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xmutanthigh2008-05-28 01:59 pm
xmagma.livejournal.com) wrote in xmutanthigh2008-05-28 01:59 pm
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[SCENE] Bobby and Amara
Resting her elbows against her knees and placing her palms on her forehead, Amara sniffled, stuffy air filling her lungs. She was tired, she knew that; getting only a few hours of sleep in an awkward position will do that to you. The sun greeting the landscape had beckoned her awake, still sitting in one of the corners of her room, knees up against her chest; she hadn’t had the energy to lug herself over to her bed during the course the previous night.
She was ignoring it, all of it – the low rumble of awakening kids outside her door, the voices, the thunder in her stomach of early-morning hunger, the memories attempting to flood and assault her senses, the tears that were begging to sting her eyes, to give her that. She was thankful that no one had come looking for her last night, giving herself the moments to crumble, to scream into a pillow, to gather up his things and throw them into the back of her closet, to wallow and fall asleep in a corner.
But she was done.
She had reached that point, that point where you just don’t care, no matter how much you want to or feel you should – you don’t. Something inside of her had snapped and that part was now cold and gone and she didn’t care – that’s the thing, the not caring. She had even started to believe and accept what everyone had said, the terrible things, the terms – slut, skank, whore – that she had started to identify herself with. Julian never fell in love with sluts; those were the girls in California that he used and then dropped – that’s who she was, those were the girls she felt that she was now categorized with.
It took her all of two seconds to will herself to get up, to stand up and get out of there, grabbing her cell phone and her thin jacket to wrap herself up in. And when she got outside she sighed with relief, breathing in the late-Spring morning air, the dew, the sounds of birds. Quickly, she clicked two buttons on her phone.
When she heard his voice, that long-forgotten familiar voice, the one person associated with good memories right now, she clinched her eyes shut tight, just savoring that single greeting in case he would hang up on her once she spoke.
“Bobby?” She spoke, masking everything, every emotion.
Bobby held his phone back from his ear to check the screen for a moment, the device returning for him to speak. “Amara?”
“Yeah,” she told him, glancing aimlessly around the grounds as she paced slowly. “How are you?”
“Fine,” he replied hesitantly, cautiously, not sure of her intent. He leaned back against the side of his dresser before he chose his next words. “What about you?”
“I’m okay.” She shifted over to the nearest bench and sat down, elbows on her knees, watching a squirrel fidget on the ground a few meters away from her. “So where are you staying in the city?” She asked bluntly, sick of small talk.
His brows furrowed and he glanced around his room, the records next to his low humming laptop on the desk. “With some friends,” he informed her, hand finding the back of his neck. He paused a moment before asking, “Why did you call, Amara?”
Her face bunched and she stared down to the ground, the concrete unforgiving and an unbearably dull gray before her. “Just to talk. I – can I come see you? You know, like just to get a coffee and talk? Please?” She asked, a bit of emotion finally creeping in – caring, longing. She heard him sigh and her fingers twitched.
"Amara --"
"Just to talk, Bobby," she interrupted, reassuring him once more before he could shoot her down.
He smiled at her words, a part of him thankful for her call. "I was going to say," he began, and she could sense the smile in his words, a flicker of comfort finally flooding through her, "that, yeah, that'd be nice." As he finished his sentence he heard her sigh in relief.
A shower, five cups of coffee, and one bus ride later Amara was in New York City, music traveling from her phone through her headphones to her ears, following the directions that Bobby had sent to her via text message. The city was busy, as usual, and she felt lost, even though she was certain that she had followed the directions correctly thus far.
As she turned a corner she nearly collided with a much taller man, but she managed to avoid him, stumbling back into a store's window instead. When she collected herself and checked the text message again she realized that she was on the correct street , causing her to turn about, searching for the deli that Bobby worked in. She soon became aware that the shop she had collided with was the deli that she had been searching for, and she immediately spotted her friend -- or ex-boyfriend or whatever he was to her now -- through the window.
