[ Most of what Clay envisions is pretty close to the mark; the silhouette of the alarm clock shields Cadence’s facial expressions, sure, but there’s a tension in her posture that’s still visible in the low light. She doesn’t shirk away from Clay’s touch at first, but doesn’t lean into it either, her mind trying to parse together how to her (metaphorical) grounding back.
Clay’s expression doesn’t help the sinking feeling in her gut: while her body blocks some of the light, she can still make out the half-hope in his eyes and it makes her want to break something, anything to get him to stop. ]
If I’m staying, I need to get some rest.
[ The best she can come up with is her tried and true default: let her words form the protective barriers she needs as she shifts back, still facing him but further towards the edge of the bed. She may stay, but it won’t be filled with sweet nothings. It’s just about her trying to get a longer stint of sleep, plain and simple: she tells herself freaking out suggests that there’s more to it, which there isn’t. ]
no subject
Clay’s expression doesn’t help the sinking feeling in her gut: while her body blocks some of the light, she can still make out the half-hope in his eyes and it makes her want to break something, anything to get him to stop. ]
If I’m staying, I need to get some rest.
[ The best she can come up with is her tried and true default: let her words form the protective barriers she needs as she shifts back, still facing him but further towards the edge of the bed. She may stay, but it won’t be filled with sweet nothings. It’s just about her trying to get a longer stint of sleep, plain and simple: she tells herself freaking out suggests that there’s more to it, which there isn’t. ]