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xmutanthigh2007-12-28 12:13 am
hellion-x.livejournal.com) wrote in xmutanthigh2007-12-28 12:13 am
Entry tags:
[SCENES] Ali & Amara; Ali & Julian; Amara & Julian
EDITED!
Amara stood over the coffee maker, eyes closed, the pop and gurgle that indicated brewing drowning out the whirlwind of thoughts and voices in her head. She was, to put it simply, completely drained. Everywhere she turned, lately, her friends seemed to look at her with downcast, disappointed eyes, all carrying the same unspoken message: We thought you were better than this.
To be honest, everyone seemed to be mirroring the sentiments Amara had been feeling since the incident. She had always thought herself above such morally grey actions, like sleeping with another girl's boyfriend, particularly if she was happily involved with her own at the time.
"I'm not that girl," she would say to herself on dark nights when she considered sneaking into Julian's dorm room for a trip down memory lane, "I'm not that girl."
Her eyes opened slightly, staring into the thick blackness of the coffee pot. "When did I become that girl?"
"What girl?" Amara jumped at the sound, not having noticed Ali come in with a bag of late night groceries. "Sorry, didn't mean to give you a scare."
"It's okay." She looked at the bags. "A bit late for grocery shopping, isn't it?"
"Late for coffee, too, no? I know you only drink hi-test." She continued shoving junk food into cabinets, removing the last few items--several containers of Breyers Natural Vanilla Ice Cream--and opening the freezer to put them away. "I noticed Bob was out of ice cream, figured I'd restock for him, considering..." She trailed off, realizing her mistake.
"Considering I treated him like shit and now he hates me?" The bitterness in her voice was not lost on Ali.
"Considering he's had a rough couple of weeks, yeah."
"You don't have to sugar coat it, Ali. I know you probably hate me too." She sighed, pouring a cup of coffee. "Just like everyone else."
"I'm not sugar coating anything, princess. The guy's had a rough few weeks." Ali closed the freezer and moved to the cabinet, getting out a mug and holding it out to Amara. "You mind?"
"No, it'd just burn and get thrown out otherwise." Dark liquid splashed against the bottom of the white porcelain mug.
"And I don't hate you," she moved to get milk from the fridge, "nobody else does, either."
"Sure, if you don't include Bobby, Jules, John, Jubilee and Kitty. Not to mention Rogue."
"Rogue has other things on her mind right now," Ali said softly, her mind wandering a little before returning to the kitchen, "and everyone else doesn't hate you, princess. They just don't know what to think."
Amara didn't say anything, but sunk dejectedly into a chair by the centre island. Ali put the milk away and turned, leaning on the granite, opposite the blonde.
"You want a little advice?"
"No." Amara took a slurp from the still piping hot coffee. "Not from you, anyhow."
"Too bad." Ali, set her mug on the counter, fingers curled around it, soaking up the warmth. Amara closed her eyes, bracing herself for the worst. "Forget about everyone else for right now, just deal with you."
Opening her right eye just a crack, Amara stared at Ali quizzically. "What?"
"Forget about whether anyone else is hating on you for the moment, don't worry about who's avoiding you because of this. You made a mistake and the only person that really has to live with it is you." Ali took another sip, glancing around the room absently. "It wouldn't matter if everyone in the world was joining your fan club, princess. You'd feel like shit anyway because you're hating on yourself."
Amara blinked. "Who are you?" She asked at length. "And what the heck did you do with Ali?"
"You know." Ali laughed, pushing off the counter and shifting her weight between her feet. "I've been hearing that a lot, lately." She turned, opening the freezer and getting out one of the new containers of ice cream. "Here, try this. I know a guy who swears by it."
The gesture, though intended to be kind, had the opposite effect. The length of Amara's rope had reached its frayed end, exhaustion and degrees of self loathing breaking down her strong exterior. The ice cream, Bobby's favourite, bought for him because of the way she had made him feel, was the very last straw. She broke.
Shaky, soft sobs accompanied a hesitant flood of tears. Ali's face dropped, filling with horror as she quickly removed the ice cream and put it back in the freezer. In a flash she was beside Amara, coffee pot in one hand topping up her mug, the other smoothing a slow line down her spine. She fumbled for things to say, finally deciding on: "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, Amara."
After a moment she drew in a long, shaking breath, the back of her hand jammed against her eyes trying to dispel her tears. Seeming calmer, Ali removed her hand from Amara's back, replacing the coffee pot and putting her now empty mug into the sink.
"I'm sorry." Ali said again. "I really am. I'll just...go, okay?"
Amara nodded, not looking at her.
At the door, Ali paused, turning for a moment, looking at Amara, face buried in her palms. "For what it's worth," she said "if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll be around."
"Turn off the lights when you go." Amara's voice was muffled, but Ali still heard the final word. "Please."
Ali left the blonde sitting alone in the dark, trying to ignore the hollow sobs that resurfaced as she walked back to Rogue's room. What a mess... she thought sadly to herself.
She knocked softly, waiting for the telekinetic to open the door. Months ago, she would have just gone in, but something held her back now.
"I wondered when you'd be knocking on my door again, beautiful." He smirked, letting her in, settling on his bed next to her. "What's up?"
Ali took a deep breath. "Can we talk?"
"I can think of better things we could be doing with our mouths."
"Julian." She bit her tongue, scathing remark left at the tip. "Seriously."
He frowned, crossing his arms and regarding her. "Seriously, then. I don't think I want to talk about what you want to talk about."
She studied him a moment before sighing and getting up. "Fine. You don't want to talk now, don't. But we're going to." She headed for the door, hand on the knob. "Sooner or later."
"That's it?" He asked to her back, incredulous, causing her to turn and face him again. "Sooner or later?"
"'Scuse me?"
"That's all I get? You're not going to bludgeon me with your opinion?"
Ali shrugged. "No."
"Where the hell is my best friend?" he demanded, only half joking, back straightening.
"Right here, wishing you would get over yourself for a second and talk to her." She spoke with clipped words and a stubborn tone. "Where the hell is my best friend?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Getting defensive, Julian stood up, ready for a confrontation. "Right where you left him four months ago."
"Julian," Ali's eyes and her tone pleaded with him. "Please." Her words followed suit.
"Alison." He wasn't about to back down. "Answer the question."
