He doesn't know why he told her to tell him. It's not like he's going to be able to do anything, to dredge up compassion out of the dry well of positivity in him. Maybe it'll be so he can fabricate an excuse to avoid her, and then in the absence of failure concoct a hypothetical Jason who could care for her, who would not be so damn helpless in the face of the unchangeable.
Regardless, he understands that he's made a promise.
He works the conditioner through her hair and the soap over her body, rubbing it into her creases and nooks with the sort of chasteness that comes not from disinterest but from exhaustion. He lets her wash his hair and rinse his body, and by the time they're out of the shower and drying he feels fit to pass out. The light from the candles still make him wince and so, as he gets dressed and crawls into the bed, he knows he can't look at his phone.
"I'm going to need you to text my mother. Make something up. If she knows I've had a headache she'll nag me for a month."
no subject
Regardless, he understands that he's made a promise.
He works the conditioner through her hair and the soap over her body, rubbing it into her creases and nooks with the sort of chasteness that comes not from disinterest but from exhaustion. He lets her wash his hair and rinse his body, and by the time they're out of the shower and drying he feels fit to pass out. The light from the candles still make him wince and so, as he gets dressed and crawls into the bed, he knows he can't look at his phone.
"I'm going to need you to text my mother. Make something up. If she knows I've had a headache she'll nag me for a month."