He paced outside the bunkhouse restlessly, back and forth, his hand clasped over a small red velvet pouch containing a ring. He'd just fought his best friend over that very ring - no, not over the ring. Over what it represented. Who it represented. And it was time to put everything on the line now. Everything they shared together, because what did any of it mean, if she didn't love him enough to promise to be only his? If she couldn't say those words by now - yes, I'm yours, only yours, forever - then there was nothing between them worth saving. But facing that, forcing the issue, meant the risk of losing her.
She hunched over the dress Daisy had started mending earlier. She wet her fingers and drew the thread threw them, before threading the needle. But part of her knew that the terrible rent in the beautiful fabric might be sewn together, and the stitches might hold; but the garment was weakened and the flaw could not be completely fixed. It would always show, what was once perfect would always be marred. She glanced up and saw him standing in the doorway, his face set in determination and pain and love and fear, all at once somehow.
He cleared his dry, rough throat, and tried to speak, gesturing clumsily toward the open doorway. "Please?" he whispered. The answer caught in her throat too, and she just nodded, putting down the dress and following him.
He trudged alongside her silently, heading toward the barn where they could talk alone. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, when he asked someone to share his life. His stomach felt sick and hollow, his hands were shaking, because he knew already how it would end. Like everyone he'd ever cared about before her, he'd lose her. But living this way, knowing that she was slowly pulling away from him, would be worse than just facing it and ending the torture for both of them before they wound up hating each other. Please, he prayed silently as she opened the door and went in. Please just say yes. Please, say you won't leave me.
She turned and stood looking at him as he closed the door behind him. The deadly serious look on his face told her, he was going to demand something from her, some promise she wasn't ready to give. And he wouldn't let it go this time with an excuse or an evasion or a joke, like the other times. It would have to be yes or no, now. Not maybe, not ask me later. And after all, he deserved the respect of a straight answer. Dragging it out was hurting him, turning him into somebody she didn't recognize. But she dreaded the terrible moment of it, dreaded the look she knew she'd see on his face when she said no, dreaded losing him if she didn't give him what he wanted. Please, she prayed. Please don't ask me again. Please, wait until I'm ready.
He knew her well enough to know the answer even as he took the ring from his pocket, even as he knelt in front of her. Her eyes were shut tight, tears squeezing out, but he kept on just the same.
"Lou," he said hoarsely. She looked away, up into the rafters. Whatever fancy speech he'd practiced fell away from his memory. He managed only, "Lou, will you marry me?"
She jerked her hand away from his, shoving both hands in her pockets and turning her back on him. So many feelings rushed through her: love, guilt, pity. Part of her longed to make him happy and tell him what he wanted to hear. Another part grieved already because if she said no, it was over this time and she did love him despite everything. But stronger than anything else in her heart was simple, stark fear. She wasn't sure what she was afraid of. She knew he would never intentionally hurt her. But she was still afraid, somehow, of being trapped and stifled, crushed by his needs. Since she couldn't say yes, that left only one answer to give.
She shook her head mutely, no, her back still turned to him.
He looked at her a moment, then turned away from her as well. There it is. Just like you knew all along. Sooner or later, you always end up left alone. He didn't blame her; she couldn't help how she felt. And it was better this way, to know, to stop the pretense, he told himself, but he found that cold comfort indeed as he put away the ring, along with all the hopes it stood for.
Thanks to Catsimmie for the prompt on TYR Fest!