She paced back and forth a few times, glancing shortly into the shop every time, suddenly feeling foolish for coming all this way, knowing that she hadn't even talked to Meg yet. She felt stupid -- that was the truly proper term to use for how she felt.
Turning back to the window again, she watched as Bobby served a pretty girl who giggled flirtatiously at something he said. She saw him give the girl that sweet, lopsided smile of his, and that feeling of foolishness and stupidity swamped her. But before she could turn away and make up her mind to leave, he spotted her through the window and waved.
Amara lifted her hand in greeting, and Bobby raised his index finger, mouthing One minute before disappearing into the back of the deli. She turned aside and stared vacantly into the street, fingers fiddling. This was the first time the two of them had seen each other since he left the mansion -- she had no idea how he was going to react to her presence, or how he felt now.
The door of the deli swung open and Bobby stepped onto the pavement, one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck. She watched him out of the corner of her eye for a split moment, fingers fidgeting with her cellphone, before she fully looked at him.
"Hey," she greeted him, whatever motives she maybe had masked. Her eyes watched him and she felt like she knew everything about him still, every little tiny tick and habit that amused her, and absolutely nothing about him all at once, like what he'd been doing these months; she felt stupid, so so stupid.
"Hey," he returned her greeting, hand falling to his side and one corner of his mouth quirked upwards slightly. They paused in awkward silence for a moment, taking each other in.
She thought he looked older, more serious somehow. A little thinner, less muscular--probably due to the lack of daily morning Danger Room sessions. She studied his face, trying to figure out how he'd changed, whether there was any point in her being there. His expression gave little away--although he didn't look happy to see her, she took comfort in the fact that there was no trace of the numb coldness she'd seen in him the last time they talked.
Bobby passed a hand over his mouth and the stubble on his chin, breaking the silence with "So ... what's going on?"
Something inside of her remembered again, remembered why she was there, who she didn't have, and she began to become more enthralled in his features than she was previously. She stuffed her phone into her pocket once she decided on the words she wanted to use. "Nothing too much. I just --" Her own voice was cut off by a released breath, her feet taking a step to the right and then forward. "I just missed you."
His features gave way only slightly, an edge of uncertainty painted onto the creases of his forehead. He seemed taken aback, but recovered quickly.
"Somehow, I don't think you came all the way here just to tell me that you miss me," he said with a wry smile.
"Well, no," she backtracked slowly, "but I also thought that a New York City coffee would be good, too. What else am I going to do today?" She concluded smoothly, recovering.
"Still an addict, I see," Bobby observed, shaking his head with a chuckle. He beckoned for her to follow him, and he began to walk down the street. "Come on, there's a great place a couple of blocks away--ice cream and coffee, so we both can get something."
Amara shrugged and smiled. "I'm guessing you're still addicted to ice cream," she returned his earlier comment as she fell easily in step with him.
He shrugged as well in response, throwing her his lopsided smile. "Maybe," he drawled out. "But I can't say I've been eating as much of it as I used to. Kind of hard to keep feeding the addiction when I have to take care of myself on what little cash I make per week."
"Well then I guess I'll have to help facilitate your addiction," she said, offering to pay as they made their way to their destination.
Bobby shook his head. "No, it's okay, really. You don't have to do that."
"I want to," she insisted. "It's the least I can do, please."
He looked at her and smiled. "How about I pay for your coffee and you pay for my ice cream. Deal?"
"Deal."
They walked in silence for another minute, until they reached a comfortable-looking cafe with a sign over the door that said 'The Frozen Bean'. Bobby opened the door for Amara, ushering her in with a smile.
Ten minutes later, Amara had a steep mug of dark roasted French coffee and Bobby had a filled-to-the-edge dish of gourmet strawberry and chocolate ice cream. Their table was reasonably quiet for a fair bit of the way through, one of them sipping, the other scooping, both slightly awkward.
