the secret's out but the world's not ending Who: Brian and Rowan When: Late afternoon Where: the Berry Bucket NOTE: This scene was meant to be posted on the August 17th gameday, but we can't find our placeholder. Which probably means we forgot it. Sorry!
A week from today Rowan would be starting her senior year of high school. Again. With each day that passed she grew more nervous about the idea, and the only thing offering her a distraction were the upcoming hockey try-outs. SOHS had no girls hockey team, so Rowan had informed the coach that she would be trying out for the boys team. Legally, they couldn’t stop her from trying out. She liked the idea of playing hockey. A sport that let her take out her aggression and routinely risk horrible, accidental injury. Naturally, that was an idea that appealed to her.
Unfortunately, readying herself for the try-outs ceased to be a distraction when she was at work. For the early afternoon she was the only one on at the concession stand, and while she’d been in her own little world for a while, she’d eventually noticed Bad Things. Either every single one of the few people who came into the stand had a cold, or she hadn’t timed her injuries right. Was that possible? She hadn’t slipped up once since getting out of the hospital. And yet, she had tweaked her injury schedule slightly over the past week. She wanted to be in the best possible condition for the try-outs. Now she was wondering if she’d made a horrible mistake. Her mom was working a doubleshift, which meant no one had been at the house to warn her. Chill, she told herself. Brian’s scheduled, he’ll be here any minute. He was usually a good distraction. If she was lucky, she was just imagining things. He’d walk in, be completely unaffected, and everything would be fine. It had to be.
Brian parked his prized “new” car and came walking to the Berry Bucket, listening to his iPod on the way and singing in low volume to it. “You put the lime in the coconut and drink ‘em both up...” He sang as he reached the concession stand and saw Rowan looking slightly worried. He waved, then danced his way into the stand, murmuring the words to the song but making no real sense. Finally, he removed his ear-buds and stashed them in the same pocket as his iPod. “Why hello there Row-row. How’s the day been?” He greeted her, making a show of a curtsy that almost had him topple over. He straightened himself up and scratched his head, smiling sheepishly. “I’m no good at being a gentleman, I guess.” Nor was it something he strived to achieve, if truth was told.
Rowan did smile when Brian greeted her, and it wasn’t something she needed to fake. Sure, she was still a little worried, but things would be fine. Brian seemed to be doing just fine. He’d walked in perfectly happy. If that changed drastically in the next five minutes, she’d know for certain that something was up, and she’d take care of it. “Gentlemen don’t curtsy,” she replied with a smirk. “That’s a girl thing. You probably wouldn’t make much of a lady, either.” Though she had to wonder if maybe that was a challenge she should not be issuing to him. “Slow day,” she said. “Everyone’s out running around and getting out their last hurrahs before school.”
Narrowing his eyes, Brian faked being offended. “I would make one hell of a lady, you know?” He exclaimed, before continuing. “I even wore a bra before...” He blinked. That wasn’t supposed to be said out loud. But oh, there it was. At least now it wasn’t just Rowan who had the whole gym class thing to be embarrassed about. Now she had leverage. Brian shrugged. “Whenever I think about college I just wanna run away and join the traveling circus.” He confessed. He looked like he was about to continue speaking, but stopped and stared up at nothing in particular, though with intensity. Then, he sneezed loudly and drooled all over the place, leaving the counter wet with sprinkles of his snot. “Ahhh, grrreat.” He protested, taking a napkin to wipe his nose clean. But then he sneezed twice more, and suddenly one napkin wasn’t enough.
The bra-admission had Rowan’s jaw dropping, and though she looked desperately curious and rather amused with the idea, she had the good grace not to laugh. “Do I want to hear this story?” she asked. It sounded like it had the potential to be both hilarious and embarrassing. That was a plus. Rowan wasn’t used to other people being embarrassed. She would have said more, but then he sneezed.
And kept sneezing.
Rowan’s heart dropped, and then immediately kicked into overdrive. This is fine, it’s no big deal, she told herself. “Bless you,” she managed to say. “Hey, uh... cover for me for a minute. I’ve needed a bathroom break for forever.” She didn’t wait for confirmation, just headed for the little girl’s room. He probably thinks I’m a germaphobe now. Oh well. With all the other rumors based around her, that was nowhere near as bad as the rest.
Brian shook his head as an answer to Rowan’s question, and then managed to say, “Garage clean out, I found an old bra, the rest is pretty obvious.” He explained in between endless nose blowing. “It’s not just you chicks who get curious about appendixes and stuff you don’t have.” He continued, blowing his nose again.
He nodded after Rowan as she ran to the bathroom, but instead of thinking she was a germaphobe he thought she must have been holding whatever in for a long while. He knew from experience how uncomfortable that was. Kind of like snot that never stopped running down his nose, as was the case right now. What the hell was happening that he wasn’t sick one minute, and then felt like a poster-boy for the flu vaccine the next? He had used about seven napkins already, and wondered where he’d stored all that snot up until then. It was like magic.
Well that answered that, and Rowan would have to tease him about it later, but for now? Hurrying into the bathroom. She realized after the door closed behind her that she should have taken her damn bag. She looked around the bathroom at a total loss for what to do next. What could she use? Breaking the mirror would be too noisy. There was nothing in the damn room. Her heart was pounding with nervous energy as she hurried into one of the stalls. She had to do something, and she had to do it fast. Maybe there was sense in wearing a pair of heels once in a while. Those were kind of like a weapon, right?
She looked around hopelessly in the stall, before her eyes settled on the toilet seat. Oh, Jesus. The things I have to do. She had an idea. It would suck, but it was an idea. And the only one she had. It was either do it, or go into full on panic attack mode. She couldn’t just go out in the parking lot to find a rock, she might be spotted. So she committed to it, and knelt on the floor. She raised the toilet seat and took a look at her left hand. They’d be in protective gloves during the try-outs. Ring finger, she decided. She put said finger on the rim at an angle, taking only a second to determine what would work best. And then without a moment’s hesitation, she slammed the seat directly onto it. She grit her teeth through the snap, too scared to even gasp. The pain was familiar, but she still would have liked to cry out.
