( It's amazing how much of her sadness is replaced with wonderment when El cradles her face. This is such a rare gesture, such a poignant one, it steals her attention immediately. It makes her feel simultaneously vulnerable and cared for in a way that prompts another tear to streak down her cheek — but this time, not so much in a bad way.
El holds her face, and Laura looks, rapt and receptive and fully given over.
Her hair is brushed away. Her forehead kissed. The only thing close to this that she's ever felt before has been from Erik, and only over the last few months. It feels a little different coming from El, but no less important, and no less impactful.
And when, at last, arms are wound around her, she's been dismantled enough to immediately slump into them, wrapping her own arms around El's middle in turn.
She feels held, and that makes the words offered to her seem all the more plausible. Like they could be true.
Inevitably, the shoulder of Eleven's shirt is damp with quiet tears.
[ There's a quiet sound, and Eleven clutches Laura closer, her breath itching a little. It's a truth she doesn't quite know how to articulate yet; that she cannot tell what people think or feel about her unless she's told. She knows what it feels like to love someone - she felt it in Mama's memories. But she does not know, in turn, how to recognize when she is loved. How to feel loved. She needs to be told in order for her to know. Actions only do so much for her before she runs out of depth with which to interpret them.
So to be told, to hear it from Laura like this?
It unmoors her, just ever so slightly. And Eleven might be the one holding Laura, but she feels like she'd drift away into uncertainty if Laura wasn't holding her back.
It's possibly, too, that Laura's hair will have some wet strands, as Eleven sheds tears for the both of them.
It takes a while before she tentatively speaks again, makes an offer: ]
I can... try to look. For him. For where he went.
[ And even though she doesn't quite understands acts of love herself, in many ways the easy offer means just that: You are loved by me, too. ]
( Laura considers this offer for a while. There is no real hurry, no sense of urgency in her, and there's a cathartic kind of calm spreading through her now on the other side of crying. A sad but steady relief, a bittersweet kind of peace. She's content to sit like this, tangled with Eleven, for an indefinite amount of time — until the other girl finally decides to pull away, whenever that ends up being. A minute from now, an hour from now, later, it doesn't matter very much. She will stay. )
Thank you. But that's okay. I already know where he's going.
( He is going home to die. He was from before. The dying is his after. She doesn't need to be told how his story ends; she saw it herself. )
[ It's surprisingly comfortable. Soothing, even though Eleven isn't the one who needs soothing. But she can appreciate the contact all the same, the ability to enjoy some closeness. He hurts, sometimes, this feeling under her skin when she would like exactly this, but also can almost not stand having it. Like the first time she had food outside the lab, and nearly got sick from the fries she stuffed into her face, and the burger Benny gave her. Too much too fast can be... not great. But this? This is good, and she will hold on, if Laura wants to keep holding on. ]
Okay.
[ It's second nature to her - the want to see, to look. She was tempted to try with Charles, but she barely knew him. If Laura or Erik or Clint... she won't think of that.
After a moment: ]
I looked at my home. A while ago.
Edited (SORRY, I just noticed a nonsensical typo) 2025-08-09 14:09 (UTC)
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no subject
El holds her face, and Laura looks, rapt and receptive and fully given over.
Her hair is brushed away. Her forehead kissed. The only thing close to this that she's ever felt before has been from Erik, and only over the last few months. It feels a little different coming from El, but no less important, and no less impactful.
And when, at last, arms are wound around her, she's been dismantled enough to immediately slump into them, wrapping her own arms around El's middle in turn.
She feels held, and that makes the words offered to her seem all the more plausible. Like they could be true.
Inevitably, the shoulder of Eleven's shirt is damp with quiet tears.
After a moment or two of silence, she mumbles: )
( By me. )
no subject
So to be told, to hear it from Laura like this?
It unmoors her, just ever so slightly. And Eleven might be the one holding Laura, but she feels like she'd drift away into uncertainty if Laura wasn't holding her back.
It's possibly, too, that Laura's hair will have some wet strands, as Eleven sheds tears for the both of them.
It takes a while before she tentatively speaks again, makes an offer: ]
I can... try to look. For him. For where he went.
[ And even though she doesn't quite understands acts of love herself, in many ways the easy offer means just that: You are loved by me, too. ]
no subject
Thank you. But that's okay. I already know where he's going.
( He is going home to die. He was from before. The dying is his after. She doesn't need to be told how his story ends; she saw it herself. )
no subject
Okay.
[ It's second nature to her - the want to see, to look. She was tempted to try with Charles, but she barely knew him. If Laura or Erik or Clint... she won't think of that.
After a moment: ]
I looked at my home. A while ago.