"It means," she said with a sigh, pulling over his desk chair and sitting on it backwards, "that something's up with you, man. You're different."
"Oh, something's up with me, is it?" He sneered. "How nice of you to notice. Are you going to tell me to run away to Canada to 'figure myself out' then, Ali? Is that what I should do?"
"That's not fair."
"It wasn't fair of you to take off and leave me, either, beautiful." He looked away. "You barely even called."
"I called when I could."
"I gave you that phone so you would keep in touch."
"Julian." She rolled the chair over, placing a hand on his knee. "Are you really angry at me over this?"
"Sure," he spat, "why not."
"Julian." She reached for his hand, he reluctantly let her take it. "I'm here now. Talk to me."
He said nothing.
"Fine. I'll talk." Her thumb ran across the back of his hand. "I'm worried about you. It seems like everywhere I turn you're snapping at someone, getting into fights with Josh and Nori--worse fights than usual--hell, even Jono said you guys got in a scuffle over a video game last week. And this--" she paused, measuring her words, "this mess with Rogue and Amara. It's not like you."
"Oh, it isn't?" He tried to pull his hand away, but she wouldn't let it go.
"No. It's not." She was so matter of fact, he couldn't argue. "You say you love her, Julian. What happened?"
"I don't know." He shrugged, looking away. "Why are we still having this conversation?"
"Why'd you do it?"
"I said I don't want to talk about it."
She waited a long time before she spoke again. "You said you were never going to hurt her again."
"I know I did."
"I'm not--" she began.
"Impressed? Yeah, neither is the whole fuckin' school, Ali. You can save the guilt trip, okay. I don't need it right now." He tried to pull his hand again, more effort in it this time. Ali still would not let him go.
"I was going to say," she said slowly, "that I'm not gonna judge you. I just want to know what's going on with my best friend."
His lips thinned, eyes narrowed into hers. "Well, now that you give a shit, you might as well take a number, Ali," he said; somehow the flatness of his voice was harsher than his previous defensiveness. "Because I haven't figured it out, either."
"Look." Ali's grip on his hand loosened, her patience thinning, her heart protesting the abuse she was allowing it to absorb. "I'm sorry you're angry with me, Julian, and that you think I don't give a shit. I'm sorry things aren't great for you right now and I'm sorry you're confused. I'm not sorry for leaving, because I did what I needed to do, but believe me when I say I am sorry you feel like you had to go through the last few months without your best friend." She sighed, about to withdraw, retreat for the evening to regroup, prepared to try again later. "What happened isn't my fault, though, Julian. Punishing me isn't going to do anything, except maybe drive away the last person that really cares about you right now. I love you, but there's only so much crap I'm willing to take."
She was about to pull away, taking Julian's silence as a dismissal, a sigh escaping her as she began to retract her hand. A sudden vice grip around her fingers stayed her hand.
"Don't." He said quietly. "Don't go."
They sat, hands clasped together, binding them through the silence that might have otherwise torn them apart. Ali waited.
"All I do is hurt her." He said at length. "First with mushmouth, and now this...I--" he swallowed, looking up to meet his friend's eyes, "I couldn't do that to her anymore."
Ali nodded, eyes soft, her gave unwavering, locked on his face. "Is that why you..."
"Yeah." He said, eyes on the floor again. "Yeah. That's why. Things have been...different this time around. She's a lot more distant, you know? She--" His voice cracked a little under the strain of honesty. "I think part of her was holding back, holding out...for you."
"Julian," she sighed, "you're my best friend, I would never--"
"I know."
"So..." She drew the one syllable out into three. "What about Amara?"
"What about her?" He retorted wearily, shoulders shrugging.
"Julian." Ali fixed him with a look. "Are you still in love with her?"
He blinked into space before dragging a hand across his face with an audible sigh. "I thought I wasn't," he answered, flicking his eyes to hers.
"And now what do you think?" She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He returned it.
"We just started talking again like we used to," he answered. He let out another deep exhale; Ali could see as his stiff muscles unraveling right before he continued. "She's... you know, she's..." He trailed off, a small smile tugging at his lips before it filtered away. "It doesn't matter. She freaked out after we... anyway."
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed." Ali said softly, Julian looked at her curiously. "She's a mess, Julian. You don't even need to talk to her to see it."
"I haven't really seen much of her at all, lately." He confessed. "So I wouldn't know."
"Maybe you should talk to her..." Ali let the idea hang in the air for a moment. "It's not like you to not go after what you want."
"Going after what I want hasn't benefited anyone recently," he said carefully, gaze turning to that spot on the floor once again.
"Maybe you just went about it the wrong way." She looked away.
He gruffly laughed, his shoulders shrugging with the humorless amusement. "Is there a right way to cheat?"
"To not do it?" Ali said quietly. "If you had been honest with yourself about what you wanted, you could have been honest with everyone involved, spare all of you a lot of pain."
"Can't do it over now, Blaire," he answered, pulling his hand from hers and getting up to walk the length of the room. "Trust me, I'd do it differently."
"I know." She folded her hands together, stationary on the desk chair. "But it doesn't mean you can't try and make things right, now."
He scoffed, raising an eyebrow at her and sitting at the edge of John's old bed. "Yeah. How?"
"Apologize." She shrugged, as if it were the simplest most obvious thing in the world. "Be honest. Let them be honest." She saw the look of distaste on his face. "It wouldn't kill you."
"Words don't mean anything, Ali," he shook his head, looking down at his hands. "You know that."
"Maybe what you say won't mean much," she took both his hands again, "but those girls know you, Julian. If you can keep your cool and listen to what they have to say without getting your back up, that is gonna say more than any sweet talk you could come up with."
"So what, you're saying I should just let them gab my ear off about how they feel?" There was a disbelieving lilt in his tone.
"You are such a man," she muttered under her breath. "Yes, Julian. As impossible as it is to believe, that generally is what people do when things like this happen."
He rolled his eyes slightly and continued playing absentmindedly with his hands. "Amara can talk until dawn. You try getting things out of Marie, though."
"I have," Ali told him. "It's like pulling teeth. You never get much, but if you're listening..."
"I know," he breathed. After a moment he looked up to her, expression serious. "Thanks, Ali."
She just smiled, patting his shoulder. "What are friends for?"