Amara took a small sip of her beverage and began to glance around the shop, watching people for moments, thoughts wandering. It wasn't long until her voice broke the almost-comfortable silence abruptly. "So have you missed me?"
Bobby looked up sharply, obviously startled and uneasy. "I ... what?"
She regretted her question almost immediately, but she couldn't unsay it now. "Have - have you missed me?"
He put his spoon down, pressing his lips together and gazing at a point somewhere beyond her left ear. "You have to understand," he began slowly. "I left so I could clear my head and figure myself out away from ... well, everything. Including you." Ice-blue eyes locked with hers, and in them she saw honesty and just the vaguest shadow of pain. "I can't say I let myself think about you a lot, especially not in the first couple of weeks. But ... yeah, I guess I have missed you."
She nodded and held his gaze a bit longer, her eyes still on him even as he started spooning up his ice cream once more. Her eyes moved to the store window, watching the city go by, people and cabs busy, sounds buzzing, and she took a long sip of her drink, almost forgetting about the boy across from her as she became enthralled in the city and her thoughts.
A sigh and the clatter of metal against the dish brought her attention back to her companion. "What's going on, Amara?"
Eyesbrows bunched and fingers wrapped around her mug before she decided to reply. "What makes you think that something's going on?"
Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Do we really have to have this conversation again?" he asked, referring to the one they'd had when they had broken up. "I hadn't talked to you in months, and then all of a sudden you call me up and come all the way out here just to have coffee and tell me you miss me. So tell me: what's up?"
A breath left her and she nearly tried to stare him down, gaze unwavering and unforgiving. "Julian's gone," she told him, blue eyes finding their way to the edge of the table, staring into nothingness. "And I couldn't stay there any longer."
"What do you mean, he's gone?" Bobby asked, his voice revealing no sign of emotion other than surprise.
"He left me. He left the mansion," she informed him. "I'm the reason Rogue was -- is -- whatever ... She's heartbroken, and I'm the reason why, so he can't be with me anymore. He loves her and he always has. I'm -- I don't know what I was to him, but now I'm nothing to him. Happy?" She finished, raising both of her eyebrows, her words laced with a bit of edginess.
"Happy?" He looked incredulous, almost angry. "Why would I be happy about that?"
"I don't know," she retorted. "You tell me." She picked up her mug and took another sip, fingers finally starting to fidget. "I know you can't be sad about it."
"So you think I'm happy that you're heartbroken?" He let out a puff of air and closed his eyes briefly, calming down. "I don't know what kind of guy you think I am, Amara, but I have never been happy when someone I care about is hurt, no matter how much they might have hurt me."
She a made a disgruntled, frustrated face at him, nearly scoffing. "I didn't say that you were happy about it," she corrected him. "And who said anything about heartbroken?"
Bobby folded his arms and shrugged. "Okay, fine," he said, fixing her with a look she didn't recognise and couldn't read. "You're not heartbroken. I'm not happy."
"Fine," she agreed. The edge of her mug met her lips again and she downed the rest of the warm liquid, pushing the coloured porcelain off to the side.
He continued to watch her with that indecipherable expression on his face. She felt slightly unnerved, more from the fact that she didn't have any idea what he was thinking. Before he had left, she had been able to read his every expression, every mood. Now Bobby was different--still Bobby, but definitely not the same person he had been just a few months ago.
She hated feeling like she didn't understand him, couldn't read him, didn't know him; the new, foreign things of him bothered her more than anything had in a while. It didn't seem to take her long, after thinking, to spit out an annoyed, "What?", her face a confused expression.
Bobby raised his eyebrows. "I was just thinking. No need to get snappy."
"What were you thinking about?" Amara asked, the question sounding like a challenge.
He sighed and unfolded his arms. "I was thinking about how it feels like we're back to the beginning again, but everything's different. I was thinking about how I hadn't expected to see you again until--well, if--I moved back to the mansion. I was thinking about how you've changed, and that no matter what you say, I can tell you've been hurt really badly. And I don't know what you want from me, but I can't help if you put up walls."
