BoJack And His Wife

Six

"Listen, no matter what else, the right thing for the both of us right now is that I got you here, sitting down, complacent. Alright?"

Bojack's eyes eased up as he watched you with a tentative question, an understanding in his eyes of the delicate rope he was walking with you. You rolled your shoulders, kept your eyes down, and said nothing as you allowed Bojack's eradicate, trembling hands, clearly more at a sense of unknowing within his own toxic chaos, as he threaded his hands with a tremble beside the rest of your rags that he placed beside your palms.

There was the occasional cackling and comments from the people behind Bojack, and you could see Bojack's own vague annoyance hearing the occasional comments thrown at him and yourself between their smoke laden conversations. He breathed deeply as he rolled his shoulders, expression softening into a focus as he turned his eyes downward and kept it there in his shame. He turned his eyes back up to you when you, at the very least, managed to reach out a hand and caress it beside his fingertips; his eyes were drenched in that vulnerable guilt as he allowed his eyes, wet and guilt ridden, to ease up to yours.

"If the reason why you won't let us have a life together is because you think that I can't handle the trouble or the dark-" A perk of your lips, raised up as the exhaustion reached your eyes as Bojack searched yours with a question of exhaustion. "You don't have to worry. I've already lived there, and more than likely to an extent that only the most down bottom and pathetic would know."

Bojack's eyes closed, and a tension overcame his features, as if he had been hit.

"Don't say that."

"But it's true." You reached out a hand, threading it beside his wrist; and he could sense the touch of earnest beside your palms as your fingertips lightly caressed his in a sensation of genuine emotional vulnerability. "I've already been living in a black hell, and I'm under no impression for it to ever end. I've accepted that. I've come to accept it face to face. it's what I am, and it's where I belong. I've made a home to it."

"So you want me to make it indefinitely worse? Is that it? You're so endowed and accepting of your fate as this lost, sad woman, that there's nothing left for you except for whatever hell that I can give you."

"No. I mean to say that for whatever reason, you're someone who has made me feel more focused and clear headed more than I ever knew I could be." Your hand reached out and gripped his palm before he could pull away from you entirely. "It's a good thing, in our own understanding of reality. If you let it be. If I've learned anything about anything at this point in my life, it's that nothing matters except for following truth-no matter how aimless or terrible."

"And I would say this goes under the idea of terrible. We can go straight to that one."

"I don't know what this is." Your hands tugged beside his palm as you pulled him back in, and a glinted in his eyes at your insistence-and then somber eyes eased back up to you, muscles on his face tense and somber. "What I do know is that it's compelling. meaning, worthwhile-and I don't want the both of us to be robbed from that. I don't see at this point why we should rob ourselves pof that. Where else there is to go but worse."

Bojack's shoulders lowered, somber decision tensing on his features, turning his eyes down as he gave a heavy breath, ears splayed.

"Bojack?" Your eyes trailed beside his, searching his expression in your inquiry. Bojack's eyes closed, and you could see the tense loathing easing across his features at what you had spoken, the muscles on his face tightening.

"Ok."

Bojack got his way up abruptly, your eyes following his as you followed his movement while he stood himself up abruptly.