your hand in mine ii

xi

I've never been more confused. I wish I were exaggerating.

You said you wanted to stay. For now. What does that mean? I couldn't ask you yesterday, because you looked so tense, and I didn't want to drive you away. Does that mean you're at least considering being with me? And what would that mean for both of us?

You don't trust me. You can't trust me. Honestly, I'd be a little freaked out if you just started trusting me all of a sudden. I don't deserve it. Not yet. But - are you willing to let me earn it? And - why?

This is quickly turning into a questionnaire rather than a diary. Or a letter collection. That probably suits this better.

My head legitimately hurts from thinking so much. Same thoughts, over and over again.

You were so... you, last night. I couldn't believe it. Thought I was gonna wake up any moment now, so I hung on for as long as I could. I was afraid of looking at you wrong, afraid of breathing too loud, because I was scared I'd make it all disappear with one wrong move.

I can't shake the feeling that this is a perfect illusion, and it's going to shatter soon. Like a mirror, you know? Do you feel it, too? Is that why you're so desperate to keep up with it?

Will I ever get the answers to all of these questions?

//

Lisa leaves with a tentative kiss, and Roseanne stands in her hallway long after that, fingers pressed to her lips and gaze fixed on the closed door. Then, she sighs, turns and goes back to her room to get ready for her shift.

("I'm free tonight," Lisa told her over their awkward breakfast, suddenly. "If you don't have any plans, we could see each other again."

Roseanne nodded and blinked at her plate, not trusting herself to speak.)

At first, she wasn't going to take Lisa up on her barely-offer. For a second of sudden clarity, she thought to herself that some distance would probably do them some good. But it's Lisa. And when it comes to Lisa -- lately, she's been losing the ability to think clearly.

That's why she finds herself in front of Lisa's building. Again. Hoping she's not going to run into her sweet, if slightly overbearing, neighbor and his yappy dog. Knowing she'd take that neighbor over Kate any day.

(There is an awful feeling inside her chest that she hates herself for. That this is a cruel set up orchestrated by Lisa, and she's about to walk in on Kate and her again, in a situation much more compromising and much less dressed. But this is Lisa, Roseanne tells herself. Lisa would never do something like that.)

She can't help the feeling, though. It sits like a stone in her stomach as she slowly walks up the stairs, past the concierge, into the elevator. Ding, it goes, and a second later, she's standing in a long hallway, trying to get her breathing under control.

Stop. Calm down. It's Lisa.

Exactly.

She takes a deep breath, readjusts the bottle of wine in her hands and walks up to the familiar door. Unlocked. Roseanne's heart jumps up and falls.

Lisa and someone else's lips pressed to her neck as someone else's hands--

She swallows and sets her face in a scowl - whether at herself or at the possibility that Lisa is capable of something like that, she's not sure. First one, she thinks, and pushes the door open with determination she doesn't feel.

There are sounds coming from within the apartment - shouting, really, and not the kind Roseanne dreads. But, perhaps, those are even worse.

"--of all people, you would be this stupid!" A deep male voice practically growls, and Roseanne thinks she can hear his agitated pacing.