xmutanthigh | [open threads] because julian's a social creature and crystal misses him.

[He doesn't look at her either, training his eyes on the counter, annoyed and a little lost with his sudden snippy attitude as well. He lifts his hand to rub his palm over his mouth--it's a tell that he's upset; he's confused by her, by himself, and he doesn't like it. Things have been off with Ali; even that temporary reprieve from the uncomfortableness in the weight room apparently didn't do shit. And he knows this is... something else. It's not about how he was feeling about her in London. It's... more.]

Yeah well, the holidays aren't for jet-setting to Fiji or Amsterdam alone, sweetheart. [He says this evenly, dryly, trying not to sound defensive.] I'm just saying I'd rather be here with friends.

Sure you don't mean your new girlfriend?

[She offers a smile that's aiming for wry and teasing but comes out weak and anemic instead. Yeah, something's been off for sure. Ali's felt off for weeks now, ever since her sister showed up, not that she's sure Julian's noticed. She can't tell if it's because she broke down in front of him, or if he's suddenly been significantly more scarce in her life since, or if it's just her retreating back into herself, afraid she's shown too much of herself to be comfortable anymore.]

I still think I'd take hash brownies and sake over turkey and pumpkin pie, but that's just me. [She spins around on one foot, arms outstretched just a little, daydreaming for a moment about traveling to even half the places Julian's been. She continues, realizing she might sound a little dismissive. She offers a little grin and a shrug.] Always seemed to me that holidays are just an excuse people use to get drunk, and I've never needed those.

[He's not sure what to make of that unconvincing smile or her choice of words anymore than what he even wants to say to that. He's simply looking at her dancing, skating form twirl in circles, her arms extended and the look on her face--that free, faraway look. It occurs to him then just how out of reach she is to him lately, maybe has been always, at least has been for weeks. God, maybe it's his fault. Maybe it's hers. He doesn't know. He's been burying himself in a lot lately--in work, in class, in training, in being with Rogue.]

No sweetheart, that's why I like you. [He says this softly, the words a bit detached as he follows the string of thoughts in his head. Then he licks his lips and looks down at the counter, tries to shake the moment off.] And, yeah. I want to stay here with Rogue. And Jono. And you. [Then he smiles a little.] I can get hash brownies and sake anywhere.

I can't. [Of course he can have those things, he's Julian Keller. Ali pushes aside the sharp little pang of jealousy with a laugh and a genuine little smile. She's usually not the type to dwell on what she can't have and with only a little effort, she reminds herself of how ridiculous it is to envy her best friend. Regardless of what either of them have, they're both in the same place for very similar reasons.] Anyway, I never go anywhere, so I'll be here. Gettin' drunk. Like always.

[Speaking of...she starts rolling around the island, backward this time, stopping by the cabinets to forage for a whiskey bottle she's got stashed there.] Good to know there's something you like about me... [She uncaps the found treasure and takes a swig, the heat soothing, distracting her from the fact that she can't keep his gaze or hold much of a conversation with him anymore. Keeps her from wondering if he's been burying himself in all these other things to put some distance between them, if she hasn't become a bore and a burden. Her words are light and playful, though laced with tiny threads of truth.] Here I was wondering all this time!

[Even Julian Keller can figure what she's getting at, because her words and her tone are just a combined anvil of obvious. They haven't talked, haven't tried to talk, maybe even a part of him hasn't even wanted to talk to her for reasons he's not even sure of himself. He's not... good at this. He's not good at give and take, and he's certainly not good at trying to figure out the mystery that is his estranged best friend and her issues.

He turns her way, elbows back against the counter as his lips curl up into a genuine smile, but behind the gesture, his eyes are a little sad.]

Hey, that's a door that revolves both ways, beautiful.

[Ali pauses, bottle at her lips, a small trickle of liquor trickling out of the corner of her mouth for second before she swallows and wipes it away. She remembers that she used to like never feeling the need to talk about anything with Julian, liked how easy and fun their friendship had always been. They had just been there for each other in wordless solidarity, but that was before. Now, the distance between them seems broader for all the close-kept emotions that Ali had let loose in front of him. She feels conflicted every time she sees him, the vulnerability bubbling back to the surface all over again leaving her raw and ragged. She can't help but feel like revealing that weakness to him made her like every other girl to Julian--something to be glossed over, replaced, and forgotten. She knows their relationship was never like that, but she's felt keenly the imbalance between them and she doesn't like how needy it makes her feel. She can't tell him this, of course, and so she resorts to her best defense mechanism: sarcasm.]

