[SCENES] Julian & Amara

[hellion-x.livejournal.com]

Julian had been searching for her everywhere and couldn’t seem to find her, deciding finally to check the grounds, braving the winter’s cold breezes. He jogged up to the empty basketball court, glancing every which way, worrying about the way Meg had told him that she had seen her last, and headed off toward a group of trees.

It didn’t take him long to find Amara sitting underneath a tree, the biggest oak in the bunch, the tree being leafless and her arms were resting on top of her knees, legs bunched, and her eyes were shut.

“Amara?” He came around the side of the tree as she opened her eyes to look up at him, looking away just as quickly.

She rested her head back against the rough bark, nose sniffling – from the cold or from her emotional state, Julian couldn’t tell. “I’m fine, Julian.”

“No, you’re not,” he retorted, moving to stand in front of her. “Meg told me that you were a mess,” he paused, taking in her state, continuing, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she replied without a pause. “Nothing happened.”

He looked down at her form incredulously, brows furrowed. “Amara – what’s wrong?”

This time she did open her eyes. “What do you think?”

Julian stared at her for a moment, piercing eyes giving into her sad ones. “I don’t know what to think,” he stated honestly. “What’s wrong?”

She ignored his question considerably. “Just leave me alone, Jules.” Her eyes fell closed again, voice continuing, “I’m fine. I just – I just need some time out here for a little while.”

“Sweetheart,” he began, “You’re not fine. Anyone can see that.” He leaned down to sit on the ground next to her, his hands reaching for hers, and she flinched dramatically, turning away from him.

“I can’t do this, Julian,” she gritted out, blinking back tears. “Just leave me- “

“No,” he interjected. “I’m not going anywhere, Amara,” he stated firmly, hands finding their way to hers, even though she tried to pull away, and he tugged on her digits, turning her to face him. “Talk to me,” he requested, one of his hands detouring to cup her cheek and test her locks.

She screwed up her face, brows bunching and mouth grimacing, and pulled away from him, head leaning against the bark to look back at the sort of distant mansion. “I don’t want to go back in there, Jules,” she whispered, eyes clinched shut, and Julian watched her helplessly.

"I want to be able to walk down those halls and not know what everyone's thinking about me. I want to be able to talk to Bobby, if I need to," she choked out, fingers wiping under her eyes, continuing. "I want to be able to walk into that Danger Room every morning and feel like I have someone's -- anyone's respect again. I want John to look at me straight again. I want Bobby to help me with my math homework again. I want Alison to stop giving me advice and looking at me the way she does. And I want to stop feeling terrible about this every... every damn day," she finished rambling, choking out a warm breath to greet the cold air, fingers barely able to catch her tears any longer, and he continued to watch her intently, sadly, wanting nearly all of those things for her too, swallowing.

Amara blinked down hard and opened her eyes to see him, cheeks stained. "You wanted to know what happened -- what was wrong. There it is. That's my reality," she said disbelievingly, unsure if he actually understood how bad it really was.

She caught sight of his frown and kept his gaze, the lines blurry with unshed tears. Every time she blinked things focused harshly and more tears welled. Eventually he sighed a held breath, head hanging and eyes finding the dead grass beneath him. He squeezed her limp hand lightly, thumb running across her knuckles and bringing it into his lap. He studied the small palm with his touch before shifting closer to her, shoulder leaning against the bark next to her, the warmth of his body soaking into hers. "I want all of that too," he said softly. "If I could, I'd make it all different."

"But you can't," she responded with an upset snap, shaking her head. "You can't fix everything; you can't fix this."

"I know," he said, his voice still gentle. "I know what it's like, Amara. I know what it's like to go through every day knowing what you did and hardly being able to..." He trailed off, abandoning his words to massage the heel of her hand. "I want to say that it gets better," he continued, and Amara let her eyes fall close, recounting the amount of times he had, "and sometimes it feels like it does. Eventually people will stop talking, sweetheart. They'll stop saying things about you, some of them will look past it. Maybe even Bobby." He paused, fingers brushing across her wrist. "But I know what's really eating you up is what you think about yourself. And that'll take a little longer."

