[ emma wants to say it won't happen again. she wants to say she won't find herself frightened and overwhelmed by whatever she's realized she...feels? but, no, that's what matters: even if she gets spooked, even if she's startled by whatever odd ache is in her chest, she's not going to force him away from her.
he doesn't deserve that, and preserving whatever friendship and closeness they've cultivated means the world to her. ]
No. It won't.
[ she wants to be sure in that. she wants to believe she's not going to put up another wall and force him away, because where she's managed to find herself with him, with this strange coexistence and companionship, is what she knows she's wanting now. she aches for matthew, misses her husband something fierce, but there are days when she forgets the emptiness, for the span of a few warm laughs and well-meaning smiles, and being there with faraday makes it all worth the strange, unearthly haunting she's settled into. she doesn't forget (never forgets), but she feels stitched together again with faraday at her side. ]
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he doesn't deserve that, and preserving whatever friendship and closeness they've cultivated means the world to her. ]
No. It won't.
[ she wants to be sure in that. she wants to believe she's not going to put up another wall and force him away, because where she's managed to find herself with him, with this strange coexistence and companionship, is what she knows she's wanting now. she aches for matthew, misses her husband something fierce, but there are days when she forgets the emptiness, for the span of a few warm laughs and well-meaning smiles, and being there with faraday makes it all worth the strange, unearthly haunting she's settled into. she doesn't forget (never forgets), but she feels stitched together again with faraday at her side. ]
...it's not somethin' you deserve.
[ and she feels wretched over it. ]
It was my own— mess.