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Jul. 19th, 2015 11:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lang_noriegavosJuly 18th
A string of Dutch curses he’d never heard before momentarily stopped Seb in his tracks on his way to the back of the bus. He briefly reconsidered his decision to go find his wife. But with a mental shrug and a here goes nothing, he continued down the hall.
“Lang?”
“What?” she snapped, turning around to face him. He was suddenly so glad they were the only two on the bus.
“Uh,” he stalled. They weren’t late for anything, at least not yet. But they did need to get moving. “How’s it going?” he finally asked.
“How does it look like it’s going?” she snapped again. She was half dressed in black leather pants and a loose, cream colored dolman sleeve top was hanging on a cabinet door behind her.
Seb gave her a confused look over. “That’s a trick question, isn’t it?”
She didn’t answer, just glared at him.
“Seriously, Lang, I don’t see a problem.” When she turned her back to him to grab the shirt off the hanger, he added, “Well, now I see a problem.”
She spun around, pitching the balled up shirt at his face, “You are such a pig sometimes!”
He easily caught her shirt and draped it over his shoulder with a sigh. Taking a couple steps towards her, he said, “I didn’t mean that.”
“You did,” she said, but there was less venom in her tone.
He put his hands on her shoulders and met her eyes, “You look fine.”
Slipping out from under his hands and pulling her shirt from his shoulder, she said, “I look like a broken can of dough.”
“Biscuits?”
“Whatever!” She was back to yelling at him again and all he could do was sigh.
“Lang. You look fine. I think it’s all in your head.”
She froze in the middle of finding the top of her shirt. Seb immediately knew he’d said the wrong thing and desperately wished he could take it back. For an unbearable moment, she said nothing, biting her lip, staring down at her hands and the shirt in them.
Without looking up at him, she said, “Sebastián, I can’t button my pants.”
He remembered that tone, the one that made her words sound like pieces of cold steel. He hadn’t heard it in a while, not since the year before, when she’d told him he wasn’t welcome at home until he cleaned up.
He had no idea how to respond to that.
Angrily, she pulled her shirt over her head. “I look fat.”
“You’re pregnant.”
It was her turn to close the distance between them and she fixed him with a stare. “So? Nobody knows besides you and them,” she waved an arm to the side, indicating the rest of the band outside.
“And nobody is going to notice,” he said gently, trying to diffuse the situation.
“Really, Seb? Have you not been paying attention? Do you not listen to anything I say or read anything I write?” She really, really felt like punching him and ground her teeth together to quell the urge. There was basically one right answer and she didn’t have faith that he’d give it to her. In fact, she was hoping he wouldn’t just so she’d feel validated in hitting him.
But she didn’t have the patience to wait for him to come up with an answer. “It has been an uphill battle every god damn day for the last two and a half years,” she snarled and took a step forward, forcing him to step back.
“While you were getting high, I had people telling me daily to lose 5 pounds, 10 pounds, and I had nobody to back me up.” She took another step forward and he took one more back, but he could see the tears welling up in her eyes. “And when you disappeared, it was only because your sister begged me to that I ate every day.”
She stood there, stock still, looking him in the eyes, drained of emotional energy, and just willing herself to stay strong. But that’s when the tears broke—big, ugly tears. “I need you,” she sobbed, “or I am not going to make it through this in one piece.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, finally feeling like he could reach out to her without getting his arm broken. He gathered her into a hug, her wet cheeks pressed against his neck. “And I’m not going to say anything until you tell me to, but maybe we tell people sooner than we’d planned.”
She pulled back so she could see him, but there was no need to voice her concerns. “Lang, for every person saying negative things about you, there are five more who will support you, especially if something happens.”
She took a breath and nodded, stepping back. Turning around, she pulled one of her belts out of a cabinet and fed it through the belt loops on her pants. She did up the buckle over the open button before pulling her shirt down. Looking up at him, she asked, “Are we late yet?”
He just shook his head.
“Then, just…give me a minute.”
Seb continued to look at her, not saying anything.
“Stop worrying. I’m okay. I only need a minute,” she said, holding a hand out to him.
