March 2010
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Syndicate
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Mar. 6th, 2010
Feb. 14th, 2010
Kate and Pete
Katelyn put her arms across the steering wheel and leaned to rest her forehead against them. Her hair fell forward, creating a curtain around her face. It was a flimsy shield, but she didn't really think it was necessary, anyway. There was too much going on inside; the March Shield was more firmly in place and more opaque than she'd ever seen it, which was saying something. They had hardly noticed her when she was inside the house, physically included in its bubble. There seemed to be very little chance they would be able to see beyond it now. No one had walked her to her car, even, which was the first time that had happened in ages. She shuddered and moaned softly. Out of everything she was feeling, the self loathing was by far the worst. This was different than the feeling she'd had in the past, being ashamed of herself. This was real, honest conflict: regret and wanting to change emotions it was too late for her to control. Katelyn was unequipped to handle it, and it made everything else harder to deal with, as well.
Someone tapped on the glass and she whirled, hands instantly clutching at her chest in a vain effort to protect her heart, which had stalled and then started thundering pounding harder than she could ever remember. It took her a moment to realize that it was only Pete. Somehow, she'd just assumed, given the way things were going, it would be Drew. He frowned at her (immensely pleased to see that she looked startled and angry at him, and WASN'T crying) and jiggled the locked handle of the passenger side door. Katelyn was still recovering her breath and didn't immediately respond. Pete tapped the glass again, indicating the lock.
She frowned and rolled down the window, instead. "What do you want, Peter?" He cringed at the waver in her voice; maybe she was as upset as he'd originally suspected. But he only shrugged casually before giving a piercing look. "Oh, you know. Just a little curious as to why you're sitting here. In your car. Alone. Hanging about in my driveway. Staring at the house? Casing the join, perhaps? Waiting for some illicit meeting? Maybe just stalking?" Katelyn sighed, defeated by sheer obnoxious. She didn't want to him to get any worse, so she popped the lock and waited, glaring down at the sight of her own hands, clasped tightly in her lap. She couldn't really feel them. Pete slid into the seat and closed the door, then looked down at his hands, too. He waited, surprised at his own patience. The right thing to say would come to him eventually, or she would crack first.
"None of the above," Katelyn said, and when he glanced over, he noticed her face was flushed. Her voice was clipped, and she practically spit the words, trying to get them out and over with, hating them. "Pity party."
Pete took a deep breath, slowly in and out. Then, he did it again, and after a moment, Katelyn followed his example. They sat, quiet and still, together. Some of the tension in the car eased, and he felt a little more comfortable. He lifted his head and looked at her, full on, for the first time. Katelyn did the same, then froze. "You know," he started, and her hand shot out as though she would grab his arm, to stop him, though she caught herself before she got there.
"Yes," she said abruptly. It was one thing to pity yourself, and hate it. She KNEW. She knew the feelings of fear, of anger, of abandonment, it was all selfishness. And it wasn't enough, even for her. It wasn't enough for her to wish that he wouldn't do it. It was the right thing to do, and she knew it. Not much of her fear or her feelings of reluctance were on his behalf. It was damn hard to feel anything but elated about it, on Drew's behalf. All the negativity came from her and was for her, and she knew it. It was one thing to pity yourself, and hate it. It was quite another to see that pity reflected in the face of someone else.
"At least consider the possibility that I know, okay?" she said, and there was no pleading at all in her voice. It was almost hard, and Pete didn't really recognize it. "I know, no one can really get it, except one of you. I know I can't really understand your fucking....magical bond, or whatever the fuck it is that makes this necessary. I get it. It IS necessary. I get that it's necessary. And I do...." she hesitated for a moment about saying his name. "And I do know Drew. It isn't as though we never talked about it, Pete. And it isn't as though I can't read him; he's not that fucking hard to make out." God, her mother would die at the language, but Katelyn didn't care. It was Pete's language, anyway. She was vaguely alarmed that she couldn't seem to stop the spew of words falling from her mouth, and even more alarmed by how feverently she MEANT THEM. "I saw him." She gestured toward the house. He'd been ecstatic. He'd been content and happy and excited and WHOLE in a way she'd never seen, just at the anticipation of it. He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. "So unless you're really sure that you're going to say something I don't know? Just...don't." He sat, staring forward and thinking hard.