Her eyes met his painfully, blinking three times quick, and she looked away from him, staring straight ahead, eyes glued to the tree across from them, a few tears falling. She sucked in a deep breath, which she expelled quickly, eyebrows bunching. "Do you want the truth?" she asked. Julian watched her from her side, waiting for her to speak when they fell into a long, silent pause.

"I don't really know what Bobby's thinking every day," she paused, pulling her hand from his grip, fingers fidgeting, "because he won't talk to me," she choked out a nervous, humourless laugh, her hands wringing. "But, I -- I think about what happened every single day and I can't take it anymore." She finally looked over to him, eyes filled to the edge with tears, breaths undeniably shaky, her words broken up at various points by more nervous, choked laughs, "I hurt the one guy that never deserved any part of what I did. I lied to him, I led him on, I used him, I hurt him, and there's nothing -- nothing that I can do to make it right for him, or for me. He was there every time that I needed him -- every time that I wanted him, and I turned my back on him. And for what? For the guy who -- who..." she trailed off, blinking again, looking away from him, breaths turning into choked gasps.

Julian looked away, off into the trees. When he spoke, his words were slightly forced, his throat dry. "Sometimes you end up hurting the people that mean the most to you. The last person you'd want to hurt. And it's... it's selfish, but it happens. Sometimes it's inevitable in the end. And there's no forgetting."

Her eyes darted about before finally stilling and settling on him, a brisk wind cutting through her coat, sniffling. "I just want him to look at me, Julian," she whispered, eyes moving from him, staring down at her fidgeting fingers. "He didn't even -- he didn't even say good-bye. He just told me to -- to leave him alone," she choked out a sob and tried not to look Julian's way, her hands covering her face, tears finally pouring out. "I never even had a chance to explain anything." Her gasping confessions were muffled at best, but Julian could still decipher her words, him sitting helpless to do anything besides take her hand again. "I just -- I don't care if he hates me. I just want him to hear me -- see me again."

"I know," he said gently. "I understand." His gaze moved to their loosely clasped hands. "He doesn't want to hear why right now, sweetheart. When he's ready he'll come to you, if he ever wants to understand." He sighed. "If you keep trying to get through to him, it's just going to be about you feeling better about yourself."

Her left hand wiped under her eyes, her right hand pulling away from his, tucking her hair behind her ears, and she glanced his way momentarily, shaking her head once, short, before standing, furiously wiping her eyes and she was continuing to tuck her hair behind her ears to keep it out of her face. "Just forget about this. I shouldn't have said anything," she stated, sucking in breaths and tears, forcing a very weak smile, and he looked at her disbelievingly. "I'm fine."

"Amara," he started, shaking his head. He sighed and looked down, licking his chapping dry lips before raising his head. "Come here," he requested, holding out a hand for her to reclaim.

She looked from his hand to him and back again, furrowing her brows, eyes eventually locking with his. "No," she replied, voice both firm and weak.

His jaw tightened and he ran that offered hand through his hair, sighing. "I know how hard this is, sweetheart. It's not the first time I've been through something like this." He found her eyes again as a cold wind ruffled the bare branches and kissed her wet cheeks. "I thought we -- I thought we were going to get through it together. We can't do that if you're going to walk away whenever we start talking about it." He stopped, tongue sweeping over his lips again. "You were the one who keeps telling me to open up more. You have to, too."

After staring at him incredulously for a moment she scoffed nervously, eyes filled with pretending-frustration, attempting to mask her truer emotions. "Open up about what?" she spat, voice only shaking slightly, her breath visible in the cold.

"About all of this," he started patiently, folding a knee to lean against. "About what we did, about everyone talking, about Drake."

She crossed her arms defensively, demeanor falling a little. "I don't want to talk anymore, Julian. There's -- I don't have anything to say," she told him.

"Really? Because a second ago you had plenty." He sighed and cracked his neck, eyelids fluttering closed for a second. Again he extended his hand after his cyan irises uncovered. "Come here," he asked again, but this time with a note of pleading.

