her finger circles the rim of her glass, avoiding his question initially. pretending not to hear it over a loud hum of patrons surrounding them. she’d rather talk about anything – the weather, how some old sports team he once loved in new york was preparing for their battle of stamina and technique, even why they were alone tonight when their rambunctious family would normally be biting at the heels to crash their meal – anything else with richard-human. what he was asking for came with a vulnerability that she hardly felt comfortable confronting herself. gamora swallows her shot with a hiss, slamming the empty container upside-down against the table.
it was pointless to ignore his query. if he suspected she truly didn’t hear, he would simply press into the matter somewhere private – and that would prove more devastatingly intimate an atmosphere. “sometimes.” it was a start, “like when i first heard you were visiting.” her love life was …. complicated. anyone she truly allowed herself to be around romantically died during some point in their relationship, and were then dangled in front of her by the universe as a form of cosmic punishment.
richard became the rule, not the exception.
and then there was their tumultuous relationship itself. the two were vastly different people, with aspirations and goals that never seemed to link up at the same time. sex, passion, chemistry – they burned bright and powerful together; but commitment, understanding, acceptance, trust … these were impossible hurdles set in their path. None of which, ironically, were tackled due to his untimely passing.
