Simon Curran; Peter Parker/Spider-Man (bigtimehero) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-05-06 17:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | mary jane watson, spider-man |
Who: Simon and MK
What: Food and arguing and hugs.
Where: Simon's apartment.
When: Before MK's arrest.
Warnings/Rating: Swearing.
It wasn’t until she checked into the suite at the Wynn, flopped down on the bed, and kicked off her shoes that she remembered about her promised dinner with Simon. MK fell back onto the bed with a groan and let the spacious bed and fluffy comforter envelop her for a moment. Fuck. Ever since she first shot to fame a few years before, she loved the constant attention of the public. Fed off of it like it was her own personal drug. The adoration, or really the attention, numbed the pain, distracted her from the shattered bits of her that refused to heal, just like the alcohol did. But like the alcohol, fame wasn’t a problem. Until that moment. Until she could be implicated for something because some jackasses caught her on camera buying children’s clothes.
Half-tempted to cancel on Simon, she waited in bed as a storm of emotions rattled her body and brain, and before she could stop herself, she poured herself some scotch, two fingers worth. But she didn’t have a problem, and fuck Wren for saying she did. Was the other girl determined to pry away every little thing she had to help her live life? She disapproved of the drinking, the hypocrite, and then she disapproved of Adam. He was right, she was treating her like a child, and that idea filled her with a new lick of rage. She bolted up into the sitting position and down the drink as she fought away a wave of fresh, angry tears. The temptation to toss that fucking glass into the wall was great, but in the end, she just dropped it on the bed, strolled over to the walk-in closet, and chose one of her least attention-grabbing outfits -- a pair of baggy, boyfriend jeans, a black t-shirt, and boat shoes. As she slipped her pants on, she poured another drink and dialed down to the concierge to ask for a car to meet her at one of the most discreet exits. She didn’t want the paparazzi following her to Simon’s, not when he was trying his best to dodge the attention she usually adored. She shot Simon a text warning him of her impending arrival, and she polished off her drink, and she fixed a Mets baseball cap on her hair to cover her flaming red hair. It was the most played down she would look out in public in months, just a dash of makeup to make her look alive, and she hoped with her ever-present sunglasses she’d be able to dodge the paparazzi too.
Though she made it through the building without an incident, getting to the car was another matter. Someone tipped the photographers off that she was on the move, and she bolted to dodge them even as one or two nearly lunged at her to get the best shot. Stumbling into the car, she instructed the driver to lose them as she tossed the man more than enough money to get to Simon’s place. She hadn’t been there before, but from what he said, she suspected a scene quite different from what just happened. And, for once, she didn’t quite mind that idea. It took some time to shake off a few particularly persistent drivers, but the two drinks buzzing in MK’s brain made it feel like she was at Simon’s before she realized it. The neighborhood certainly was different, a lot shadier in her opinion, and the idea of Simon living there made her frown a lot. But still, she was there, and after throwing some more money at the driver to help him “forget” about where he brought her and making sure her baseball cap was on tight, she made her way into the building and up to Simon’s apartment.
He had told her it would be opened, and it was, but she knocked to announce her presence anyway before opening the door slowly. “Simon! It’s MK,” she called out just in case as she stood in his doorway with her dark sunglasses and hat still on. She hadn’t gotten the dessert, oops, but he would understand. She had a little flask hidden away in her bag, however, because at the rate everything else was going, she would probably need a drink after this hangout too.
The first thing to notice about the apartment was that despite its occupant, a male in his early twenties who lived on his own, it was fairly clean. Mostly that was because Simon had acquiesced to the pleas of his assistant, who spent most of her time fielding interview calls he refused to take, and hired a cleaning lady who came once a week. She’d framed it as helping somebody out by giving them a job when jobs were hard to find, and she managed to get him with that.
