InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "CAKE OR DEATH??"

- (tinieblas) wrote in rooms,
@ 2015-04-25 13:34:00

Entry tags:

!ocean's eleven, *log, cristián martin-argüelles, meredith janssen, neil donovan, sam alexander

Ocean's Eleven: Cris, Meredith, Neil, Sam
Who: Cris, Meredith, Neil, Sam
What: ~~The worst idea ever~~ A double-date
Where: The park, Ocean's Eleven
When: Nowish
Warnings/Rating: Language, at the very least, but who knows what else

Sam still wasn't sure about this, yeah? Ok, so it had been her idea or whatever, but Cris' initial reaction gave her pause. Yeah, he'd come around in the end, but she was still apprehensive about this whole thing. It could all go sideways, and she didn't do good with shit going sideways. But it was a done deal, and there wasn't any going back now, so she tried to think good thoughts or whatever. She didn't believe in that thing, sending good energy into the universe or something, but she was willing to grasp at straws, ok? She was nervous. She knew this was going to be hard, and maybe she should have just left shit alone, but that wasn't her.

The park had been Cris' idea, and since she didn't have anything better, she'd messaged Neil with the location and hoped for the best. Ok, so she'd thought about bowling, but flying bowling balls could really do some damage if someone got pissed. Yeah, no, park was definitely better, even if she didn't think sweating was Meredith thing. She hadn't ever met Meredith, but there were pictures in the penthouse suite at the Venetian, and Meredith reminded Sam of Chloe, yeah? Prim, proper, scrubbed fucking clean. All the things Sam wasn't, even after a year of not hitting the needle.

Jeans and flowers, a tank underneath in case it got too hot, and she was decent enough, if you ignored the hip and belly bared by the ultra-low jeans. She'd left the dog home, though Rodin loved this particular park, but the last thing she needed was her fucking service dog raising eyebrows. So, yeah, the dog stayed home, along with her medical bracelet. There was a syringe of Fosphenytoin loaded and tucked in the bottom of a picnic basket that included all the makings for burgers - turkey, beef and tofu - and she found a good spot with some shade, a grill nearby and she texted Cris to bring charcoal and starter fluid. Blanket stretched out, she kicked off her boots and unbuttoned the plaid to reveal the braless wifebeater beneath. And then she paced as she waited, clove burning sweet between her fingers.

(Read comments) - (Post a new comment)

Re: Log, best idea in Ocean's Eleven: Meredith J/Neil D/Sam A/Cris M

tinieblas
2015-04-27 03:51 pm UTC (link)

A year in therapy had taught Sam to be a little more in-touch with her feelings, yeah? She still wasn't great about understanding them, but she got the gist of when she was headed for a spiral. This was a fucking spiral just waiting to happen. Kneeling there, waiting for Neil or Cris or someone to take the uncooked burgers from her trembling hand, she felt like she was on the corner of a street, yeah? Embarrassed like that, and it was fucking stupid. She knew it was fucking stupid, and she knew no one could make her feel anything, that she was the one who gave that control away.

But she sucked at logic, yeah?

But, ok, Meredith's reply about PDA wasn't bad, yeah? She could see it. She even started to agree about it. Time and place, and some people thought the time and place was different than others. "It's just affection," she began. "I mean, fucking someone in public, ok, maybe that's bad, but some affection isn't, yeah?" she asked, and she didn't even think about her language, because she was being pretty restrained for her. At work, she never cursed; it was a learned thing. But she was too tense to keep the word from slipping. In fact, she missed it slipping altogether, because Meredith was going on about other people seeing, and about that being ok.

