I HOLD SUNLIGHT AND SWALLOW FIREFLIES

[ANNABELLE MARIE HURLEY]

Annie didn’t say anything. Whatever she was thinking, she kept it a secret from Denny although it was kind of obvious. After the beach, on the way home, she didn’t speak a word. Her lips were sealed about what she was feeling. It would hurt to talk, it seemed. Like maybe her words would burn and scratch her throat on their way to her lips. She didn’t mention what Darla said to her, but there was no conflict in wondering if it affected her; Annie shrunk back into herself. You think she would learn to fix things like this, but whenever something hit Annie harder than she could deal with, she had a bad habit of curling into a shell, blocking everything out, even the good things. The days of wearing Denny’s v-necks were over, and replaced with sweatshirts and hoodies that she would only take off when she slept. And even then, she didn’t quite curl up to Denny the way they were used to; she turned to her back was against his chest and then she buried her head in her pillow. If he kissed her too much, she’d stop, and turn away. Her feelings about being touched suddenly seemed to include him, so there were no exceptions.

It was a bit sad how one thing could make Annie so insecure to the point where she just couldn’t even touch her own husband. She thought about her burns, and she just wanted to peel them all off. There were so many, but she wanted to just dedicate the time to eradicating them. She couldn’t sleep at night when she thought of them, and she just curled up all the time so no one - really just her and Denny - could see them. They made her want to cry. When Denny wasn’t home and she took a shower she would sink to the bottom of the floor and feel big, fat globs of tears spill over her face when she was forced to look at them. The water pelted her, but she could sit there and cry for hours just by looking at the discolored skin, even when the hot water ran out and it was just cold. No one would be able to accurately understand the regret that poured from every pore on her body when she thought about those scars.

Annie was sleeping - not exactly peacefully - over the covers. Denny wasn’t home, but he really should be any second. She was in one of those postures that just wasn’t really flattering; her head was buried into the pillow and she was drooling a bit. Not quite on her stomach, but not quite on her side. Leo was sprawled out next to her, so they kind of matched in the awkward poses.

[DENVER CARLOS HURLEY]

Denny was working hard. He needed the money. It was only recently that he needed the hours. As a distraction, I mean. It hadn’t been until really recently that he’d felt cast out at home, pushed aside for reasons he couldn’t explain. Even if Darla had tried to ruin the night on the beach by saying that he’d run over six years ago, Annie had already known that. But Denny had gotten so wasted that night that most of it after waking up on the hammock just came and went. The night was blurry, now that they were back in the real world they’d lived before New York. Well, it wasn’t so much the same anymore. Denny couldn’t say why, but all of the sudden he was really the culprit. He’d done or said something and Annie was seemingly permanently set off. Did he deserve this though? Was it just pay back for those times where he’d hurt her and then he’d almost ignore her? What reasoning would Annie have for using that against him, considering he’d thought he’d made that up to her? All Denny knew was that work was an escape from feeling alienated, left out of the group. It was just such a sudden change, something he hadn’t expected, that he was thrown off, and he needed a quick way to adjust.

But a man could only take so much. It wasn’t the abstinence. Denny waited twenty-two years before going that far with anyone, regardless of who, so not getting any wasn’t exactly the first on his list of priorities. It was being shut out that really hurt. It was Annie making him feel like he’d done something so wrong that she would never forgive him that made his head hurt and his eyes want to spin out of their sockets. It was the way she didn’t cuddle up to him at night that made him want to break down and cry. She seemed to like Leo these days more than she liked him, and if he hadn’t been positive that Leo was a dog and not a shifter, Denny would be a bit more suspicious than he actually was. He trusted Leo, especially since he would likely only be ten years old, at the most, in human years. That would just be weird. But knowing that didn’t explain anything. Because Denny could hardly remember anything from the night of the beach party gone wrong, he couldn’t explain to himself what had gone wrong. Had he publicly humiliated Annie? Well, he might have lost his job if that had been true, if whatever he’d done had been worse enough to come to that. That didn’t seem so, however. Denny had somewhat grown out of blaming himself recently, even though this was really trying that growth to its extents.