Busy as he was blowing his nose, Brian didn’t even feel the visions coming until they were smack on top of him, invading his mind like thoughts never did - but then, visions were a bit less common but a lot heavier - and he kept his fingers pressed against his nose through the napkin while he looked in the toilet’s direction as he saw it, over and over, heard Rowan think about it, saw her seeing it in her head, and finally saw her doing it once, twice, three times until she actually did it, because she was thinking of nothing more than the pain it was causing her to smack the toilet seat on her finger where it had no business being smacked. Brian gasped, his breath catching in his lungs and he widened his gaze. “What the ffffuck?!” He screamed, running to the bathroom with the napkin still pressed against his nose even though he didn’t think he needed it anymore.
“Rowan!” He called, the pain of what she had just done to herself going round and round in his head along with what she had done, like he was the best receiver ever. “Rowan what the fuck? Come out!” He screamed again.
Rowan had just started to sag against the door of the stall, still trying to fight off the pain, when she heard the first scream. She jumped, her heart catching in her throat. What the hell? What the hell? Brian was at the door. Oh shit, oh shit. Why? Had he heard it? The crack had sounded like a thunderclap to Rowan, but she felt it. Also, bathrooms had great acoustics. He couldn’t have heard it. Something was going on outside, that was all. But what?
When he screamed again instinct took over, and she scrambled to her feet. Unfortunately, she used her bad hand and another shot of pain lanced up her arm, causing her to flail and tumble, until she literally fell out of the stall and onto the bathroom floor. She wanted to scream. She needed to answer him, but she couldn’t. She was still trying to fight through the pain. She couldn’t possibly trust her voice. Worse yet, she still needed to set the finger back in place. Rowan knew from experience the pain of that would be even worse than the initial injury. She looked down at her finger. Her injured hand was cradled to her chest, but there was no doubt. Her ring finger was sticking out at a crooked and truly unnatural angle. She had to put it back. She needed to take care of Brian. Should have locked the door, she thought, cursing herself. Hopefully, Brian wouldn’t just barge in. “Just a sec,” she managed to force out. She took a deep breath and gripped her finger. Don’t make a sound, she told herself. She couldn't afford to.
One. Two. Three. She yanked.
Brian had not entered the toilets but he was at the door and saw Rowan tumble out of the stall. He was just about to run in when she told him to wait just a second, as if he could wait after what he had just seen. And then the pain going through her head came at him again and he grimaced, clenching his jaw. “Fuck, Rowan what are you doing?” He asked, his voice low and weak as if the pain had affected him directly. He needed to understand what the fuck it was that Rowan was doing to herself and why. Finally, he threw manners to the air and walked into the toilet, kneeling down next to Rowan and tossing the napkin aside. He wasn’t snivelling so much anymore. Brian looked at Rowan questioningly but didn’t say anything, just knelt there, incredulous, looking at her.
A fire coursed through Rowan’s body, starting at her fingertip and shooting through every vein, muscle, bone, and nerve. Answering was not a possibility. It was everything she could do to keep quiet. Hugging her hand to her chest, she leaned forward until both her knees and her forehead were touching the floor. She tried to focus only on breathing. Her heart was thudding so loudly in her ears that she didn’t hear anything. Instead, she eventually felt something nearby, and when she felt capable of moving without screaming she looked to her side.
Brian was there.
She sat up fast, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Her eyes had widened to a size that anime artists would have dismissed as too unrealistic. Oh. Shit. She needed to say something. Do something. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She couldn’t find a single word.
Brian, meanwhile, was making unintelligible sounds that meant he did not want to see or hear anything else in his head but couldn’t turn it off - if only. He was damn nearly shaking at all the pain and everything he had seen, but what he was most concerned about right now was Rowan. He knew she was damaged, everyone knew, but this much? Enough to hurt herself like this out of nowhere, in public? “R-Rowan...” He started, shaking his head in disbelief at all he had seen. “What’s going on? Why did you do that to yourself?” Brian had heard of people who hurt themselves, but he had never heard of people who broke their own bones. This made no fucking sense and he was just about to be angry at Rowan for hurting herself like that. “And do me a favor and don’t bullshit me because I know you didn’t believe me the first time I told you, but I’m a telepath and I just heard your thoughts in my head and I saw what you were going to do over and over and over. Thanks for that, by the way.”
Rowan’s entire world had just been turned upside down. Just like that, in the space of a few very short, very painful seconds. At first she was overwhelmed with the urge to comfort Brian, even though she did want to demand what he was doing in the girl’s bathroom. He looked like he was suffering, and Rowan was used to dealing with other people’s suffering in favor of her own. She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, and froze as he went on. Her mouth fell partially open. It felt like it took a long time for her to process what he had said, and truly process it. He had told her that once. I thought he was kidding. Oh shit, I did. He did tell me, and I thought he was kidding. Why? Why would I do that? Of course, she knew the answer immediately. She believed he was kidding because she'd wanted to believe he was kidding. It was safer. Oh shit, did he hear that? Oh shit, did he hear that?
She wanted to run. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to cry, and absolutely none of those options were acceptable. She had to say something. She had to fucking say something. Eventually the words came out unbidden, with no thought whatsoever. "You can't tell anyone," she heard herself say, but it didn't sound like her own voice. This voice was full of raw emotion. Pure fear and desperation, a broken, quiet little thing. Rowan was not any of these things. Not in public. Very rarely even in the privacy of her own company. "Please... please, don't tell anyone." Oh God, they'd put me in the hospital again and I'd never get out this time and I couldn't deal with that again. I won't go back there, I can't, I can't, I can't...