Julian pushed the door open and entered her room after she called for the unknown guest behind the door to come in. He closed the door, taking a few steps across the carpet, eyes catching the top of a book as he observed her; she was lying in the bed underneath a blanket, back turned, reading with one of her hands fidgeting, not yet turning to the person who had entered her room.
He cleared his throat- so soft, she barely heard it. Amara turned her head away from Descartes to look up at him, eyes widening slightly as she realized that it was he who had entered her room, and she darted her eyes back to the book quickly, huffing out a breath, not saying a word.
"Amara?" He still sounded small, standing in the middle of the floor, the air feeling heavy around him.
She turned the page, reply short. "Get out, Julian."
His brows bunched. "Amara," he began. "I just wanted to--" Her voice interrupted his, eyes trailing down the page over the words.
"Don't. I can't do this- not today. Please, get out," her hand gripped around the book tighter, blinking twice fast.
"Then what day can you?" He asked rhetorically.
She whipped her head around again, eyes narrowed, fingers playing with the edge of paper pages. "Try a day when my best friend is talking to me," she turned back to her book, page turning, and she sighed, annoyed as she read.
Without invitation, he sat on the opposite side of the bed with a sigh. Amara closed her eyes as she felt the weight shift and then focused back on the jumbled words of her book. "I'm not here to make things worse," he said quietly, leaning forward to his knees. "I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry."
She came to a sentence on the page that wasn't processing in her head and his voice wasn't helping; she looked up to observe him. "What do you have to be sorry about?" she asked him incredulously.
"The other day," he said, frowning. "When I told you to go," he said painfully. "And pulling you into this whole mess."
"I was going to leave anyway," she looked back down at the pages, skipping the difficult sentence. "And you didn't drag me into it. I pushed you into it," she sighed through her nose, lips pursed, another difficult set of words falling under her eyes.
"I wouldn't do something I didn't want to do, Amara," he said plainly. "You know that. What I didn't want was for you to leave that morning."
Her brows bunched, now only pretending to read. "Like I said, I was going to leave anyway, and even if I had stayed, it just would have been postponing the inevitable."
He looked over to her in confusion. "What do you mean the inevitable?"
"I would have left eventually. We would have ended up arguing about what happened or what was going to happen..." she trailed off, sighing, eyes moving over the page. "It doesn't matter anymore."
"It matters to me." His expression had morphed from non-plussed to incredulous. When she didn't respond, he looked away from her. "I don't think the other night was a mistake."
She fought to hold back a scoff, eyes rolling. "Yes, you do."
"No," he answered, licking his lips, hand reaching to grasp his opposite shoulder and rubbing a nonexistent kink there. "I've made enough mistakes this month. I wouldn't make another one."
Her brows furrowed once more, fighting back another scoff. "Okay, fine. Then, I made a mistake."
He didn't respond for a moment, his face going blank before he blinked at the ground, hand dropping. "So nothing that happened the past few weeks between us... means anything to you?" His voice was controlled and even. "Because it meant something to me."
Amara looked up to observe him again, breath huffing out. "It was wrong, Julian. Even if -- if this could work, I'll always and forever be the girl who stole you from Rogue and who broke Bobby's heart. That doesn't matter to you?"
"She's going to be fine. She has... she has Ali. Plus it's not like you stole me, sweetheart... I wanted it, too."
"That's not what I'm talking about, Julian," she paused, eyes darting over the air between them. "What I -- we did was wrong and every one knows it. It doesn't even matter if both of them are well and happy... we were wrong," she stopped, licking her lips and moving her fingers nervously, blinking.
"Fine, we were wrong," he agreed. "But it's all said and done now, beautiful. I'm not going to spend my time feeling guilty over being in love with you."
"Maybe you should," she muttered under her breath.
"Maybe you shouldn't," he retorted, looking at her with an unmistakable hint of certainty in his eyes. "Locking yourself in your room and being a mess isn't a way to live."
Her eyes narrowed and a bit of spite raised into her throat. "Oh, so being guiltless and horny is?"
"I feel awful about what happened," he ground out. "I'm sorry I went about this the wrong way, sweetheart. I'm anything but guiltless, Amara. So I'm sorry you're so disgusted with yourself and with us, but I'm not. I don't think the other night was a mistake."
Giving into his eyes, she paused, thinking, before she rolled them and looked back down to her book. The only sound came from the turning of pages and Julian's frustrated sigh.
His voice, infinitely softer than before, interrupted her. "Why don't you believe that?"
She looked back up at him, annoyed, glaring. "Because you're sitting here telling me that you love me, when I know perfectly well that -- Four days after Bobby left me and Rogue left you, we were -- were... you were upset about it and I was -- This isn't real. You're just..." she trailed off, teeth nibbling at the inside of her lip.
"I'm not just anything, Amara," he shook his head. "I wouldn't-- I wouldn't use you like that," he said painfully, shock written in his gaze.
This time she finally did scoff. "Right," she locked her eyes with his, words laced with ice and she didn't exactly know why. "Have you ever thought that maybe I used you?"
Something harsh phased across his expression and he stood abruptly, shoulders tense. "That's a load of bullshit," he snarled, hands stuffed into his pockets. "I don't know why you're acting like a bitch, but I know that you love me, and I know that you don't use anyone."
Amara didn't looked up at him as he stood, eyes fixated on her fingers. "Do you think that I didn't use Bobby?" She looked up and met his eyes with another question, "And how do you know that I love you?"
"Because you say it, Amara," he answered, voice strained. "You act like it. I know how you feel because I feel it too."
She screwed up her face in disbelief, brows furrowing and lips twisting. "People don't act and pretend?"
His features froze, lips thinning and face draining. "Not you," he whispered. Slowly, he slipped a hand out of his jeans, using it to gesture as he continued, his voice deathly serious. "I know I've said... a lot of nasty things to push you away," he paused, tongue darting out to wet his lips, "but I've never lied to you. I've never denied how I feel about you. You can sit there and say whatever you want, but I won't believe a word of it."
Her eyes observed his features momentarily before falling, locking to observe fidgeting fingers, and they occasionally glanced sideways to observe him from his waist down to his feet. "Fine, believe whatever you want," she stated, tone monotonous. She side-glanced to him again, eyes traveling a little higher, hoping he wouldn't push further.
