
Opens the door. Swallows.
For all the time he's been thinking about this, he hasn't been able to come up with anything better than: ]
Sof', I'm really sorry.
[ ...in a tone which clearly doesn't expect to be shown leniency. ]