Come on, you know the only reason I hang with you is 'cause you'll spring for the top shelf when we go drinking.

[She skates past him and holds the bottle out to share, if he wants it. She makes another revolution before slowing to lean opposite him, then hop up to sit on the marble counter top, looking down at her skates.]

Anyway, I can't be too choosy with my drinking buddies. [She looks up at him through her lashes and gives a toothy grin. Those slugs of whiskey are loosening her up at last.] It's not like I can start knockin' back with Logan now, can I?

[He turns with her, the look in his narrowed eyes keen and penetrating. Though his lips are in a smile, his eyebrow raises and his head tilts curiously as he watches her: the way she had paused, her sarcasm and telling "light" tone of her voice. He's giving her a look that says she should know better, because he does. And it doesn't take Julian long to cut to the chase, especially when he's maybe starting to see this situation more clearly, and he doesn't like it, doesn't like himself for it.]

So that's what I am to you, Ali? Just a drinking buddy?

Well, you're definitely not a bandmate. [She laughs, taking another little sip and swinging her legs, careful not to ding the cabinets below her. She can tell his panties are bunching again, tries to figure it out. Okay, so that's a lie, she knows why but just doesn't want to deal with it. What's he mean just a drinking buddy, anyway?] So unless you learn to play a mean guitar riff, sadly, drinking buddy is the only position we have available for you, Keller. We can also give you some part-time work as pranking affiliate, if that suits you.

[Yeah, there's no getting through to her with that question, but he can see the chinks in her armor, now that he's stopped to look at her for the first time in weeks. The fake coy turn of her smile, the darting of her eyes under his scrutiny. He hasn't looked at her, not since she broke down on him; he realizes with some confused degree of clarity he's been frustrated, been avoiding... what? Seeing her like this still? Not being able to get through to her, help her, make it better, ever since she shut down on him that night? He remembers the tears drying on her face, the guarded look in her eyes as she pulled away. Something in his chest clenches up.

If that's true, he's a fucking loser.

And as much as he claims she's his best friend... he doesn't know much about her at all, now does he? Hasn't even fucking tried.]

You know I love you, Ali. [The words leave him without even a second of thought, and they surprise him with their suddenness, but more because he means them. A lot. And he wants her to know, as if it'll fix everything or... whatever. That's why the passing surprise filters off his face within seconds; he'll stand by the declaration. The question.]

[His words catch her off guard and she freezes, her feet stopping mid swing. The simple fact is that she didn't know, doesn't know if she believes him. He teeth cinch around her bottom lip, biting back the reflexive glib comment. People don't say those words to Ali often and when she hears them, they don't mean much. So, why does it pierce her like this when Julian says it?

She looks at the floor, her feet resuming their motions, not sure what to say. Is she supposed to just accept it easily, say it back to him, mean it? This is new for her, being cared for, and the way Julian's been lately just makes it that much more confusing. Regardless of what she's supposed to do, it's getting harder to keep up this devil-may-care pretense with him. She tries anyway.]

'Course you do, Keller. How could you not?

[Not exactly the reply anybody hopes for when they blurt something that heavy out, but is he surprised? Not by much. But he feels his reaction--that pang inside that hurts and aches for a moment before fading. He's been a bad friend. Wanting her, feeling for her, pushing her away when she needed someone the most. He can't blame her for playing his words off like that, pretending that everything's okay. That's what he does. It's all he does now.

His gaze is steady as he looks at her. Unwavering and serious. He can try again. Julian's good at that.]

I'm sorry I haven't been around much.

It's fine, Julian.

[It's...not fine, but what's she supposed to say to him? No, it's not okay. She's needed something, someone to hold on to these last few weeks to keep her head above water and he was nowhere to be found. Even if she felt she had the right to them, Ali wouldn't have the first clue how to string those words together. Tiny threads of anger, resentment weave through her, stiffening her spine, hardening her gaze so that it's just as serious as his when she raises her head to meet his eyes.]

You've had more important things to deal with. I get it. [There's a flash of something bitter and cold in her eyes, something that wants to keep this distance between them. It feels safer.] You don't have to worry about me.

