already_lost | For Chuck

Dear Diary,

How do you know if someone is the one?

I don't think I used to believe in all that. I'm sure I did, once, a long time ago. Before him, before BOB, before everything. When I still liked ponies and pink and thought a tiara was the height of fashion. When I had a little innocence left in me. Diary, I don't feel very innocent anymore, but sometimes... Sometimes he makes me feel like that's okay. I don't even have to hide from him, I don't have to pretend like I'm something I'm not. I don't even think he wants anything from me.

Maybe I want him to want something from me. Maybe I'm done with casual. But how am I supposed to talk about those kinds of things?

Why are we both so stupid???

Laura underlined that final word three times, her pen digging deep into the paper of her journal, a habit she still hadn't completely outgrown. It made her feel like a little girl, made her think of things she'd rather not, but it was always better for her to get her thoughts out onto the page, than to keep them all bottled up.

With an angry groan, she tossed her pen aside, her nails tapping against the scarred top of her desk, a cheap, rickety thing that had been there when she'd moved in. Shoving her journal into the top drawer, no longer feeling like she had to hide it so carefully, Laura stood, pausing indecisively in the middle of her room for a long moment before marching over to her closet. She dressed quickly, a burgundy dress and a pair of black tights with an oversized sweater thrown over the top. Her hair had grown out again, falling loose from the messy bun she pulled it into. Pausing in front of a mirror, she grimaced. She was used to dressing well for her job, but she felt like she'd never be fashionable.

It shouldn't have mattered. Chuck had seen her ugly cry, he'd seen her vomiting all over herself, he'd seen her first thing in the morning and after a long, exhausting shift. But in that moment, she hated how she looked, and was convinced that he would hate it, too.

Her eyes watering, she blotted at them with a tissue, sniffling as she put on a little mascara and some lipstick to match her dress. With one last disgusted look in the mirror, her eyes never quite meeting her own in the reflection.

Catching a cab, she texted him on the way, her stomach in knots by the time the car pulled up outside his apartment. On her way up to his apartment, she almost fled more than once, seeing herself rushing down the stairs and out onto the street and just... disappearing.

But instead, she knocked on his door, her stomach fluttering as she heard the sound of his footsteps on the other side.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Though Chuck has never really been one for just letting things happen, in this instance, it's seemed like the better, safer option. God knows he has no idea what he's doing, something that isn't likely to change anytime soon. His experience with relationships is limited to exactly one, which was short-lived and ended terribly, no matter how close friends he and Beth may be now. He's fucked around with plenty of people, especially in Darrow, sometimes even on a regular basis, but this feels different. He doesn't have a clue how to put into words what he feels, but he knows there's never been anyone like Laura.

He thinks about that a lot. He is not, however, thinking about that when she texts him to say that she's coming over, which he doesn't need to hesitate to respond to.

"Hey," he says once he's opened the door, a small, crooked smile on his face at the sight of her. Stepping inside to let her in, he adds, "You look nice."

"Thanks," she said distractedly as she brushed past him, her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Standing in the middle of his living room, she lifted her hands and tucked her hair neatly behind her ears, her lips pressed into a thin, nervous line.

"What are we doing, Chuck?" She blurted, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin defiantly, in a weak attempt to look in command of herself, and not like she was two seconds away from screaming in frustration. "I think you should tell me what you want, instead of making me guess, because it's starting to drive me out of my fucking mind."

The question is more than a little surprising, and not just for the abruptness of it. Truthfully, Chuck doesn't really have a clue what they're doing. More specifically, he doesn't know what he's doing. This is uncharted territory for him in more ways than one. He's never had feelings like this for someone before; he's definitely never had anything resembling a serious relationship, if that's even what this is at all. If she would even want that. It's a strange thing to be holding himself back, but he doesn't want to push for too much and run her off.

He could say that, maybe. Looking at the way she stands there, the set of her jaw and her hands curled in fists, he thinks he probably should. He doesn't have the words for any of that, though.

"I want to be with you," he says, trying not to wince, hoping that's enough. "I don't... usually do this. Or feel like this. Shit, I don't even know what I'm saying now." He scoffs at himself, shakes his head. "But I know that much."

Do you love me?

The plea was on the tip of her tongue, screaming inside her head, but she bit her lip, stepping forward and framing his jaw in her hands. He was so handsome. Dreamy, Donna probably would've said, all breathless and swooning. Handsome, but rough around the edges, all of his broken pieces seeming to fit hers in a way no one else's ever had.

"You know, I'm used to boys telling me how they can't live without me. I'm the most amazing girl they've ever known, because I'm just so beautiful," she said, rolling her eyes expansively. "If I didn't know you better, I might think you were disinterested, Chuck Hansen." She broke out in a smile. "You can hardly even tell me you like me."

To him, the idea seems absurd. Not having feelings for someone in the first place — he has, at least, come to terms with the fact of that — but when most of the people he's ever known have died in some way or another, it's hard to take seriously the notion of not being able to live without someone. If Laura disappeared tomorrow, well, he'd probably put his fist through a wall or something, but the world wouldn't stop turning, or whatever it is that happens in Darrow. He's not sure he would ever feel like this again, but he never expected to even once, so he's already ahead there.

"I am definitely not disinterested," he tells her as seriously as he can, reaching up to brush a loose piece of hair away from her face. "And I do like you. Like barely even covers it."

"Oh, really," she said, allowing herself to tease him a bit, even as he heartbeat fluttered nervously in her chest.

"I like you, too," she added, lifting a hand to his face, "Maybe I forgot to say. But I do. I'm afraid of how much I like you."

She dropped her head to his shoulder, burrowing in close to him as she let out a cathartic sigh.

"Yeah," Chuck says, letting out a breath that isn't quite a laugh. "I guess that makes two of us." It's not really like anything he's known before, after all, and therefore it's more than a little difficult for him to figure out what the hell he's supposed to do with that. Relationships and romance, neither of those are things for which he's cut out. For Laura, though, it's worth it to try. It has been since the day he found her on the beach, when he inserted himself into a stranger's business despite his better judgment.

"But I think that works out alright."

"As long as I'm not the only one making an idiot of myself," she sighed, her fingertip trailing along the collar of his shirt.

She felt foolish, girlish in a way she rarely allowed herself to be, but at least he seemed no more sure of himself.

Pulling back, she managed a bright smile as she looked up at him. "We're really stupid, Chuck Hansen."

"We're definitely that," Chuck agrees with a wry smile. He can't exactly claim otherwise, after all. The things he's good at are really only applicable in another world entirely than this one. Though he can still throw a punch, it isn't useful in the way it used to be, and nothing he learned at Jaeger Academy could help him when it comes to being with someone. At least it's not just him, though. At least he hasn't run her off yet.

"Is it awful if I'm glad it's not just me?"

"I can't remember the last time I felt like I wasn't alone," she admitted, reaching for his hand as she took a step back from him. She rolled her eyes affectionately. "So, no, Chuck. It's not awful."

Letting go of his hand, she stepped further in his apartment, taking a moment to collect herself.

"Can we do something? I need to get out of here," she admitted, "I got all kinds of worked up, you know? Like I might start climbing the walls."

"Yeah, of course," Chuck says with a nod. It's not like he has any particular need to stick around here, especially not if she doesn't want to. Even he's not about to take all of this, whatever it is, too lightly, either. It's too outside the realm of anything he's familiar with; he wants too much to get it right. With that being the case, he's not about to downplay the weight of any of it.

"Got anywhere in mind you wanna go?"

For Chuck

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