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Numb. You feel just sort of numb.
You haven’t reacted much. You keep swallowing. It’s hard and it’s clumsy and it’s useless because it doesn’t ease the feeling you have trapped in your throat. And you keep looking. Looking at where he was once standing, huffing and puffing in front of you as he spoke to you in a tone of voice that you had never, ever heard directed towards you before. Looking at where you last saw him as he turned his back to you and stormed out the door with an aura that made even you shiver. Looking at the rest of the room and its state of complete and utter disarray.
Basically, looking at everything and everywhere except where he put that dent in the wall.
When it happened, you only managed to spare it a brief glance earlier before you felt your stomach start to tumble and twist into knots. You were still in fight or flight mode back then. You and Spike were still yelling at each other back then, still exchanging harsh words that you could barely say without your voice shaking. But even now…even after the moment has passed, you can’t bring yourself to look in its direction. So you do what you should have been doing this entire time.
You quickly go back to ignoring it.
It’s not close. Where he punched the wall. It’s not actually that close to where you are right now. You find some grace in the realization that it’s not close to you. When it happened, you had a feeling his anger was building up to something. Something big. Yet, when he stalked away from you for a few paces, only to turn on his heel and slam his fist into the wall a couple of feet away, you couldn’t help but shriek. It’s not your fault. You were scared. He was hurt and angry and acting out. And you were just scared.
It doesn’t make any of this right. It doesn’t make what he did right. But even so…
It’s quiet now. It’s only you here. It’s all you can think about as your shaky legs finally start to give way and you find yourself leaning back against the very same wall he punched before, slowly, slowly sliding down. You land on the ground with a dull thud, and you blink at what’s in front of you without actually looking at it this time. It’s fine. You know what you would have seen anyways. Boxes overturned. Pillows turned over. A mess. Not a horrible one. Not one that would take you forever to clear. But a mess nonetheless.
With a sigh, you begin to curl your knees up to your chest and hide your face in your hands. Distantly, you swear you can still hear Faye yelling after him, trying to tear him a new one. But it’s hard to imagine she’s having much success (or progress, even) when every other sentence that comes out of her mouth is “Don’t you walk away from me!” In some ways, it echoes what he said to you.
“Don’t lie to me,” and “Don’t look at me like I’m stupid,” and “Don’t you dare say his name.” It all just sounds the same. It all just feels the same. All the yelling and growling and glares and that sort of stuff. It makes you feel sick and angry and upset and sad and so many other things.
But mostly numb. You just…mostly feel numb.
You think back on what you said. You think back to what you two argued about it feels so stupid. He didn’t have the right to be mad at you like that. He didn’t have the right to be mad at you over this. Sure, maybe you went too far in some of what you said. You didn’t have to so point out how closed off he is with his emotions so crassly because it feels obvious that he has a reason for doing so. You didn’t have to point out every time he failed you, the others, and the ship, even though he technically brings in the most money out of all of the other passengers. And you didn’t have to call him a coward just because you know he’s running from something that you’d probably run from too if you had the chance, either.
But you did. Because what were you supposed to do? Because what were you supposed to say?
Because why was he allowed to point out your every flaw and get away with it? Were you just supposed to stand there? Take it? Not cry? Not shout back? Not insult him back? Not fight back? All because he was mad? Just because he was furious?
Just because you found a man who was willing to be upfront with how he felt about you?
You think back to how he begged with you, pleaded with you to tell him that what he heard wasn’t true. To tell him that you would rather be caught dead than be alone with another man who wasn’t him. To tell him that he was just mistaken. That there was no other guy. That you were still his for the taking. That you were always his to begin with.
You sigh again, and it echoes off of the walls of the room that feels too small and empty yet too loud and too big at the same time.
There was another man. And yeah, you kissed him. Only because he kissed you. Only because he complimented you. Looked at you in ways that couldn’t be misunderstood or brushed off. Spoke to you in ways that made it clear exactly how he felt about you. Held you in ways that made you feel seen and desired and special and not like you were just chasing after a man who’s still in love with a ghost that only he can see.
There was another man. Because you were never Spike’s. Not then. And certainly not now either.
And yet, there’s a dent in one of the Bebop’s walls. And that’s only a sign of what’s to come. Because Spike knows you’re going to meet him soon. Spike knows the where and when and what of it all. But here you are, sitting on the floor. Feeling numb and pathetic and sorry for yourself. Because it’s easier to stay here and cry than to warn the man who made you feel so, so cherished that the man you truly love is coming to find him.
And that you barely said a word or lifted a finger to stop this from happening.