[It's not fine, clearly. He wants to protest her words, tell her that it isn't, there wasn't anything else more important, that he does worry, but it feels like a weak apology. It's already done, isn't it? He all but abandoned her just to make himself feel better. His eyes soften at the coldness in hers, but his jaw clenches, his lips in a grim, determined line as he leans further over the counter, towards her.]

Nothing was more important. I screwed up. [He searches her eyes, only a hint of vulnerability in his expression. But it's there. She's angry; she should be. All this time he's done everything he could not to lose her and for the past month he's been making an effort to push her away like a fucking idiot.]

[She licks her lips, pressing them together into a tight line. She sees that sliver of vulnerability and think for a moment about using it to hurt him. She sighs, shaking her head. She knows what he's trying to do, appreciates it even. She just isn't sure if things can be so easily mended.]

Look, don't worry about it. I've flown solo for a long time, okay? I don't need anyone to hold my hand through turbulence. [She slips off the counter, taking a moment to balance on the wheels of her skates again, rocking back and forth in place on them.] You're off the hook, Keller, you can stop grovelling, wouldn't want to ruin your suit.

[The easy way she brushes it off hardly comforts him; on the contrary it worries him. The way she's acting, what she's saying--it's all the same as it ever was between them, and that's the upsetting part. Sarcastic remarks, endless detours from the real issues. Yeah, they were best friends and Julian knows why. Because Ali didn't ask him shit, no matter how fucked up he felt, and he returned the favor. She believed his mask and he believed hers, no questions asked. What kind of real friend does that? So he's off the hook. Off the hook for what? For proving to her what they were both afraid of? You open up and you lose people.

He's angry then, thinking of that, angry at himself, angry at her for allowing it. He straightens to stand, his fingers holding onto the edge of the counter.]

Yeah, fine. But that's bullshit. You're hurting and the last thing you should do is go through it alone.

Yeah, I'm hurting. What's it to you? [Her voice is terse and quiet, the confession lead in the air. Something inside her has snapped. She grits her teeth, forsaking the carefree mask and turning her back to him, her hands curling into white knuckled fists. One slams down on the counter, rattling everything placed atop it. The muscles of her back are taught and rigid, she breathing hard, trying to dim the angry light her eyes are radiating. She hates that visible proof that he's getting to her, but it's not like she's hiding the fact well at all.]

I never expect to see her again and she shows up, clockin' Kevin. She tells me I owe her my life, basically. I find out from Pyro that it's not only true, but that he would have been the one to dump me in a pine box and, funnily enough, I'm happier to have seen more of him than you the last few weeks.

[She turns, eyes dimmer but still alight. She gave him the chance to let this go quietly, but if he wants to pick this scab, she's not sure she can pull her punches.]

So, yeah, I'm hurting, Julian. I don't know what to think anymore, what to feel. I don't know whether to go after her, give up, get revenge, or just forget it ever happened. All I know is that she's my sister, and I should do something, and that I can't or I haven't is killing me.

[Ali breathes deeply, quiets. She's reigned herself in so that she is stone cold serious.]

And yeah, you're right. I shouldn't go through this alone, maybe I don't want to go through this alone. I don't even--[She shakes her head, closing her eyes.] I'm not good at asking for that kind of help, okay, but even if I did figure it out, you've barely been around for me to ask. So don't act like a little apology and a late-afternoon love-in is going to make that better. 'Cause that's bullshit, Keller, and you are full of it.

[He has the grace not to flinch at her violent outburst; he merely leans back a little, his expression blank and stern. He's just as averse to showing visible proof of his feelings, especially these ones: shame for not being here, for not knowing any of this. Hardly a single thing. Guilt for not trying to know. A flash of anger towards that terrorist dickhead, unjustified pain in response to hers, hurt that she'd rather see that asshole than him lately.

And envy. He's envious and it's ugly. Envious that she has a sister to fight for, to save, that it's even fucking possible to save her. He wonders if maybe that had bothered him too, and he knows more potently at that moment than any other how much he deserves her disdain. That's why he pushed, isn't it? Because she's right--he's full of bullshit. This isn't something healed with a well-intentioned band-aid, like he had done in the weight room. It's not about him, or his fucking issues, or his feelings for her, or James.

He's quiet at the end of it; his eyes haven't moved from her as she spoke. It stretches, and he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out for a moment, and he sets his jaw.]