Instead of letting all of it get to him at work, he just pushed himself. He worked as efficiently and steadily as he could. Denny tried to be as consistent as his mind would allow, since it kept drifting back to the beach to figure out what had gone wrong. He remembered the fight with his sister – it was likely he would never talk to her again, as well as their father – and he remembered Annie waking him up on the hammock. He remembered the first few beers as he stacked books on shelves, picking up ones people had looked at and left behind without purchasing. Denny recalled Annie throwing off her shirt as he worked the cash registers, checking out customers without faces because he was so far away mentally that he couldn’t remember who he was talking to or what they were saying. As he ran through the computer at customer service to find a book for someone, he remembered her sitting really close to him, kissing his neck, getting closer it seemed with every beer. But then it hurt to start thinking of Annie that way, because recently she’d been the polar opposite and it hurt Denny more than he was willing to own up to. He made it seem like, at home at least, nothing was wrong. He’d come home, stop outside the door, smile, step in, and find Annie curled up to herself in bed. He had to admit that his smile faltered a bit then, but he’d find Leo with her, keeping her company in a desperate attempt to get her to act her norm, and what was left of his smile would be salvaged.

Denny would go into the room, step by Annie’s side, crouch down and sigh. He’d push her hair back from her face to find her napping, or so he could tell from her eyes being closed and her breathing being mostly even. He’d kiss her forehead before standing up, walking around the room to his side of the bed. He’d take his shoes off, pat Leo a few times, stand up, and move into the kitchen. He was never really hungry anymore, but he didn’t feel like the issue was as extreme as Annie’s, though he couldn’t even bring that up when she hardly even said ‘hello’ to him anymore. Still, he’d usually make a snack for himself, go into the living room and sit for a while with Beast. If the cat wasn’t there, Denny usually put the snack back, undressed, and went flying for a little while, just trying to calm down because he was just too emotionally distraught when he got home. It wouldn’t last long. The sun would stay up long enough for him to fly back home, get dressed again, and find Annie awake now, but still closed off. Today was no different. Denny got home with that smile, kissed Annie as he wished, moved into the kitchen only to realize that Beast wasn’t in the living room. The snack wasn’t worth it if the cat wasn’t there, and since he came and went as he pleased, it was a 50/50 chance that Denny would even get to enjoy that much of the day.

He undressed, left his clothes in a neat pile by the front door, shifted, and jumped out the front window. He let his wings carry him since his mind was so far off. The sun felt nice but Denny couldn’t appreciate it properly in this state of mind. It was warm, but not too hot, not humid, just right for summer time. It just didn’t feel right to Denny because he was so out of sorts. His mind didn’t feel right. His heart was breaking but he wasn’t really acknowledging it because he didn’t know what was wrong. This only made sense when he thought of those three weeks without Annie in December. He’d spent that time to himself, not really taking the lead to figuring out what the problem was. He didn’t really understand at the time how a heart could break; he didn’t know how that worked until the end of that time, when Annie called him down to the beach and nearly beat him senseless with her words and the burns. Then something occurred to him, as he landed on the window sill in the front room. Had someone said something about the burns? Denny didn’t mind them anymore. Sure, they marked a point in their relationship that was too complicated to remember most of, but he’d told Annie he loved them because they were a part of her. After that, he’d pretty much just started to believe it himself. The burns didn’t mean anything more than the fact that they’d gotten over a really rotten rough patch in their relationship – but then again, they’d had two worse, more fatal instances after that one that they’d gotten through, coming out with strong heads and confident minds.

Or maybe that was just Denny. Annie had issues with real confidence. But if you asked her to wear the mask of confidence, she would do so flawlessly – or at least she use to be able to do that beautifully. Now? Well, it seemed she was only that way around Denny, or when she felt like she had to show off that he was hers. He didn’t normally mind that much, except that now things were too complicated to just brush that off. Annie was ignoring him and Denny couldn’t remember why; he knew if she didn’t open up and talk to him soon, he’d grow paranoid, his determination to win her over would get the best of him, and eventually it would be his downfall. But what if he’d done something really horrible? What if he’d gone too far when she’d told him no? What if he’d done it in front of everyone? That didn’t make much sense considering Denny could remember being a bit levelheaded, holding Annie so close to him that he felt like the towel she’d been wrapped in didn’t exist. He remembered telling her that he loved her, that no one else mattered, but the pieces didn’t all fit together so perfectly. The night ended there in his mind. So what was to say that nothing happened after that? Before that? What’s to say he wasn’t apologizing before he’d told her he loved her? Denny couldn’t remember and he didn’t think that anyone had followed them – he wasn’t even sure that Abby would know or could tell him what was wrong. So what if he really was the culprit?