He shook his head, lip curling slightly in distaste, brows furrowed and eyes shining. "Is there a reason why you want me to believe you don't love me?"
Once again in disbelief, her eyes met his. "You actually have to ask?"
"That's what I asked, didn't I?" His gaze desperately searched hers.
Her blue eyes fell to her hands, sighing a small sigh, irises searching her fingers. "This can't happen," her voice was losing its edge with each of her replies, almost sad.
"Yes, it can," he responded automatically, a spark of hope relaxing his features. Without hesitating he circled the bed, sitting in the crook of her waist, one arm reaching over her side. "I want you," he said, voice achingly wistful. "That's all that matters at the end of the day, princess." Her eyes bored into the lines of her palm and she didn't respond. Julian sighed shakily and reached out to touch her tightened jaw, ignoring when she flinched slightly in response. "Don't do this."
"Don't do what?" She snapped, voice undeniably shaky, a bit of spite still lingering on the edge of every word, and when her eyes met his he could see the strangled tears caught behind her eyelids, colour shining in the light.
His palm flattened along her skin, thumb softly rubbing her cheekbone. "Don't push me away. Talk to me."
She slammed the relatively thick book down onto the bed between them, pushing up and standing, her back turned to him as she spoke, nearly shouting. "Oh, because we're just so great at communicating?" A tear fell before she turned, hiding the small bit of water with ease, and her face was a mixture of a frown and a glare. "We've never been great at that, and you want to start trying now?"
He turned away and took a deep calming breath before standing and swiveling to face her, his face taunt. "That was a long time ago," he said, voice carefully even. "Lately we've been -- I've been completely honest with you, Amara."
"You -- we haven't been honest with everyone else, and that's the problem."
"You were honest, sweetheart, and so was I," he said incredulously. "You told him the truth and I told her, too."
"No, Julian," she began, correcting him. "He stumbled across the truth! I wasn't going to tell him. So... no, I wasn't honest. I was once he figured the most of it out."
"But you still told him, Amara," he pressed, walking around the bed, resentful of the space between them. "You could have lied. Just the fact that you're letting this eat you up -- just the fact that you're punishing yourself over this is proof that you didn't want to hurt anybody and that you wanted to tell the truth." He took another step closer to her, eyes fierce. "Trust me, Amara. I know what that feels like. And I know you don't deserve to hurt yourself anymore." A shuddering sigh vibrated the air, his gaze softening. "There's nothing in you that isn't good, sweetheart. There's nothing in you that deserves what you're doing to yourself."
Her eyes observed him and the air around him hesitantly, eyes falling from him to the floor and back again, sighing shakily. "Julian --" she paused, correcting herself. "Jules, they all think that -- that I never deserved him," her eyes met his, near tears. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't. I -- I..." she trailed off again, blinking rapidly, calming breaths entering her lungs.
"Beautiful, nobody thought that..." He whispered, hands reaching to touch her elbows. His palms stroked gently up to her shoulders and down again, neck arching to catch her scared darting eyes. "Everybody makes mistakes," he said soothingly. "I know you didn't want to hurt him. Anybody who knows you at all would know that."
"Yeah," she choked out, head nodding doubtfully. "Tell that to everyone else. The only other person who believes that doesn't even really know me," she muttered, referring to his friend.
"Who are you talking about?" He asked, curious.
Her eyes met his after a pause, colour still shining. "Alison."
A small smile touched his lips, fingers reaching to tuck a lock of blond silk behind her ear. "You should listen to her. Don't tell her I said this, but she's usually right."
Amara smiled a small smile, which looked more like a grimace to him, and she blinked firmly. "I don't want to be this person, Julian," her eyes opened to meet his when her last word was uttered.
"What person?" His smile turned bittersweet, eyebrows raising in emphasis. "There's nothing wrong with the person in front of me."
She paused for a great length, face blank, staring past him. "This person that's still in love with you," she met his eyes out of a corner, breaths shaky with emotion.
"Why not?" He whispered the question, lashes blinking slowly, cyan eyes pained.
Her face scrunched up, eyes blinking closed. "Because it's too hard," she whispered back, chin wobbling, brows furrowed as her eyes stayed closed.
His jaw moved and he swallowed, a flare of determination in his eyes. "We can do this together. It doesn't have to be too hard."
She opened her eyes and blinked quickly, a pair of tears falling. "Just promise me it will all be different," she met his eyes painfully, voice shaking. "I don't want to miss you again."
He sighed, the relieved warm breath rushing against her skin. He stepped closer, their feet nearly touching, his hand reaching to cup her other cheek. He tilted her head up to his, irises memorizing hers. Her breath caught in her throat at the cherishing look in his eyes, fingers blindly reaching to wrap loosely around his wrists. Each word he said was slow and achingly honest, the timber of his voice low with emotion. "I love you. This time it's going to be different. I'm not saying I won't mess up sometimes. But I'm never going act like I used to. I'm going to make it work."
Her eyes wished to dart between them, but his fingers tilting her features wouldn't allow it. She nodded against his hand, accepting him and his words openly, eyes fluttering with emotion, words behaving just the same way: fluttering and soft, but strangled at the same time. "I love you, too," she expelled a shaky breath against his face, which he breathed in, and she blinked.
"I'm sorry," her grip on his wrists tightened, holding onto him.
"I know," he smiled a small smile, one hand relenting its hold to snake around her waist, pulling her against him. "I am too, about everything." His thumb traced her bottom lip, lingering at the corner of her mouth. "But we're starting over. And we have each other. I don't think we need to be sorry anymore."
She forced her eyes closed in a pause, nodding shortly, breathing, and she leaned forward to press her forehead to his, opening eyes greeting his. "Don't let me be so foolish, okay?" she requested, normal tone and edge arriving back into her voice, a corner of her mouth turning upward.
"Don't let me be such a jerk," he bargained, retracing her smiling lips and matching her tone.
Her smile grew, one of her hands moving from his wrist to his shoulder, fingers resting there. "I'll try," she promised.
Amara stood over the coffee maker, eyes closed, the pop and gurgle that indicated brewing drowning out the whirlwind of thoughts and voices in her head. She was, to put it simply, completely drained. Everywhere she turned, lately, her friends seemed to look at her with downcast, disappointed eyes, all carrying the same unspoken message: We thought you were better than this.