It is bullshit. I never said it wasn't. But I don't know where else to start, Ali. I'm not good at--there are things that you- [He stops himself, looks down, his palm running over his mouth again. He's nearly fidgeting and he hates it, his gaze filled and heavy with everything he's feeling as he raises his eyes back to hers.] I want to help you, sweetheart. If I haven't been such an idiot you wouldn't have to ask. You don't... [He trails off, licking his lips as he pushes off the counter, resting one of his palms on his chest.] I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere. I'll prove it to you.

[She shakes her head, reaching for the bottle of whiskey and pouring herself a glass. Yes, a glass, because it gives her something for her hands to do. The whiskey helps to take the edge off her anger, but her reluctance is still intact. Plus, his hedged explanations and feeble excuses have her still on edge.]

What things, Julian? Things that I don't know? Things I wouldn't understand that would totally explain why you're such a detached asshole lately? 'Cause I know we're not big talkers, but I've spilled some pretty gnarly things to you, and it wouldn't kill you to maybe try and help me get it. I just...I really don't get how you can be attached at the hip to me one minute, then become a total ghost, and now you're trying to prove you're not a dick.

[She finishes her drink and pours another, rolling to grab a second glass from he cupboard for him, going to get some ice to fill the glass. She fixes his drink quietly, it's the only way she knows how to show him she's glad for his company, despite her angry words. She's holding it out to him, waves it at him when he hesitates.]

If you're gonna stick around, may as well have something to make it tolerable.

[He looks down at the glass again, taking it with a slightly irritated swipe of his hand. His expression is locked up again, all frustration and anger after her little speech. He doesn't drink it though, slides it onto the island instead, looking away from her and leaning on the marble surface.

He knows it would make things easier between them to tell her, but he just fucking can't. He doesn't want to have share time, he just wants to tuck all this shit away nice and neatly, where it's been tucked for the past two years, and he can go on just fine being a good friend. She's right--it wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt and he's just not in the mood to think about his dead brother. Maybe she even deserves it, deserves the truth. (She does, he knows she does.)

His breath is shallow and slow as he stares into space for a long moment, and then he picks up the glass and drinks most of it before pushing it away from him.]

Look. [He turns his head, just enough to put her in his periphery. His voice is hoarse from the alcohol, and harsh, and he hears it. It's why it softens noticeably as he goes on.] It's a long fucking story, Blaire, and I guarantee knowing it won't make any of my being a dick better. But if you want to hear it, fine.

Edited 2010-11-23 01:08 (UTC)

[Ali stops with a mouthful of liquor. This sounds important, real. She swallows and considers him for a moment. She can see the lines of tension pulled tight through his body, silently tipping the bottle to refill his glass.

She had never really considered that Julian had a long fucking story to tell. She knew he had been there when the Academy was attacked, kind of assumed that was the heftier part of the baggage he was clearly repressing. She feels a little bad for not taking more of an interest, but he's never shown any inclination to share with her like this before. That's not such a big part of their friendship to date.

He clearly doesn't want to tell her this, and as much as she's now dying to know, she'll still give him an out. She speaks into her glass and her voice is gentle, calm.]

Yes. Yes, I want to hear it. Of course I do. But only if you want to tell me, Julian. If...if you don't want to, if it's-- [She takes and drink and catches his sidelong gaze with one of her own for a split second.] It's okay not to.

[It's the gentleness of her voice that sets him off kilter, beckons his attention. His eyes flick up to hers, much without his permission and without a conscious thought. Ali's not gentle. But he guesses a month ago he would have said she's not vulnerable either. It makes him pause, makes him stop to look at her. She's close, hardly more than a seat away, her expression sober and expectant. She wants to know, of course. But there's his out. There's his...

She gave him one. Gave him a way to get out of this, do exactly as he wanted. And he's... something drops low in his gut, something that's relieved and disappointed all at once. He feels tired, not angry. He wants to be angry because it's easier; it's what he is if he's not shut down. He looks away again, wordlessly moving his full glass back into his open palm with a nudge of telekinesis. He stares into the cup for a few moments, and now his voice is soft, just as gentle as hers.]

Look, it's just... it's hard.

[He's quiet again. Maybe she's just listening, watching him while drinking, maybe she's about to say something after a certain time expires. But he speaks up again.]