For one, if that was the case, Denny would never forgive himself. He’d sooner divorce Annie so that she could go on living her life, get over him, forget that whatever he’d done had happened, and die alone than give himself the forgiveness he’d need to do the same. He knew Annie wouldn’t be the same if things came to that, but he’d rather see her as a changed woman than forever damaged because of him. He’d rather watch from afar than be up close and continuing to complicate her mental state of being. But if things didn’t need to come to that, then Denny didn’t need to think of the situation in that manner. All he had to do was wait, but he’d done that. All he had to do was be gentle, but he’d already been aware of that for some time. All he had to do was get Annie to realize he wanted to talk about the problems, not let them eat away at her. He wanted her to know she could cuddle up to him, talk to him any way she wanted, call him whatever names she wanted to call him. He wanted her to know that his life was meaningless if she wasn’t in it. He had to let her know that this silence, this casting off wasn’t good for either of them. He couldn’t speak for what it was doing to Annie, but it was eating away at his mind, like a parasite stuck to his intestines, sucking the food that he was eating without letting Denny get really any of the nutritional value out of it.

Denny breathed heavily out of the holes on his beak, what would be his nose, what would make a sigh. He shifted back, letting his toes and legs grow in, letting his hair nearly fall over his eyes – maybe it was time for a trip to the barber? – letting his arms extend before he picked up his neatly folded outfit and slipped back into it. He pushed his hand up under his bangs, covering is eyes for a few seconds as a small headache passed, then dropped his hand once again when it was gone. He walked to the back of the apartment, into the bedroom, and sat on the bed. He didn’t know when they’d done so, but now Annie’s eyes were open. Leo sat up a bit, but stayed close to Annie, keeping a barrier between her and Denny. It wasn’t fair; he was her husband. He was her best friend. She should be able to say everything around him. She should feel comfortable being near him, talking to him, trusting him with everything. Denny was honest. He was loyal and determined to make things work. Where was the flaw in that? Where was there a hole that Annie didn’t like, something that Denny could patch up easily and fix permanently? He might never know, if she never spoke to him again. At this point, he was actually considering that would happen, but he felt like making conversation wouldn’t hurt to try, right? But what was the right thing to say? Could he just come out and tell her that he was worried? That would worry her more, most likely. Denny pulled his legs close to him and looked ahead, sighing once again because he wasn’t sure what to do.

“What happened?” he asked, not asking her what he’d done specifically because she would never let him take the blame for something when he wanted to. When it was clearly his own fault, Annie wasn’t willing to let him believe it. But maybe this time was different. Maybe he’d done something so horribly unforgivable that she was going to stand up, scream at him, march out of the apartment, and never come back, never be heard of or from again. If he’d done something that bad to her, he deserved that. “Everything was so good once we got back. Now…… Now I just feel alone, Annie. What happened at the beach that was so bad that you hardly even want to look at me anymore?” He was always taught that honesty was the best policy, and since he trusted Annie with everything he had, he figured laying out his real feelings wasn’t a crime, would only hurt, if at all, to a small degree, for a small amount of time.

2309 words -- cora/annie duh -- lyrics to fall out boy -- work outfit hello -- yeah this is only part one of denny's emotional train ride for this thread~

[ANNABELLE MARIE HURLEY]

Annie woke up and wiped her mouth a bit because she’d probably drooled a bit. Stuff like that happened in naps. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and it was a bit weird because of the layers in her hair and stuff, but she just wanted it out of her face more. It could be bothersome and it was a kind of motion that made her feel more awake. She leaned up, and Leo leaned up too, whining a bit worriedly. Annie was moving and he didn’t know why, but it was his job to look after her... at least in his head. Annie’s head hurt, a steady throbbing that she had been feeling a lot lately. Maybe she had a vitamin deficiency or something. Things were always hurting Annie, so she didn’t really worry about it too much. She heard Denny shift, and was kind of glad he was home. Annie hadn’t heard him come in or shift into a bird, but she heard the stretching and compressing of muscles that signaled the change back. She had been avoiding him but... those were her own problems. They had nothing to do with Denny. She still loved him more than she could convey and she just liked him around. He was her shield and although right now she was suffering from herself, he could protect her from things kicking her while she was down. Part of Annie begged to be in his arms, but she didn’t really know how to. So she just sat up and waited for him to come close again.

She didn’t look at him when he sat down across from her. The bed moved and she was intensely aware of his proximity, but she didn’t give any indication that she’d noticed him. Just looked at her feet. His words made her feel sick, just the first two; what happened? It made her look at what had happened, on the beach and in the week or two that had followed. Some part of her, stupidly, had been hoping he hadn’t noticed her acting this way. That he hadn’t been noticing her turning into a hermit crab around kids. But she had been fucking avoiding him almost. Stuff like that was noticed easily, especially when he was her husband. All of her dreams that she had been having about this lovely life with him were empty. She barely kissed him, touched him, even let him touch her. She wanted to... but it seemed very difficult to her. There probably was something wrong with her. “Everything was so good once we got back. Now…… Now I just feel alone, Annie. What happened at the beach that was so bad that you hardly even want to look at me anymore?” She flinched ever so slightly just because she hadn’t been expecting the bluntness. Each word seemed to affect her a different way. Her heart seemed to explode when he said he felt alone. She didn’t want him to feel alone. She almost reached out and touched him, brushed her hand across his face. Don’t feel alone, she thought. She didn’t want him to feel alone when she had so much love to give him. There was no reasoning. And Annie did want to look at him. She just... swallowed roughly.