To be honest, everyone seemed to be mirroring the sentiments Amara had been feeling since the incident. She had always thought herself above such morally grey actions, like sleeping with another girl's boyfriend, particularly if she was happily involved with her own at the time.
"I'm not that girl," she would say to herself on dark nights when she considered sneaking into Julian's dorm room for a trip down memory lane, "I'm not that girl."
Her eyes opened slightly, staring into the thick blackness of the coffee pot. "When did I become that girl?"
"What girl?" Amara jumped at the sound, not having noticed Ali come in with a bag of late night groceries. "Sorry, didn't mean to give you a scare."
"It's okay." She looked at the bags. "A bit late for grocery shopping, isn't it?"
"Late for coffee, too, no? I know you only drink hi-test." She continued shoving junk food into cabinets, removing the last few items--several containers of Breyers Natural Vanilla Ice Cream--and opening the freezer to put them away. "I noticed Bob was out of ice cream, figured I'd restock for him, considering..." She trailed off, realizing her mistake.
"Considering I treated him like shit and now he hates me?" The bitterness in her voice was not lost on Ali.
"Considering he's had a rough couple of weeks, yeah."
"You don't have to sugar coat it, Ali. I know you probably hate me too." She sighed, pouring a cup of coffee. "Just like everyone else."
"I'm not sugar coating anything, princess. The guy's had a rough few weeks." Ali closed the freezer and moved to the cabinet, getting out a mug and holding it out to Amara. "You mind?"
"No, it'd just burn and get thrown out otherwise." Dark liquid splashed against the bottom of the white porcelain mug.
"And I don't hate you," she moved to get milk from the fridge, "nobody else does, either."
"Sure, if you don't include Bobby, Jules, John, Jubilee and Kitty. Not to mention Rogue."
"Rogue has other things on her mind right now," Ali said softly, her mind wandering a little before returning to the kitchen, "and everyone else doesn't hate you, princess. They just don't know what to think."
Amara didn't say anything, but sunk dejectedly into a chair by the centre island. Ali put the milk away and turned, leaning on the granite, opposite the blonde.
"You want a little advice?"
"No." Amara took a slurp from the still piping hot coffee. "Not from you, anyhow."
"Too bad." Ali, set her mug on the counter, fingers curled around it, soaking up the warmth. Amara closed her eyes, bracing herself for the worst. "Forget about everyone else for right now, just deal with you."
Opening her right eye just a crack, Amara stared at Ali quizzically. "What?"
"Forget about whether anyone else is hating on you for the moment, don't worry about who's avoiding you because of this. You made a mistake and the only person that really has to live with it is you." Ali took another sip, glancing around the room absently. "It wouldn't matter if everyone in the world was joining your fan club, princess. You'd feel like shit anyway because you're hating on yourself."
Amara blinked. "Who are you?" She asked at length. "And what the heck did you do with Ali?"
"You know." Ali laughed, pushing off the counter and shifting her weight between her feet. "I've been hearing that a lot, lately." She turned, opening the freezer and getting out one of the new containers of ice cream. "Here, try this. I know a guy who swears by it."
The gesture, though intended to be kind, had the opposite effect. The length of Amara's rope had reached its frayed end, exhaustion and degrees of self loathing breaking down her strong exterior. The ice cream, Bobby's favourite, bought for him because of the way she had made him feel, was the very last straw. She broke.
Shaky, soft sobs accompanied a hesitant flood of tears. Ali's face dropped, filling with horror as she quickly removed the ice cream and put it back in the freezer. In a flash she was beside Amara, coffee pot in one hand topping up her mug, the other smoothing a slow line down her spine. She fumbled for things to say, finally deciding on: "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, Amara."
After a moment she drew in a long, shaking breath, the back of her hand jammed against her eyes trying to dispel her tears. Seeming calmer, Ali removed her hand from Amara's back, replacing the coffee pot and putting her now empty mug into the sink.
"I'm sorry." Ali said again. "I really am. I'll just...go, okay?"
Amara nodded, not looking at her.
At the door, Ali paused, turning for a moment, looking at Amara, face buried in her palms. "For what it's worth," she said "if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll be around."
"Turn off the lights when you go." Amara's voice was muffled, but Ali still heard the final word. "Please."
Ali left the blonde sitting alone in the dark, trying to ignore the hollow sobs that resurfaced as she walked back to Rogue's room. What a mess... she thought sadly to herself.
She knocked softly, waiting for the telekinetic to open the door. Months ago, she would have just gone in, but something held her back now.
"I wondered when you'd be knocking on my door again, beautiful." He smirked, letting her in, settling on his bed next to her. "What's up?"
Ali took a deep breath. "Can we talk?"
"I can think of better things we could be doing with our mouths."
"Julian." She bit her tongue, scathing remark left at the tip. "Seriously."
He frowned, crossing his arms and regarding her. "Seriously, then. I don't think I want to talk about what you want to talk about."
She studied him a moment before sighing and getting up. "Fine. You don't want to talk now, don't. But we're going to." She headed for the door, hand on the knob. "Sooner or later."
"That's it?" He asked to her back, incredulous, causing her to turn and face him again. "Sooner or later?"
"'Scuse me?"
"That's all I get? You're not going to bludgeon me with your opinion?"
Ali shrugged. "No."
"Where the hell is my best friend?" he demanded, only half joking, back straightening.
"Right here, wishing you would get over yourself for a second and talk to her." She spoke with clipped words and a stubborn tone. "Where the hell is my best friend?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Getting defensive, Julian stood up, ready for a confrontation. "Right where you left him four months ago."
"Julian," Ali's eyes and her tone pleaded with him. "Please." Her words followed suit.
"Alison." He wasn't about to back down. "Answer the question."
"It means," she said with a sigh, pulling over his desk chair and sitting on it backwards, "that something's up with you, man. You're different."
"Oh, something's up with me, is it?" He sneered. "How nice of you to notice. Are you going to tell me to run away to Canada to 'figure myself out' then, Ali? Is that what I should do?"
"That's not fair."
"It wasn't fair of you to take off and leave me, either, beautiful." He looked away. "You barely even called."
"I called when I could."
"I gave you that phone so you would keep in touch."