The second was that it was fairly sparse, but comfortable. There were a few band posters on the walls, a comfortable couch in the living room, and an sound system that looked like the most expensive thing in the place. The collection of music beneath it was extensive, rows and rows of CDs. Music had been his big indulgence when he’d come into his money - a decent guitar, all the CDs he’d ever wanted and had stolen as a kid. The TV was a good brand, but not huge, and the walls had been left the off-white color they’d been when he moved in. There were a couple comfortable chairs, blue suede and leather, scattered around the small living room, and some books and day-old coffee mugs on the coffee table. On the side of the couch, a closed laptop whirred softly. The apartment smelled like food, something savory-sweet.
Simon, who’d heard the door open, came out of the hall with a small smile. He’d heard the news - there wasn’t any way he couldn’t have - and he wasn’t really sure what state he was going to find MK in. Honestly, he was surprised she’d shown up at all. He’d just finished talking to Wren as well, and though what she said weighed heavy on his mind, he tried not to show it. MK was probably having a bad enough day - it could wait, at least until he checked to see if she was okay. “Hey,” he said. He’d switched out the silver ring in his lip for a black one, and he was wearing a slashed tee and some jeans. “Come on in. I got Chinese. You like Chinese, right?” He hadn’t thought to ask, whoops.
As MK stood in the doorway of the apartment, she thought Simon had downplayed his apartment as he was usually wont to do. It was nice, it looked comfortable, and the space definitely had a touch of home that neither the villa at Caesars or the suite at the Wynn possessed. “Hi.” She returned the smile with ease when he walked up the hall and let out a quiet laugh at his question. “I’m one of those really fucking annoying girls that can eat whatever and stay rail thin. ‘Course I love Chinese.” Reaching up, she pulled her hat off and shook out the red curls with her fingers before taking off the sunglasses as well. Her eyes were puffy and spoke of the lack of sleep over the past few days, even if Simon could not pick up on the exhausted and dulled glaze over her eyes that replaced the usual lighthearted glint.
“Sorry that I’m a wreck,” she apologized with a shrug of her shoulder, moving into the apartment a little more. A wave of the hand over her person and the slight sneer of her lip told him how little she liked how she looked. “Incognito look. I’m sure there’ll be shit online with how well that failed.” She smiled then, a sort of shrug of the mouth to push away the awkward tension everything that was happening lately threw on her shoulders. It was good to see Simon, like it always was, even if a paranoid whisper at the back of her mind wondered if Wren contacted him about their argument as well. “Your apartment isn’t that bad, by the way, idiot. It’s homey. As long as you’re happy with it, y’know. Though everything could always use a little magical MK touch.”
Simon had taken the incognito gear at face value, knowing she likely wanted to stay away from the paparazzi. Had she heard yet about what that asshole had said on the journals? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe she’d even talked to him herself - there was no way to know. But what Wren had said about his threats weighed heavy on his mind. If he’d done something to endanger her by going after that guy, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself, though what was to otherwise be done was a mystery.
She looked more tired even than he’d thought she would. Clearly this was all hitting her really hard. It was going to be difficult to find a way to say anything without just making it worse. “Okay, cool,” he said, walking into the kitchen. There was tofu lo mein, General Tsou’s, and lemon chicken sitting out with rice and plates. The cutlery and plates were simple, white plates and new silverware picked up from a nearby box store. “You’re not a wreck,” he said, moving back so she could grab food if she wanted. “You’re never a wreck.” It was good to see her smiling, at least, although it was hard to tell how much truth there was to it. “It’s not fancy or anything,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not like the suite.” At least she’d be safe living there with the girls, although Wren had said she wasn’t sure where she was. “Oh yeah? What would you do with the MK touch?”
