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Villanelle sits silently, but Eve can see the tension in her jaw even though she refuses to meet Eve’s gaze. Every time Eve wipes over the grazes on her face to disinfect them, she hears the shakiness in Villanelle’s exhale and her heart plummets knowing she’s causing her further pain.
It’s Eve's fault that it’s come to this; to witnessing Hélène’s henchmen beat Villanelle while Hélène forced her to watch in delight. It was Eve’s false indifference in regards to Villanelle that led Hélène to play her most ingenious move. A challenge Eve didn’t stand a chance holding up against; a weakness Hélène had easily exploited before casting them both aside.
Eve sits back and lets her eyes trace over Villanelle’s bruised face, and feels an overwhelming rush of guilt crushing down over her chest. This is the closest they’ve been since that day on Martin’s couch, after Eve’s betrayal, and it doesn’t surprise Eve to feel the palpable distance Villanelle is putting between them.
She watches Villanelle shift uncomfortably, her teeth biting into her bottom lip as her arm instinctively wraps around her middle.
‘You should let me check your ribs,’ Eve says gently, trying to duck into Villanelle’s line of sight but failing miserably when Villanelle tilts her head further to the left to avoid her.
Eve understands the cold shoulder, it’s nothing less than she deserves but they’re here, together, and Eve guesses starting somewhere is better than continuing on her path of denial.
She reaches out tentatively, giving Villanelle the opportunity to sense her movement, to accept or reject, but when Villanelle remains motionless, Eve takes it as a minor victory and gently curls her fingertips under the hem of Villanelle’s top. She lifts it slowly to reveal the motley of blues and purples blossoming over the expanse of Villanelle’s side.
‘Sorry,’ Eve mumbles when Villanelle hisses, her face pinching up in a grimace of discomfort.
‘They’re just bruised,’ Villanelle says dismissively, her tone curt and biting. ‘It will heal.’
Eve nods her head, who is she to question Villanelle’s expertise on the matter. She’s sure this isn’t the first time Villanelle has been on the receiving end of a beating, but the thought alone isn’t enough to stop her eyes stinging with tears. This one is all her fault; her recklessness that Villanelle has paid the price for. It isn’t the first time either, Eve notes sadly, catching sight of a neat little scar on Villanelle’s abdomen; another of Eve’s moments of rashness that had resulted in Villanelle’s blood spilt.
Before she can even think about what she’s about to do, Eve leans forward, ducks head head low as her hands rest gently at Villanelle’s hips and presses her mouth to Villanelle’s scar.
It’s not enough to erase any of what’s happened between them, but Eve aches to feel it imprinted into her soul; for Villanelle’s pain to become her own.
Eve lets her lips linger, ghosting the mark she left behind on Villanelle’s skin with gentle, tender caresses. She inhales the powdery freshness of Villanelle’s skin and prays to all the deities she doesn’t quite believe in to absolve her of her mistakes and sins. She’s been lost but now she’s found once more, worshipping at the only goddess she ever should have been faithful to.
Villanelle audible, unsteady exhale jolts Eve from her thoughts, and she feels her her tears escaping down her cheeks as Villanelle lovingly combs her fingers through her hair, and looks down at Eve in a mixture of frustration and awe.
‘Forgive me,’ Eve whispers pleadingly when their eyes finally meet.
Villanelle doesn’t say anything, just tugs gently at Eve’s hair until Eve is sitting upright once more, their noses bumping together at their sudden proximity.
‘Are you done pretending now, Eve?’ Villanelle murmurs, her eyes searching desperately into the depths of Eve’s own.
‘Yes,’ Eve confesses breathlessly. ‘I promise.’
‘Then I forgive you,’ Villanelle whispers, leaning forward to press their lips together in a needy kiss that feels more healing that any reinvention ever could.