"Julian." She rolled the chair over, placing a hand on his knee. "Are you really angry at me over this?"
"Sure," he spat, "why not."
"Julian." She reached for his hand, he reluctantly let her take it. "I'm here now. Talk to me."
He said nothing.
"Fine. I'll talk." Her thumb ran across the back of his hand. "I'm worried about you. It seems like everywhere I turn you're snapping at someone, getting into fights with Josh and Nori--worse fights than usual--hell, even Jono said you guys got in a scuffle over a video game last week. And this--" she paused, measuring her words, "this mess with Rogue and Amara. It's not like you."
"Oh, it isn't?" He tried to pull his hand away, but she wouldn't let it go.
"No. It's not." She was so matter of fact, he couldn't argue. "You say you love her, Julian. What happened?"
"I don't know." He shrugged, looking away. "Why are we still having this conversation?"
"Why'd you do it?"
"I said I don't want to talk about it."
She waited a long time before she spoke again. "You said you were never going to hurt her again."
"I know I did."
"I'm not--" she began.
"Impressed? Yeah, neither is the whole fuckin' school, Ali. You can save the guilt trip, okay. I don't need it right now." He tried to pull his hand again, more effort in it this time. Ali still would not let him go.
"I was going to say," she said slowly, "that I'm not gonna judge you. I just want to know what's going on with my best friend."
His lips thinned, eyes narrowed into hers. "Well, now that you give a shit, you might as well take a number, Ali," he said; somehow the flatness of his voice was harsher than his previous defensiveness. "Because I haven't figured it out, either."
"Look." Ali's grip on his hand loosened, her patience thinning, her heart protesting the abuse she was allowing it to absorb. "I'm sorry you're angry with me, Julian, and that you think I don't give a shit. I'm sorry things aren't great for you right now and I'm sorry you're confused. I'm not sorry for leaving, because I did what I needed to do, but believe me when I say I am sorry you feel like you had to go through the last few months without your best friend." She sighed, about to withdraw, retreat for the evening to regroup, prepared to try again later. "What happened isn't my fault, though, Julian. Punishing me isn't going to do anything, except maybe drive away the last person that really cares about you right now. I love you, but there's only so much crap I'm willing to take."
She was about to pull away, taking Julian's silence as a dismissal, a sigh escaping her as she began to retract her hand. A sudden vice grip around her fingers stayed her hand.
"Don't." He said quietly. "Don't go."
They sat, hands clasped together, binding them through the silence that might have otherwise torn them apart. Ali waited.
"All I do is hurt her." He said at length. "First with mushmouth, and now this...I--" he swallowed, looking up to meet his friend's eyes, "I couldn't do that to her anymore."
Ali nodded, eyes soft, her gave unwavering, locked on his face. "Is that why you..."
"Yeah." He said, eyes on the floor again. "Yeah. That's why. Things have been...different this time around. She's a lot more distant, you know? She--" His voice cracked a little under the strain of honesty. "I think part of her was holding back, holding out...for you."
"Julian," she sighed, "you're my best friend, I would never--"
"I know."
"So..." She drew the one syllable out into three. "What about Amara?"
"What about her?" He retorted wearily, shoulders shrugging.
"Julian." Ali fixed him with a look. "Are you still in love with her?"
He blinked into space before dragging a hand across his face with an audible sigh. "I thought I wasn't," he answered, flicking his eyes to hers.
"And now what do you think?" She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. He returned it.
"We just started talking again like we used to," he answered. He let out another deep exhale; Ali could see as his stiff muscles unraveling right before he continued. "She's... you know, she's..." He trailed off, a small smile tugging at his lips before it filtered away. "It doesn't matter. She freaked out after we... anyway."
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed." Ali said softly, Julian looked at her curiously. "She's a mess, Julian. You don't even need to talk to her to see it."
"I haven't really seen much of her at all, lately." He confessed. "So I wouldn't know."
"Maybe you should talk to her..." Ali let the idea hang in the air for a moment. "It's not like you to not go after what you want."
"Going after what I want hasn't benefited anyone recently," he said carefully, gaze turning to that spot on the floor once again.
"Maybe you just went about it the wrong way." She looked away.
He gruffly laughed, his shoulders shrugging with the humorless amusement. "Is there a right way to cheat?"
"To not do it?" Ali said quietly. "If you had been honest with yourself about what you wanted, you could have been honest with everyone involved, spare all of you a lot of pain."
"Can't do it over now, Blaire," he answered, pulling his hand from hers and getting up to walk the length of the room. "Trust me, I'd do it differently."
"I know." She folded her hands together, stationary on the desk chair. "But it doesn't mean you can't try and make things right, now."
He scoffed, raising an eyebrow at her and sitting at the edge of John's old bed. "Yeah. How?"
"Apologize." She shrugged, as if it were the simplest most obvious thing in the world. "Be honest. Let them be honest." She saw the look of distaste on his face. "It wouldn't kill you."
"Words don't mean anything, Ali," he shook his head, looking down at his hands. "You know that."
"Maybe what you say won't mean much," she took both his hands again, "but those girls know you, Julian. If you can keep your cool and listen to what they have to say without getting your back up, that is gonna say more than any sweet talk you could come up with."
"So what, you're saying I should just let them gab my ear off about how they feel?" There was a disbelieving lilt in his tone.
"You are such a man," she muttered under her breath. "Yes, Julian. As impossible as it is to believe, that generally is what people do when things like this happen."
He rolled his eyes slightly and continued playing absentmindedly with his hands. "Amara can talk until dawn. You try getting things out of Marie, though."
"I have," Ali told him. "It's like pulling teeth. You never get much, but if you're listening..."
"I know," he breathed. After a moment he looked up to her, expression serious. "Thanks, Ali."
She just smiled, patting his shoulder. "What are friends for?"
Julian pushed the door open and entered her room after she called for the unknown guest behind the door to come in. He closed the door, taking a few steps across the carpet, eyes catching the top of a book as he observed her; she was lying in the bed underneath a blanket, back turned, reading with one of her hands fidgeting, not yet turning to the person who had entered her room.
He cleared his throat- so soft, she barely heard it. Amara turned her head away from Descartes to look up at him, eyes widening slightly as she realized that it was he who had entered her room, and she darted her eyes back to the book quickly, huffing out a breath, not saying a word.