The hat and glasses were dropped into her bag, the metal of the Ray Bans dinging against the flask within as a little reminder that she had back-up just in case. She followed behind Simon into the kitchen, and the sweet-savory scent intensified in the greatest way. She hadn't eaten much during the day, having to dodge the shutters most of the time, and she didn't hesitate to put a little of everything on one of the plates for herself. "Ha, yeah, right. That's not what it'll say online tonight. 'The Next Lindsay Lohan.'" She held the plate in one hand and waved her fingers as if to emphasize the headline. The title harked back to the conversation with the anonymous poster who wasn't so very anonymous at all, and though MK tried to keep a brave face on the forums, the insult stung deeply. Another thing on a long list of whispers about her and her mental state. She frowned and drummed her fingers against the bottom of her plate and let her mood dip before she could help it. But she quickly caught herself and offered him a strained smile to offset it all. How much she could veil her state, whatever that was, fluctuated by the second. Sometimes the anger bubbled so hard she had to bite down on her cheek; other times it was easy as a summer breeze. The anger and fatigue always niggled at the back of her brain, but she tried her best not to show it. Simon didn't need to deal with it. No one did.
Laughing a little, she shrugged. "Oh, I dunno. A little here, a little there. Your walls definitely need to be painted, mister. And pictures and stuff." Coming from a girl who kept a majority of her pictures and keepsakes tucked away in storage in New York, it was kind of hypocritical, but she didn't like the idea of Simon living in a place without the reminders of home or of something that made him happy. Pictures of things he liked, even, not of people. "Something to keep it yours. I'll have to show you YouTube videos." The mention of the suite caused MK to falter for a moment, green eyes flickering to the floor and fingers starting to drum again. "Ah, yeah," she said, biting on the inside of her cheek for a moment before continuing. "The suite is grossly fancy. Like, both our houses in Queens combined. Times ten. But it's gotten a little...eh, crowded lately." She looked up at him finally and tried to gage whether he knew any of it already. She couldn't put it past Wren at all at this point.
"Who cares what they think?" Simon said, reaching past her to pick up a plate and slap some chicken and lo mein on it, forgetting the rice entirely. "They're fuckwits." This was said with the tone of a universal truth. He caught her strained smile, and tried to offer one back that was a bit more genuine. "Come on, MK, don't listen to those assholes. They just want to pin a label on you and fuck you up. Idiots like that like pointing and laughing at other people because it makes their shitty lives seem less shitty. They don't know you. I do." He hesitated. "Things kind of suck right now, for you, with everything that happened. They're rough. But that doesn't make you a fuck up, it makes the world fucked up."
"I've got posters," he said, vaguely troubled, frowning. Posters should be enough. "Maybe some paint," he conceded. Who needed pictures, though? It wasn't like he had a happy family life to slap all over the walls. He liked his posters better, anyway. He sat down on the couch with his plate, below one of Joe Strummer smashing his guitar into a thousand pieces. "It kind of is," he said, with a little smile. "But it's cool, you know. When I was a kid, I thought that's what I'd get if I had a bunch of money, you know. Now I'm here, and I realized I like it better when things are comfortable and people leave me alone." He shrugged. picking up a hunk of lemon chicken with his fingers. He looked up from his food mid-bite. Right, crowded. "Yeah," he said, while working through a bite. Time to move carefully. "I heard about that. You and Wren and a couple other people, right?"
While Simon sat on one side of the couch, MK curled herself into the other with her plate resting on her knees. Her fork speared into the pile, and she gave little attention to the utensil as she twisted the lo mein round and round. “I’m fine, Simon,” she said, looking past him and to the off-white walls surrounding them. Whether she said it for herself or for him could be brought up to argument. “It’s all really, really funny, actually. I don’t care what they think about me. What anyone thinks about me.” She looked at him again, green eyes finding his blues, and she tried her best to look resolute over all the tiredness tugging at the edges of her eyes. It could be meant for anyone really, that determined look to not let people break through the shell she created so many years before, even while the cracks were beginning to show. “Honestly, if I listened to things that people said, I would a fucking mess.” She half-shrugged, finally catching herself twisting the food around the fork, and stuffed a bite into her mouth.