Once more, she looked from his hand to his eyes, only this time it was a tired glance. Amara paused and he shook his extended hand in gesture. She took it hesitantly, sitting at his side, but at a distance, not looking at him. "What do you want me to say?"

"Amara, I'm not trying to force anything out of you." He paused, gripping her hand tighter, eyes riveted to the space between them. "You don't have to say anything. Just don't... There's no reason to act like you're fine with me, princess, or to try to convince me that you are. I know you better than that."

Her face turned, glaring at him incredulously. "Then what the hell do you want from me?" Her tone was a lot angrier than she had intended, voice caught between disdain and sadness.

Frustration phased across his features and he took his hand away, bringing his other knee up and resting his other arm atop it. For a moment he stared off into the distance, fingers reaching between his legs to tug harshly at the yellowed grass. "I'm not here right now to take anything from you, Amara," he said finally, tone laced with thinly-veiled hurt and anger. "I don't know how to get through to you. I push you and you shut down. I back off and you act like you want me to force it out of you, or you expect it, or..." He threw the rooted grass on the ground, his fingers done tearing it apart. "I just want..." He trailed off, slightly turning towards her, although his eyes stayed off into the distance. "I just want you to know, to... I want to be here for you, Amara, and I am... but what's it worth if you don't at least try to lean on me?" He finally looked over his shoulder to her, gaze helpless. "You're just about all I've got right now," he added, his voice low.

Lashes blinking, she only looked to him for a moment, eyes locking down to her hands in her lap. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, the only sound being when one of them shifted and the leaves underneath them crunched. She sucked in a hitching breath and tears collected in her eyes as she thought. "Jules, I," she started, looking over at him, the distance between them seeming much bigger than previously. "I -- I don't know how to lean on you. I don't know how to talk to you about this. You're the one that's hated Bobby this whole time. I'm not supposed to -- to talk to you about this." She looked back down to her hands, sniffling. "I don't have anyone else either, but I -- I just don't know what to do anymore, Julian. I don't have anywhere," she choked out painfully, grimacing.

"Amara." His brows furrowed and he moved over, arm snaking its way around her waist, his thigh pressed against hers. "Sweetheart, you can talk to me about anything." He arced his neck to catch her gaze, fingers reaching to tip her chin. "Anything," he repeated gravely. "No matter what. And I don't... I don't hate him," he looked away shortly.

She maneuvered her face from his fingers and looked down between them, brows bunching, thinking. "I keep telling myself that I didn't mean to do this," she started, blinking, a few tears falling. "And I keep telling everyone else the same thing, but I -- I knew... what I was doing, I think. And I just -- I didn't want this to happen and I can't... Nothing that I'll ever do will make this okay, Julian. Nothing." She looked away from him for a moment and her left hand wiped her eyes again, sniffling, looking back to him after a pause, face screwed up and eyes filled. "What if he never -- never talks to me again? He -- he hates me, and I do care about him, but I lost that right to care." She let out a short sob and she felt Julian's fingers try to wipe her tears, but she pushed his hand away. "I did this. Not you, not Bobby, no one. I did this and now I have nothing to show for it, except for a bunch of gossip, glares and guilt." Amara paused and tried to pull away from him again, but he wouldn't let her. "I didn't mean for it to get like this," she added hastily, voice raising an octave.

He didn't say anything, Adam's apple bobbing and hand resting in his lap. "You have me," he finally whispered, picking at a stitch on his jeans, "and Meg. You couldn't help how you felt, sweetheart. We both did something wrong, but it's not the end of the world. Bobby's a good guy, Amara. He'll -- he'll come around. He forgave Marie."

Defeated, she dejectedly sank back against him. "Yeah, and do they ever talk? No, they don't," she answered her own question, again defeated.

"Yeah, they do," he corrected. "So they're not the best of friends, Amara, but they're friends. Sometimes there's just too much history." He sighed, arm holding her closer as her weight relaxed.

Amara sighed heavily, blinking slowly. "You're not really making me feel better, Jules," she informed him.