She stared him down for a moment, she being the one to have crossed arms this time, eyes narrowed, and a deep breath left her. "I didn't come here for your help" she corrected him, putting stern emphasis on her words. "I'm not hurt, and I'm not putting up walls. I came all the way down here to see you. That's it." She relaxed her expression and sucked in a loose breath, shrugging halfway. "I don't know what you expect me to say, what you want me to confess."
He exhaled slowly and held up his palms. "I don't have a clue what to expect from you, Amara, and I don't know what to think about you coming all this way just to see me. I just ... don't know."
They fell silent, the bustle and conversations around them only augmenting the feeling of awkwardness.
Bobby suddenly interrupted the silence with "Let's start over."
Amara blinked. "What?"
"Let's start this conversation over. I mean, we haven't seen each other in months and we started out ... kind of intensely. I think we should try having a normal conversation, since we haven't had one of those since ... well, since before we broke up."
She looked over to her empty coffee mug and paused in thought, remembering the last few conversations the had had, remembering that they weren't exactly pleasant. But she still remembered that they used to be comfortable and good. Happy, even. Now, she had to take a four hour bus ride just to see him.
"Okay," she replied hesitantly, now barely meeting his eyes.
"Okay," he echoed, leaning back in his chair with a hint of a smile. "Hi, Amara. It's good to see you. It's been a while, hasn't it? How are things back at the mansion in general?"
Amara let out a series of chuckles in response, shaking her head slowly. "You are such a dork," she teased.
"Lightened things up, didn't I?" Bobby returned, smirking. "Come on, we haven't had a normal conversation in months. Give it a shot."
Her eyes looked into his after fluttering away for a moment, trying to see if she saw that part of him that she used to see, trying to find Bobby again. She remembered him, she remembered Bobby, and she really did miss him; she hadn't been lying about that. And it didn't take her long to find him and go along. "So how have you been?"
"Pretty good," he answered, smiling. "I'm living with a couple of John's friends, David and Jeff. They've got a nice apartment midtown. And I'm working at the deli--it's not a career, but it pays for the necessities. And I meet a lot of great people."
"That's good." She smiled and thought about her next words before she spoke them, mentally stumbling, but, otherwise, okay. "So do you ever think that you'll come back to the team? Not the school, of course, just the team," she mumbled, slightly dejected, stumbling.
His expression shifted, less easy-going and almost wistful. "I'd like to," he began slowly. "I miss being part of something bigger than I am, being able to make a difference. Plus, I can't really use my powers like I used to here--it would attract too much attention. But it's really not my decision to make."
"I know," she whispered, looking down to her fidgeting hands, real, almost hurt, emotion finally coming through. Her index finger pushed against her palm as she thought about everything that had just happened, everything that happened previously, everything she did or didn't do, and when she finally looked back up at Bobby some of that masked emotion was apparent in her eyes.
"I really do mean it when I say that I've missed you," she informed him, her voice cracking on the emphasized words.
"I know," he said softly. He looked at her closely, blue eyes searching hers. "Are you sure you're okay? You can talk to me, you know. Even if it is about Julian."
Her body was morphing into an awkward position, her fingers fidgeting at the side of her jeans. "I -- I know." She released a breath and blinked heavily, her elbows coming up to rest on the table.
"So ...?" Bobby prompted gently. His leaned forward, arms also coming up to rest on the table, expression inviting and open.
After not meeting his eyes for five full, paused minutes her blue eyes found his, and all that wasn't masked before now was, walls built firmly in place. "I'm fine, Bobby," she reassured him, smiling, halfway shrugging. "Thank you, though."
He studied her for a moment, obviously skeptical, but accepted her words with "Okay, then."
Her lips parted to speak up, but she quickly felt a vibration from her lap and answered the feeling by picking up her phone, reading the text from her best friend: "where r u? i heard what happened". She stood up abruptly when she slammed her phone shut, practically stumbling away from the table, making her way to the door slowly.
