Think of the Devil

Six

Once more, the apartment was filled with uneasy silence. Neither Jane nor Matt spoke, not sure of where to start. On opposite sides of the room, it was generally harder for either of them to have a true read on the other. He could faintly hear her rapid heartbeat, could tell when her stance shifted anxiously. She could sense the raging tides within him, one part fighting to stay and one part dying (no pun intended) to leave. She knew he was regretting his decision to come here. He knew she needed, and deserved, the truth. For that moment, though, all they could do was watch each other in the dark.

Finally, Jane picked the bottle of beer off the table and tilted her head back, bottoms up. She was desperate to take her edge off, especially if this confrontation was going to happen without any prior notice. Her nerves felt like cut ends of live wires, her emotions sparking like a disaster waiting to happen. She finished it in seconds and slammed it back to the table, causing Scooby to jump and dive away. She winced at scaring the cat, pausing to take in her surroundings.

Matt still stood by the window, head tilted now, his concerned confusion creeping up on Jane. She ignored it, instead walking to her freezer and grabbing the bottle that held what remained of her vodka. She took a glass down from the cabinet and poured heavily, tossing it back. She started to pour another.

The floorboards creaked as Matt took a hesitant step forward. "Have you always been a lush, or are you just happy to see me?"

A short, bitter laugh fell from her lips, but not at his attempt at humor. She was laughing because if she didn't she'd cry. Or yell. Or run across the room to hit him, or hug him, and she couldn't decide which of these she really wanted. She was feeling everything all at once, like she had in front of the church when he ran from her, feelings she'd been trying to avoid ever since. She stood there, facing away from him, as she tried to think of something, anything, to say. She knocked back her second drink instead.

He took another step forward, reaching the side table and leaning down to turn the lamp on for her benefit. Jane would've thought it a courteous gesture if she thought he still was capable of courtesy. His thoughts were becoming louder, more clear to her. His concern was strong and genuine, and he wondered how he could make this easier. It mirrored his guilt in showing up like this in the first place; he hated that his lie made her feel this way, even if he didn't completely regret it. Processing all of this made Jane a bit dizzy, especially considering she didn't even have a hold on her own feelings yet. Matt took another step, nearly halfway into the living room now.

"Stop," she demanded. She'd meant to shout it, but her voice came out hardly above a murmur. Still, he froze in place, hearing the unwavering severity of her tone. The volume of his thoughts lowered again as he regained focus. It took all of her will not to stretch herself, to not ransack through his brain and find every answer to every question she had. Instead, she poured the last bit of vodka into the glass and downed it, leaving the empty bottle on the counter. The two stood in silence again as Jane fought with herself on what to say and how to feel. At the very least, the alcohol was warming her up. Her edges were softening.

"I'll go, if you want." Matt's voice was quiet, rough in a way Jane had never heard before. "I didn't come here to make things worse."

She finally turned to face him again, drinking no longer an excuse to turn her back. She almost gasped at the sight. It was him, well and truly him, in the dim light from her thrifted lamp. He stood in her living room in a heavy green jacket and black sunglasses she didn't recognize, his lip busted and skin split along his temple. His stance was defensive, though he stood still as a statue. His head tilted as he registered she'd turned to him. It started to dawn on her that he still wasn't able to get a perfect read of her-- somehow his abilities were dampened. Somehow. Like a monstrosity of a skyscraper didn't collapse on him, she thought.