Liam McIntyre ☄️ (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} kilt) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} playout,@ 2020-02-07 22:50:00 |
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| Entry tags: | ! log/narrative, bonfire , crystalline |
WHO: Bellamy Johansson and Liam McIntyre
WHEN: February 4th, 2020
WHERE: Bellamy’s house.
SUMMARY: Bell spilled her guts on the internet, Liam comes to talk to her. Nothing is resolved.
WARNINGS: Swearing, references to Liam’s accident, power flare-ups, emotional constipation, the usual shit.
STATUS: complete!
Perpetual motion was one of the first things that came to mind when people thought about Liam McIntyre. He was always moving, wandering the streets of a new city, bouncing his leg at the table, or advancing on the piste. ‘Flashy’ and ‘proud’ were quick to follow, and more often than not people remembered the hero showing no hesitation before throwing himself into battle. He didn’t like taking the easy way, moving before thinking or asking the question without preamble, and while logically he knew one day things would catch up with him (some would argue that they already had), that would always be tomorrow’s problem. Apparently, tomorrow was here. He headed up the familiar path to Bellamy’s front door, shoulders rolling back as he pocketed his keys, and tried to push down any feeling of unease. It turned out that winging it wasn’t in the cards for them, and he was stubborn enough to try and figure out why Bellamy had suddenly found the urge to unload everything on the network. Call him old fashioned, he thought as he raised a hand to knock on the door, but some things were better said face to face than typed out on a tiny screen. Usually, Bellamy was a fairly cautious person. She had her patterns, she had her routines and she enjoyed them. Day-to-day she knew where she was meant to be, understood her place in the world and managed to keep it all balanced, the spinning plates up on their poles without fear of crashing down. As she finished washing her face, she thought she felt it all begin to fall. She took a deep breath, reaching for her hairbrush, smoothing any tangles out of her hair when she heard the knock at the door. For a minute, Bellamy stayed where she was, examining her reflection in the mirror. You’ve come this far, she heard her father’s voice say, finish what you’ve started. The problem was that she wasn’t entirely certain she could finish what she had started. A breath later, heart hammering in her chest, she was opening her front door, thankful that it didn’t bounce against her wall as it had done a few weeks before. She straightened her shoulders, mentally bracing herself for whatever was coming her way, “Hey, come in.” “Evenin’, Bell,” Liam’s brows rose as he slid past her, surprised at the quiet greeting after her verbose network post. However, it hadn’t taken him long to realize early on in their partnership that he was the more vocal of the pair. She had made her points in other ways, and he had a scar on his upper arm to prove it. He automatically placed his keys on the table as he turned to face her, arms crossing over his t-shirt and taking in the sight of her bundled up in her house robe. While he knew that Bellamy was a planner, a part of him felt bad for having this conversation on such short notice. However, what he wanted to say wasn’t fair to tell her over the internet. Bellamy crossed her arms tightly across her abdomen, feeling the slight pressure of spikes against her balled up fists. He held up a hand when he sensed her mouth opening in to fill the silence, halting her before she could potentially light into him again. “No, listen tae what I have tae say. Can ye do that?” Bellamy nodded, the shortest jerk of her head up and down and sat on the arm of her couch, crossing her legs at her ankles. “I think I’ve said more than enough,” she sighed, pushing down the very strong urge to cringe in embarrassment. “Yes, I’ll listen.” “How gracious of ye,” he drawled, leaning against the table and stretching his legs out in front of him. She allowed a small smile at that, but otherwise was still. He hadn’t planned what he would say to address all of the things she had claimed he shouldn’t have remembered, but the fact remained that remembering what their partnership had been like was like remembering how to breathe. There were details that came back easily - what she liked in her coffee, what time her runs started - because she was a creature of habit and he had spent years learning them. Some had snuck up on him, but others had come from countless reminders not to be late, Liam or how do you not know that by now, Bonfire? “Ye mentioned a lot o’ things that I shouldnae know or remember, bu’ Ah won’ apologize for it,” he told her, “we spent years together, either yellin’ at each other or crammed together in a practice room until ye could hit movin’ target. Maybe Ah’m being too forward, and tell me if yer wrong, but Ah don’ doubt for a second that ye remember some of that stuff too.” Her hands eased from their fists, and she shook them out as her limited body heat had melted the spikes slightly, leaving her palms wet. She moved them to grip the arm of her sofa, hoping it would dry them out. “No, you’re right,” Bellamy said slowly, unsure. “I-mmm,” she hummed, cutting herself off. She had always had trouble articulating what she meant, preferring her actions to prove her intent. Except her actions had been all over the place for the last month, and she knew it. Her head had tried, valiantly, to keep her from making any impulsive decisions, but her heart was complicating that. Whether that was because of how she felt five years before or not, she didn’t know. “It’s like muscle memory.” “Somethin’ like that,” he allowed, absently rubbing a hand down his side as if to smooth down the wrinkles in his shirt. “Ye said Ah don’t ken what ye think of