!em3oEn8LAg 06/03/10(Thu)03:03 No.10241521|
When he was satisfied that she was clean, comfortable, and calm, Walters helped her to her feet, turning off the warm water. He handed her a towel. "Go and dry off," he said. "I'll change out of these soaked clothes." Sniffling softly, Helen only nodded.
She waited nervously in the bedroom, furnished as practically and sparsely as the rest of the apartment, while he stripped out of his wet clothes, the towel wrapped around her small shivering frame. Walters entered the bedroom, his own towel wrapped around his waist, and sat next to her, not making direct eye contact.
"So..." she began, hands clutching the towel around her, arms drawn close to her body. "What does this mean?"
Walters shrugged, looking into her crimson eyes, running a hand along the length of her jawline. "It means I'm writing it as I go. I don't have all the answers. Hell, I barely have any answers. But I know what feels good, what feels...right. There are precious few things that can make me happy these days, and you're one of them."
"But, when we talked, you said-"
"I know what I said. I was being practical, cold. I guess it's a thing I developed, always trying to be strong for Samantha. That's not a man I can afford to be anymore."