unpavemypaths | open post

[She grins a little to herself, a private joke, reaching for the bottle to refill her own glass again.] Maybe. Or maybe you'll get used to to working with them.

[She's not even sure if this is actual certainty or she's just trying to return the favor, be positive since he's actually being nice right now. Reinforcement or something. It'd be nice not to be at each other's throats, she genuinely does admire his skill. Is jealous of it sometimes.]

It's a good skill to have up your sleeve, anyway.

I have plenty of skills. [He shoots her a look, more playful than anything else, even if he is trying to prove a point. He’ll do fine without being fantastic at pediatrics. He doesn’t need to excel at them all.] I’m very skilled.

[Once she’s set the bottle back down, he refills his own glass, not sure if someone will stop them or the bottle will run out before they finally finish this back and forth.]

Since you know mine, it’s only fair I know yours. What’s the focus you struggle with?

[She wrinkles her nose at him, a doubtful expression on her face, but it's playful, not genuinely trying to put him down. She even relents after a moment:] ...Sure, but you could always use more.

[She looks a little reluctant, pouring herself a drink before she answers. It's more because she doesn't like admitting her weaknesses than anything to do with him, but at the moment it does seem fair enough.] Psych. I don't know, it's probably a mental block. Trying to figure out what's going on in people's heads feels trickier than working out what's wrong with their bodies.

That’s surprising. [He admits, throwing back his shot, before slamming the glass back on the bar, a little harder than he expected. He smiles a little sheepishly.]

You just seem so empathetic. I feel like it’d be easy for you to tell what people are thinking.

[She's a little surprised by that, glancing sideways at him, offering a little smile.] I think it's too easy to empathize. Makes it harder to figure out whether something needs to be on a checklist of symptoms or if it's just... normal.

[She shrugs, reaching to refill her glass, reaching over to fill his as well this time.]

Anyway, I never really wanted to go into it, so. Could be worse. Could have turned out to be squeamish or something.

I guess I just treat everything like a symptom. Everyone probably has something that needs healing. [Whether that be mental or physical, he knows first hand that everyone has a little bit of pain, there’s never been a person he’s touched that hasn’t transferred something to him. Just some need the help more than others.

He smiles at her when she fills his glass, lifting it to cheers with her before taking it.]

I’m not squeamish but I don’t think I could ever do surgery. Some of those noises when they cut through things. [He shudders, refusing to elaborate more than that. He’s fine with small procedures, but full surgery, he’ll leave that to the pros.]

[She tips her glass to him, overly careful to avoid spilling anything, taking a drink before making a face in response to his words.] Yeah, I think I'm with you on that one. One go around was enough for me.

[She reaches for her water to at least take a few sips before turning back towards him as she pours herself another, curious.] So. Emergency, huh? You're sure about it?

[He calls the bartender over again after a moment and orders a water for himself, and some French fries. Maybe some kind of food for the two of them will keep the inevitable hangover from being too horrible.]

Pretty sure, why, you going to miss me? [He smirks after he says it but it’s missing his normal cockiness. Truth be told, he’ll likely be missing her. They don’t always have clinical together but they’ve shared a classroom for as long as he’s known her, once they choose their focuses, that’s it, they’ll be on separate paths, moving in two very different directions from each other.]

Oh, it'll be torture, not being reminded every time I slip.

[She's joking, but her expression is more contemplative than anything. She's not sure she'll miss him, but it will be -- weird. She might not know why she sees so much of him, but she's also kind of used to it, no matter how much she questions it.

Weirder when she graduates, when she gets back home. She's been so focused on it -- the idea that there's anything she's going to have to get used to being gone is sort of strange. She shakes it off after a second, tilts her head, doing her best to cover with playfulness as she pours herself another.] I mean, you think you'll miss me? [She still expects the obvious answer to be no, despite everything.]

Edited 2025-05-05 02:21 (UTC)

I don’t do that. [It comes out quick and then he thinks back, maybe he does do that. The needling, the criticism, pointing out her flaws, telling her when he’s better. He’s pretty sure it wasn’t his intention, just wanting to get her attention, make her see how good he was, how amazing he can be. He can see now that he took it too far.

He watches her for a moment after she asks her question. He feels like he’s so obvious. Always following her around, taking the same classes, going to the same school. It’s almost a shock that she doesn’t realize.] You’re right. You are bad at reading people’s minds.

[Not said unkindly, if anything he just sounds a little sad.]