Yes, he had heard all of that, and never before had Brian wished he could turn his powers off or tune off of someone more. He felt like he was prying, now. For some reason he felt as though now that she knew for sure what he was he was prying into her mind more than when she didn’t, as if that made any sense whatsoever. It wasn’t his fault, he wanted this about as much as she did, he would bet, but Brian couldn’t do anything about it. And God knew he tried. As she kept panicking Brian kept listening, closing his eyes to try and stop but to no avail. He wanted to tell her it was okay and she didn’t need to worry, but before he could she begged him not to tell anyone. And then, he heard very vividly what she thought would happen if he did, and Brian finally realized just how shitty it probably had been to be institutionalized. He opened his eyes. “I won’t if you don’t.” He said, trying for a smile. It wasn’t like he liked people at large to know about his powers either. Only his friends did and that was saying a lot.
“But seriously, no worries. Are you okay? I mean, given the circumstances?” He asked, looking over her shoulder at her finger. “What the hell was that for?!” He insisted, because she hadn’t answered that yet.
It took a moment for Rowan to realize she was probably overloading Brian. She’d never wanted to subject anyone to the inner workings of her brain, and it had to be an overwhelming place for an outsider. Shit, stop thinking. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Shit. That wasn’t working so well. She blinked in response to his answer. Who would she tell? Hell, who would believe her? “I wouldn’t,” she forced out, voice barely a notch above a whisper.
Was she okay? Emphatically not. She was still terrified. Every instinct she had was telling her to hide, and that wasn’t possible. She didn’t really know how psychic stuff worked, but she was pretty sure you couldn’t hide from a telepath. And he was asking her for details. She couldn’t tell him. He wouldn’t believe her. She’d told people in the hospital, even after the Light of May, and they hadn’t believed her. They hadn’t even tried to humor the idea. She stammered for words, failing to find them. They wouldn’t come. He wouldn’t believe me. FUCK, stop thinking! Nothing, nothing, nothing, thinking about nothing. She looked down at her finger. It’d be purple by the end of her shift, and it hurt like hell, but... she was used to that. She forced herself to look back up at Brian. “...Are you feeling better?”
“Thanks.” He said simply, sitting down next to Rowan instead of kneeling since his knees were starting to protest against getting all his weight on them against the hard tiled floor. “You can’t stop thinking, Row, it only makes you think harder. It only makes me listen harder.” He looked away. “Sorry, I can’t help it. I wish I could turn it off but I can’t.” He shrugged, visibly annoyed at his own power. Brian looked at her without a hint of comedy in his eyes. “Now I kind of have to believe you, don’t I? Come on, can’t be weirder than what I just watched. In fact if it explains it that would be better than me thinking you’re some loony self-harmer who desperately needs help.” He didn’t mean to offend, but that was the truth.
At her question Brian snickered humorlessly and shook his head. “Am I feeling better? Fuck me, Rowan, you broke your own finger, what the fuck do I have to do with anything? Don’t mind me, just tell me what the fuck just happened, please.” He didn’t really like being in the dark, truth be told.
He was right. About some of it, at least. Rowan reckoned that she was probably a pretty loud thinker. It wasn’t the sort of thing she would have normally considered it, but it made sense. Her mind was always working on overdrive. She was always trying to keep up with who she was supposed to be. Put in that perspective, she found it kind of amazing the whole thing didn’t exhaust her. But of course, it did exhaust her.
The thought of telling Brian the honest truth was scarier than just being caught. But without telling him, he was right. She was just a crazy chick who couldn’t resist hurting herself, something scary and dangerous. But I am scary and dangerous. No one just quite knows how. Dammit. She hadn’t meant to think that. “I’m sorry,” she heard herself say. “I can’t turn off thinking any more than you can turn off hearing. I don’t mean to...” she gestured vaguely from her head to his with her good hand. She shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. She was sitting on the floor of the girl’s bathroom in the Berry Bucket, with Brian Wayne, and she’d been caught. And he wanted to know why. She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t. But some perverse part of her wanted to. She hated that part of her, and had never even realized it existed until now. Maybe it was just an extension of always wanting to please everyone. Brian had been good to her, despite the fact that she hadn’t trusted him in the beginning. And she’d probably just scared the shit out of him and given him nightmares for a week. “...I am,” she forced herself to say, and this time she did whisper. “But for me to do that, you have to answer the question. Are you feeling better?”
Brian couldn’t help opening his eyes almost comically to Rowan thinking she was scary and dangerous. What the fuck was he getting into with being friends with her? He waved a dismissive hand and shrugged. “Eh, it’s fine. By the third time you hear your grandfather thinking of what he would do sexually to Jessica Alba while he watches television on Sundays you kind of get it that this is a bullshit power you just will never get rid of.” At least now he wasn’t seeing her plans over and over again in his head, feeling her pain as she screamed in her own head and his. That had been a bit worse than just run-of-the-mill thoughts. He sighed impatiently at Rowan’s insistence. “Yes, now that I’m not seeing you smash your finger under the toilet seat over and over again and hearing you scream in my head, I’m actually dandy. I also stopped sneezing, so that’s a plus.” He told her, hammering his fingers on his knees impatiently. “Well?”
When his eyes bulged Rowan looked away, realizing she’d thought something she hadn’t meant to again. This was a grand little cycle, wasn’t it? She let out a surprised, startled laugh at the mental image he presented, but the smile faded when he answered her. That had to be awful. She was surprised she didn’t break his mental eardrum. “I did that,” she forced out, voice still deceptively quiet. Of course, that wouldn’t make any sense. She frowned, and forced herself to look at him again. “...You know about the things my father did. Well, that they caught and charged him for. You have an idea of what kind of man he is.” A convicted murderer, and only the slightest hint as to what sort of man he really was.
