( is all he says for a little while, because he can't abide her thinking that about herself. this — none of this is her fault. it's all on rhys.
and he nods, understanding. he can't say if the roles were reversed, he wouldn't respond exactly as she had, in betrayal and anger. not that he's ever been against the idea of sharing feyre, because he'd do anything she wanted, to keep her happy — but because it should've been a conversation between them. he knew that long before feyre arrived, so he was willful in hurting her, as much as that disgusts him to admit. he bows his head in submission, a bland truth floating between them. i did this to you. i did this.
and there's one thing that's missing, in this equation. something he'd been — careful to avoid, to find the right words to say. it comes out now, clumsy. )
I'm sorry. ( his hand pauses in diddling her, wiping his thumb on the sheets so he can reach up and chase away that tear that comes falling, brushing against her cheek. ) I'm so, so sorry, Feyre. That I ever lead you to think ( he swallows around something suffocating in his throat ) that there could be anything in any world I could want more than you. Every jagged, broken line. All the dark parts, all the parts I haven't met yet. I love all of them. I want all of them. There's no part of me that doesn't dream of every part of you.
( careful, because — he can't say he regrets bedding alina. he can't apologize for that. it's not fair to her, to take that away as if their time means nothing now that feyre is here. he can't be that man, who walks away from someone pouring their heart out to him — what his heart reaches out for in return. he would not be the male feyre fell in love with, if he could do the easy thing, over the thing his heart guides him towards. then he'd just be tamlin. a thought that makes something vicious ripple through his muscles )
It's just that ( he watches her carefully, ready to stop talking about alina at any time if it makes her profoundly upset. if she isn't ready to hear it, he'll shut himself up. huffing, he lets out a shuddering breath. ) she reminds me of you. You don't even know.
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( is all he says for a little while, because he can't abide her thinking that about herself. this — none of this is her fault. it's all on rhys.
and he nods, understanding. he can't say if the roles were reversed, he wouldn't respond exactly as she had, in betrayal and anger. not that he's ever been against the idea of sharing feyre, because he'd do anything she wanted, to keep her happy — but because it should've been a conversation between them. he knew that long before feyre arrived, so he was willful in hurting her, as much as that disgusts him to admit. he bows his head in submission, a bland truth floating between them. i did this to you. i did this.
and there's one thing that's missing, in this equation. something he'd been — careful to avoid, to find the right words to say. it comes out now, clumsy. )
I'm sorry. ( his hand pauses in diddling her, wiping his thumb on the sheets so he can reach up and chase away that tear that comes falling, brushing against her cheek. ) I'm so, so sorry, Feyre. That I ever lead you to think ( he swallows around something suffocating in his throat ) that there could be anything in any world I could want more than you. Every jagged, broken line. All the dark parts, all the parts I haven't met yet. I love all of them. I want all of them. There's no part of me that doesn't dream of every part of you.
( careful, because — he can't say he regrets bedding alina. he can't apologize for that. it's not fair to her, to take that away as if their time means nothing now that feyre is here. he can't be that man, who walks away from someone pouring their heart out to him — what his heart reaches out for in return. he would not be the male feyre fell in love with, if he could do the easy thing, over the thing his heart guides him towards. then he'd just be tamlin. a thought that makes something vicious ripple through his muscles )
It's just that ( he watches her carefully, ready to stop talking about alina at any time if it makes her profoundly upset. if she isn't ready to hear it, he'll shut himself up. huffing, he lets out a shuddering breath. ) she reminds me of you. You don't even know.