me, and maybe yer right, but christ, Bell. I ken that Ah woul’ still walk through fire for ye even if yer mad at me because, at the end of the day, yer still important tae me. That won’t go away jus’ because Ah left or ye give me shit for goin’ out tae get drinks with whatshername.” Maybe he was going to hell for saying it, but she had struck a nerve earlier when she had accused him of not being there for her. It might be a different way than before - it had to be after the attack - but he was still here. “That’s not nearly as impressive when your power allowed you to burst into flame,” Bellamy said staunchly, but her eyes were creased around the corners, a sign of her teasing. Even though reason told him she was joking, Liam stilled, hands clenching around the edge of the table as he felt his body suddenly grow cold as if someone had suddenly snuffed out a candle. “I just…” don’t think I can wing it when it comes to you. think that we both have regrets. want to be with you. She tucked her hair behind her ears, standing. She felt jittery, as if she were about to start shaking at any moment, so she walked to her door, reorganizing her key hook for a moment, nervous about what she was about to say. “Don’t know that whatever it was or is translates to now. It’s been such a mess, which is my fault.” She was backpedaling, she knew, knew that her heart had been laid bare on the internet for him to see, but was that really for the best? “And I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing that we both remember, Liam, I’m not. I just think that we have to be practical about this—realistic about the circumstances that brought you back.” “Circumstances,” Liam repeated, his voice void of the usual jocular timbre. He studied her back, noting the tension that was evident in her set of her shoulders, and didn’t bother to hide his frustrated sigh as he straightened up. “So it’s back tae this, is it? Yer accusin’ me one moment o’ not takin’ ye seriously, but now tha’ ye think Ah am Ah have tae be realistic. Which is it?” He was getting a headache trying to figure out the meaning behind what she wasn’t saying. Bellamy took a sharp breath in through her nose, still facing her door, wishing she could walk away. But she couldn’t because this was her own mess that she kept making more of a tangled disaster of and it was her own house. “I think,” she began as she turned, doing the least she could do and meeting his eyes, “that it’s been almost a month, and the thing you should be prioritizing is the reason you came back in the first place.” She didn’t want to elaborate, to vocalize that she was concerned that she was just a distraction to the ultimate goal, so instead she shoved her hands into the pockets of her robe. “And that’s...good, it’s the best priority to have.” Liam’s eyes snapped to hers the moment she turned, narrowing as what she was saying started to sink in. “Ah’ll work on findin’ help when Ah’m ready,” he told her. It had only been a little over two months since the ill-fated mission. He briefly closed his eyes as he felt heat surge through his body, a faint echo of the fireball that erupted from him when the unseen blast of energy had flung him into Big Ben, and counted to three like the doctor had instructed him. He barely got to two when his eyes opened again. “Ye know what, yer right,” Liam shot back, turning to grab his keys from the table behind him as he returned back to a previous argument, “we don’ ken each other. No’ anymore.” “Why are you hesitating? You’ve already come all this way, to stall where you’re at?” she asked, confused. She made no move to stop him from collecting his keys, though she could hear her inner voice screaming at her to just shut up before she said something else she’d regret. “You’re the most impatient person I’ve ever met, how are you satisfied with that?” “Ah’m not fucking satisfied,” Liam exclaimed with an incredulous laugh, his fingers flexing automatically at his side. He had forgotten just how cool Bellamy stayed under pressure, time shaping memories to softer versions of reality. They were opposites in more ways than he could count, but he was tired of spending his days walking on eggshells as he tried to figure all of them out, worried a random spark would set off the proverbial powder keg. “Then change it, Liam!” It came out more desperately than she intended, more pleading and, well, that was embarrassing. Bellamy brought her hands together, unaware that she’d been clenching them into fists so tightly that it almost hurt, and rubbed feeling back into them. She might not have known Liam anymore, might have argued it with everything fiber of her being in order to prevent any attachment, but the sinking realization that she was still very much attached hit her. “What are you waiting for?” “Will ye sta-” Liam’s fingers suddenly splayed, a plume of smoke rising from his fingers where a blaze of white hot flames used to appear. Not now. He tore his gaze from her with a curse and jerked his hand up, fingers curling into a fist as he tried to block the sight of his smoldering palm. “No, I won’t stop,” she retorted stubbornly, surprised when a plume of smoke started to curl upwards towards her ceiling. Bellamy didn’t hesitate before she acted, the long-unused but clearly not forgotten move of putting Liam out in case of emergency an easy one. “Let me see so I can help,” she demanded. Snow materialized in what looked like a sheet half a foot above his fist, rushing downwards to douse the beginnings of a flame, ice crystallizing on his hand a moment later to ensure it was out. The silence that followed was heavy, her hand still outstretched. “It’ll thaw soon, you run too hot,” she finally managed. Liam turned without a word, pausing only to smash his ice cast against the edge of the table before he saw himself out, leaving Bellamy staring at the fragments and wondering if she should have stopped him. |