“I’d suggest a trip to IKEA or something for ideas, but I know you just wanna dodge those guys.” Those guys needed no further explanation, and she swallowed the mouthful of food before continuing. “Plus, I think the media would fucking implode if they saw us together.” She smiled at that, a little warm and teasing, before turning to her food again. “Well, fine. Posters, whatever. But I want one framed picture in here, goddamnit, or else you’re teetering into frat boy. And you are so not frat boy material,” she continued as she waved a finger in his general direction. She hesitated a moment, picking at the chicken with her fork. “I can get Gina to send over a picture of us from when we were younger, if you want? So you can show everyone how I was missing my two front teeth for like, six months.” Thinking about them as kids made her sad and nostalgic and wistful for simpler times on their block in Queens.
Thinking about the villa, however, made her just plain angry, and the frown that she couldn’t fight was obvious. “Yeah, you know. The girls, and Wren brought someone we knew back in Seattle to live with us for extra security. His name is Jack, and he’s definitely going to keep everyone in that suite safe. And there’s a li--.” She cut herself off then before she could mention Gus because she wasn’t going to do that to Wren. Or to Simon either. He didn’t need to be pulled into this goddamn mess. “There’s just a lot of traffic, y’know? It’s beautiful and all that, but...yeah. It’s not a place that makes me wanna spend a lot of time there.”
Simon wasn't sure if he believed her rebuff that she really didn't care what they said, but who knew? Maybe if she faked it long enough, it would turn true. And maybe she only felt it a little, or something. He was starting to feel resigned to the fact that he was never really going to know what she was thinking unless he started pushing her so hard she hated his guts. "Okay. Good."
"Yeah, I'd end up doing a chase scene through the weird model rooms and the meatball place," Simon said, vaguely wistful. That might actually be fun, come to think of it. "They would. But I don't really care," he said, shrugging. Simon genuinely didn't care what they thought of him. Now, what they thought of MK, that he did care about. "No, I suck at beer pong." He cracked a smile. "Okay, I'll frame the fucking posters. Done and done." The offer of the picture from when they were younger, though, caught his genuine attention, and his smile softened a little. "Yeah, actually. That'd be really cool to have." He wouldn't mind having a little piece of Queens on the wall himself.
Simon couldn't have missed the broken sentence, and while he didn't know where she was going with it, he didn't push there. No, instead he asked, "Yeah. Wren called me, actually. She said she hadn't seen you around the suite for a while?" That was honest enough, as was the statement that followed. "She seemed pretty freaked since you hadn't been around. You know, with everything that happened.”
The idea of a drove of photographers chasing Simon through the furniture store got a genuine laugh out of her. Yeah, that would be a sight to see. Popping a piece of the chicken she had been playing with in her mouth, she quirked an eyebrow and smirked. “You sure being seen with a model won’t fuck up your punk image too much?” His smile, soft and so real, caused her heart to hitch for a milisecond before it seemed to realize what it was doing. Stupid. Still, she offered him a small smile, too, and said, “Okay, good. I’ll see what Gina can find for us. There are a lot of embarrassing pictures of us, just so you know.”
So, Wren called him? Shock of all shocks. The noise that slipped out of her was anything but pleased, and she looked away from Simon. “Oh, did she? I mean, if she’d just like, turned on the TV for two seconds, she would have know I’m okay.” She paused because god, wasn’t this just confirmation of what MK was worried about? Wren and Simon planning against her. Whatever. In the quiet that followed, she wondered whether or not telling him where she went would make it to Wren, but decided it didn’t matter. It was probably public knowledge anyway. “I moved to the Wynn. Didn’t want those jackasses harassing the girls.” It was true, at least a little bit. “What else did she say?”
"Punks date models," he said with a shrug. He paused, realized what he'd said, and swiftly added. "I mean, that's probably what they'd assume, they always say that shit, you know, whenever I go anywhere with a girl or anything. Sometimes with dudes. I think they think I'm probably gay, which is fine, but it's like every single person they see me with is my new girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever." Had he dug himself out of that hole? Probably not. He stuffed another piece of chicken in his mouth, which seemed like a good remedy. "The more embarrassing the better," he said, that little smile putting him on steadier ground. Okay, maybe this would be okay.
