unpavemypaths | open post

[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.]

I thought you were in a relationship. [He replies back in hushed tones. Honestly he didn’t realize she’d broken up with Sasha until tonight when she said she reconnected with an ex. He always just assumed they were still together all this time.

He seems to realize the implications of that, making it sound like he’s only interested in her on a romantic level and backtracks.]

I didn’t mean it like that. I just didn’t want to ruin your relationship if you were in one. I didn’t want you to feel obligated or confused. You just seemed really happy.

[And it does make sense why that seems to be different now if their breakup was recent. All the days she comes to work late, the exhaustion, the drinking. Considering how happy she looked, he can only assume she’s just as devastated now.]

[She's been effectively single since Sasha disappeared, even if they never actually talked about ending things and Imogene's never actually acted on it. That's about the least important part of this picture, so she doesn't bother to bring it up, shaking her head.]

That's not your choice to make, that's not information you keep from somebody for -- how long have you even known?

[She's trying to think back -- she's always been inclined to keeping her mark under cover, but she's not exactly paranoid about it. Plenty of times she's rolled up her sleeves for bio or chem labs, even back in undergrad, or skipped the long sleeves under her scrubs on a hot day. It could be months, it could be years.

She doesn't actually stop long enough to let him answer.] Not to mention, what if one of us did drop out, or move, or, fuck, if I'd gotten a transfer? [Every bond is different, that's been drilled into them over class after class, but most people do feel ill effects, when they're used to seeing their soulmate regularly and then stop. Maybe their lack of physical closeness would mean they didn't experience that, but maybe not, there's no way of knowing without testing it.]

[He shifts slightly when she asks how long he’s known, uncomfortable. It’s been awhile. It feels like lying about that now will be too obvious, even if it’s likely to piss her off more. He also feels like following the conversation they had, if he keeps withholding information, it’s only going to make things worse.]

For awhile. [He finally admits, looking somewhat dejected.] Since before your brother disappeared.

[Well before he disappeared but it feels like what he said will suffice. Already that puts the timeframe to nearly a decade ago, he doesn’t feel like he needs to be more specific than that.

Every question she asks just makes it more and more apparent that he never thought this through. Was he planning on just following her around for the rest of her life? Trying to get her attention while leaving out the biggest secret he has? He shrugs a little lamely, voice quiet.]

If that happened, I’d just move. It would be easy to get them to approve the transfer based on Soulmate Complications. [It feels a little too much like he planned on stalking her so he just stops saying anything else related to that train of thought before he digs himself into an even bigger hole.] It may not even be an issue for us. We don’t know.

[The time frame is enough to stun her into silence, and his answer doesn't make it much better. They don't know, which is the problem. He's been aware of it long enough that they should know. Probably would, if he'd just said something, when he knew, years ago--]

Jesus, Denny, this is-- [Her voice is quiet, but that doesn't cover the anger or the disgust there. She breaks off, shakes her head, climbing off the stool and grabbing her bag; she's a little unsteady on her feet, but doesn't seem to be about to let that stop her.] I need to get out of here.

I know.

[And he does look sorry, ashamed even, not that it makes much of a difference, keeping his distance from her until she tries to get off the stool, then he moves closer, hands out like she might fall.]

Okay. Can I —- can I call a car? Or walk with you? You’re not really…[Capable? Coordinated? In her right mind? It’s not really his place to say, and it’s not like he’s really much better.] I just want to make sure you get home safe.

[She steps back immediately when he moves closer, even though she stumbles a little when she does it, arms crossed tight across her chest.]

You do whatever you want, I think it's clear I can't really stop you. [It's a low blow, and she'd feel worse about it if she wasn't still reeling, trying to make sense of everything.]

[He winces, more from her stepping away from him than from her words. He understands she’s upset, frustrated, and he doesn’t blame her for it, but the idea that he makes her frightened, or that she’s so repulsed by him that she doesn’t want him to touch her, is a hard one to swallow. He just nods, taking out his phone to call her an Uber, it’s kind of giving in to what she said, but it’ll also help him feel better if he knows she got home safe, he doubts she’ll text him back if he tries to reach out.

It’s an awkward wait for the car, but thankfully not a long one. He kind of gestures that it’s there but doesn’t try to walk her out, just offering another,] I’m sorry Imogene, I never wanted to hurt you.

[The wait does nothing to calm her anger, just standing there with him feels like it's making her blood boil. She wants to yell, she wants to cry. Mostly she just wants to get far, far away from him.

She barely looks at him until the apology. When she does, it's clear how hard it is to believe that, her face an open book, angry and pained.] Then you should've been honest a long time ago.

[She won't give him a chance to say anything else before she walks out. She's trying her best to hold it together until she gets home, and she's pretty sure talking to him any longer is going to make that impossible.]

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