It was good to see her laugh. Brian laughed along with her too, even though it was painful to even remember his grandfather’s thoughts. While Rowan explained Brian nodded here and there, and he remembered damn well when her father had been convicted, and all the talk. “Yeah, mine’s kind of a douche but yours takes the prize.” He said. Then, he paused, going back on her words in his head. “Wait. Did what?” He was confused now. What was she admitting to?
Rowan tried to figure out the best way to start. Just launching into it would sound... almost comic. Like something out of a made for TV movie. Probably better to start at the beginning, painful as it was. She managed to force herself to start talking, but once again, she couldn’t look at him. “When I was four my parents got divorced, and it was pretty ugly. They tried to shelter me from how bad, but...” Rowan trailed off, realizing how ridiculous that statement was. Her father had tried to shelter her. Yeah, right. Her mom had tried, she’d give her that, but she hadn’t done so well. She sighed and held her hand to her chest again. She still wanted to run. “My dad’s a witch,’ she murmured. “As well as a murderous bastard. So he thought it would be best if my mom just... died. He was already in a bit of trouble though, so he didn’t want something that could ever be traced back to him. It made sense to use magic.” The rest didn’t. No matter what, she could never imagine what sort of monster it took to find what he’d done to her a good idea. “...He...” Shit. She had to say it. She wasn't sure she knew how. The word 'curse' didn't feel heavy enough. Destroyed was a bit closer. But if she stopped now, she'd never start again.
"He cursed me," she forced out, very matter-of-factly. "He made me a... a carrier, I guess you'd call it. A Typhoid Mary. My presence poisons anyone in a certain range. But he had to make sure it wouldn't hurt him, and since he was dabbling with magic way over his head, he complicated things. If I'm healing from a significant enough injury, the spell doesn't work. You were feeling sick because I'd let old wounds heal too much."
Everything Rowan was telling him seemed to Brian like some horror story, some movie. Again he thought about how his dad was a douche but not this much of one. He felt sorry for Rowan. And as she continued, things seemed to him a lot more horrible than he had thought at first. “Wait, so...” He scratched his forehead, trying to sort things out in his mind. “So what you mean is that you make people sick unless you’re healing from an injury? That’s why I got all sneezy, because you didn’t have any injuries?” He paused, and once he realized what that meant, his jaw dropped. “Rowan did you break your finger because of me?” That was too fucked up. Too damn fucked up, there were no words for just how much. “It was just, like, the flu! You didn’t have to do that!” He wanted to take her hand and heal it somehow, but that, unfortunately, wasn’t something he knew how to do. “You have to hurt yourself to keep from making people sick, right? You have to be healing of something all the time.” He said, more to himself than her. Then, Brian looked at Rowan again, blinking. He was almost pouting at this point; it didn’t suit his ever smiley face. Awkwardly, with many pauses on the way, Brian eventually put his arm around Rowan and rubbed her shoulder, trying to soothe her but feeling extremely awkward about it. “I... Uh... Sorry. I’m sorry. Your dad’s a douche-canoe.”
He didn’t believe her. He couldn’t have. But when he responded, it seemed like he believed Rowan believed. That was an interesting response. And immediately, she felt the need to reassure him. “Not just you,” she said. “People have been acting that way around me all day. It’s...” She frowned. “It builds up over time. It gets worse the longer the exposure is.” She tried to think of a better way to explain it. “A week with my mom, before we knew about it... her body started to just shut down. And...” She closed her eyes and counted to three. “When I was... in the hospital... the doctors and nurses...” Thinking about it scared her. “I heard one say that she’d used all her sick days up and the doctors couldn’t find what was wrong with her. Other patients had to be transferred to intensive care. Some nurses I just...” Stopped seeing. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know... they didn’t believe me.” They upped her medication and asked if she had a history of sexual abuse.
She was entirely unprepared for Brian’s next reaction. When his arm went around her she looked to him quickly; though she didn’t recoil, she was clearly stunned. She was trying to figure out what this reaction meant. “...Do you believe me?” That idea seemed impossible.
“Holy shit...” Brian murmured as Rowan described the magnitude of whatever her father had done to her. He shook his head in disbelief, though he believed every word. When Rowan seemed incredulous about his belief in her, Brian snorted. “Dude, I can read minds. People have opened gates to hell, or whatever. Right? A friend of mine’s girlfriend got killed by some sort of wolf beast. Why would a Typhoid Mary curse be so out of the realm of possibility?” He rubbed her shoulder some more. “I’m just sorry you have to deal with all of this on your own and no one believed you. Not that it’ll change anything that I do, I can’t help you, but...” He lost his train of thought and therefore his words. Brian was still mostly shocked.
His reaction had once been Rowan’s hope, when she told the doctors at the hospital. If all that other stuff existed, why couldn’t she? Magic was such a broad idea that most people unfamiliar with it couldn’t fathom its limits. The fact that Brian simply accepted it blew her mind. “I’m used to it,” she said. “My mom knows, and so does an aunt. Usually it’s under control. I manage it the way other people manage diabetes or, I don’t know, a caffeine addiction.” Maybe not the last one. Addiction was by definition something that was definitely not under control. “Until the... uh... incident, in school... I just dealt with it. The injury can’t just be a bruise or a scrape, it’s gotta be breaks or serious gashes. I know how to splint and set, and how to sew and hide wounds. I just slipped up one day and... well. There’s a lot of scars. Everyone knows what the hospital thought. To get out I had to convince them they’d fixed me.”
