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Genevieve Sommers (sommers_wind) wrote in lineof_fire_rpg,

Genevieve's arms wrapped around her chest, hugging herself in some odd type of comfort. Her eyes moved from the ground, up his legs a bit to where his hands were crammed into his jacket. When he stated the obvious, she made some murmur of an agreement, nodding her head slowly.

She had no idea what to say. Her brain was conflicted, racing between wanting to melt into his arms, to wanting to scream and yell and rant and rave and hit him as hard as she could, to wanting to empty the contents of her stomach on the asphalt and cry. She shook involuntarily, part of her colder than the air outside could possibly have made her.

"I knew Lyndsey was here in Boston. She didn't mention you were here." Her voice was small, cold. If she'd known he was in Boston... She couldn't answer if she'd have come or not.

Genevieve couldn't stand there, talking to him. She couldn't stand being feet from him. She looked around the parking lot, her eyes darting, looking for an escape route. "Um. I have to..." She took another step back from him, her eyes wincing as more tears stung them. "I have to go." Her eyes finally met his, the vision of him in front of her blurred at the edges, like so many dreams before that moment. She swallowed hard, looking away again. Her lips pressed hard together, and she backed again, slow steps away from the Lucas who seemed so strange, foreign.

Her back met with a parked car, and she turned on her heel, walking as quickly as her legs would carry her. She had no idea where she'd go, but she couldn't stand there, talking to him. It was all wrong. All of it.