"I'm not trying to," he said after a silent moment. "If that's what I was doing, I would just be lying to you."

"I know." She sighed again, relaxing further, leaning into him, and she rested her head against his shoulder.

He dropped a slow kiss into her hair, lips lingering, the affectionate gesture resonating through the unseen distance between them. "Everything's going to be okay," he whispered, hand threading into her hair and stroking back the curls.

"I thought you said you weren't going to lie," she said, voice wearied.

"I'm not," he answered.

She let her eyes fall closed and her breathing seemed to unconsciously match his. "I want to believe that, Jules. I really do. But have you noticed that this is the only sort of time that we ever get to spend together? If we're seen together anywhere, class or otherwise, someone says something terrible about one or both of us." She let out a short, nervous laugh. "I mean, it's not exactly a normal relationship, is it?"

His shoulders rose as he breathed deeply, hand stroking her side in comfort. "What's so great about being normal, anyway? Normal's boring." She could hear the slight smile in his voice. "Besides, it's not all bad, sweetheart. I like getting away with you." She felt the smile against the line of her hair, and then it relaxed. "Plus I know you don't believe this either, but they'll find something else to talk about soon enough."

Amara looked to her left, fingers beginning to play with a few blades of dead grass, mind wandering, and she didn't say anything as a distance seemed to grow between them despite their close proximity. She pulled on the grass and then threw it further to the side, eyes falling closed after a pause. He unknowingly copied her after a moment, lashes lowering and head resting against hers. He tugged her tighter against him as if that physical link could shorten the distance, transform the relentless and thick silence.

"You'll drive yourself crazy if you keep thinking about it," he murmured into her hair, cyan opening and the dull greys and browns hitting his adjusting vision.

She opened her eyes and stared down into her lap, again contemplating. "Thinking about what?" Her words sounded as tired as she felt.

"Don't play dumb." The words weren't harsh or exasperated, but instead carried a wearied tint. "You know what I'm talking about."

"Jules," she began hesitantly, "I don't -- I want to know how to do this, but I..." Her voice fell and she looked over to the side again, eyes narrowing to slits because of the cold before looking back. Her hand found his after another moment's pause and fingers played with his. "I just feel like I don't know much of anything anymore, Jules. Even you."

He let out a choked short laugh and kissed her forehead again. "Don't be ridiculous. What does that even mean, 'even you'?"

Even though she was leaning against him, she shrugged, eyebrows furrowing as she was watching a patch of still, dead grass in front of her. "I just mean that... I don't know. You're just... I don't know what we're doing anymore, Julian," she finally settled on stating, voice a fallen whisper.

"I thought we were making this work," he said just as softly. "I thought we were doing an okay job of it, too."

"Sure, if you consider me coming out here to get away from everyone and you giving me ultimatums 'okay'," she retorted, tone only halfway harsh. She paused and thought, fingers playing with themselves. "When has it ever been 'okay' with the two of us, Jules? Honestly?"

He sighed shortly, hand pulling away from hers, the sudden stiffness of his form evidence of the thinning patience she knew he was practicing. "I didn't give you an ultimatum," he said, voice surprisingly gentle given his demeanor. "And I can recall plenty of times where we've been okay." She could hear the frustration start to leak into his tone. "All you think about it how hard it's been, Amara. Relationships are hard and you know it. It just comes with the package."

Knowing he couldn't see her, she rolled her eyes, looking to her left absentmindedly. "Fine," she replied finally, voice so blank there was literally no emotion behind it other than indescribability.

"Maybe if you start trying to see past this situation and stop--" He stopped, growling low underneath his breath before he untangled from her and stood, his long lean figure towering over her. She observed the contours of his back, the way his fingers ruffled his hair from the very nape of his neck to the top of his head.

Amara swallowed and bit her lip for a second, choosing a better question than what she first considered. "And stop what, Julian?"

"Nothing," he said sharply without turning around. "I'm not going to fight with you."

"No, not nothing." She paused and he didn't move or speak. "Julian?" Amara stopped again and all he did was run his fingers through his hair. "What? So you're just going to stop talking now?"