Except she had to actually hurt herself to manage it. Brian shook his head. This was too awful. “Isn’t there some witch out there who can, like, un-curse you?” He knew nothing about magic, but maybe there was hope. “So you never tried to kill yourself, you just overdid it.” He reasoned, nodding. “Well, shit Rowan. I don’t know what to say. I wish I could help, at least.” He looked at her, felt awkward, and removed his arm from around her. Usually Brian didn’t do this unless he was trying to get with the girl but this time that was not the case and it felt weird. It felt weird to actually care about someone who people dismissed as the resident crazycakes. But he did, they had come to get along at work in the past few months, and he actually had fun around Rowan. Maybe they were friends, and Brian just didn’t know how to be friends with someone who wasn’t a-okay or a guy. Time to learn, he supposed.
Rowan shifted again, pulling one leg to her chest. She rest her head on her knee, and lightly shook her head. “We tried to find one. My dad doesn’t even know how to undo it, if he’d even care to at all.” Which she doubted. She frowned and looked away again, feeling... embarrassed. “You don’t have to say anything. Or do anything. It’s okay. It’s...” She tried to think of a way to explain it. A thought occurred to her, and she looked back to him. “I barely remember what it was like to not be this way. It’s natural to me by now. Probably like your telepathy is. I don’t know what to say to that, or how to help, but I would if I could. I’m sorry I thought you were kidding the first time.”
Something came to Brian’s mind that he wouldn’t dare mention to her, but he wondered right away what would happen if her father died, since he had been the one to curse her. Of course he wasn’t going to ask Rowan about it, or suggest she kill him or anything. Although if it solved the problem, Brian was very supportive of the idea. He nodded as she compared her “thing” to his telepathy in terms of not remembering anymore what it was like before. “Well, I hope it helped that you told someone else about it. And I won’t talk about it to anyone. Not even you, if you don’t want me to. But if you ever need anything you can count on me. I’m a douchebag sometimes and I like to think I’m funny but I can be there for my friends too.” He said, hugging his knees to his chest and putting his chin between them. “And don’t be sorry, it’s totally normal to think that, especially when half of the things I say are said for comic relief and not even true.” He smiled at her, and patted her on the back. She had to get used to be treated like a dude for now, while he got used to being friends with a girl without benefits or any of the subterfuges he had to use when he wanted to go out with them deep down.
Rowan was actually quite used to being friends with guys. Freddie aside, her friends had always been guys - what few she had. Jocks liked a girl who could hit hard in a game of touch football and didn’t mind being hit just as hard. In fact, she’d mock mercilessly if she wasn’t. “I’m kind of shocked you believed me,” she admitted. “It’s... we don’t have to avoid talking about it, I guess. Maybe it’d be a good thing. Once in a while. It’s hard to imagine.” Talking about it with her mom was just painful - mainly because she knew how much it had hurt her mother. She’d never been the same, and she always seemed on the edge of breaking. Rowan had to be strong for her. She smiled softly at him, and figuring he’d be weirded out by a hug, she returned the pat on the back. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I told you, it’s not that hard to believe when all this crap keeps happening around us.” He reiterated. “Well, we’ll do it like this, whenever you wanna talk about it, I’m all ears, but I won’t touch the subject unless it’s strictly necessary. Deal?” It seemed like the right approach to take; he wouldn’t want to joke about it like he joked about everything else, good or bad, and end up hurting her by accident. Brian knew himself enough to know sensitivity wasn’t his strong point sometimes. He turned his face on his knees to look at her and smiled back. “I know you didn’t. It’s okay now, we’re cool.” He looked at her feet for lack of a better place to put his eyes on in the same direction, and thought for a while. “And I’m sorry if you feel weirded out by being near me now that you know for sure I can hear people’s thoughts. I swear it’s not all the time and I don’t do it on purpose but I know it has to be uncomfortable. Hell, hearing certain crap is uncomfortable to me!”
Rowan nodded in confirmation. That would work for her, and she knew she’d probably try to do the same thing regarding the telepathy. Try, being the operative word. That soft smile stayed on her face as she watched him. “Part of me feels like I should be,” she said, realizing how she felt about it as she said it. “I guess some part of me must feel like I don’t have the right. You can hear things I don’t mean for you to hear, but I could kill you just by... existing. Kind of puts things in perspective.” Her tone wasn’t as dark as it had been earlier, nor so troubled. She was stating a simple fact, and finding it... surprisingly easy to do so. Even if she hated the idea of it. “I can’t guarantee I won’t mentally flail now and then, but I’m used to being embarrassed. You know my secret now, so I don’t know what I could think that I would worry so much about being heard.” So much of her life and energy was dedicated to keeping that secret. She also had to wonder if she’d ever thought anything in his presence she’d be embarrassed about. Probably, but she couldn’t remember. Right then, it didn’t seem like such a huge deal.
“Except you try incredibly hard not to kill me, and I appreciate it. But try hard as I might, I can’t not listen to your thoughts sometimes. At least it’s not all the time.” He repeated. “I promise I won’t repeat or tease you for what you think...much.” He then snickered, his mischievous look coming back to his face. “Maybe your undying crush on that greasy dude from Twilight?” He suggested, knowing she was probably going to hit him just for saying it. And at the same time Brian thanked God he had never heard that coming from her. It would be the disappointment of the century, she was the one girl he knew who wasn’t ready to explode of lust whenever the guy’s name was mentioned.
Rowan shrugged lightly. “You probably have already. If I really think about it, I think I remember you saying stuff you shouldn’t have known. I guess that’s probably natural.” If she really sat down and thought about it she’d probably have a million questions and thoughts on the idea, but she didn’t have the mental capacity for it right now. For now, she was simply accepting. Until he mentioned Twilight, and she shuddered in repulsion. That reminds me, I should wash my hand. “You’re a gross little man, Brian,” she informed him. “For that, you’re going to have to help me out. You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to hit you.”