"I have to go, but I'll, um..." She struggled for the words, but eventually found them, swallowing with difficulty. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"
He answered her with a "yeah" but it sounded like a distant mutter as she was already halfway out the door, the bell at the top of the exit ringing as she left.
She was ignoring it, all of it – the low rumble of awakening kids outside her door, the voices, the thunder in her stomach of early-morning hunger, the memories attempting to flood and assault her senses, the tears that were begging to sting her eyes, to give her that. She was thankful that no one had come looking for her last night, giving herself the moments to crumble, to scream into a pillow, to gather up his things and throw them into the back of her closet, to wallow and fall asleep in a corner.
But she was done.
She had reached that point, that point where you just don’t care, no matter how much you want to or feel you should – you don’t. Something inside of her had snapped and that part was now cold and gone and she didn’t care – that’s the thing, the not caring. She had even started to believe and accept what everyone had said, the terrible things, the terms – slut, skank, whore – that she had started to identify herself with. Julian never fell in love with sluts; those were the girls in California that he used and then dropped – that’s who she was, those were the girls she felt that she was now categorized with.
It took her all of two seconds to will herself to get up, to stand up and get out of there, grabbing her cell phone and her thin jacket to wrap herself up in. And when she got outside she sighed with relief, breathing in the late-Spring morning air, the dew, the sounds of birds. Quickly, she clicked two buttons on her phone.
When she heard his voice, that long-forgotten familiar voice, the one person associated with good memories right now, she clinched her eyes shut tight, just savoring that single greeting in case he would hang up on her once she spoke.
“Bobby?” She spoke, masking everything, every emotion.
Bobby held his phone back from his ear to check the screen for a moment, the device returning for him to speak. “Amara?”
“Yeah,” she told him, glancing aimlessly around the grounds as she paced slowly. “How are you?”
“Fine,” he replied hesitantly, cautiously, not sure of her intent. He leaned back against the side of his dresser before he chose his next words. “What about you?”
“I’m okay.” She shifted over to the nearest bench and sat down, elbows on her knees, watching a squirrel fidget on the ground a few meters away from her. “So where are you staying in the city?” She asked bluntly, sick of small talk.
His brows furrowed and he glanced around his room, the records next to his low humming laptop on the desk. “With some friends,” he informed her, hand finding the back of his neck. He paused a moment before asking, “Why did you call, Amara?”
Her face bunched and she stared down to the ground, the concrete unforgiving and an unbearably dull gray before her. “Just to talk. I – can I come see you? You know, like just to get a coffee and talk? Please?” She asked, a bit of emotion finally creeping in – caring, longing. She heard him sigh and her fingers twitched.
"Amara --"
"Just to talk, Bobby," she interrupted, reassuring him once more before he could shoot her down.
He smiled at her words, a part of him thankful for her call. "I was going to say," he began, and she could sense the smile in his words, a flicker of comfort finally flooding through her, "that, yeah, that'd be nice." As he finished his sentence he heard her sigh in relief.
A shower, five cups of coffee, and one bus ride later Amara was in New York City, music traveling from her phone through her headphones to her ears, following the directions that Bobby had sent to her via text message. The city was busy, as usual, and she felt lost, even though she was certain that she had followed the directions correctly thus far.
As she turned a corner she nearly collided with a much taller man, but she managed to avoid him, stumbling back into a store's window instead. When she collected herself and checked the text message again she realized that she was on the correct street , causing her to turn about, searching for the deli that Bobby worked in. She soon became aware that the shop she had collided with was the deli that she had been searching for, and she immediately spotted her friend -- or ex-boyfriend or whatever he was to her now -- through the window.
She paced back and forth a few times, glancing shortly into the shop every time, suddenly feeling foolish for coming all this way, knowing that she hadn't even talked to Meg yet. She felt stupid -- that was the truly proper term to use for how she felt.
