nishka//loki (nishka) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-03-17 16:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | fenrir, loki |
Something has left my life and I don't know where it went to
Who: Nish and Abel
What: Nish has a quiet night in doing laundry, and bumps into Abel.
Where: Pax, 5th floor
When: Friday, March 17th, during the St. Patrick’s Day event
She knew about the party of course, everybody did. She still wasn’t up to seeing anybody, going anywhere, even ordering most of her meals takeout so she didn’t have to leave her apartment. But she was running out of clean clothes, and she needed to move, so in what she felt was one of the most pathetic St. Patrick’s Days she’d ever spent, she started gathering up laundry while Bear followed her around the apartment, wearing the most frumpy clothes she owned, hair tied up in a messy bun.
With some difficulty, her body still weak from what she’d so recently put it through, she hauled the heavy basket of clothes down the hall and into the laundry room, setting it down gratefully on the counter and slowly piling her clothes into one of the washers.
Likewise, Abel had chosen to skip the St. Paddy's Day event. Valentine's Day had been fun, but his plate was full; he'd heard about Nish's brush with death, and lingered near his own apartment if only to get a glimpse of the state she was in. He heard her door open and close, the fact that they were both alone on the same floor a boon to the fact that her movement down the hall couldn't possibly be anyone else's.
He glanced out his door, seeing her basket and noting her direction. After a beat, he followed, looking to get a soda from one of the vending machines in the same location.
She slammed the lid to the washer closed, setting the wash cycle and then automatically pulling out her phone to set the timer for when it would be done. Even just walking down the hall and doing laundry was enough that she was out of breath and had to pause for a moment, one hand on her chest above her heart as if it could still the rapid beating. She was still embarrassed at her failed attempted run Friday morning when she’d run into Percy.
Every day, every time she had symptoms, her worry grew. Lucas had told her it wasn’t a big deal, that it happened to lots of people and it was completely manageable with lifestyle changes and meds, but she was scared. He’d done a good job of impressing on her how dangerous another hit would be, and how essential it was to her life that she get clean, adding alcohol into that prohibition for good measure.
After a few deep breaths she picked up her basket and headed out of the laundry room, stopping dead in her tracks as sudden panic made her freeze. She didn’t see him right away, but that same feeling of dread filled her as soon as she opened the door. And then her eyes lifted to his across the hall, and she looked back like a literal deer caught in the headlights.
"Hey there, neighbor." He paused where he stood, two dollar bills in his hand, a wide grin slicing his face open. "Headed to the soda machine. You want anything?" His eyes raked over her form, noting her gaunt, skeletal appearance. Whatever she'd done to herself had not been kind, though Abel applauded her own handiwork.
She clenched her jaw, glaring at him as bile rose in the back of her throat at the mere sight of him.
"Wow, and I thought I did a number on you. Then again, we're always our own worst enemies, aren't we?"
She couldn't stop staring at him. Maybe she was trying to figure out how she could ever stand to let him touch her, or maybe she was seeing for the first time the evil in his smile, the daggers in his eyes. She shifted the laundry basket to her other hand, not taking her eyes off him. “Give. It. Back.” Each word punctuated like a gunshot, her heart pounding in her chest from poorly contained rage.
"Give what?" Abel cocked his head, as though in true confusion. Then a light bulb seemed to pop on. "Oh, that little burn book you call a diary. The one that ended up all over the lobby? Haven't seen it. I guess you should be more careful with your things, hm?" He took a few more steps toward her, closing the short distance of the hallway. Nish backed away from him until the door to the laundry room was pressed up against her back, stupidly trapping herself. As he approached, he slowed, the basket the only dividing line between them.
"I mean, if I didn't take it, and you claim you didn't do it, who could have? After all, you wouldn't have had an excuse for that little stunt you pulled, then, would you? Then who would've given a fuck that you didn't die?"
She avoided his eyes, realizing that it only made her look weaker, but in no condition to fight him. Anger and hatred boiled in her stomach, but there was very little she could do about it. Of course he'd deny it, and of course it was her word against his. And of course he didn't give a shit about what he'd done to her. She'd expected nothing less.
’Walk away,’ Loki counseled, sounding nervous but commanding. ’Do it now.’
Not speaking, she shifted, attempting to use the basket between them to push him away from her, to give her enough room to squeeze past him.
He didn't move, but he did let her pass. The fact that she wasn't rising to his bait was interesting enough, and, besides -- he had other forms of ammunition. He let her get far enough that he was hurling words at her back, waiting to see the damage they would cause.
"You know, you might wanna hang a little tighter onto that 'complicated' of yours. If you're not careful, someone's gonna steal him away. He tastes so sweet."
She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes going wide, her stomach turning, her heart racing in its now off kilter beat.
’Don't take the bait.’
But she couldn't help it. She turned, meeting his eyes and facing that fear that made her knees weak. “Don't you dare, you fucking bastard.”
He looked aghast, one hand pressing to his chest as though he'd been accused of something untoward. "Don't I dare? Maybe you mean, don't do it...again?" Slowly, a wide grin unfurled over his face.
’Nish...let it go, he's baiting you.’
She hesitated, fight or flight making her muscles itch to move, to strike out. But she was weak. She could barely do her laundry without losing her breath. She couldn't fight, and it was frustrating. Instead she chose another way. She had no idea if it work...would weakening of her body translate to weakening of her words?
“You leave him alone,” she commanded, pushing him with all the strength she had left.
Abel looked slightly impressed, biting back laughter. He took a step back, allowing her her small, physical display of ownership.
"What if he doesn't want to be left alone? You know, I'd think you're missing one essential piece of the equation that he's into." He took that step back, leaning into her space, hovering over her. His voice lowered to a whisper. "You wanna know a secret? Because I'm pretty sure he's more into dick than he is into pussy. And you wanna know how I know? He gives great head."
’Don't...’
“So do I,” she said, though she'd used most of her energy in her unsuccessful attempt to command him. “Not that you'll ever find out.” She turned away; heading towards her apartment, pretending that what he'd said hadn't torn her up inside. She knew of course, that he did gay porn, that he had male clients. That didn't bother her. But Abel...that bothered her. Rafe didn't deserve that. Nobody did.
Abel watched her go, her little attempt at getting back at him making him laugh outright. He said nothing more, very aware of the fact that he'd gotten under her skin again. His laughter followed her down the hall and to her door, even as he turned away to continue his random errand of procuring a soda from the laundry room.