“Yeah sometimes I can’t help it, my brain doesn’t make the differentiation between what I heard in my head and what I heard people actually say after a while.” He shrugged. One of the downfalls of his power, he supposed. Brian burst out laughing at her insult, but looked up promptly when she told him to help her. “You could try but maybe you’d just break your other fingers, might as well save them.” He winked. Hm. Bad joke #1 already. Brian hoped Rowan wouldn’t be offended. “Alright I’ll help you, what do you need?” He asked, stretching his legs.
She didn’t mind. The smile stayed on her face. Yes, it felt weird, but... not a bad weird. Just, different. Killer teased her in much the same way. “Just help me up,” she said. “I need to wash the toilet herpes off.” She was kidding about the herpes. She hoped. Still holding her bad hand to her chest, she managed to shift to a kneeling position. “I have stuff in my bag to splint the finger once it’s clean. I’m pretty used to this sort of thing.”
Brian couldn’t help laughter from escaping him at the mention of toilet herpes, although it was pretty disgusting and he would be worried if he was her. Nodding, he got up on his feet and put one arm under her good one and pulled her by the end with his other one. “Jesus, it creeps me out how well prepared you are for this kind of thing.” He let out, looking away embarrassed. “Sorry. It’s just... This shit is pretty crazy, is all.” He was sure she knew. She had to know. “Wouldn’t you rather go to the hospital? I hope you don’t play piano or anything, you’d be fucked by now if you did.”
Rowan wasn’t embarrassed - surprisingly - but she did look a little horrified at the mention of a hospital. “Never,” she said. “If I go to the hospital, they wouldn’t let me out. I have a history of self-harm and they believe I’m suicidal. I always hide everything. It’s not as bad as it sounds, and cheaper, since I don’t have insurance.” She headed over to the sinks and turned the water on, being very careful about washing her bad hand. “I grew up knowing how to do this stuff. You think this is bad? I stitch my own wounds.”
Well, that made sense. If Brian was some sort of wanted individual in the hospital he wouldn’t want to go anywhere near it either. “Well I trust you and your abilities, but still. It’s damn lucky you’re not a pianist.” He reiterated, with a smile this time. “Oh, Rowan. You must look like Sally from that Tim Burton movie. But hey, Sally was cute for an overly stitched doll.” He said, winking at her. It was Brian’s way to cope, making light of most everything. It was a defense mechanism when he spent so much time inside other people’s minds, albeit by accident. “Maybe you could go into nursing or something. I mean, you do have more experience than most people who do!” He suggested, only half joking.
You have no idea, she thought, before she could stop herself. Dammit. Rowan closed her eyes at herself, but had to chuckle along. He’d asked her once if the scars in that photoshoot were real. Well, some of them had been. A lot, actually. “Doubtful,” she said, grabbing a few paper towels to dry her hands. The pain was still there, but starting to ebb away. She’d take some asprin when she splinted the finger. “I don’t think I have that sort of thing in me. I probably won’t go to college anyway.”
Hearing her thoughts made Brian laugh this time, but he said nothing to it. “Feeling better?” He asked, looking at her injured hand over her shoulder. He then looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Not going to college? You could get a scholarship or something. But to tell you the truth if I could I wouldn’t go either. My dad threatened to throw me out of the house if I didn’t go though.” He revealed. It was only fair that he shared another bit of his life now that he knew so much about Rowan’s. “I’m seriously considering moving out, pretending to go and...I don’t know, spending my days lying around watching TV.” He confessed. College seemed so difficult. Then again there was all the partying... Maybe he could do that side of things and try a little bit on the academic side of things.
Rowan nodded. “I know it’s weird to you, but I have a high pain tolerance. It’ll be okay.” Yes, it hurt, but it was still better than the alternative. His admission surprised her, and she thought it over as she left the bathroom and went to grab her bag. She sat down on the floor behind the counter, not bothering to hide the fact that she was splinting her finger. “I couldn’t,” she admitted. “Repeating my senior year doesn’t look good - you wouldn’t believe the kind of shit on my record. My grades are okay, but not stellar. Even if I jumped through all the hoops to get one... I have no idea what I’d want to do. I never really thought about it. I’m happy just to work and get by and do what it takes to pay the bills.” Rowan couldn’t remember a time she and her mom weren’t hurting for money. She smiled softly at Brian, pausing briefly to rip off a piece of tape with her teeth. “You could revisit that joining the circus idea.”
“If you say so...” Brian conceded, shrugging. She probably had done this so many times before it was like routine to her, and he was just coming in on it now. He had to trust her. Brian followed her out of the bathroom and leaned against the counter, crossing his legs, turned to face Rowan. “See?! Exactly! I can’t believe my old man doesn’t get that!” He said enthusiastically, because that really was Brian’s ideal life. Working to pay the bills, having some extra money to party like he liked to do, and screw the rest. He laughed at the circus idea. “What would I do? I can’t even juggle.” Somehow he expected Rowan to suggest being a clown. And he didn’t need to read her mind to know she probably would.
The clown idea did immediately pop into Rowan’s mind, but she figured that was too obvious. Then again, she’d never surprise him with a joke, would she? He’d hear it before she said it. Eh, same dif. “You could be that dude in the Shrine circus who trips and gets his head stuck in the elephant’s butt. I bet you’d be real good at that.” She grinned. Too easy. “You know they take clown volunteers at the hospital to try and cheer up kids. You could get some practice in. Not with the butt thing. You could probably pull off being a clown.”
Somehow, Rowan had managed to make it worse than a clown. He dropped his hands to either side of his body, pretending to look miserable. “Really, that’s all you think I’m good for?” All things put into perspective he would much rather go to college and get some boring career than stick his head inside an elephant’s ass. Not even to save a loved one’s life, fuck that. “Oh, of course!” He snickered, smug, knowing sooner or later she would have to mention the clown thing. “I could, but I’d much rather be the guy who hangs on ropes and does all those awesome moves in the air. Living in danger, you know? That appeals to me.” He was being an epic bullshitter right now, because he liked the idea but in practice he would never risk his life like that, that was just not his style. “What about you, if you could have any career or job you wanted, what would you choose?”