But then...that offhand comment about Wren seemed kind of weird, too weird for him not to say anything. "Yeah, but that stuff was from last night. I think she meant she hasn't seen you around the suite in a couple days, and she wanted to know where you were. If you're crashing at the Wynn I guess that would explain it, but..." Here we go. "That guy, the crazy guy. He's making fucking threats and shit. Maybe you should keep crashing at Caesar's for a while, where it's safer and there's security and people around and everything." He didn't like the idea of her out at the Wynn and on her own, that didn't bode well after the kind of threats Alexander had apparently been making. If Simon beating the shit out of Alexander led to MK getting hurt, he'd never forgive himself.
The dating comment earned him a quirked eyebrow and the bite of her lips to keep from smiling. It always amused her when guys got tongue-tied over silly things like dating and sex and everything else, especially someone like Simon who couldn’t give a fuck about everything else. “Welcome to the spotlight, where you’re not allowed to have any friends you aren’t sleeping with.” It was a tease with a bite of truth in it. MK had been tied to everybody and anybody since the public began following her. Not that she helped matters much, of course. Nodding, she mentally reminded herself to call Gina later and ask about some photos. The sisters needed to talk anyway. Gina was bound to have something to say about her younger sister’s recent shenanigans.
She tensed considerably as Simon continued, placing the plate on the cushion between them just in case. MK could only imagine what Wren had told Simon. What twisted little story she spun about how she, MK, had a problem and she needed help. “I’m not staying with someone who called me a fucking alcoholic, Simon.” Her voice was tight and clearly could give Simon an idea of how upset she was by all of it. “I’m sure she told you about that argument we had. She always blabbing her mouth to keep me ‘safe’ or whatever.” A terse sigh, and she reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. The corners of her lips turned down considerably. “And I know he did. I talked to him that night, too.”
"Pretty much," Simon agreed, with a small, strained laugh. He was still waiting to hear what the perks were about being famous. Thus far, it hadn't done anything for him except make life more complicated. He didn't mention the photos, since he hardly needed to. They'd been all over the news, after all, and he'd seen the one she'd taken of herself.
He'd felt like they were starting to slip down a bad avenue, and MK's immediate anger just confirmed it. An alcoholic? He hadn't known Wren that long, but he had a hard time believing the soft-spoken girl was running around throwing out diagnoses at her friend. "She just said you guys had an argument. That was it." There was no way to explain to her what her words made him think of, the long years in a house with two people who threw the world 'alcoholic' around at each other as an all-purpose insult and joke. How was he supposed to tell her what he saw her doing without her lashing out? Honestly, when it came down to it, even if Wren had called MK an alcoholic, from what he'd seen he wouldn't necessarily have been able to disagree. It was pretty obvious she had a drinking problem, after years spent being beaten up by two people who had shot past 'drinking problem' straight into a knock-down, drag-out nightmare. "I don't think she's out to get you, MK." He knew that wasn't what she wanted to hear, but what else could he say? "She just seems worried about you." Like he was worried about her, but he didn't add that on.
"You talked to him?" Suddenly, all other concerns fell away, and Simon's brow knitted together. "What the fuck did he say to you?" He should have knocked the fucker's teeth in, like he'd said he would.
MK shot him a look that said everything. She knew about his parents, just like he knew about hers. They hardly grew up in the most picturesque homes, receiving bruises and whacks instead of hugs and kisses. Her parents were alcoholics and drug addicts, but she wasn’t her parents. She never would be. “There’s no reason to be worried,” she said, voice tight and full of venom. “She’s one to talk. I don’t think me drinking isn’t as bad as what she’s up to, that’s for fucking sure. Not that I have a problem anyway, Simon. And she’s always worried, always fucking meddling when she should focus on herself.” She huffed a sigh and reached her palms up to press against her stinging eyelids. She wasn’t going to cry, not again, and instead muttered under her breath, “None of you get it.” Because, really, none of them did.
