you've got to promise not to stop when i say when

pt ii

It had been two weeks and Theon hadn't heard anything. He'd expected to have heard something. Maybe from Robb, telling him that she'd left her terrible boyfriend and being a pleased big brother. Theon would have had to pretend he didn't know why, but he wouldn't mind. He'd thought he would have heard on the grapevine, that Joffrey Lannister had been ditched and was in a rage induced alcohol fuelled spiral. That one would have made him smile, and he could assume that she just needed time to think.

Most importantly he hadn't heard from Sansa, and that was the one he'd hoped for the most. Even if it was just to collect her underwear, he'd assumed it drove her mad that he had them tucked away in his drawers - a memento of her indiscretion. But nothing. Not a call or a text or a moment of weakness where she turned up at his shitty little apartment and told him she wanted more. Of him. Of them.

He hated to be this guy, thoughts wandering to a girl more often than not, he'd made fun of Jon when he pined and brooded over girls. Told Robb he was moving too fast when he jumped into that marriage after what, three months? And here he was, stoic ladies man Theon Greyjoy, checking his phone every five minutes to see if she'd gotten in touch.

Waiting was painful, and every moment nothing came through was another moment to question. Did she regret it? Did she realise she preferred Joffrey? Was he wrong about every moment he caught her looking at him, focused on his arms while he worked, or when she would cheer him on while he played video games with Bran on the couch at her parents' house and give him that impossibly bright smile win or lose. Was she scared of just being another passing woman in his life? Or was she just ashamed of him?

He decided two weeks was long enough to wait.

The drive over was silent. He'd put music on at first but it only grated at his nerves and he'd quickly shut it off, settling for the soft hum of the fans blowing warm air onto his forearms.

His breathing was even and centred as he walked up the three sets of stairs to her apartment, but he wished the building had an elevator. Theon knocked and stepped back, but then decided he looked too anxious, and settled for leaning against the corridor wall opposite the door.

Theon wasn't sure he had ever been speechless in his life. But he was now, when she opened the door and she wore his top. It drove him wild and he wanted to push her up against the wall and have her right there, but the prominent thought was is she playing some sort of joke? She's messing with me. She has to be. And then it dawned on him that it was none of that.

A couple of years ago when Theon had grown out of that top he'd given it to Robb, and he supposed the hand me down had gone one further. Sansa wasn't wearing his top. She was wearing Robb's.

"Theon," she whisper scolded, and he finally realised how panicked she looked. "You shouldn't be here..."

His heart dropped as realisation crept forward, his ever casual face faltering for a moment. "He's here, isn't he?"

She didn't say anything, opened her mouth like she was going to, but that was answer enough.

"He doesn't know?" He questioned again, trying to seem more composed than he felt.

"Theon," God, just his name seemed to say everything when it came from her. He'd much preferred when she cried it into his neck. The rest of the conversation was unnecessary, at least he told himself so. Truthfully he didn't want to hear the inevitable let down when she said she'd picked her cruel rich beau instead of him.

So he cut her off.

"You look good." Theon told her, pushing off the wall and stepping forward until they were mere centimetres apart. Close enough to duck into her ear. He could feel her fingertips ghosting over his sweatshirt at his stomach and couldn't be sure if it was to stop him or if she just felt the need to touch. He could hear her uncertain breath over his ear and he could at least relish in that. "I like the idea of you in my clothes." But what he meant was clear. When you're with him you're still with me.