[Something in his tone catches her attention, frowning a little, forgetting her drink in order to watch him closer. It feels like a dangerous spot, like standing on the edge of something, something unsettled in her chest, but she's drunk enough to ignore that feeling of warning.]

Why do I always feel like I'm missing things with you? [She doesn't sound upset or even annoyed; she sounds like she's trying to solve a puzzle.]

[The sad expression if anything just deepens. That’s his fault that she’s missing out, he’s the one being rude here, keeping her in the dark. He just doesn’t know what to say, how to tell her all the secrets he’s been keeping. So much time has passed, revealing it now would just make him seem cruel.]

It’s okay, Imogene, just forget I said anything. [He puts a hand on her wrist, not trying to take anything from her. Instead just trying to offer comfort, his thumb sliding across her hand for just a moment.]

[It's not the touch that surprises her as much as him using her name for once. It does nothing to stop her from scrutinizing him, even as her hand turns slightly under the touch without thinking about it, falling open like she's looking for more. It feels nice. Fuck, she doesn't think she's that touch starved, but it's settling in a way she didn't know she wanted.]

That's still not an answer. [But she sounds resigned to not getting one, for the most part.]

[He frowns slightly, mostly just confused, his gaze moving to stare at her hand, his own sliding up her wrist, fingers pressing into her palm as he slowly slides them until they are interlocking with hers. It feels amazing, not that he ever thought it wouldn’t, both comforting and terrifying, his pulse quickening slightly. He feels like if he breathes the wrong way it might ruin this.]

Why do I feel like I always say the wrong thing with you? [It comes out hushed, matching her question with one of his own.]

I don't know.

[She feels like she should pull away just as much as she wants to lean into his touch, tangled up between different instincts, and after a second she goes on, her voice soft.] I don't know what to expect from you. Right now you're nice and sometimes you're so... not. I don't get it.

[Part of it is that she takes it too personally, as much as she hates to admit it. It's been a long few years. Her confidence gets shaky enough without someone else pointing out when she makes a mistake.]

Yeah.

[He's not an idiot, he knows that sometimes he can be mean, he always feels horrible when instead of teasing back, instead of the bickering or the banter she just looks hurt. He never wanted to hurt her.]

I'm sorry. [It's genuine, even if he should have offered it on his own and not when she brought up how he's upset her, but he does mean it, for what it's worth.]

I guess I thought...[He sighs, looking away for a moment.] I thought that's what you wanted from me. [A cringe, because that isn't quite right.] Or, how you saw me, I guess. Just the cocky, college rival. [He shrugs looking back at her.] At least it gave me a part in your story.

[It's a weird way to put it, and she frowns a little, but she's willing to let it go for the moment, glancing down at the bar, one finger tracing an absent figure eight. The other is still holding on to his. She's not sure what to do with that, is just not thinking about it for now.]

I mean, it's not always a bad thing. Sometimes it actually kinda helps. You're -- really good at all of this. I kinda wish it was as easy as you make it look.

[She's never said it so plainly before. She's complemented his work, she's not completely unwilling to admit he's talented, but usually it's something specific.]

You're just hard to read. Half the time I don't know how serious you are with all the... [A vague wave with her free hand, and she shakes her head, tilting slightly on her stool as she does.] Or what you expect me to say. I don't know how you expect me to see you. I didn't even think you cared.

I'm not. [He shakes his head, disagreeing with her on two different levels.] I just get a feeling about things sometimes.

[Literally. But it's more than just that. He also spends every moment he has just studying or researching. He knows she has a life, people. She could probably be this good too if she spent every waking minute on it.

After her next statement he's quiet. Just thinking about how to answer. He really just wanted her to be his friend, he never expected more, even after he saw his name. He's heard of platonic soulmates, it's rare but it happens. That could have been them, if that's what she wanted.]

I care. [Is what he settles on instead.] Sometimes probably a little too much...but I've always cared. [And just incase it isn't clear enough.] About you.

[She doesn't look surprised at this point, or skeptical, at least. Just confused, and a little bit sad.] Then how did we get to all of this? Did I -- say something really awful and forget about it, or something?

[It doesn't sound like her, she tries not to be cruel to people, but she's also aware that she's not always been her best self, either. Not when Isaac was gone, not when Sasha left, not when she left home and almost immediately regretted it. Pretty much the whole time they've been in school together.]

[He gives her an unimpressed look, the mere thought that she could be anything other than nice.] You and I both know you aren't like that.