Still hidden behind her hands, she felt glad about the reprieve from thinking about Wren for a moment. “Yeah, I did. He tried to get under my skin or whatever.” She lowered her hands, and her eyes were glassy and bloodshot. As much as she could try to deny it, Alexander had gotten under her skin. “Called me crazy, picked at my brain, tried to get answers for his sick fucking questions. I don’t know. I’ve heard worse.”
Simon didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, he wanted to make her feel better. On the other, he would have been lying to her if he just told her she was all good and there was no problem. The venom and the defensiveness lit up warning bells big time, but if she wasn’t hearing that herself, she was just going to take whatever he said the same way. “She’s not into anything, is she?” If Wren was some style of addict, it was news to him. “I mean...you say that. But I think it’s just worried, more than meddling.” He quieted when she looked like she was on the verge of tears. Fuck. “Maybe not,” he said. “But I’m kind of worried about you too, you know? I don’t think that’s such a shitty thing, being worried. I know it pisses you off, but it’s kind of hard to help it. If I wasn’t worried, then I wouldn’t give a shit what happens to you. But I do.”
The relay of Alexander’s questions made Simon’s blood run cold. “Don’t talk to him,” he said, sharper than he meant to, though the anger certainly wasn’t directed at her. “He’s a fucking psychotic, and he’s just trying to drag you down. Talking to him isn’t going to do you any good.”
“None of you get it,” MK repeated a little stronger this time, loud enough for Simon to hear, and ignoring the question about Wren. The cross of her arms and the purse of her lips made her look childish, but she really didn’t realize that. All she focused on was trying not to flip out again, though the effort was becoming harder and harder. None of them got it. She was fine, like always, but pushing her hardly helped matters at all. “I’ve been taking care of myself for years, and I don’t need all of you fucking babying me. I can handle myself, and I can stop anytime I goddamn please. There’s nothing wrong. There never is.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, he just said the same stuff everyone else is saying. Like I said, I’ve totally heard worse.” Fingers curled into her arms, and she raised an eyebrow at his insistence. Hmm. She recalled Alexander’s first message, and she decided to hell with it. Might as well ask since she was being attacked. “He said something about calling our dogs off, Simon. Know anything about that?” She had told him to stay away, to not get involved, but it seemed like he didn’t listen, and that worried her. Simon couldn’t get involved in all of this.
Simon gave her a long look, but said nothing. It was clear enough that he had more to say on the matter, but he was holding back - either for the sake of her feelings, or just for the sake of not breaking their friendship. He’d told her he was worried, which was first warning. If it got any worse, he’d call her out on it flat.
“But there’s no reason to put yourself in front of it,” Simon said. “Promise me you won’t talk to that guy again, even if he says something shitty to bait you?” He tensed a little when she asked about what Alexander had said. He’d seen that one coming from miles away. “I might,” he said.
MK missed the look Simon gave her, too wrapped up in her own self-pity and worries to notice a thing like that. But she did notice that he stopped arguing, and she was appeased by that. Wren might not approve of her at all, but Simon seemed to at least realize that she wasn’t one to be babied.
“Jesus Christ, Simon, it’s not like I’m going to go out searching for the fucking guy. He said a couple shitty things, made a few ‘threats,’ and tried to get in my brain. Hardly someone I want to be best friends forever with,” she replied, her voice thick with sarcasm. His half-admission, however, earned him an incredulous look, and she launched forward to shove his shoulder. “Simon! I told you not to! Didn’t I tell you not to? Oh my god, Simon, you should get yourself involved in all this shit!”
“I know that,” he said, and it was hard not to sound annoyed. That hadn’t been what he’d meant, damn it. The shove made Simon glad he had already set his plate aside, his shoulder fell back a bit under the push, but he didn’t fall. “I already am involved in all this shit,” he said, stubborn as ever, jaw set. There was no way she was going to convince him that this wasn’t his business, not after everything that had happened, not after seeing her as distraught as she’d been after that psychotic asshole drugged her up.