Annie had always had problems asking for help, and she looked at Denny in a way that probably reminded him of it. A lost sense of urgency, where she was a float at sea and desperately asking him to reel her in, but she was paralyzed. There was something on the edge of her lips but she felt like it would hurt to speak, once more. She licked her lips and looked down like she was carefully picking her words out of a bin in the back of her head. So many things to chose and none of them seemed right. She moved her hand to tuck some more hair behind her ear, and the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt fell to about halfway towards her elbow, revealing the burns between her knuckles and the lighter ones on her forearm. Ugly little things that didn’t look half as bad as they used to; just discolorations on her skin, a little scaly but with some lotion or something they’d probably barely be noticeable unless you knew what to look for, unless you knew the story. The ones on her collar bones and hips were much gnarlier, grotesque, and visible (when they were uncovered) which is probably why Darla had noticed those, and not the ones on her arms... until she’d already noticed the others. Unknowingly, she inhaled sharply and stumbled a bit to pull the end of her sleeve over her hand. She wasn’t trying to hide them from Denny, which is why that gasp and fumble hadn’t been secretive and slight. She was hiding them from herself. Seeing those burns made Annie’s stomach turn and twist and threaten to empty itself and then that would be a mess and if Annie ran to the bathroom and puked she knew Denny wouldn’t be very happy, so it was just best to keep the scars in the back of her mind.

But he deserved an answer. She closed herself off a bit, just... precation for her words. She actually couldn’t believe she was talking when she opened her mouth. ”She..., uh, someone... saw my burns and said there was something wrong with me.” The last few words seemed to rush together into a jumble as they fell out of her mouth. She closed her eyes tightly because she felt them tear up and she knew if she opened them she would be crying. ”And now,” her voice just had that tone that made it way too obvious for her liking that she was on the verge of tears ”I feel them all the time, like they sting.” She covered her mouth with her hands and kept her eyes closed shut. She pulled her legs up to her chest like Denny was sitting and pressed her forehead against her knees, afraid to open her eyes or open up to anything. Leo sat up and pressed his cold nose against her temple, the only part of her face he could really get to. He whined in a worried way. All she wanted was to crawl over to Denny and let him wrap her up in his arms and pull her to his chest. The steadiness that he provided and the feeling that there really wasn’t anything wrong with her were the only things Annie wanted. But she didn’t know how to get them. Annie was terrified to move, and she wasn’t even sure why.

[DENVER CARLOS HURLEY]

All of the sudden, Denny was excited in a sarcastic manner. He felt ironic – not his existence, but his mood – though he knew he was in control. The monster was far away, maybe gone for good, but Denny wouldn’t be that hopeful until he was positive of such a possibility. He just had this sort of attitude, and it wasn’t aimed at Annie. It was aimed at the situation. “Well now that doesn’t make much sense.” He said it with a slight chuckle, that ironic laugh that really only meant anything because all of the sudden Denny realized it really wasn’t his fault. He was okay with knowing that for once; he agreed with the fact that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Why would he be punished if none of what had happened that night was his fault? He hadn’t even really run over Darla; she just thought she did and therefore wrongly blamed him without knowing she had the wrong Hurley sibling. Sure, it was his fault for getting in the car and taking the blame, but that was far as the blame went. He’d gotten used to years of being blamed for things that had nothing to do with him, but recently something had changed. Annie had taught him to stop blaming himself, to believe that he wasn’t as bad of a person as he thought – worrying about the beach broke through that teaching until it all came out with her response.

“If that was all, why didn’t you tell me?” He looked at Annie, saw her scrunched up as usual. He wouldn’t say so for her sake, but he was starting to get tired of seeing her like that. It just irritated him to see Annie so closed off, detached from literally everything. For the most part, she even ignored Leo. Truth be told though, Denny would be jealous on top of his agitation if she only paid the puppy attention, and the mixture wouldn’t be good in any way. He just had to keep a steady head, not necessarily a cool head, and make sure he was constantly in control. That didn’t make feeling this way any easier to deal with. Denny sort of lived like he just had a roommate these days, and he wasn’t really sure how to make that evident until now. It didn’t really matter though; he was more focused on trying to fix the situation rather than make it worse with words. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d really noticed that he’d been living as if he wasn’t married, as if he was single with a female roommate. He hadn’t been doing it on purpose. He couldn’t focus on it. That wasn’t allowed.

