Of all the responses she could have had, Gleb thinks this is the most unexpected one possible; of everything that's taken him by surprise in the last few minutes, nothing has as much as what she's saying now. As he told her in the elevator, he hadn't thought there was a choice left. Finding out that he was wrong about her being with Dmitry didn't actually change that. The rest of what she had to say seemed to make that clear enough. Even knowing now that he was wrong in some of what he thought she meant that day, he wouldn't have imagined that it would come to this, unable to do anything for a moment but look at her in stunned confusion. She's as beautiful as he's ever seen her. She's hurt, and that's at least somewhat on him, though he thought he was doing what was best for everyone, himself included. There's no way to take that back now. The only thing to do is go forward. It's just a matter of figuring out how.
Since the last time she was here, telling him both that she loved him and that she loved someone else too, he's believed that he would never stand a chance with her. Before that, he was just waiting for something to go wrong. He never had much of a chance to be with her, not really, not without the presence of someone else looming overhead. That first week and a half seems almost surreal now in how good it felt, regardless of what prompted his confession. He should be pleased now, or relieved, or something of the sort, but mostly he's confused, still waiting for the but that ought to follow her words.
"I didn't mean to hurt you, either," he says, what seems like the most important thing to get out of the way. Whatever does or doesn't happen now, he hopes she knows that. He'd just been hurting, too, and still can't quite determine what went wrong or how they got here from there. "And I... I want to be with you. I do. But I can't ask that of you." It hurts just to say, the words feeling like they've been ripped out of him, but he knows it's necessary. He doesn't think for a second that she would lie to him about this, but he can't see how it's possibly that simple, either, and he wouldn't forgive himself if he trapped her in a situation that wasn't what she was looking for you. "I know you love him, too. And I know there's every chance that nothing would ever have happened if he'd been here before I was, or before I told you that I loved you. I just want you to be happy, Anya. More than anything." This time, he reaches for her, his hand smoothing gently over her hair. "Would you be, making that choice? Truly?"
He won't issue an ultimatum. She's said she doesn't want to be the spoils of a war, and he won't make her that. Whatever she wants to give him, he would take, and willingly, but he doesn't want to be the second choice, the person she'll settle for, if it means she'll only miss what she doesn't get to have. That, he thinks, ought to be fair enough.
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Since the last time she was here, telling him both that she loved him and that she loved someone else too, he's believed that he would never stand a chance with her. Before that, he was just waiting for something to go wrong. He never had much of a chance to be with her, not really, not without the presence of someone else looming overhead. That first week and a half seems almost surreal now in how good it felt, regardless of what prompted his confession. He should be pleased now, or relieved, or something of the sort, but mostly he's confused, still waiting for the but that ought to follow her words.
"I didn't mean to hurt you, either," he says, what seems like the most important thing to get out of the way. Whatever does or doesn't happen now, he hopes she knows that. He'd just been hurting, too, and still can't quite determine what went wrong or how they got here from there. "And I... I want to be with you. I do. But I can't ask that of you." It hurts just to say, the words feeling like they've been ripped out of him, but he knows it's necessary. He doesn't think for a second that she would lie to him about this, but he can't see how it's possibly that simple, either, and he wouldn't forgive himself if he trapped her in a situation that wasn't what she was looking for you. "I know you love him, too. And I know there's every chance that nothing would ever have happened if he'd been here before I was, or before I told you that I loved you. I just want you to be happy, Anya. More than anything." This time, he reaches for her, his hand smoothing gently over her hair. "Would you be, making that choice? Truly?"
He won't issue an ultimatum. She's said she doesn't want to be the spoils of a war, and he won't make her that. Whatever she wants to give him, he would take, and willingly, but he doesn't want to be the second choice, the person she'll settle for, if it means she'll only miss what she doesn't get to have. That, he thinks, ought to be fair enough.