Turning back to the window again, she watched as Bobby served a pretty girl who giggled flirtatiously at something he said. She saw him give the girl that sweet, lopsided smile of his, and that feeling of foolishness and stupidity swamped her. But before she could turn away and make up her mind to leave, he spotted her through the window and waved.
Amara lifted her hand in greeting, and Bobby raised his index finger, mouthing One minute before disappearing into the back of the deli. She turned aside and stared vacantly into the street, fingers fiddling. This was the first time the two of them had seen each other since he left the mansion -- she had no idea how he was going to react to her presence, or how he felt now.
The door of the deli swung open and Bobby stepped onto the pavement, one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck. She watched him out of the corner of her eye for a split moment, fingers fidgeting with her cellphone, before she fully looked at him.
"Hey," she greeted him, whatever motives she maybe had masked. Her eyes watched him and she felt like she knew everything about him still, every little tiny tick and habit that amused her, and absolutely nothing about him all at once, like what he'd been doing these months; she felt stupid, so so stupid.
"Hey," he returned her greeting, hand falling to his side and one corner of his mouth quirked upwards slightly. They paused in awkward silence for a moment, taking each other in.
She thought he looked older, more serious somehow. A little thinner, less muscular--probably due to the lack of daily morning Danger Room sessions. She studied his face, trying to figure out how he'd changed, whether there was any point in her being there. His expression gave little away--although he didn't look happy to see her, she took comfort in the fact that there was no trace of the numb coldness she'd seen in him the last time they talked.
Bobby passed a hand over his mouth and the stubble on his chin, breaking the silence with "So ... what's going on?"
Something inside of her remembered again, remembered why she was there, who she didn't have, and she began to become more enthralled in his features than she was previously. She stuffed her phone into her pocket once she decided on the words she wanted to use. "Nothing too much. I just --" Her own voice was cut off by a released breath, her feet taking a step to the right and then forward. "I just missed you."
His features gave way only slightly, an edge of uncertainty painted onto the creases of his forehead. He seemed taken aback, but recovered quickly.
"Somehow, I don't think you came all the way here just to tell me that you miss me," he said with a wry smile.
"Well, no," she backtracked slowly, "but I also thought that a New York City coffee would be good, too. What else am I going to do today?" She concluded smoothly, recovering.
"Still an addict, I see," Bobby observed, shaking his head with a chuckle. He beckoned for her to follow him, and he began to walk down the street. "Come on, there's a great place a couple of blocks away--ice cream and coffee, so we both can get something."
Amara shrugged and smiled. "I'm guessing you're still addicted to ice cream," she returned his earlier comment as she fell easily in step with him.
He shrugged as well in response, throwing her his lopsided smile. "Maybe," he drawled out. "But I can't say I've been eating as much of it as I used to. Kind of hard to keep feeding the addiction when I have to take care of myself on what little cash I make per week."
"Well then I guess I'll have to help facilitate your addiction," she said, offering to pay as they made their way to their destination.
Bobby shook his head. "No, it's okay, really. You don't have to do that."
"I want to," she insisted. "It's the least I can do, please."
He looked at her and smiled. "How about I pay for your coffee and you pay for my ice cream. Deal?"
"Deal."
They walked in silence for another minute, until they reached a comfortable-looking cafe with a sign over the door that said 'The Frozen Bean'. Bobby opened the door for Amara, ushering her in with a smile.
Ten minutes later, Amara had a steep mug of dark roasted French coffee and Bobby had a filled-to-the-edge dish of gourmet strawberry and chocolate ice cream. Their table was reasonably quiet for a fair bit of the way through, one of them sipping, the other scooping, both slightly awkward.
Amara took a small sip of her beverage and began to glance around the shop, watching people for moments, thoughts wandering. It wasn't long until her voice broke the almost-comfortable silence abruptly. "So have you missed me?"
Bobby looked up sharply, obviously startled and uneasy. "I ... what?"
She regretted her question almost immediately, but she couldn't unsay it now. "Have - have you missed me?"
