sunnydalealum | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Her duffelbag is heavier than it should be, as she moves out through the AirTrain lobby and onto the street. She feels slower than before. Weaker.

She feels light enough to spread her arms and soar up into the sky.

The number's still in her cellphone's immediate memory; it's the last number she called.

"Hello?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"My kith and kin." The good thing about a verdant complexion is that when you blush, most people can't tell. This is not the case when you're whiter than the driven snow.

"...Your family?" Small-voiced. "I, I didn't know..."

"Don't fret, my sweet darling. I'm just saying I know the feeling. I did not fit in. Ever. And...let's not even get started on how much, okay?"

He reaches out to pat her hand, to show her it really is fine. "I know what it's like not to belong."

She smiles a little, reassured, and sobers again. "And it's not like I even want to fit in with them. The only... there was only one of them I ever thought I could maybe be friends with, if, if things were different."

The crosshatches have turned into little curlicues, spiraling across the plate.

"And that was Jordie, and, well. You saw how that ended up."

"Yeah. Sometimes, things just don't work out for the better. But hey, plenty more fish in the sea, right?"

As far as he's concerned, curlicues beat crosshatches by a very long shot. For one, they're a lot more peaceful, friendly thing to draw in what's left of your syrup and butter.

"And how weird is it," she says suddenly, looking up, "how weird is it that I fit in better with the staff at the club?"

"It's just as weird as me, fitting in better in an entirely different dimension than my home one." He smiles, even if his voice is tactfully lowered, so as not to seem like a complete lunatic to whoever is seated at their neighboring booths.

"Sometimes you're just...thrown haphazardly into something completely new, and it feels better and more right than anything that's come before it. That's the when and where you know you've found home. You feel it in your butt."

... ... ...

"Gut! You feel it in your gut!"

Beth's been studying him with a pensive gaze while he speaks, right up until that last sentence.

Then she covers her mouth with both hands and bursts into giggles.

It's quite the spectacular view, the way his face goes bright red and twists with embarrassed mirth; he covers his eyes, chuckling helplessly. Then, with a groan, "I never learn!"

"Sorry," she's saying through her giggles, "sorry, I just -- sometimes I'm twelve."

"No, no it's fine," he reassures his twelve-year-old friend. "Usually people just stare at me as if I'm insane when I go into the Freudian zone."

Sighing, content with everything from not spilling or spraying coffee over anyone or anything to the fact that it feels so good, unbelievably good, to be sharing this moment with someone who doesn't stare at him.

"It's just...anatomy." He's still smiling, and just a tad sheepish.

"That's where your heart is," she says, sobering again, "isn't it."

"I, yeah." He shrugs, tilting his head down and to the side, and for the love of peaches he can't figure out why he feels shy of all things.

"Yeah, it is."

Her turn to blush a little.

"They had me sit in on a lot of the classroom lectures, at the Academy," she says, skewering the last bite of waffle on her plate and pushing it through the syrup. "Demon anatomy was one of them. I... I wouldn't have even remembered that if, if Tricia hadn't kicked you there."

"Yeah. Girl packs a punch and then some." For all the things that he survived that night, his voice is surprisingly full of something a lot like admiration.

It's something to do with the fact that all the girls back home kicked more ass than the boys, and he liked that about them. He's always had a thing for strong women, be it physical or otherwise. But mostly physical.

"We have to come here again, these waffles are just too good not to."

"I'm treating next time," she says firmly.

"Of course you are. I'm just giving you ideas on the fly." He winks, tilting his head back to catch the last few drops of his cuppa joe.

She smiles again, and finally eats the last bite of waffle.

"It's kind of weird to get to decide what I want to do with my time, again," she confides.

"I can imagine." Crossing his arms on the table, he leans forward from the obvious interest. "You got any ideas what you want to do? Dreams, hopes, you know - the usual."

Beth looks a little distant.

"...Somehow I don't really want to go to law school anymore."

"You went to law school." He nods, slowly. "That's a perfectly valid reason for getting involved with a law firm."

But, shaking his head as though to dispel that line of thought, he gestures for Beth to go on. Never mind him.

She flushes at that, but goes on.

"And, I mean, long-term -- I can't even think long-term. I can barely think about what I'm gonna do after we're done here."

"Well... Make yourself at home. Make a home. Take it easy, smell the flowers, stick your head out the window just to feel the breeze..." He smiles, all too able to imagine doing all those things and man, does it sound sweet.

"No rush, right?"

"Home," she murmurs.

"...I should probably go back to my apartment, yeah."

"Or, maybe to your family. If you'd like, I mean. I'm sure they're worried to bits and pieces about you."

Just because his family sucks doesn't mean everyone else's do too. Family can be a real fantastic thing to have, or so he's learned over the years.