Chapter Text
The look on her face says it all.
Lyanna walks towards him with a purposeful stride, avoiding drunken men and women and dirty tables and spilled drinks. She reaches his side, takes the half-full glass from his hand, pushing it away, and turns to the bartender when he asks what she'll have.
“A glass of water, please.”
It's the many drinks that currently sit in his stomach, but Robert can swear time slows down after the man turns to get her order. He takes her in – takes in the hasty way in which she pulled her hair into a ponytail, remembers all the times he's watched her do that early in the morning or late at night after a rough day. Takes in the purple smudges under her eyes; wishes he could swipe his thumb over them in an attempt to soothe, wishes to ask what's stopping her from having a good rest. Takes in the shorts and untied sneakers and the overly large hoodie, thinks briefly that it looks familiar, but then his mind blanks out, and she's handing him over the glass of water.
And he knows he's never seeing anything more beautiful.
“‘m s’rry.”
Her eyes close for a moment, but then she’s pushing the glass of water into his hand. “Drink.”
He obeys.
It doesn't really help.
“Can you walk?”
Her voice is soft and soothing, and he'd missed the sound of it so fucking much , missed her and her warmth and her smiles and just everything that makes her Lyanna . Her hand gripping his shoulder snaps him out of his daze, and she looks at him with a mix of worry and exasperation. Just as she used to. So he nods, stands, and thanks the gods for not stumbling.
She keeps a hand on his arm as she leads him out of the dingy club and over to a car.
“You got a car.”
It's a question, even it comes off as a statement.
Luckily, Lyanna still understands his cues. “It's Dad's.”
“Oh.” Right, she'd moved back into her parents’ home after—
“Where to?”
He hums, blinks at her, curious about her question, but Lyanna keeps a steady gaze on the mostly empty parking lot as they get into the car.
“Same as always,” he says once they're buckled up, wondering about her words – has she forgotten already? Their apartment, because it'll always be their apartment, is the one place where he'd been the happiest; they had been the happiest there, he likes to believe, before everything crumbled. “It's not changed.”
“I don't know where that is,” she replies.
“How can you not?”
It's a good thing she's not started the car yet, she doesn't look like she should be driving. And that's saying something , considering it's him the one drunk out of his ass.
Lyanna growls. “Robert…”
“We lived in that apartment for almost a year, Lyanna. How can you not know ?”
Her hands grip the steering wheel, tight enough that her knuckles turn white, and then finally she starts the car. She doesn't talk, Robert doesn't complain about it; he's not exactly in the proper frame of mind for a conversation, too woozy to form a coherent thought. Too into his own memories. When was the last time we were alone? When was the last time we talked? It had been the day she stormed out of his life, in a blur of screams and accusations and anger and tears .
Robert remembers little of it, remembers those days being nightmarish as memories of things he’d rather not think about assaulted him at all hours. He remembers both trying to articulate all of that to Lyanna and pushing it all aside, feeling like a failure because she knew something was wrong, but he just could not — Robert remembers reverting to his old coping mechanisms, hitting the drinks harder than ever, let me forget , he’d thought, just for a little while . In hindsight, he knows he fucked up, they both did, Lyanna because she didn’t understand and himself because he expected her to without having to explain. It still shocks him how a number of escalating arguments in a matter of days could shatter it all.
“We were doing good! We were good and now you’re going out to drink and hit on random girls and— what am I supposed to think?!”
“You just don’t understand!”
“Then make me understand!”
“ I shouldn’t have to! Fucking hell, Rhea doesn’t need me to explain, she just knows, and—”
“Then maybe … maybe, you should go back to her.”
And then she walked away , he thinks. He can still hear the echo of the door banging close, thunderous , the silence that followed as reality sunk in. His urge to run after her and make her stay, let me explain, I’ll explain, it’s not what you think . But Robert had remained frozen in the middle of their living room, dazed and hurt and wishing to take back everything he said; still unable to put into words what he was feeling and deluding himself into thinking there was time. That she would return, and then they would talk. Only… that never happened.
“You never came back…” he says, slurs actually, and Lyanna ignores him; so he tries a different approach. “‘m sorry, I… know you’re angry, but hey – hey ,” he grins at her, and is stupidly pleased to notice her glancing at him, however briefly, “you gotta admit this’s pretty impressive.”
“Getting drunk out of your ass is pretty impressive.”
“She talks .” And because her frowns deepens, Robert decides to keep rambling. “No, but – it’s been months… I did as you ask’d, Ned can tell you—” Whatever gives him a boost of energy, it doesn’t matter, but it makes him straighten up in his seat. “I deleted your number and – I still remember it, as drunk’s I am.” Her expression softens for a moment before setting back into a frown, and he sighs, wishes to reach out and smooth it out, but stops. He stops because he knows it’d not be welcomed. “I’m sorry for… you didn’t have to come, y’know? I would’ve called Ned. Eventually.”
It’s a long while before she talks again. “I thought you moved back south.”