He put his spoon down, pressing his lips together and gazing at a point somewhere beyond her left ear. "You have to understand," he began slowly. "I left so I could clear my head and figure myself out away from ... well, everything. Including you." Ice-blue eyes locked with hers, and in them she saw honesty and just the vaguest shadow of pain. "I can't say I let myself think about you a lot, especially not in the first couple of weeks. But ... yeah, I guess I have missed you."
She nodded and held his gaze a bit longer, her eyes still on him even as he started spooning up his ice cream once more. Her eyes moved to the store window, watching the city go by, people and cabs busy, sounds buzzing, and she took a long sip of her drink, almost forgetting about the boy across from her as she became enthralled in the city and her thoughts.
A sigh and the clatter of metal against the dish brought her attention back to her companion. "What's going on, Amara?"
Eyesbrows bunched and fingers wrapped around her mug before she decided to reply. "What makes you think that something's going on?"
Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Do we really have to have this conversation again?" he asked, referring to the one they'd had when they had broken up. "I hadn't talked to you in months, and then all of a sudden you call me up and come all the way out here just to have coffee and tell me you miss me. So tell me: what's up?"
A breath left her and she nearly tried to stare him down, gaze unwavering and unforgiving. "Julian's gone," she told him, blue eyes finding their way to the edge of the table, staring into nothingness. "And I couldn't stay there any longer."
"What do you mean, he's gone?" Bobby asked, his voice revealing no sign of emotion other than surprise.
"He left me. He left the mansion," she informed him. "I'm the reason Rogue was -- is -- whatever ... She's heartbroken, and I'm the reason why, so he can't be with me anymore. He loves her and he always has. I'm -- I don't know what I was to him, but now I'm nothing to him. Happy?" She finished, raising both of her eyebrows, her words laced with a bit of edginess.
"Happy?" He looked incredulous, almost angry. "Why would I be happy about that?"
"I don't know," she retorted. "You tell me." She picked up her mug and took another sip, fingers finally starting to fidget. "I know you can't be sad about it."
"So you think I'm happy that you're heartbroken?" He let out a puff of air and closed his eyes briefly, calming down. "I don't know what kind of guy you think I am, Amara, but I have never been happy when someone I care about is hurt, no matter how much they might have hurt me."
She a made a disgruntled, frustrated face at him, nearly scoffing. "I didn't say that you were happy about it," she corrected him. "And who said anything about heartbroken?"
Bobby folded his arms and shrugged. "Okay, fine," he said, fixing her with a look she didn't recognise and couldn't read. "You're not heartbroken. I'm not happy."
"Fine," she agreed. The edge of her mug met her lips again and she downed the rest of the warm liquid, pushing the coloured porcelain off to the side.
He continued to watch her with that indecipherable expression on his face. She felt slightly unnerved, more from the fact that she didn't have any idea what he was thinking. Before he had left, she had been able to read his every expression, every mood. Now Bobby was different--still Bobby, but definitely not the same person he had been just a few months ago.
She hated feeling like she didn't understand him, couldn't read him, didn't know him; the new, foreign things of him bothered her more than anything had in a while. It didn't seem to take her long, after thinking, to spit out an annoyed, "What?", her face a confused expression.
Bobby raised his eyebrows. "I was just thinking. No need to get snappy."
"What were you thinking about?" Amara asked, the question sounding like a challenge.
He sighed and unfolded his arms. "I was thinking about how it feels like we're back to the beginning again, but everything's different. I was thinking about how I hadn't expected to see you again until--well, if--I moved back to the mansion. I was thinking about how you've changed, and that no matter what you say, I can tell you've been hurt really badly. And I don't know what you want from me, but I can't help if you put up walls."
She stared him down for a moment, she being the one to have crossed arms this time, eyes narrowed, and a deep breath left her. "I didn't come here for your help" she corrected him, putting stern emphasis on her words. "I'm not hurt, and I'm not putting up walls. I came all the way down here to see you. That's it." She relaxed her expression and sucked in a loose breath, shrugging halfway. "I don't know what you expect me to say, what you want me to confess."