She was kneeling on the cushion that sat between them before, food placed on the floor next to the couch, and she shoved him more angrily. “Goddamnit, Simon,” she snapped, gritting her teeth. “I really meant it when I said not to go over him! Psychos like him...they never take it in fucking stride. He’s not just some goddamn bully in the playground. He drugged us just because he’s got a grudge or something against Wren. A sick fucking fascination! And I don’t want you involved in this!” She repeated herself, hoping to get it all through his thick skull, and then reached forward to grab his hands and squeeze his fingers. “What if he finds out who you are? I don’t think he knows, he didn’t say your names, but what if he does? What then?”
Simon put a hand back to keep her from shoving him again, and his brow furrowed sharply. It was instinct to stiffen up when someone started shoving him around, no matter who it was, and it was nearly impossible to shake the prickling feeling it sent down his spine. MK was just mad, though. “I don’t give a fuck!” he said, raising his voice at last. He was getting so tired of feeling like he wasn’t good for anything, like he was just a useless ornament with money, and going after Alexander had at least made Simon feel like he could still protect the people he cared about from psychopaths like him. There was the temper at last, the one he’d had when they were growing up together, the one that had made the other kids call him crazy. “I don’t fucking care what happens to me! He hurt you, and he hurt the girls. He’s fucking bugnuts and evil, MK! Somebody had to teach him a lesson, and if he touches you again, I’m going to put that little cunt in a wheelchair.”
It shouldn't have startled her, the anger, but it did, and the surprised fear read in her eyes like it always did when someone she cared for snapped out of nowhere. The look was a flash, nothing more than a split second, before her eyes narrowed. She didn't try to push him again, knowing the effort was fruitless against him. He was wiry just like her but much stronger in the end. He always had been, but that didn't stop her worry turning into a flame of anger of her own. Crossing her arms over her chest again, she snapped, "It was finished, I was fine! Look at what teaching him a lesson did, Simon. You fucking know as well as I do that these things never fucking work on people like him! He's crazy, but you didn't have to do it." MK's eyes were burning now, tears of fury and fear threatening to fall, and she swiped at them before leaning forward to cup Simon's face with the wildest look of intermingling emotions. "You're so stupid. I can't-- I can't-- you can't do that! Go after some fucking psycho asshole just because of me. I just-- I can't...lose someone else. Not again. Not like that." The tears betrayed her then as one slid down her cheek, and she sniffed while brushing the back of her hand against his cheek before going back to holding his face again.
The accusation elicited a surge of guilt, but Simon set his jaw. “He would have gone after you again even if I never touched him,” he insisted. He had to believe that. And even so, even if the guy had come after the girls, he’d made the decision to hurt people who had never done a thing to him, not Simon. He wasn’t responsible for that whackjob’s decisions.
MK clasping her hands to his face was such a surprise that it disrupted the flow of anger long enough to make him feel pretty terrible. Not for attacking Alex, not really, he’d deserved what was coming to him, but for MK, who was making him feel more and more like he was sitting with someone so fragile that he was just going to have to treat her more carefully, even if it meant pulling back in a lot of ways. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said, his voice falling, growing quieter. “Nothing’s going to happen. But I couldn’t just sit there and not do anything after what he did. Do you get that?”
“But you did touch him. You did something really bad, didn’t you? Maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he wouldn’t be so obsessed. That’s what he is. He’s obsessed!” Her fingers splayed over his cheek, and she moved her thumbs back and forth against the prickles of his five o’clock shadow, and she shook her head roughly at his reassurances. They all tried, didn’t they, to understand, but no one got it. Wren and Simon and even Luke, they didn’t have the taste of loss that she did, not the one of love lost in the worst way, and she couldn’t even fathom losing another person to a fate like that. She bit her lip hard and looked at him for a moment.