Denny looked straight ahead. He watched the wall and thought for a moment, but his mind seemed empty. What was he thinking? Nothing much now; he just wanted Annie to come and hold his arm, tell him she was sorry for alienating him, ask him to look at her and pay attention to her. He would forgive her if she asked him to. There wasn’t anything he could deny Annie of, but that didn’t necessarily make it easier to deal with. The whole situation just jumbled up his mind, made things clear but blurry at the same time. It was clear that Annie was acting differently; the world was blurry and inconsequential outside of the apartment and the book store. His head felt that way too. Annie was so easy to see; the book store was so detailed and colorful, but the rest of the world was heavily blurred and meant nothing. The sky was a big blue blob; clouds were white puffs; the sun was just a yellow orb that warmed the world but otherwise held nothing for Denny. The stars outside of the room, the ones he could see from the window, were too far away to mean anything more than they did to the next person.

Denny sighed and looked at Annie softly. He wasn’t angry. He couldn’t be angry. Irritated, maybe, but not necessarily at Annie. At the actions she was taking, sure, but he couldn’t find himself accepting the fact that he might be irritated at her. That was blasphemy. He turned his entire body so he was facing her and let his legs unfold and fold again, this time into a criss-cross formation. “Annie, do you understand what you do to me when you stick to yourself like that?” He could understand a lone wolf tendency, but Denny didn’t understand this. Even with the explanation, he didn’t understand why Annie had gone to herself, locked her thoughts in her mind instead of sharing them with him. It was so different from how he’d been when he hadn’t known her; actually, he’d acted a lot like she was acting now. He wouldn’t talk. He didn’t want anyone touching him. He sat back and watched the world take form before him, but he never took part in it. The biggest difference was that Annie was scared of scrutiny, of the scars that weren’t nearly as permanent as Denny’s determination. “I worry on a normal basis, and when you don’t talk to me…..” He didn’t have a way to finish that statement , and Denny didn’t know if that was necessarily a good or a bad thing.

As hard as he might try, he couldn’t remember the party. Some of it, anyway. He tried to remember what Annie had said happened, but all he could do was imagine how it had gone down. Darla was probably out for revenge on him or something; if it was dark enough, how could she have seen the burns? Unless it hadn’t been as dark as Denny vaguely remembered. The only things he was sure of was the fight with his sister and the fact that the longer they sat around the fire, the drunker he got and the blurrier the rest of the world started to become. It was almost funny how the world hadn’t come out of that blurry haze yet, and it was all because of Annie acting differently. He couldn’t say she was taking him for granted, because he didn’t feel like she was. He knew Annie well enough to know that when she had something that she really cared about, she didn’t just throw it away and cast it out of her life. When it was something she could deal with, something that easily fit her needs, Annie actually wanted it all to herself. No sharing, all strings attached, in all ways. That thing was Denny at one point. He’d been putty in her hands; she’d molded him into this husband figure, this protective, honest, loving person that he wasn’t aware he could have been three years ago.

And so now, when she let go of the putty, he had to understand she wasn’t doing it to make him feel horrible. She was doing it because she felt horrible. Denny could tell she was scared, but he didn’t understand why she hadn’t expressed that to him. He was the rock, the stable makeshift therapist between the two of them. Even when he had his own issues to deal with, he was still more geared towards making Annie feel better than curing himself. He’d realized that in helping Annie, he was helping himself. That was why he so suddenly wanted to confront her about this. The longer she avoided him, the crazier he would feel, the less control he would have over himself. Even with work, eventually Denny would mentally deteriorate, perhaps too late for Annie to try and fix what she’d started just by turning away from him. All he had to be grateful now was Leo, his job, and the fact that Annie didn’t have anywhere else go to. Back in December, when she’d avoided him, Annie had her own apartment; now she lived with Denny, so unless she was willing to go and listen to Boss and Abby all night, she didn’t really have a place to be but here, with him. It sounded selfish because it was; Denny didn’t want Annie anywhere else, with anyone else, not even Abby. Not like this, at least. It didn’t seem fair to him to let Abby try and fix Annie when he’d promised so long ago that he would do it, that he would spend every day until the day he died trying to fix Annie.