He exhaled slowly and held up his palms. "I don't have a clue what to expect from you, Amara, and I don't know what to think about you coming all this way just to see me. I just ... don't know."
They fell silent, the bustle and conversations around them only augmenting the feeling of awkwardness.
Bobby suddenly interrupted the silence with "Let's start over."
Amara blinked. "What?"
"Let's start this conversation over. I mean, we haven't seen each other in months and we started out ... kind of intensely. I think we should try having a normal conversation, since we haven't had one of those since ... well, since before we broke up."
She looked over to her empty coffee mug and paused in thought, remembering the last few conversations the had had, remembering that they weren't exactly pleasant. But she still remembered that they used to be comfortable and good. Happy, even. Now, she had to take a four hour bus ride just to see him.
"Okay," she replied hesitantly, now barely meeting his eyes.
"Okay," he echoed, leaning back in his chair with a hint of a smile. "Hi, Amara. It's good to see you. It's been a while, hasn't it? How are things back at the mansion in general?"
Amara let out a series of chuckles in response, shaking her head slowly. "You are such a dork," she teased.
"Lightened things up, didn't I?" Bobby returned, smirking. "Come on, we haven't had a normal conversation in months. Give it a shot."
Her eyes looked into his after fluttering away for a moment, trying to see if she saw that part of him that she used to see, trying to find Bobby again. She remembered him, she remembered Bobby, and she really did miss him; she hadn't been lying about that. And it didn't take her long to find him and go along. "So how have you been?"
"Pretty good," he answered, smiling. "I'm living with a couple of John's friends, David and Jeff. They've got a nice apartment midtown. And I'm working at the deli--it's not a career, but it pays for the necessities. And I meet a lot of great people."
"That's good." She smiled and thought about her next words before she spoke them, mentally stumbling, but, otherwise, okay. "So do you ever think that you'll come back to the team? Not the school, of course, just the team," she mumbled, slightly dejected, stumbling.
His expression shifted, less easy-going and almost wistful. "I'd like to," he began slowly. "I miss being part of something bigger than I am, being able to make a difference. Plus, I can't really use my powers like I used to here--it would attract too much attention. But it's really not my decision to make."
"I know," she whispered, looking down to her fidgeting hands, real, almost hurt, emotion finally coming through. Her index finger pushed against her palm as she thought about everything that had just happened, everything that happened previously, everything she did or didn't do, and when she finally looked back up at Bobby some of that masked emotion was apparent in her eyes.
"I really do mean it when I say that I've missed you," she informed him, her voice cracking on the emphasized words.
"I know," he said softly. He looked at her closely, blue eyes searching hers. "Are you sure you're okay? You can talk to me, you know. Even if it is about Julian."
Her body was morphing into an awkward position, her fingers fidgeting at the side of her jeans. "I -- I know." She released a breath and blinked heavily, her elbows coming up to rest on the table.
"So ...?" Bobby prompted gently. His leaned forward, arms also coming up to rest on the table, expression inviting and open.
After not meeting his eyes for five full, paused minutes her blue eyes found his, and all that wasn't masked before now was, walls built firmly in place. "I'm fine, Bobby," she reassured him, smiling, halfway shrugging. "Thank you, though."
He studied her for a moment, obviously skeptical, but accepted her words with "Okay, then."
Her lips parted to speak up, but she quickly felt a vibration from her lap and answered the feeling by picking up her phone, reading the text from her best friend: "where r u? i heard what happened". She stood up abruptly when she slammed her phone shut, practically stumbling away from the table, making her way to the door slowly.
"I have to go, but I'll, um..." She struggled for the words, but eventually found them, swallowing with difficulty. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"
He answered her with a "yeah" but it sounded like a distant mutter as she was already halfway out the door, the bell at the top of the exit ringing as she left.