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He would have deserved to be left behind in the lift to find his way out on his own, but stepping out of it, she halted and put out a hand to stop the doors from closing behind her and give him time to get out. But that was it. That was all. She did not help him, she did not talk to him, and she barely looked at him as he pushed himself away from the glass and staggered out of the car only to put his back against the first available piece of wall and lower himself down on the floor with a shaky sigh.
“Well,” she said, letting go of the door and smoothing down her skirt. “Good night.”
“Princess,” he whispered, lifting a hand towards her, even though he was way too far to actually reach her. “Wait.”
She pursed her lips but stayed still and waited to see if she needed to send an Avox to help him.
“Wait,” he whispered again, sounding even more desperate. “I…” he started, then closed his eyes and pressed the back of his hand against his lips, so she took a step back instinctively.
But he curled his fingers into a fist, took a deep breath, then reached out for her again.
“I’m sorry,” he said, clearing his throat and looking up at her.
“Yes.” She gave him a nod. “You should be.”
He returned the nod, then hung his head, raking his fingers through his hair.
“Is that all?” she asked when moments passed without another word.
He raised his head, looked at her, but all he gave her was a slow blink and a deep sigh, and it hurt even worse. She expected more. She shouldn’t have, but she did, because she deserved more.
“I have never been humiliated like this in my whole life,” she said, and she felt her eyes starting to sting and tingle. “I have never been thrown out of… anywhere!”
“Well, if it’s any consolation; me neither,” he chuckled, because of course now he had to find his voice. “But I guess there’s always a first time for everything.” He put his head against the wall with a thud.
She wanted to scream at him for that, but quickly realised she didn’t even feel angry any more. She just felt hurt. Betrayed. Disappointed. Tired. So tired.
“Hey,” he said in a low voice, but she kept her eyes closed and her fingers pressed against her lips to try to keep her tears to the minimum.
“Hey,” he said again, and started to get up too.
“Oh my god, stay down,” she sniffed when he tried to hold on to the small table next to him, then stepped closer to steady the vase of flowers sitting on it before crouching next to him and putting a hand on his knee to keep him down on his butt.
“Yeah, that would probably be best,” he groaned, leaning back against the wall, but when she patted his knee and started to get back up, he took her hand and made her stay.
She could have easily pulled away, but she didn’t. She just wiped her tears with her free hand and put her knees on the floor next to his.
“I really am sorry,” he said, and caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.
She knew that, because he never said he was sorry when he didn’t mean it. It felt sort of nice. But it was still way too little, way too late.
“You can’t keep doing this to me,” she said in a voice thick with tears.
“I know.”
“To the children.”
“Yeah.”
“Or to yourself.”
He was supposed to say yes. He was supposed to promise her that he would stop. That he would change. But all he gave her was a sad little laugh before he closed his eyes and put his head back against the wall.
She watched his face for a moment longer, hoping he would look back at her and give her a proper answer, but when he failed to do so, she swallowed hard and lowered her eyes to their hands.
“I’m going to bed,” she said when she finally managed to admit to herself that she had nothing else to say.
“Sure.” He squeezed her hand, looking every bit as miserable as she felt.
“Should I ask someone to come and help you get to yours?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“Alright, then,” she said.
“Effie.” He suddenly squeezed her hand tighter.
“Hm?”
He held on to her so tight it was beginning to hurt, so she moved a little closer and put her free hand on his. “What is it?”
“You won’t… leave,” he whispered, searching her face. “Right?”
“No,” she said softly.
“You can’t.” He pulled her closer by the hand.
“I won’t.”
“You can’t,” he repeated it desperately. “I can’t do this w—”
“I won’t.” She cut him off by pressing the tip of her fingers against his lips. “I won’t.” She caressed his face. “I promise.”
He needed a moment to calm down and be able to believe her, and when he finally did, he gave her a nod, then hung his head with a sigh.
“I really can’t do this without you,” he said in a small voice. “I can’t.”
He never said things like that when he was sober and she liked to keep him from saying them when he was drunk, because it felt like taking something that wasn’t really hers to take, but she felt wretched enough to make an exemption. Just this once. Just so she could feel a little better.
“You don’t have to,” she told him, caressing his face and leaning in to kiss his hair.
It seemed to finally do the trick and relax him, because he moved closer to her too, wrapping an arm around her waist and putting his head on her shoulder.
“You smell nice,” he whispered into the crook of her neck.
“You don’t,” she whispered back, earning a sad little laugh and an even tighter hug. It didn’t make any difference. It didn’t solve any of their problems. But it felt nice, so she put her chin on top of his head and let the hug go on for as long as it needed to. Because it felt really nice.