Amber was ready for pigheadedness. It was what Eric did, at work, digging his heels in and staying stuck for eternity. It didn't matter how many times she told him that he'd disregarded her opinion; he'd always be right, in his mind, and that was that. Amber tensed, prepared for Eric to declare once more that the sky was neon pink and that she should simply accept it.
Which was why when he acknowledged that she was right, Amber's head tilted so as to nearly touch her shoulder, jaw dropping almost comically. This was a trick, right? A classic tactic, giving up ground on one front to stake out new territory. It couldn't have been this easy, not after days of fighting and a tacit break-up. Why give in now? Amber straightened her head, flipping her hair back, wary for the inevitably upcoming catch.
Damn if Eric wasn't convincing, though. His near-apology and promise were choked, like it'd been a challenge to get them out. And even if she couldn’t have wished for more (aside from the promotion he couldn't give her), Amber still felt drawn in, closed off. There had to be more to all this. Hesitantly, and ready to take up again a fighting stance at the first sign of trouble, Amber said, "Okay. Good."
Eric sat down on the bed, a sight so incongruent with their argument that it confused Amber. Beds and relaxing was what they did at home, and it’d become all too clear that their professional and personal lives could not overlap. Still feeling the heat of her blush, Amber almost demanded he get back up. That one simple movement was too intimate for her.
How could he say it wasn't about her in one sentence when in the next he reproached her for how much she'd pissed him off? When he grew visibly angry, as if just by revisiting the memory he was losing his power of speech? She'd known it; the apology hadn’t been real after all. He still thought it was her fault. And Amber was too tired of the back-and-forth to bother becoming angry herself; it simply wasn't worth it. There was nothing left to discuss, not when talking only took them on further rounds of this emotionally unsatisfying merry-go-round of accusations and recriminations.
Amber would've walked out. She really would've. Was all ready to, when Eric spoke that name: Marcus. His brother. It froze Amber to her spot. As much as she’d been questioning how well she knew Eric Foreman, one thing was for sure-- he was too proud to bandy about the memory of his brother just to make a point. Mentioning Marcus meant something. Of what, Amber wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it had to be sincere. So she stayed, and listened, not just to the words, but to the feelings behind them.
The connection between their fight and Marcus' fuckup was tenuous, at best, but apparently any kind of mistake brought Eric back to his brother. Amber took in a sharp breath. It was a solid example, to Eric, of what would happen should he ever really mess up. Amber feared failure, but it didn't have a face. Not like this. She wasn't sure what to say, staring at Eric's fingers and how they overlapped. He suddenly seemed so fragile on the hospital bed, like a patient awaiting a doctor's verdict.
"It's already kind of ruined," Amber pointed out, not unkindly. She'd given up on their relationship when he'd refused to go home with her. If he didn't want it to work out between them, then she wouldn't humiliate herself by insisting. Even if she did want to stroke his cheek, stare deep into his eyes. "I mean, neither one of us wanted to stay together. I think that's pretty much the definition of 'over.'" Was this it? Wasn't there more? It felt like there should be. But with the distance of shock, for a second it really did seem that simple, confirming a breakup with just a few words, as if there were no more feelings, no considerations of how to deal with each other at work, and no House to taunt them afterward. Amber's hand curled over her collar bone, lightly touching herself since she couldn't touch him.
no subject
Which was why when he acknowledged that she was right, Amber's head tilted so as to nearly touch her shoulder, jaw dropping almost comically. This was a trick, right? A classic tactic, giving up ground on one front to stake out new territory. It couldn't have been this easy, not after days of fighting and a tacit break-up. Why give in now? Amber straightened her head, flipping her hair back, wary for the inevitably upcoming catch.
Damn if Eric wasn't convincing, though. His near-apology and promise were choked, like it'd been a challenge to get them out. And even if she couldn’t have wished for more (aside from the promotion he couldn't give her), Amber still felt drawn in, closed off. There had to be more to all this. Hesitantly, and ready to take up again a fighting stance at the first sign of trouble, Amber said, "Okay. Good."
Eric sat down on the bed, a sight so incongruent with their argument that it confused Amber. Beds and relaxing was what they did at home, and it’d become all too clear that their professional and personal lives could not overlap. Still feeling the heat of her blush, Amber almost demanded he get back up. That one simple movement was too intimate for her.
How could he say it wasn't about her in one sentence when in the next he reproached her for how much she'd pissed him off? When he grew visibly angry, as if just by revisiting the memory he was losing his power of speech? She'd known it; the apology hadn’t been real after all. He still thought it was her fault. And Amber was too tired of the back-and-forth to bother becoming angry herself; it simply wasn't worth it. There was nothing left to discuss, not when talking only took them on further rounds of this emotionally unsatisfying merry-go-round of accusations and recriminations.
Amber would've walked out. She really would've. Was all ready to, when Eric spoke that name: Marcus. His brother. It froze Amber to her spot. As much as she’d been questioning how well she knew Eric Foreman, one thing was for sure-- he was too proud to bandy about the memory of his brother just to make a point. Mentioning Marcus meant something. Of what, Amber wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it had to be sincere. So she stayed, and listened, not just to the words, but to the feelings behind them.
The connection between their fight and Marcus' fuckup was tenuous, at best, but apparently any kind of mistake brought Eric back to his brother. Amber took in a sharp breath. It was a solid example, to Eric, of what would happen should he ever really mess up. Amber feared failure, but it didn't have a face. Not like this. She wasn't sure what to say, staring at Eric's fingers and how they overlapped. He suddenly seemed so fragile on the hospital bed, like a patient awaiting a doctor's verdict.
"It's already kind of ruined," Amber pointed out, not unkindly. She'd given up on their relationship when he'd refused to go home with her. If he didn't want it to work out between them, then she wouldn't humiliate herself by insisting. Even if she did want to stroke his cheek, stare deep into his eyes. "I mean, neither one of us wanted to stay together. I think that's pretty much the definition of 'over.'" Was this it? Wasn't there more? It felt like there should be. But with the distance of shock, for a second it really did seem that simple, confirming a breakup with just a few words, as if there were no more feelings, no considerations of how to deal with each other at work, and no House to taunt them afterward. Amber's hand curled over her collar bone, lightly touching herself since she couldn't touch him.