“When you don’t function correctly, I don’t function correctly. I don’t want you malfunctioning, Annie, and not just for my sake. I can’t stand to see you like this. It physically hurts.” His words weren’t helping her case. Denny knew that. They were helping her understand why he was so suddenly worried, at least verbally, but they weren’t helping her get better. Annie didn’t need a lecture; she needed therapeutic activities, preferably within a two mile radius of the bedroom. She didn’t need a hospital – okay so maybe that wasn’t so true, but that was the last place Denny was ever going to consider taking her – and she didn’t need medication – again, a slight lie, but (again) Denny wasn’t going to go there for as long as he could put it off. All she needed was Denny’s help, not a doctor, not Denny acting like he was a doctor. The only thing was that he wasn’t sure how merciful he could continue to be. The monster had been gone for a long time; it was due for another visit, if it was ever going to come back. Otherwise, there was just so much mental and emotional strain he could go through before he totally broke, went rouge and ran away to be a bird forever. He didn’t necessarily want to put Annie through that, but if he couldn’t control himself anymore than what would be done was what would happen. Still, he had to push the possibility away. He couldn’t afford to focus on it right now.

Denny sighed once again, but never looked away from Annie. He made sure to give her a look that wasn’t scrutinizing, wasn’t harsh or irritated; he just wanted her to know he was looking at her. He wanted her to know that he was still here, still there for her. “Other people shouldn’t matter, Annie. They didn’t before.” Or at least Annie had acted like they hadn’t mattered before he’d come along. He remembered that seemingly confident woman standing in that dark room where they’d first met. Denny remembered being scared that she would overlook him, that he’d go up to her and she’d turn her head and walk away. But she hadn’t, and now she was his wife. At the same time, she wasn’t that seemingly confident woman anymore. There were more factors than just Denny pushing and pulling and clawing at her walls until they fell (the redheaded freak from the club all those months ago; the first miscarriage; the second miscarriage; the tense time in New York) that had made Annie become so insecure, but Denny held himself more accountable than any of those things. This whole blame himself habit was a roller coaster ride, and when he put things in that perspective, Denny understood more about Annie’s insecurities than he thought he ever would. “When I told you that I loved every part of you, I wasn’t lying. I meant it; I still mean it.” His words were so soft that he almost thought that Leo wouldn’t be able to hear what he was saying, but that meant that neither would Annie, but he knew he’d spoken loud enough in the quiet of the room for her to hear everything that rolled out of his mouth.

“The burns…… They’re no one else’s business. Let them think what they want. They’re temporary.” Denny wasn’t just talking about the people. He was talking about the burns, too. Sure, they were scars now, some more scabbed over than others, but eventually they’d just be pink, fleshy marks, something that could easily be overlooked once they blended in with Annie’s skin. But Denny wasn’t worried about the superficial qualities of the burns; he didn’t care what they looked like or that they were actually there anymore. The day she’d shown him, yes, he’d cared, and he still cared that she might end up feeling like that again and burn herself again, but the burns themselves were nothing. They were temporary. Denny reached on gently, held one of Annie’s arms, found one of the burns, and held his finger over it. It wasn’t as hard as he remembered them being; this particular one must be ready to just become that pink, fleshy blob on her skin. He looked back up at her, looking right into her eyes because what he had to say weighed a ton, must be monumental to be that heavy. “I’m permanent.” And for once, there was no if, and, or but about it. Denny felt confident saying it. He felt that he would never leave Annie – knew it with everything he had and everything he’d promised her thus far. He sighed and scooted a little bit closer. “I’m forever.”

2200 words -- cora/annie duh -- lyrics to fall out boy -- work outfit hello -- hi

[ANNABELLE MARIE HURLEY]

Other people shouldn’t matter, Annie. They didn’t before. He was wrong though. Annie could write a book on how wrong he was. People mattered. For some god forsaken reason, they mattered. Other people had always mattered, Annie had just been better at hiding it. Scooping things up into the back of her mind, her heart, her everything. She could hide them forever, she thought. Other people had always been on her mind, had always made her worry, but she had never hinted to it. Her veneer had been so much thicker then. She’d been so practiced at hiding things. Annie’d had such complicated walls set up that she didn’t need to think about the other people. There were no cracks in her foundation and sooner or later she would’ve broken anyway. Maybe that’s why it was so bad now; all those years of pretending to be confident, and holding things in instead of letting them affect her out rightly was finally bearing down on her. And it was weighing a lot. Even if it wasn’t for other people, it was for herself. Annie didn’t like the way she was or how anything seemed to work. It made her frustrated, and angry, and she didn’t like those feelings at all. She didn’t like the way she felt, in general.