My brother died of Legacy two years ago, and now it's just... you and your sister... And watching you... It was fucking with my head. But it's fine, okay? I know what's wrong now and it's not a problem.

Edited 2010-11-23 01:58 (UTC)

[Not a problem. She's told herself that a million times, enough times to almost know that identifying a problem definitely doesn't make it go away. She waits, drinking, letting him drink, letting his words sink into both of them. It feels like a long time before she opens her mouth to speak, that gentleness still soft in her voice. Her arms are crossed across her stomach and she's looking down into her half-empty glass.]

You know sometimes I wish Lois was just dead, especially those weeks in Texas. Feels like it'd make everything cleaner, easier, you know? [She takes a drink, chuckles a little bit.] Funny thing is, I know I'd be just as ragged if she was six feet under. Just the way of it with family, I guess.

[She drains her glass and sets it on the table, turning to look at him fully, her face is soft, sympathetic, but not pitying. Her fingers splay out and just their tips brush the seam of his shirt at his elbow.]

I'm sorry about your brother, Julian. [Her small features a steadfast, loving, open, warm. Her grip is firm and gentle, pressing against the fabric between her flesh and his, before she lets her hand fall, busying it with refilling her glass.] I'm sorry if I've stirred up bad memories for you, too.

[It's strange. He feels... relieved now, in the companionable silence between them. Even peaceful for a few precious moments. His brows are furrowed, and he's looking out the bay windows across the room, looking anywhere but her even though they are sharing this. He doesn't drink, simply keeps his fingers lightly around his full glass. He doesn't want to think of James but now he can't help the flashes once the box is cracked, flashes of James withering away to nothing day after fucking day, pale and weak and that stupid fucking smile he wore sometimes, like he was brave, like he accepted his fate--that he was going to die and it was okay. Because all Julian remembered of that last month was sitting by his bedside, waiting for what? A miracle? And that asshole could only look at him with that smile and tell Julian not to look at him like that.

He closes his eyes, lets out a shaking, tempered breath, his lips pressed closed as Ali begins to talk. He keeps them closed throughout her confession, only opens his eyes when he feels the brush of her fingers. Just that touch makes the pressure on his chest weigh down hard, and he can barely will himself to meet her sympathy.

It makes him feel... weak. And he's equally glad and bereft when she pulls away. He doesn't know what to say to that, doesn't know where to start. He's heard that apology before. I'm sorry about your brother. I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. Once upon a time he was sure he'd throw something if he heard it one more time, but coming from Ali, from this moment, it's different. Genuine.

He swallows thickly.]

I'll help you. [He pauses, manages to raise his eyes to hers.] If you want to find Lois, I'll help you. I'll go with you.

I don't...

[The thought is too much to process, the idea of tracking the Brotherhood again, the chance she'd run up against the Multiple Man, against Longshot...she still has nightmares about that sole flashing eye. She presses her fingertips to her lips, hey eyelids sliding to close softly, the whole ordeal isn't so distant that she doesn't easily relive it.

It would be different, with backup, with Julian. That's not the issue, at least not the major one. Ali still hasn't sorted through the stormy emotions her sister's kicked up. She doesn't know what she'd do if she did track down her sister, if she'd try to save her or kill her, or even just gun it hard enough to force Lois to use her powers and turn the lights out permanently.

She shakes her head, trying to sort her thoughts out, her mind wandering to think of what it must have been like for Julian, to lose his brother in that fashion. Regardless of whether she can do anything for Lois now, she's lost to Ali, that much is undeniable. It's different, opposites somehow, Ali's lost her sister without Lois truly being gone, while Julian must have watched his brother fade away, even though pieces of him still linger after death, festering inside old wounds.

Her eyes flutter open to find his still watching her. She removes her fingers from her lips and places her hand on the counter.]

I honestly don't know what I want, Julian. I want to forget, but... [She smiles, tilting her head to one side.] If I can't forget, it's good to know someone's got my back.

[He nods just once, looking down silently at her grateful smile, the sadness in it. He lifts his arm to drape around her shoulders, has no words to say, no more gestures but this one: pulling her small frame against his chest, dropping his face into her choppy, soft hair. She smells like cheap shampoo and smoke. Like Ali.

It's good to know she's got his back. That even having a few moments of sharing time didn't make things worse, not for her, not for him. That maybe, just maybe, she can understand a little bit. But he doesn't know how to say that. How to say he's grateful too, not yet.]

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