He blinks. “Why’d I do that?”
Lyanna shrugs.
“…Old Nan said you went looking for me,” he’s not expected to say that, but he’s tongue is always loose when he’s drunk and really, it’s not like he regrets it; she looks shocked enough to spark his curiosity. “Why?”
“I wanted to talk,” she replies after a moment.
“Let’s talk now.”
“I’d rather you be sober for it.”
“Then let’s talk tomorrow.”
“Robert…”
She’s exasperated, clearly, but suddenly, this is important. Suddenly, he realizes, this might be his only chance to try and fix this.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said that already.”
“For everything.” He’s jarred a little when the car stops abruptly; they’ve arrived at his place, but he doesn’t move to get out of the car. She doesn’t tell him to, either. “I screwed up, I – just hear me out.”
“You won’t remember any of this.”
Her attempt at deflecting doesn’t work; Robert shifts around in his seat to face her properly, while she still keeps her gaze focused ahead.
“I don’t know – I’m not good… coping ,” he says. “I don’t really deal with the anniversary of my parents’ death. It’s not something I ever—”
“I know it’s hard on you,” she interrupts, takes a deep breath. “I went back because I remembered that, but you weren’t home and…”
“And what?”
“You never wanted to talk about it before. So I figured you wouldn’t want to talk after.” She shrugs, sort of slumps against the steering wheel, and dammit but Lyanna still won’t look at him. “Not to me, anyway.”
“What?”
“You talked to Rhea.”
“I never talked to Rhea.”
Her glare, when aimed at him, is fierce. “Don’t lie to me. I still remember what you said. I—”
“That didn’t mean I talk to her. It doesn’t.” He feels less woozy, but still very much drunk, and fuck maybe they should be having this conversation when he’s sober. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Lyanna scoffs. “I’m sure.”
Gods, but this girl, it amazes him how much she can rile him up. “Don’t be a brat.”
And there comes her famous temper. “Get out of the car.”
“Not until you listen.” She reaches over to open his door, but he grabs her wrist, halting her attempts; now he glares. “Stop that, you can’t keep running away from this.”
“I’m not running!” She struggles to break free of his hold. “But I refuse to stay if you’re not willing to commit—”
“I am committed! Fuck, Lyanna, I love you! It’s been fucking months, and that’s not changed!”
The blow to his chest is feeble but unexpected and it shocks him enough that she manages to break free of his grip. “How can you say—? How?! Love me, do you? Clearly not enough to confide in me. I don’t understand you, remember ?” Fierce and angry, yet the pain is still clear enough for him to see, even through her cutting sarcasm. “Not like Rhea does, not like—”
The car is constrictive, he knows, Lyanna knows, so when she hastens to get off it, he follows. This time, he follows – screw the headache and the dizziness, he’ll follow her now.
“She doesn’t understand me!” Robert’s glad to grab her wrist back, because the world is starting to spin rapidly around him. “You do, you do . You had none of the knowledge Rhea had, yet you knew something was wrong with me, I – I fucked up , Lya, I know I did. I’m sorry .” The fight leaves him, he closes his eyes tight to stop the dizziness, and is incredibly glad she’s not pulling away. “I’ve never… I’ve never had to talk about – about what happened . Ned was there right after, Rhea was there the day it… I never had to talk about any of it.”
How it made him feel, how it still makes him feel. Soon it’ll be four years since the accident that took his parents from him; there are days where he needs only to close his eyes, and he’d see it happen all over again. Robert never talked about it, no one ever forced him to, and he took comfort in that. Pushed it all down, buried it under pretenses and all the things that made him happy; clung to those happy times and just stopped dealing . And then Lyanna finally comes into his life, sharing her joys and tears and everything, leaning on him, little by little pulling him into a real relationship, and he didn’t know how to reciprocate. He still doesn’t know how to share anything other than the fun and happy times.
“I don’t know…” He rubs a hand down his face.
“…how did your parents die?”
“Their plane crashed while it landed.” He’s as shocked as she looks once the words slip past his lips. Robert swallows the lump in his throat, licks his lips anxiously and tries to rein in his mounting grief. “I can’t do this—”
But Lyanna is already pushing past his feeble defenses and closing her arms around his waist, pressing close and doing what she’s always done best when it comes to him and providing the comfort he’s too stubborn to ask for. I can’t do this , but his arms move around her body and he pulls her closer. Eyes closed tightly shut, he tries not to think—about the plane crashing and his world crashing with it, about his failed attempt at relationships and how he sabotaged the good one he did have, about Lyanna and her hugs and smiles and the sense of home and comfort she always, always gives him and that this might be the last – no. I miss you , he thinks. Please don’t leave , his heart screams.
He voices none of this.
“I have to go back,” she says, mouth pressed against his shoulder, but makes no move to step away. “You need to rest, I do too.”
“Come back,” he says in a rush, “come back tomorrow. To talk, only to talk.”
Lyanna nods, hugs him closer. “Only to talk.”