When Denny’s finger touched one of her burns, Annie couldn’t hold back those tears anymore, and they completely spilled over. His fingertips brushing over her skin just brought too many feelings to the surface that she had been trying desperately to swallow. Suddenly Annie was at her ugliest with tears cascading down her face and her mouth twisted up in that weird way that they tended to get with crying. He just wasn’t getting it, and so everything he said almost seemed like an insult. And she thought of his earlier words: If that was all, why didn’t you tell me? He just didn’t get it. It was more than that, it wasn’t something small, it wasn’t relief or an exhalation of air. Annie didn’t know how long she would feel this way and Denny not getting it made her scared. He was the only person that could fathom the idea of her, the person who knew the most about her. But apparently he didn’t know all about her, because he just wasn’t getting it. It made Annie want to cry. I’m permanent. I’m forever. And how long would he not understand? That was such a long time for her to not have the words to tell him what he wasn’t getting. Annie pulled her arm away. ”Don’t do that!” she sobbed, and it was obvious that there was something chaotic going on in her head because of the way her voice sounded. She didn’t want him to touch any of the burns because it didn’t make sense to her. She hated it.

She felt bad for pulling back so harshly once she did, though. She sniffled and wiped her sleeve against her nose. Annie didn’t like crying so much. It made her feel ugly and she didn’t like that. Anything that made Annie look like she didn’t want to look was a bother, and horrible, and it made her sick to her stomach. Stop! she wanted to scream at herself. Stop being so worthless. but she didn’t know how. ”It’s not the other people seeing them...” That was a part of it, but other people seeing them reminded Annie that the burns were real, and they were there. Seeing them every day, from the insignificant ones on her arms to the scabby and dark ones in her collarbones, had desensitized her to them. She was used to seeing them, and didn’t even notice them that much anymore. Sure, they were from a hard time in her life, but she was over that, and at this point if they were anything they were success stories. She was better now, right? But when she listened and watched someone look at her with such disgust at them, she remembered Denny’s disgust when he’d seen them. He had almost been sick. And then Annie felt disgust at seeing them; she felt disgust at herself.

Sometimes Annie didn’t understand how Denny could touch and caress something so disgusting and grotesque. Maybe that’s what made her resort back to her old ways in New York. She thought she was getting better, but the feelings were still there. She didn’t know how long they would be there, but the need to rip her skin off and see someone new underneath had been there for as long as she could remember and she didn’t know how much longer it would stay. And she just made things worse with the burns and the general mistreatment of who she was. She tried to make herself better, physically, mentally, just better in a sense that she was more for Denny, that she was worth more. But she just made things worse. That was one of the biggest reasons she hated the burns. They just reminded her of all her mistakes, of the fact that no matter how hard she tried, she would always be who she was, she would always be a failure. ”Just the fact that they’re there.” Wasn’t having Denny supposed to cure those feelings? Wasn’t being in love, finding the one person who didn’t judge you and was more than happy to take you as you were supposed to make all of this stop? No. Annie could tell you first hand it only made things worse. To be so in love with someone you constantly hurt yourself just to make yourself better. You want to be worth more for them. It’s not even trying to catch their attention or get them to want you. It’s trying to give someone wonderful what you think they deserved. And Annie didn’t think Denny deserve this, deserved everything she was.

Would things ever be okay? She tried to open herself up a little because she didn’t like feeling so closed off from him. Denny was the only person who understood her, who had the power to make her feel better, the only person who had ever tried to get to know her. She liked his kisses the best out of any she could remember, and she liked the way that when he held her, she felt important. She didn’t like feeling belittled by these things. Annie dropped her arms from her chest, and let her legs fall to the side so they weren’t a shield in front of her body. Other than that, she didn’t move much physically, but she kind of softened her whole body in a way that suggested she was done cutting herself off. She hung her head down, though, and the hair that had been tucked behind her ear fell and made a curtain in front of her face. Frankly, she looked like a kicked dog. She inhaled shakily. ”I’m scared,” she said softly. If she had the strength, she would have reached out and pulled herself to him. But she didn’t so she sat there and looked at her the creases in the back of her knees, where she could see the faint shadow of burns. She thought she was going to be sick.

[DENVER CARLOS HURLEY]

Annie’s reaction startled Denny. It made him sit back and reevaluate his moves. It was just…..really disheartening for Annie to do that to him. Some part of him could understand that she was stressed out and it was because of the very thing he’d been touching, but most of Denny was just stuck on being shocked because Annie had pushed him away. It wasn’t something he was used to, at least not with her. He’d known this was bound to happen one day, but Denny didn’t know when to expect it. He’d started to hope, actually, that Annie would always be that one person that never push him away. He’d falsely believed she wouldn’t give him a reason to feel like he wasn’t worthy of something. It was just….a slap in the face to feel like he’d done something wrong when all he’d been trying to do was calm Annie down and make her see that nothing was as intense as she felt it was. All he wanted was for things to go back to the way they were, and suddenly he was being penalized for it. Was it really his fault that he didn’t understand why this was such a big deal? Apparently so.