"It's not like it helps how you feel at all anyway." There was a note of harshness in his voice. "You know what?" He swiveled around. "Fine, sweetheart. You're tired. So am I. I'm tired of constantly trying to help you and getting nowhere. And I get it, Amara. I get that it's hard and sickening, and I understand that sometimes it feels like it's too much. But you know what? Maybe I'm wrong -- I fucking wish and hope and pray I'm wrong -- but most of the time, you act like you're not even trying. You're so caught up in feeling guilty and hating yourself that you just can't get over it, and I don't know what to do to help you, because I am trying everything and everything I try you just shoot down."

Feeling her whole body tense, she looked down to her working fingers in her lap, body slouching like a punished puppy, and she blinked repeatedly, finally hearing him. Her eyes filled to the edge with tears and she blinked them back, a few of them unfortunately falling. "I'm sorry," she whispered, voice pleading, broken. Her eyes eventually found their way back up to his, walls crumbling. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

He released a soft grunt and shook his head, falling to his knees at her side, instant regret etching into his features. "Amara -- don't -- Jesus, don't cry." He reached to cup her jaw, thumbs skimming across the fallen tears. She let out a small whimper, hands reaching to clutch at the thin fabric of his shirt through his open coat. "Sweetheart... shit, I'm sorry..."

"I am trying, Julian," she insisted, still sounding desperate. "And I don't even care anymore about... I'm trying," she repeated, forgetting her previous statement. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt and coat, looking at him despairingly, walls still crumbling as she sucked in cool breaths.

"I'm not -- I mean, you can be as upset as you need to be," he rambled off. "I didn't -- I just -- I hate seeing you like this. You're -- I mean, I'm trying to be optomistic here and you're always... crying," he finished lamely, shrugging and wiping away more of her tears.

Her lungs sucked in a gasping breath and her hands fell to his thighs, head falling and eyes closing. He ran his fingers through her hair and comforting palms down her back, sighing regretfully.

"I'm trying, Jules," she repeated, head tilting and eyes flickering up to his. "Please don't think that I'm not," she requested dreadfully, lips quirking into a sad smile that ended up appearing more like a grimace.

"Okay," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. "I just, you know, I don't know what to think. Sometimes you're okay and happy and other times you're... I just don't want you to regret this -- us -- because you feel so guilty..."

"I -- I," she stuttered, trying to find her words. "I don't. I just... it comes in waves, is all." She paused, head falling again, staring at her fingers on his jeans. "I'm... fine most -- most of the time. Sometimes I just really miss him," she finished in a sort of shameful whisper, feeling foolish.

His brows furrowed and he pulled away enough to search her eyes, hands still holding her face delicately. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He asked, his voice struggling to stay flat. "I mean, if you -- if you really -- miss..." He stopped, the look in his eyes indescribable.

Eyebrows bunching furiously, she searched his face. "Julian, if I didn't want this, don't you think I would have done something about this long before now?" Her tone was incredulous, disbelieving. "Don't you think I would have fought more or pushed you away more?"

"Yeah, yes," he agreed, shaking his head and back-tracking, "I just -- I -- like I said..." He sighed and looked back to her, blue eyes no longer hesitant. "Sometimes I just think you're too good to be true and someone like Drake's going to snatch you up or something," he finished ruefully, cheeks filling with heat at the foolishness of the statement.

She watched him, studying his eyes, the hesitance and walls gone, and her fingers came up to brush against his cheek. "Like Julian Keller would really let that happen," she said, tone sillier, less grave, than the rest of the current conversation, trying to see him smile.

He cocked an eyebrow, the side of his mouth twitching as he considered her prophetic words. "Eh, hrmmm," he mock-thought, "probably not."

She pouted, lip jutting out. "Just probably?"

"Well, I don't know..." He shrugged, a smile finally tugging at his lips. "I mean, there are a lot of other fish in the sea, and I'm pretty hot, so..."

"Uh!" She swiped at his shoulder, simpering even though her tone was defensive. "I can't believe, after all--"

His lips crashed against hers, affectively shushing her.