Living in danger. Yeah, Rowan could understand that. It made her think of her upcoming hockey try-outs and she couldn’t help but grin. It faded slightly at the question. Unfortunately, she had absolutely no idea. It wasn’t something she ever put a lot of thought into - best not to get her hopes set on anything. “I... don’t know,” she finally said. “I’d probably make a good stunt woman,” she decided, making light of the idea. “What about you?”
Rowan as a stunt woman would actually work, Brian thought. He nodded approvingly. “I could see you doing that. It would be epic, too. But you know the point of being a stunt woman is not to get injured where others would. If you think you could kill two birds with one stone like that, or something, I don’t know if you can.” He assessed, only half joking. When she turned the question back to him, Brian shrugged. “I never thought about it either. I love to party and it’s the one thing I do well. I can’t imagine myself in a good looking little suit and brightly polished shoes.” He thought about it for a while. “I’d love to be, like, a rockstar or something. You know it’s too bad that only chicks get famous for sex tapes, otherwise I’d have it all set.”
Rowan couldn’t help but blush slightly at the idea of sex tapes, and she hoped it wasn’t noticed. Of course, if it hadn’t been, her thinking about said hope probably made him aware of it. Ain’t this a bitch. “You’re like, that career in the Sims where you end up a professional party guest. You could start offering your services around campus to make any party truly legendary, and get paid to show up at peoples houses and go so balls out nuts that the cops end up being called.”
Brian had not noticed her blush at the idea of sex tapes, but he did hear her hoping she hadn’t, which only made him laugh. But he did not say anything. Instead he just laughed some more at the idea of having a Sims career. “I’d love that career, let me tell you. I could throw epic parties and charge entrance, or something. But then all the money would go to pay for the booze and music, so...” He shrugged. It was shit anyway. He was going to end up being a lawyer or something stupid like that and live his life like that dude from Fight Club and then eventually snap and start fighting himself on the street thinking he’d met some cool dude who looked like Brad Pitt. Or maybe he should just stop seeing so many movies. Especially while drunk.
He laughed at her, but he didn’t say anything, so that was something. Bullet dodged. Rowan thought some more as she examined her splint, and when she was satisfied she put her supplies back in her bag. She didn’t bother standing up, though. She hadn’t heard anyone come in in a long time, so she was just fine here on the floor. She popped a few asprin and went on. “So if you did do your own thing. Get your own place, tell your dad to shove it, make your own money... you think you’d be happy?”
What a good question. One Brian knew exactly how to answer because there was no doubt in his mind that if he moved away from his douchebag of a father and did his own thing he would be much happier than he was now - not that he was unhappy now anyway. “Oh yeah, definitely. I don’t need big money or big things, just enough to have fun while I’m alive, you know? I just don’t like routine, you know, the way most people live their lives these days. Grow up, go to college, get a respectable job, marry someone respectable, have respectable kids... I don’t like respectable stuff.” He confessed with a smirk. And then a bright idea came to him in a flash and his eyes widened comically. “I could gamble! I can read minds, I would always know when to call people’s bluffs! I could be the best poker player in the world!” He exclaimed.
He had a point. One hell of a point. Okay, sure, it was cheating mercilessly, but... given the sort of things Rowan practiced, she wasn’t of a mind to call him on it. “You probably could make a living just by doing what it is you do naturally - hearing stuff you’re not supposed to. Not even in a bad way... just, you know, Sookie Stackhouse. Without the boobs, and more of a brain.” She hoped, on that last part anyway. “If that’s what you want - the leaving your dad thing, I mean, I think you should do it. Life’s too short.”
Brian was confused for a while, and furrowed his brow. “Is that the chick from that show with all the nakedness and the sex and the vampires?” He didn’t really watch it for anything except the boobs, so it was only natural that he didn’t know the characters’ names. “But how do you mean, by telling people secrets? Come see the great mind reader, he won’t let you lie? Oh my God I’d be flooded by calls from people who suspected their partners were cheating on them. It would be hell.” But if they paid...
Actually, that did sound pretty miserable, now that Rowan thought about it. She shrugged. “You could do a talk show. You’re a walking lie-detector. Something tells me you’d do well on TV.” He had the personality, and the face, really. Girls would probably rather watch him than Doctor Phil. Or Springer. Or Maury. “Bet there’d be a lot of legal loopholes, though. Invasion of privacy and all that. But if people went into it willingly...” Another shrug. “They need, like, a special supernatural unit of the police. They have vampire and were cops. Telepathic cop. Bam. Done.”
Brian couldn’t help but laugh at the image Rowan had just put in his head. “Holy shit my dad would have a fit, I would be responsible for his death.” Which, you know, could be worse as far as he was concerned. “Yeah, if people came to the show they’d have to sign some sort of waver so they wouldn’t be able to sue for, like, moral damages afterwards. That would be so fucking cool!” He was in full dream mode now, imagining himself sitting on a comfortable one-seat couch talking to people and reading their minds and their deepest secrets. Because everyone knew, the more people tried not to think of something, the more they did. “A cop?! Me? Have we met?” He was genuinely surprised by that suggestion. “I would be the type to apprehend drugs and bring them home to use them recreationally. It would never work.”
“I could see it as an MTV show,” Rowan decided. Hey, that was right up MTV’s alley. Nowadays they did more weird reality shows than playing actual music anyway. She had to laugh loudly at his reaction to the cop suggestion. “I didn’t say you’d be a good cop,” she pointed out. “I said they need that kind of thing. Kind of unethical though. TV host it is. There. Done. Career bliss determined.”