He had nothing.
Acutally, he had tears for her, and for Drew, that he desperately didn't want her to see. They would be even more unwelcome than his presence now, surely. Pete blinked, rapidly, and after several more seconds of silence, without looking at her, he got out of the car and went back to them.
Someone tapped on the glass and she whirled, hands instantly clutching at her chest in a vain effort to protect her heart, which had stalled and then started thundering pounding harder than she could ever remember. It took her a moment to realize that it was only Pete. Somehow, she'd just assumed, given the way things were going, it would be Drew. He frowned at her (immensely pleased to see that she looked startled and angry at him, and WASN'T crying) and jiggled the locked handle of the passenger side door. Katelyn was still recovering her breath and didn't immediately respond. Pete tapped the glass again, indicating the lock.
She frowned and rolled down the window, instead. "What do you want, Peter?" He cringed at the waver in her voice; maybe she was as upset as he'd originally suspected. But he only shrugged casually before giving a piercing look. "Oh, you know. Just a little curious as to why you're sitting here. In your car. Alone. Hanging about in my driveway. Staring at the house? Casing the join, perhaps? Waiting for some illicit meeting? Maybe just stalking?" Katelyn sighed, defeated by sheer obnoxious. She didn't want to him to get any worse, so she popped the lock and waited, glaring down at the sight of her own hands, clasped tightly in her lap. She couldn't really feel them. Pete slid into the seat and closed the door, then looked down at his hands, too. He waited, surprised at his own patience. The right thing to say would come to him eventually, or she would crack first.
"None of the above," Katelyn said, and when he glanced over, he noticed her face was flushed. Her voice was clipped, and she practically spit the words, trying to get them out and over with, hating them. "Pity party."
Pete took a deep breath, slowly in and out. Then, he did it again, and after a moment, Katelyn followed his example. They sat, quiet and still, together. Some of the tension in the car eased, and he felt a little more comfortable. He lifted his head and looked at her, full on, for the first time. Katelyn did the same, then froze. "You know," he started, and her hand shot out as though she would grab his arm, to stop him, though she caught herself before she got there.
"Yes," she said abruptly. It was one thing to pity yourself, and hate it. She KNEW. She knew the feelings of fear, of anger, of abandonment, it was all selfishness. And it wasn't enough, even for her. It wasn't enough for her to wish that he wouldn't do it. It was the right thing to do, and she knew it. Not much of her fear or her feelings of reluctance were on his behalf. It was damn hard to feel anything but elated about it, on Drew's behalf. All the negativity came from her and was for her, and she knew it. It was one thing to pity yourself, and hate it. It was quite another to see that pity reflected in the face of someone else.
"At least consider the possibility that I know, okay?" she said, and there was no pleading at all in her voice. It was almost hard, and Pete didn't really recognize it. "I know, no one can really get it, except one of you. I know I can't really understand your fucking....magical bond, or whatever the fuck it is that makes this necessary. I get it. It IS necessary. I get that it's necessary. And I do...." she hesitated for a moment about saying his name. "And I do know Drew. It isn't as though we never talked about it, Pete. And it isn't as though I can't read him; he's not that fucking hard to make out." God, her mother would die at the language, but Katelyn didn't care. It was Pete's language, anyway. She was vaguely alarmed that she couldn't seem to stop the spew of words falling from her mouth, and even more alarmed by how feverently she MEANT THEM. "I saw him." She gestured toward the house. He'd been ecstatic. He'd been content and happy and excited and WHOLE in a way she'd never seen, just at the anticipation of it. He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. "So unless you're really sure that you're going to say something I don't know? Just...don't." He sat, staring forward and thinking hard.
He had nothing.
Acutally, he had tears for her, and for Drew, that he desperately didn't want her to see. They would be even more unwelcome than his presence now, surely. Pete blinked, rapidly, and after several more seconds of silence, without looking at her, he got out of the car and went back to them.