He gave her hand a quick squeeze and nodded before turning away.
A string of Dutch curses he’d never heard before momentarily stopped Seb in his tracks on his way to the back of the bus. He briefly reconsidered his decision to go find his wife. But with a mental shrug and a here goes nothing, he continued down the hall.
“Lang?”
“What?” she snapped, turning around to face him. He was suddenly so glad they were the only two on the bus.
“Uh,” he stalled. They weren’t late for anything, at least not yet. But they did need to get moving. “How’s it going?” he finally asked.
“How does it look like it’s going?” she snapped again. She was half dressed in black leather pants and a loose, cream colored dolman sleeve top was hanging on a cabinet door behind her.
Seb gave her a confused look over. “That’s a trick question, isn’t it?”
She didn’t answer, just glared at him.
“Seriously, Lang, I don’t see a problem.” When she turned her back to him to grab the shirt off the hanger, he added, “Well, now I see a problem.”
She spun around, pitching the balled up shirt at his face, “You are such a pig sometimes!”
He easily caught her shirt and draped it over his shoulder with a sigh. Taking a couple steps towards her, he said, “I didn’t mean that.”
“You did,” she said, but there was less venom in her tone.
He put his hands on her shoulders and met her eyes, “You look fine.”
Slipping out from under his hands and pulling her shirt from his shoulder, she said, “I look like a broken can of dough.”
“Biscuits?”
“Whatever!” She was back to yelling at him again and all he could do was sigh.
“Lang. You look fine. I think it’s all in your head.”
She froze in the middle of finding the top of her shirt. Seb immediately knew he’d said the wrong thing and desperately wished he could take it back. For an unbearable moment, she said nothing, biting her lip, staring down at her hands and the shirt in them.
Without looking up at him, she said, “Sebastián, I can’t button my pants.”
He remembered that tone, the one that made her words sound like pieces of cold steel. He hadn’t heard it in a while, not since the year before, when she’d told him he wasn’t welcome at home until he cleaned up.
He had no idea how to respond to that.
Angrily, she pulled her shirt over her head. “I look fat.”
“You’re pregnant.”
It was her turn to close the distance between them and she fixed him with a stare. “So? Nobody knows besides you and them,” she waved an arm to the side, indicating the rest of the band outside.
“And nobody is going to notice,” he said gently, trying to diffuse the situation.
“Really, Seb? Have you not been paying attention? Do you not listen to anything I say or read anything I write?” She really, really felt like punching him and ground her teeth together to quell the urge. There was basically one right answer and she didn’t have faith that he’d give it to her. In fact, she was hoping he wouldn’t just so she’d feel validated in hitting him.
But she didn’t have the patience to wait for him to come up with an answer. “It has been an uphill battle every god damn day for the last two and a half years,” she snarled and took a step forward, forcing him to step back.
“While you were getting high, I had people telling me daily to lose 5 pounds, 10 pounds, and I had nobody to back me up.” She took another step forward and he took one more back, but he could see the tears welling up in her eyes. “And when you disappeared, it was only because your sister begged me to that I ate every day.”
She stood there, stock still, looking him in the eyes, drained of emotional energy, and just willing herself to stay strong. But that’s when the tears broke—big, ugly tears. “I need you,” she sobbed, “or I am not going to make it through this in one piece.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, finally feeling like he could reach out to her without getting his arm broken. He gathered her into a hug, her wet cheeks pressed against his neck. “And I’m not going to say anything until you tell me to, but maybe we tell people sooner than we’d planned.”
She pulled back so she could see him, but there was no need to voice her concerns. “Lang, for every person saying negative things about you, there are five more who will support you, especially if something happens.”
She took a breath and nodded, stepping back. Turning around, she pulled one of her belts out of a cabinet and fed it through the belt loops on her pants. She did up the buckle over the open button before pulling her shirt down. Looking up at him, she asked, “Are we late yet?”
He just shook his head.
“Then, just…give me a minute.”
Seb continued to look at her, not saying anything.
“Stop worrying. I’m okay. I only need a minute,” she said, holding a hand out to him.
He gave her hand a quick squeeze and nodded before turning away.