Nodding, Brian had started to actually consider it. But he would have to move to Hollywood and then he might become a douchebag - or an even bigger one, if you listened to some people. “No, I’d be a bad cop. Bad in a fun way, but bad. Not bad like that gimmick they use to make people confess. Do you think that actually works, by the way?” In his case he wouldn’t need to use that, he would know if people were lying. He could be a real credit to the police force. A hero, even. Brian grinned, thinking of the glory. “I guess I’d be the better Maury. Although, you know, my telepathy thing would be well used in the police, no criminal could pass through me.” Although... “It wouldn’t hold in the court, I don’t think.” He shrugged. “The world isn’t ready for that kind of thing. TV host it has to be!” He threw up his arms. “You’d miss me if I moved to Hollywood though.” He said, smirking.
Rowan had to admit that that was true. No, really - even if she tried to deny it, he’d know the truth anyway. She’d been terrified of him at first, but the little bastard had managed to worm past that. “I would,” she confirmed. “Maybe you could do some public access thing with the college,” she suggested. The U of M had a lot of student-run radio stations and TV segments - why not this?
Pointing at her, Brian nodded approvingly. “Hey that’s a good idea, I could totally do that. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if I kept informed on gossip and then invited people to, like, ‘testify’ to the truth or falseness of the claims and if they lied I’d call them out right there on camera?” It sounded hilarious to him, at least. “I’d be a fucking hero to the girls whose dudes keep telling everyone they let them do this and that and the other when they probably never even met.” And maybe that would get him girls. He’d been on a kind of dry spell lately, if he was honest. “You should move with me to Hollywood. You’d model, I’d be on tv and we’d be spinsters.”
It was all fun and games until he mentioned modeling, and then Rowan’s face went red again. “You had to go there, didn’t you?” she sighed. “First of all... I’m not a model. That was... that was an accident. Nine times out of ten Whisper wants to wring my neck and I know it. And you’ll never be a spinster. So, you know, there. Your plan is flawed.” If absolutely nothing else, she knew of Brian’s reputation. He was popular, for goodness sake. It was one of the reasons she’d been initially terrified of him.
Seeing Rowan all embarrassed and blushing made Brian laugh. Though he meant no harm he was amused by it. “Well you could’ve fooled me, you were pretty good. If that Whisper woman - and by the way who the hell is called Whisper? - doesn’t appreciate you find someone who does. In Los Angeles you could model to your heart’s content. Or is that New York? I never remember.” America’s Next Top Model wasn’t exactly his thing, even though seeing clips of Tyra Banks going batshit on youtube was very much fun. “Well I’ll never be a husband and father of two, so all I have left is spinster. Eternal bachelor, that kind of thing. Right?” He was happy about that, and it showed in his grin.
Rowan sighed and rolled her eyes. This wasn’t the sort of thing she’d normally get into, but... well, he knew. And he could read her mind. It just felt rude not to say it aloud. “Models don’t have scars covering... well, everything,” she said, trying very hard not to picture it because that would just be even more embarassing. “You’ll end up like Hugh Hefner or something,” she said. “Partying in your eighties. Spinsters are crazy cat ladies who do nothing but think of all the stuff they wish they would have done differently when they were young enough to do it.”
“Fuck.” Brian cursed under his breath for completely forgetting about Rowan’s ‘peculiar situation’. She was pretty and definitely had skills, judging by the magazine shoot he’d seen, but he supposed that yeah, maybe deep scars weren’t exactly top model material. He shrugged at her. “Hand model?” He suggested lamely. Laughter came back to him when Rowan said he’d end up like Hugh Hefner. “That’s kind of gross, having a ton of photocopied blondes who only want me for my money. Isn’t it sad? I think it’s sad. But I’ll definitely party in my eighties, that’s guaranteed.” If he lived that long, which he hoped he would. “I like cats!” Brian retorted defensively. “Could I become a crazy cat man if I had a bunch of them but still partied?”
Something about the idea of being a hand model was so absurd that it was hilarious, and Rowan couldn’t help but have a giggle fit at the idea. “I think I’ll pass on that idea,” she said, though she appreciated the effort. “It’s sad,” she confirmed. “I don’t think you’ll be sad. You’ll figure it out and probably be happy the whole way.” He just seemed like that sort of person. And for once, Rowan couldn’t begrudge someone for that. It was a nice feeling.
At least the idea had had the desired effect, which was to make Rowan laugh. “Aw, why? You could model diamond rings and bracelets and...watches, I guess. You have those girly hands with long fingers, bitches love how things look in people with long fingers, makes them think they’d look that good on them too!” Yes, he had been perusing his mother’s Vogue in the bathroom again. His magazines couldn’t be brought out of his room for a little bathroom reading, after all. “I’m never sad.” He agreed. “When I get sad I stop being sad and work on being awesome instead.” He shrugged. Not that he even started by getting sad a lot in the first place. Last time he’d been sad had been when he had gone to visit Gabe after his girlfriend had died; there was no way not to be sad then. “As long as somewhere in that tour of happiness I get to dance in my underwear on a giant cocktail glass, I’m all for it.” Old dream. No,not just for women. It seemed a lot more awesome to do it himself than to watch some chick do it while he just sat there. “What will you do then, besides getting a job that pays the bills? Do you want a husband and the pitter-patter of little Rowans around the house?”
“You know way too much about this subject for any straight man,” Rowan informed him, still giggling all the while. She continued to laugh at the way he was carrying on, all the way up until that last question. Then a look of horror promptly took over her expression. “God, no,” she said. “Never.” The idea was practically obscene in Rowan’s mind. Marriage had broken her mother. Her father had very likely always been a monster, but it certainly brought out the worst in him, too - showing that there was no limit to his selfishness and general depravity. There had been more days than not when Rowan had felt like she was the one taking care of her mother, not the other way around. She didn’t even want to consider the idea of children exposed to her situation. It just didn’t seem right. “I’ll be happy just to take care of myself.”