Thankfully, Annie kept talking. It broke through Denny’s sudden shock, but it didn’t release any of the awe that Denny had so easily fallen into. It made him feel less like he was to blame, but not any less….like he was no longer living in his body. It wasn’t the same feeling that the monster filled his body with, but just… He didn’t really know, honestly. His body felt empty; his head felt too full. He was thinking too much but he couldn’t do anything else, except for listen. He could hear, he could register, he could filter, but outside of those things, Denny felt incompetent and static. At the same time, of course; always at the same time. Denny could never catch a break, and sometimes that was okay but right now a break would have been more than wonderful. He sighed, closed his eyes, and just listened. That helped clear his head a bit, but it didn’t do much for the things he was feeling. He still felt casted out. He still felt rejected, and he still felt lower than dirt because of the rejected feelings. He felt the way he used to feel, and he hated it. He didn’t take into account that Annie might constantly feel like this, like she kept having to try and change everything about herself to make him feel good so she’d feel good – he just didn’t catch on to it.

One thing that he did catch on to, however, was her tone. His eyes were still closed, but not because he couldn’t look at Annie. He kept them closed because it helped him think; it moved him in a direction that wasn’t stoic and at a complete stand still. When he reopened his eyes, Denny didn’t feel at all. He was pretty mellow, but not necessarily in a positive manner. It didn’t take long before her words set in and he was emotional again, just not exactly in the same manner. Now he didn’t feel so left behind or pushed away, but rather he felt….confused mostly. Those questions were running around in his head again: Why didn’t she talk to him? Why hadn’t she come to Denny when she was scared? What was he failing at: being a husband or being a protector? It just didn’t make sense to him; he would have come to her if he were scared. Denny trusted Annie that way, but he knew better than to compare his past and how it affected him to Annie’s and such. He almost stated the obvious; that it was Annie’s fault that the burns were even there, but he knew that would only make everything worse than it already was. The last thing Denny wanted was to make Annie feel like utter shit, to have her turn away from him even more and look for someone else to confide in (though he had faith that she wouldn’t be able to find that one other person unless she was going straight to the booze at Abby’s house).

“They won’t be there forever.” It was the only reassuring thing he could say. About the burns, anyway. Most of them were scars, and if they weren’t, they were scabs, some worse than others, but all of them eventually would all just turn into those pink flabby patches of skin. Annie would forget about them, and no one else would talk about them because no one else would be able to see them. Denny already accepted them. Most of the time he didn’t even notice them either, until Annie brought attention to the burns again. He thought about reaching out again, trying to physically reinforce that the burns would eventually go away, but the push she’d given him invaded his mind again and he stayed put. He didn’t want to be pushed away again. Denny wanted to hold Annie close, to pull her closer so that there was no space between them, but now he was afraid that she would reject him again, send him into that demonic depression without really knowing what she was putting her husband through. It hurt too much to even think about, quiet honestly. “And they were a lot worse before. They’re getting better.” His tone was so soft; Denny thought he was speaking in terms of ‘everything will be fine, eventually’ but he could never tell if Annie would perceive his words the way he meant them. He wanted her to know that these scars weren’t a big deal, that she was just worrying about them because they were there, not because they would infect her or make her less of a being.

Denny completely stopped again. He couldn’t say anything at first, and the fear of being rejected overcame the want to reach out and pull her against him. He had to make a choice though; Annie admitted that she was scared, so did he just try to come up with something supportive to say or did he actually act on what he wanted to do? He had told himself to be more assertive with Annie, at least to the point where he would get his point across instead of just ignoring it and letting Annie basically get away with anything, even if it hurt him too much for words – had that actually ever happened? Denny couldn’t really say that it had; it was all he could remember thinking, if he’d ever thought that before anyway. Whatever he could come up with mentally, Denny made his decision quite easily. He forgot about her push and he forgot about his hesitance; he just reached out because he was about to cry seeing Annie so troubled, so torn apart. He pulled himself closer to her before bringing Annie to him, pulling her gently onto his lap. He held her head against his shoulder, just wrapped the other arm around her waist. “Annie, I love you. I don’t want you to be scared; that’s why I want you to talk to me.”

1208 words -- cora/annie duh -- lyrics to fall out boy -- work outfit hello -- shooooooort but that's all i could think to say~