"I-I-I..I don't understand you, I--" Hubert blinks, peridot eyes wide and flitting desperately over her body. "Did I not speak plain?" he asks her, as gently as he is capable. "What I said was--" "I know what you said!" Bernadetta cries, her own eyes wild with primal fear. "I don't understand you, Hubert! Wh-Wh-What are you still doing here? Why are you still here? I have nothing to give you, Hubert, what do want from me, if not.…...i-if not m-m-my..?" Even as she shouts them, Bernadetta knows the words are a barrage of knives, and her entire body tenses as Hubert nearly imperceptibly recoils. Now she'd done it. She'd finally crossed the line with him. First it had been the fear of the weight of a large hand on her waist. Next, the disgusting noise that had come out of her throat when starchy white gloves skimmed over the small expanse of flesh on her upper back that her dress left exposed. As though that were not enough to put him off, she'd yelped like a shot deer when Hubert laid his hand over her wrist, the sensation bringing forth a familiar terror. And now, here she was, screaming at him, screaming at the only person foolish enough to take a chance on throwing their lot in with her.
Hubert, for his part, seems not to know just what to say to her outburst, and that makes Bernadetta all the more furious with herself. It was already mortifying, knowing Hubert had gone to such great lengths to give her special treatment when they were classmates and then comrades. And now, she was testing that patience, that incomprehensible patience, once again, a knife against fraying ropes. "I did not….. intend to alarm you," Hubert finally says, and Bernadetta detects a subtle woundedness in his tone. "If...ahem. This. Is not something you are prepared for, that is perfectly acceptable." "S-S-Sex doesn't s-s-scare me," Bernadetta lies badly. Immediately, however, she regrets it, and balls her hands into fists. "At least, um...n-not, as a concept...! Th-That's true at least. I-It's not about you, it's, um..." Hubert shakes his head slightly. "You don't need to say it. I recall what it is you mean to speak of." "I just, um...oh, but, you'll think it's stupid, won't you?" "I cannot make such a judgement without hearing what it is you mean to say," Hubert counters. "And, I sincerely doubt I will find it stupid, as you say."
Bernadetta sighs, a watery, exhausted sound. "I'm...afraid that, i-if th-this t-t-takes Bernie much longer, that you'll...lose interest. And f-find someone else." Hubert clears his throat, fussing with the round pillow on his office's chaise. "Lady Bernadetta, I...well, this is scarcely comforting, but you ought to know that your concern lacks merits on two critical grounds." "You do think it's stupid then!" "I do not," he rebuts, as patiently as he can. "For one matter, I do not think there is another soul alive who would have me--" "-Don't say that!--" "--and for another, even if the street were lined with men and women interested, you must understand that I would not reciprocate. I am...I am interested in... in pursuing a...physical relationship with you, as it were, but I am more interested in speaking with you. Even if the day in which you feel comfortable engaging in such a thing never arrives. I...I must confess, I am not so certain I am... ready... myself, if that is of any comfort."
Bernadetta sniffles. "S-So you...Th-There's no time limit?" Hubert nods. "But, I must ask...did I do something which put you off?" He examines his front, humming when he notes his flower is present. "Oh, that," Bernadetta sighs. "M-My... my wrist. I have, um...you've seen it, I think? I have a b-big scar on my wrist. S-So when you touched it, I...it reminded me. Of home. Well, no, not home, Enbarr is home...but. My old home, in Varley." That makes Hubert blanch. "A thousand apologies, " he murmurs. "I...I should like to help. If you should like that." "H-Help? Help how?" "In whatever way is meaningful, I suppose." Bernadetta's head swims. Her whole life, she had been too much; too loud, too morbid, too skittish. Her very existence was a danger to those she dared to let close. Worst of all, she was too much even for herself, constantly shackled by her own fears, her belief that one false move would bring about her ruin. And so, she had no idea what to say to Hubert. No semblance of an idea as to what might make any of this go away.
A day late but here’s the hubernie #FEDisabilityPrideWeek fic I did for Comfort and Honesty!
In which the idea of escalating her physical relationship with Hubert brings up old wounds for Bernadetta, and Hubert very clumsily tries to comfort her.
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