"Amara?" He still sounded small, standing in the middle of the floor, the air feeling heavy around him.
She turned the page, reply short. "Get out, Julian."
His brows bunched. "Amara," he began. "I just wanted to--" Her voice interrupted his, eyes trailing down the page over the words.
"Don't. I can't do this- not today. Please, get out," her hand gripped around the book tighter, blinking twice fast.
"Then what day can you?" He asked rhetorically.
She whipped her head around again, eyes narrowed, fingers playing with the edge of paper pages. "Try a day when my best friend is talking to me," she turned back to her book, page turning, and she sighed, annoyed as she read.
Without invitation, he sat on the opposite side of the bed with a sigh. Amara closed her eyes as she felt the weight shift and then focused back on the jumbled words of her book. "I'm not here to make things worse," he said quietly, leaning forward to his knees. "I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry."
She came to a sentence on the page that wasn't processing in her head and his voice wasn't helping; she looked up to observe him. "What do you have to be sorry about?" she asked him incredulously.
"The other day," he said, frowning. "When I told you to go," he said painfully. "And pulling you into this whole mess."
"I was going to leave anyway," she looked back down at the pages, skipping the difficult sentence. "And you didn't drag me into it. I pushed you into it," she sighed through her nose, lips pursed, another difficult set of words falling under her eyes.
"I wouldn't do something I didn't want to do, Amara," he said plainly. "You know that. What I didn't want was for you to leave that morning."
Her brows bunched, now only pretending to read. "Like I said, I was going to leave anyway, and even if I had stayed, it just would have been postponing the inevitable."
He looked over to her in confusion. "What do you mean the inevitable?"
"I would have left eventually. We would have ended up arguing about what happened or what was going to happen..." she trailed off, sighing, eyes moving over the page. "It doesn't matter anymore."
"It matters to me." His expression had morphed from non-plussed to incredulous. When she didn't respond, he looked away from her. "I don't think the other night was a mistake."
She fought to hold back a scoff, eyes rolling. "Yes, you do."
"No," he answered, licking his lips, hand reaching to grasp his opposite shoulder and rubbing a nonexistent kink there. "I've made enough mistakes this month. I wouldn't make another one."
Her brows furrowed once more, fighting back another scoff. "Okay, fine. Then, I made a mistake."
He didn't respond for a moment, his face going blank before he blinked at the ground, hand dropping. "So nothing that happened the past few weeks between us... means anything to you?" His voice was controlled and even. "Because it meant something to me."
Amara looked up to observe him again, breath huffing out. "It was wrong, Julian. Even if -- if this could work, I'll always and forever be the girl who stole you from Rogue and who broke Bobby's heart. That doesn't matter to you?"
"She's going to be fine. She has... she has Ali. Plus it's not like you stole me, sweetheart... I wanted it, too."
"That's not what I'm talking about, Julian," she paused, eyes darting over the air between them. "What I -- we did was wrong and every one knows it. It doesn't even matter if both of them are well and happy... we were wrong," she stopped, licking her lips and moving her fingers nervously, blinking.
"Fine, we were wrong," he agreed. "But it's all said and done now, beautiful. I'm not going to spend my time feeling guilty over being in love with you."
"Maybe you should," she muttered under her breath.
"Maybe you shouldn't," he retorted, looking at her with an unmistakable hint of certainty in his eyes. "Locking yourself in your room and being a mess isn't a way to live."
Her eyes narrowed and a bit of spite raised into her throat. "Oh, so being guiltless and horny is?"
"I feel awful about what happened," he ground out. "I'm sorry I went about this the wrong way, sweetheart. I'm anything but guiltless, Amara. So I'm sorry you're so disgusted with yourself and with us, but I'm not. I don't think the other night was a mistake."
Giving into his eyes, she paused, thinking, before she rolled them and looked back down to her book. The only sound came from the turning of pages and Julian's frustrated sigh.
His voice, infinitely softer than before, interrupted her. "Why don't you believe that?"
She looked back up at him, annoyed, glaring. "Because you're sitting here telling me that you love me, when I know perfectly well that -- Four days after Bobby left me and Rogue left you, we were -- were... you were upset about it and I was -- This isn't real. You're just..." she trailed off, teeth nibbling at the inside of her lip.
"I'm not just anything, Amara," he shook his head. "I wouldn't-- I wouldn't use you like that," he said painfully, shock written in his gaze.
This time she finally did scoff. "Right," she locked her eyes with his, words laced with ice and she didn't exactly know why. "Have you ever thought that maybe I used you?"
Something harsh phased across his expression and he stood abruptly, shoulders tense. "That's a load of bullshit," he snarled, hands stuffed into his pockets. "I don't know why you're acting like a bitch, but I know that you love me, and I know that you don't use anyone."
Amara didn't looked up at him as he stood, eyes fixated on her fingers. "Do you think that I didn't use Bobby?" She looked up and met his eyes with another question, "And how do you know that I love you?"
"Because you say it, Amara," he answered, voice strained. "You act like it. I know how you feel because I feel it too."
She screwed up her face in disbelief, brows furrowing and lips twisting. "People don't act and pretend?"
His features froze, lips thinning and face draining. "Not you," he whispered. Slowly, he slipped a hand out of his jeans, using it to gesture as he continued, his voice deathly serious. "I know I've said... a lot of nasty things to push you away," he paused, tongue darting out to wet his lips, "but I've never lied to you. I've never denied how I feel about you. You can sit there and say whatever you want, but I won't believe a word of it."
Her eyes observed his features momentarily before falling, locking to observe fidgeting fingers, and they occasionally glanced sideways to observe him from his waist down to his feet. "Fine, believe whatever you want," she stated, tone monotonous. She side-glanced to him again, eyes traveling a little higher, hoping he wouldn't push further.
He shook his head, lip curling slightly in distaste, brows furrowed and eyes shining. "Is there a reason why you want me to believe you don't love me?"
Once again in disbelief, her eyes met his. "You actually have to ask?"
"That's what I asked, didn't I?" His gaze desperately searched hers.
Her blue eyes fell to her hands, sighing a small sigh, irises searching her fingers. "This can't happen," her voice was losing its edge with each of her replies, almost sad.