[That just also means that he's expected to give her some sort of answer, and honestly, none of them are great.] It's...complicated. [He gives her a somewhat apologetic look. They are both drunk, and holding hands, and this is the most they've really talked in, well ever and he really doesn't want it to end.]

I was just never on your radar. I doubt you even remember half the times we talked before we moved out here -- honestly, I doubt I would remember me either. [He was so soft spoken back then, terrified of messing up, so desperate to be liked, to make friends. And then he moved out here, cut his hair, stopped caring what people thought, and people actually started paying attention.]

I made you laugh, in class. [He looks embarrassed, rubbing a hand down his face.] You messed up and I made a joke out of it and you laughed and I guess...it was kind of the first time you noticed me.

[And then it became more than that. The teasing got a little worse. If he couldn't make her laugh, at least he could get her attention. And god that sounds so sick. He takes the shot that's been sitting in his glass, not wanting to face half of the shit he's done just to get a reaction out of her.

He lets go of her hand, feeling suddenly disgusted with himself.] I'm sorry. I -- I just wanted to make sure you are okay. I wasn't trying to do all this.

[She's quiet for a while in response to that, expression mostly neutral as she considers. She looks more thoughtful than anything, distant, turning it over in her head. Trying to piece things together. It's not until the bartender comes and goes again, leaving his food and water behind, that she shifts.]

That's kind of fucked up. [It's not said meanly, just with drunken bluntness. Maybe a little sad. She downs the shot that's been in front of her before she goes on, not looking at him.]

Thanks. For checking on me. I'm... I meant it, I can take care of myself. But it was nice of you.

[A beat, and then:]

For what it's worth, it wasn't about you. I was -- a mess in undergrad. It was hard to notice anything going on around me unless I had to.

[Even in freshman year. Discovering the weird shit that exists in the world and trying to make sure her boyfriend had a place to sleep ended up taking a lot of her focus, even before the accident.]

I know. [Pretty much everyone at that school knew about what was going on with her little group of four. Sasha was well known around the campus, with more than a few people trying to help him, even though Imogene seemed to be the only one he allowed it from. And then when Isaac disappeared. He was popular, everyone liked him, there wasn't a single person who wasn't watching Imogene after that. He knows it was tough, he saw it all happen.] I'm sorry.

[He stands up, pulls out his wallet and sets down more than enough cash on the bar. He should leave before he makes it worse, should just let her wallow or forget her troubles or whatever she was trying to do.

Except that, he's pretty sure if he leaves now she may never talk to him again, and they will be back to square one. Below square one. They will be nothing to each other.

He waits until the bartender comes and goes again, taking his money, and allowing Denny time to take a sip of water before facing Imogene again.]

I'm Nathaniel. [He waits for a moment, assuming the recognition won't come immediately, especially since it's spoken out of nowhere.] My full name is Nathaniel Dennison, Denny is just a nickname.

[She shakes her head at the apology, leaning against the bar as he goes to move. Watching him get ready to go. She almost looks sad about it. Even with some very weird revelations, it's been nice to actually talk instead of get at each other's throats. And the company is -- comforting. Not a word she usually associates with him.

She's still watching when he speaks again, and at first her lips curve into a little bit of a smile, amused by the declaration. It's funny, she thinks, that's also--

She's had a lot. It's visible when it hits her, expression an open book. Eyes going wide, and then narrow, the smile dropping off to a baffled frown.]

...You're not. [All the skepticism and distrust she usually aims at him is back in a second, her defenses up. It's not much more pleasant to think he's just fucking with her, but it's easier to believe.

Or it's a coincidence. That would make the most sense, right? She doesn't know why he would be telling her, but -- it's more reasonable than him sitting on that, for some reason.]

[He watches the emotions playing out on her face, of everything he expected to see, the anger is most surprising, though he assumes after the reveals he's given her tonight, that does make sense.

At her words, he puts his hands up.] I can show you mine, it's just not as easy.

[He puts a hand low on his chest, right above his stomach, one his ribs, it's sitting there almost on his side, bold and clear like he'd put it there himself. He doesn't really want to take off his shirt in this bar but he will if she wants him to.]

[The sheer fact that he offers is enough to make her pause. She wants so badly to believe he's lying. It would be a lot easier if he was lying. If he's just an asshole, she can ignore him guilt-free after this, but if he's telling the truth--

She really doesn't like how much she thinks he's telling the truth. But she's always trusted her gut.]

And you're only bringing this up now? [It comes out a little louder than she means it to. She doesn't even seem to notice when it draws some eyes their way, her entire attention is on him.]

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