“Oh, but that’s what he said,” MK whispered all watery and broken, and she scooted forward a little so that she wasn’t stretching to reach him. One hand drifted up and brushed through his hair before trailing down to his cheek again. Touches that were probably inappropriate, especially after telling Adam she was only his, but she was distraught and wanted to cling to Simon and make him understand. “That nothing was going to happen. But you can’t promise that, not when you go after people like him. You should’ve just let it be.”
Simon let her hang onto him. More and more, he was starting to feel like he’d made a mistake admitting what he’d done. He shouldn’t have said anything, all it was doing was making her worse. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said. It wasn’t. He could have done much, much worse, and he still felt he should have. “You don’t have to worry about me, MK,” he said. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long fucking time. Just because I’m not poor as shit anymore doesn’t mean that’s any different. I’m not any different. I’m the same.” And now, that wasn’t true. But the goal at this point was to calm her down as much as possible.
The touches were kind of distracting, but he let her do whatever she had to in order to calm down. he reached up and touched her arm lightly with his fingers. “I’m not good at letting things be,” he said, his expression hard, difficult to read. It felt like there was something solid at the pit of his stomach, harsh and aching. He sighed. “Listen, how about you crash here tonight, huh? It’ll get you away from the fucking paparazzi for a while, you look like you could use some sleep.”
Had MK seen herself clutching Simon for dear life, she would have said she looked absolutely nuts. Unhinged. She never acted so pathetic and desperately broken when people were around, usually held herself with great control, but the walls she built up ever since she was a little girl were being bombarded with hit after hit, and the cracks were beginning to weigh on her. The touch of his fingers on her arm, however, seemed to snap her mind back in place, and she stared at him blankly for a moment before deflating and sitting back on her legs.
“Sorry,” she said weakly, one of her hands falling to rest lightly on his shoulder as the other still cupped his cheek, and she shook her head a little, eyes flutter shut for a second. “But I’m still gonna worry. That’s my thing, that’s what I do.” Green popped open again and found his eyes, and they seemed softer, at least less manic. More of the little girl who befriended a boy with a good hit and a great heart all those years ago. “Yeah, okay, that sounds good.” She didn’t want to think of fighting through another drove of paparazzi to return to her empty suite at the Wynn, and she refused to return to Caesars no matter what. Yes, staying with Simon would be okay. She fell quiet for a moment again before launching herself forward again and wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, but for what she wasn’t sure, and instead of explaining more, she just buried her nose in his neck and pulled herself closer.
“You can worry,” he said, with a faint smile. “It’s just not gonna make you any happier, I don’t think.” It was good to see her calm down a little. What was going to become of MK, if Alexander hit them again, or if something else went wrong? He didn’t want to think about it. He wanted her to be able to be happy, and to not be faking that happiness, either. He wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her lightly. It felt good to have her close, reassuring. He didn’t have too many people left in the world anymore, and he’d be damned if he lost MK out of them. There was a long moment’s pause, where he did nothing but breathe into the fabric of her shirt along her shoulder, eyes closing for a brief moment. He was going to need to take care of her.
Finally, he pulled back, and he stood up from the couch. “Come on,” he said. “There’s a bed in the guest room.” He smiled a little. “I have a fucking guest room. Weird, right?”
The hug was exactly what she needed, and as he secured his arms around his waist, she smiled into the fabric of his torn shirt. Yes, this was exactly what she needed. The quiet, too, settled her considerably, and all the pent up rage and fear and sadness dwindled down to a low roar nestled in the back of her head. To be dealt with another day, like every other problem that arose for her. Whatever. When he pulled back, she smiled, too, and pushed herself up off the couch. “Well,” she said with another smile, “that’s because you’re a baller now, Mr. Curran.” She reached over and squeezed his fingertips in gratitude. “Thanks, Simon, seriously. I’m so glad I’ve got you.” Okay, so at this point, she and Wren were far from good terms, and who honestly knew if they would ever be as they were again. But she had Simon in her corner, at least for now, and she had Adam somewhere, too. She would be okay. She had to be.