"Yes, it can," he responded automatically, a spark of hope relaxing his features. Without hesitating he circled the bed, sitting in the crook of her waist, one arm reaching over her side. "I want you," he said, voice achingly wistful. "That's all that matters at the end of the day, princess." Her eyes bored into the lines of her palm and she didn't respond. Julian sighed shakily and reached out to touch her tightened jaw, ignoring when she flinched slightly in response. "Don't do this."
"Don't do what?" She snapped, voice undeniably shaky, a bit of spite still lingering on the edge of every word, and when her eyes met his he could see the strangled tears caught behind her eyelids, colour shining in the light.
His palm flattened along her skin, thumb softly rubbing her cheekbone. "Don't push me away. Talk to me."
She slammed the relatively thick book down onto the bed between them, pushing up and standing, her back turned to him as she spoke, nearly shouting. "Oh, because we're just so great at communicating?" A tear fell before she turned, hiding the small bit of water with ease, and her face was a mixture of a frown and a glare. "We've never been great at that, and you want to start trying now?"
He turned away and took a deep calming breath before standing and swiveling to face her, his face taunt. "That was a long time ago," he said, voice carefully even. "Lately we've been -- I've been completely honest with you, Amara."
"You -- we haven't been honest with everyone else, and that's the problem."
"You were honest, sweetheart, and so was I," he said incredulously. "You told him the truth and I told her, too."
"No, Julian," she began, correcting him. "He stumbled across the truth! I wasn't going to tell him. So... no, I wasn't honest. I was once he figured the most of it out."
"But you still told him, Amara," he pressed, walking around the bed, resentful of the space between them. "You could have lied. Just the fact that you're letting this eat you up -- just the fact that you're punishing yourself over this is proof that you didn't want to hurt anybody and that you wanted to tell the truth." He took another step closer to her, eyes fierce. "Trust me, Amara. I know what that feels like. And I know you don't deserve to hurt yourself anymore." A shuddering sigh vibrated the air, his gaze softening. "There's nothing in you that isn't good, sweetheart. There's nothing in you that deserves what you're doing to yourself."
Her eyes observed him and the air around him hesitantly, eyes falling from him to the floor and back again, sighing shakily. "Julian --" she paused, correcting herself. "Jules, they all think that -- that I never deserved him," her eyes met his, near tears. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't. I -- I..." she trailed off again, blinking rapidly, calming breaths entering her lungs.
"Beautiful, nobody thought that..." He whispered, hands reaching to touch her elbows. His palms stroked gently up to her shoulders and down again, neck arching to catch her scared darting eyes. "Everybody makes mistakes," he said soothingly. "I know you didn't want to hurt him. Anybody who knows you at all would know that."
"Yeah," she choked out, head nodding doubtfully. "Tell that to everyone else. The only other person who believes that doesn't even really know me," she muttered, referring to his friend.
"Who are you talking about?" He asked, curious.
Her eyes met his after a pause, colour still shining. "Alison."
A small smile touched his lips, fingers reaching to tuck a lock of blond silk behind her ear. "You should listen to her. Don't tell her I said this, but she's usually right."
Amara smiled a small smile, which looked more like a grimace to him, and she blinked firmly. "I don't want to be this person, Julian," her eyes opened to meet his when her last word was uttered.
"What person?" His smile turned bittersweet, eyebrows raising in emphasis. "There's nothing wrong with the person in front of me."
She paused for a great length, face blank, staring past him. "This person that's still in love with you," she met his eyes out of a corner, breaths shaky with emotion.
"Why not?" He whispered the question, lashes blinking slowly, cyan eyes pained.
Her face scrunched up, eyes blinking closed. "Because it's too hard," she whispered back, chin wobbling, brows furrowed as her eyes stayed closed.
His jaw moved and he swallowed, a flare of determination in his eyes. "We can do this together. It doesn't have to be too hard."
She opened her eyes and blinked quickly, a pair of tears falling. "Just promise me it will all be different," she met his eyes painfully, voice shaking. "I don't want to miss you again."
He sighed, the relieved warm breath rushing against her skin. He stepped closer, their feet nearly touching, his hand reaching to cup her other cheek. He tilted her head up to his, irises memorizing hers. Her breath caught in her throat at the cherishing look in his eyes, fingers blindly reaching to wrap loosely around his wrists. Each word he said was slow and achingly honest, the timber of his voice low with emotion. "I love you. This time it's going to be different. I'm not saying I won't mess up sometimes. But I'm never going act like I used to. I'm going to make it work."
Her eyes wished to dart between them, but his fingers tilting her features wouldn't allow it. She nodded against his hand, accepting him and his words openly, eyes fluttering with emotion, words behaving just the same way: fluttering and soft, but strangled at the same time. "I love you, too," she expelled a shaky breath against his face, which he breathed in, and she blinked.
"I'm sorry," her grip on his wrists tightened, holding onto him.
"I know," he smiled a small smile, one hand relenting its hold to snake around her waist, pulling her against him. "I am too, about everything." His thumb traced her bottom lip, lingering at the corner of her mouth. "But we're starting over. And we have each other. I don't think we need to be sorry anymore."
She forced her eyes closed in a pause, nodding shortly, breathing, and she leaned forward to press her forehead to his, opening eyes greeting his. "Don't let me be so foolish, okay?" she requested, normal tone and edge arriving back into her voice, a corner of her mouth turning upward.
"Don't let me be such a jerk," he bargained, retracing her smiling lips and matching her tone.
Her smile grew, one of her hands moving from his wrist to his shoulder, fingers resting there. "I'll try," she promised.
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*SMACKS BOTH OF YOU*
damn. I totally sold. I liked them from the get go, but DAMN.
plus: "You should listen to her. Don't tell her I said this, but she's usually right."
OHSNAP! That's right ^^;
to summarize: <3
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Awww, slow mending process has commenced! Hooray! XD
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Plus: even Jono said you guys got in a scuffle over a video game last week.
:O JONO. Or Julian. Whoever started it... fuckin' baaaa-by :P
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Except maybe drinking, because I think John's got that one covered ;) hahaha!
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Well, what else do males do when they get their hearts crushed?
Laser Tag or...something?
PAINTBALL!
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Paintball could definitely work! I can't imagine that Bobby'd feel much like talking about anything, haha!