and why did he continue to go out of his way to help her?
there’s something different about him. but she’s a little high & a little drunk& her judgment isn’t the best. there’s a stall in the code, apparently. according to whiterose. now all they can do is w a i t. for now, though, she’s just quietly amused as she looks at him. her cheeks warming when she sees his smirk. it makes her swallow as she tries to regain control of her own faculties, breathing in slowly now. it’s less about the smirk & more about the fact that he’s the one smirking. this only happens sometimes, so contradictory to the boy she knows. his ego superimposed to make him more than the young boy that’s scared of everything. & yet she knows this part, too. oddly familiar, in bursts of anger, mistrust, & bitter alienation. & yet she loves him. loves this part. all parts. if only he’d let her.
she wants to know what she’s done wrong so she can fix it.
he gets closer now & she meets his eyes with her own, cheeks darkening in their pinked hue. she stalls. “you really don’t know?” she says with a tinge of hurt forming her words, accusatory alto. the sadness billows over her features. how could he not? there’s an ocean of emotional longing between her & him. like a gulf that she’s not allowed to cross anymore. ( what did i do wrong? why is this happening? )& she’s drowning. a strand of blonde sticks to her bottom glossed tier. she feels foreign in this pant suit, even though it makes her feel like she can kill just about anyone & never feel a thing.
but that’s not her right now. she wants to feel real.
“…after mom died,” comes the soft whisper. & maybe this is a little too real. “you were the only thing that kept me going.” her lips part further, nose prickling with unshed emotion. ( a whispered: i need you behind her words ). her lips stay parted but no words come out.
it was no wonder that after everything that had happened, being in prison and getting released quicker than he had anticipated because he was sick of elliot getting his ass beaten, realising that he had been LYING to him the whole time about tyrell wellick and then, the last straw … well, bullet to the gut from tyrell wellick was probably why elliot was shut down enough to let him be in CONTROL for now. eyes narrow as she gives him that blink staring with those big blue eyes, was she starting to figure them out? starting to realise which one was which, when ti was elliot and when it was WASN’T. whatever was going on, she was not leaving and he knew that elliot was unlikely to walk away from angela, she was his WEAKNESS now that shayla nico was dead. a frown etches across his face as she speaks and the moment she stops, he let’s out a harsh life, “you have ANSWERS? ”
what had darlene told her? or was this darlene? maybe it was something else, was she about to find some evil corp bullshit to him? whatever it was, it was bound to be AMUSING. folding his arms across his chest, green eyes narrowing at her, “and what are these answers that you apparently have? are you about to ell me some big evil corp bullshit line about how they are really NOT so bad after all? have they blinded you so much you have actually FORGOTTEN what they did to us? ”
the veneer cracks. just a fraction gentler now. gaze tracing over the features of his face & land on the hard eyes of this particular version of her childhood friend. this wasn’t the young boy that she’d gotten lost in downtown new york with. it makes her falter in her tactics, but only just slightly. his laugh is an overcompensation ( one she knows so well, has heard far too many times, when it comes to him deflecting from his inner pain. inner frustration. inner lack of any worth. a coping mechanism that’s ugly & cruel & leaves her mind’s eye whispering: don’t leave me, too ).
but she’s not ten anymore & she’s well aware of that, breathing in slowly as she her soft brows raise & furrow. her lips purse, pillowy & ever delicate. & yet appearances were seldom the truth. when girls were playing with their barbies, she was playing in mud. i am not delicate. always searching for an adventure. eyes flicker to his defensive stance ( arms crossed ). then shifting to catch the depths of his hues.
what she says: “price wants to fuck me.”
eyes flicker back and forth, from one of his eyes to the other. searching. wondering. will he understand what she means? but her expression doesn’t change, if anything her shoulders just release some, lashes fluttering only slight.
“i said no.” another blink.
what she means: well. that’s for you to figure out.
god, how did elliot put up with her? she was irritating and most of the time, just a waste of time, which right now that’s EXACTLY what she was being - a waste of HIS time by constantly wanting to know exactly what elliot was up to. it was bad enough that darlene and elliot had begin to involve angela and he didn’t have the time or the patience to explain what he was doing. tongue darts across his lips and he rubs his jawline with his right hand, glancing over at her with a dark look in green eyes, “angela, if i had something to tell you, then i would but i DON’T so, if you don’t mind, i’ll be getting on with what i need to be doing, ”
[ x ]
there’s a slow blink as she watches him, pupils flickering across his features. he’s not elliot right now, she knows that, even if he’s… still elliot. a different part of him that hates everything that she is. and she understands that. she makes him weak. she makes him feel. her chin lifts slowly. normally, she’d take his rejection as a personal affront & leave. ( & most of the time him being callous towards her did the trick ). but reacting that way now wouldn’t yield results, she’s learned that now. the new neural pathways in her mind tracking slowly as her eyes widen. lips pursed in a small smile. blue hues glistening as she shakes her head softly. “i’m not here to pressure you for answers,” she tells him, hands clasped before her now, eyes so crystal clear, mind buzzing with the ensconced words of white rose.