Yeah, ok, she wasn't fucking nuts. She wasn't imagining the judgement there. Inky eyes watered, but she wasn't going to fucking cry. No fucking way, yeah? Maybe she sniffled. "Yeah, no, I don't mind anyone seeing me do anything. I'm trashy that way," she finally said, because it was easier, yeah? To meet that shit head on. "Some guys like that." Which was completely hurt talking, but she was too tense to reel it in.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Log, best idea in Ocean's Eleven: Meredith J/Neil D/Sam A/Cris M

foundling
2015-04-27 05:20 pm UTC (link)

Maybe it was the privacy thing for Cris too. He was never inappropriate in front of his kid, but he'd grown up in a tiny apartment, and in a culture where touch was just a fact of life—not even that. It was integral to expression. What he was doing, hand on Sam's waist like that, there wasn't anything wrong with it. It didn't even occur to him until the redhead tipped her head like some yappy lapdog that anyone might think there was. He hadn't come up around these kindsa people—rich, white, proper, and he could code-switch with the rest of 'em—he could defer on the job, sidle up to the powerful and make 'em think he respected them—but he was barrio through and through, family gatherings where people sat on each other's laps, food thick and hot in the air, kids playing together, wrestling.—And, yeah, the 'sólo esto' handholding thing wasn't for him either, but he wasn't sitting there training his eyes on the distancing lack of contact the way Meredith watched his palm pass over Sam's white skin like it was obscene.—But he got it. Yeah, he got it. Él entendió.

Gringa didn't like it. Like it was vulgar, something so coarse and base as—what? Affection?—See, Cris' response to that kinda thing was as inborn as the expression of affection itself. It was like any authority when you were someone who grew up rough. You hated it and you got back at it by spitting in its face or grinning wolf the whole time it tried to bend you to its will.—And, yeah, there were times where it was hard to see Neil and Sam together, in his head, but it wasn't some kinda... It was opposite for Cris. He thought Sam was too good for Neil. Guy who couldn't even touch her, hadn't even fucked her with any skill, who'd left her with weight so heavy on her she collapsed, she felt worthless—yeah, no, fuck Neil. The guy was restrained in a way that didn't fit Sam, but Cris didn't sit there and think the word 'trashy.'

Maybe he was too like Sam to see it. He'da fucked her in the park if he could. He fucking dreamed about that, yeah? ¿Y qué?

Whatever. He hadn't even gotten a chance to respond to Neil's offer to stand with him—at the 1-foot long grill while Sam forced herself (and he noticed the jerk-tension of muscle) to join Meredith on the blanket. They hadn't gotten around to taking the package of hamburger from Sam's hand, but he knew, as soon as that caveat came, about not caring about people seeing PDA, that it was done. He felt it like someone stuck a match to his veins the way you do the wick of a stick of dynamite. He didn't have to see the swell of tears like a storm broiled over black-blue to immediately jump to defensive, like a caged animal with hackles raised and teeth bared.—Sam said some guys liked trashy and that was more than enough.

Cris wasn't good with passive-aggressive, he wasn't good with scornful eyes. Maybe he wasn't supposed to react, but he couldn't stop himself. His anger crashed down in waves.

"You kiddin' me?—Is this a joke?" It was to Meredith and her fizzing soda. It was harsh, and Cris circled close to the blanket, grill forgotten, coming up behind Sam, his knees to her back. 'Cause he knew white girls like Meredith from the job. They were the kind that ended up playing games on other people, hurting them to amuse themselves like everything in the world was for them, and he knew with a clench of gut that her innocent gringa smile, straight white teeth like you could cover decay with veneers and think it masked the stench,—he knew the venom in it.—Cris put a hand down, reaching, to start helping Sam get to her feet, to get her away in some protective gesture, the way you pull someone back from a hissing snake or a bully. He pushed the packaged meat from her hand rough and he tried to take her hand in his. Black eyes hard on Meredith, he didn't even bother yelling at her. He had words—lotsa of 'em, but right now, he just cared about Sam and the fact that he wanted to get her away from the cockroach on the blanket. "Ven," he told her.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Log, best idea in Ocean's Eleven: Meredith J/Neil D/Sam A/Cris M

ex_perspecti86
2015-04-27 05:32 pm UTC (link)

Everything happened too quickly, from the swell of tears in Sam's eyes (and why was she crying? Meredith didn't see anything in her words that should make someone cry) and the way Cris grabbed at her to pull her away. For a moment, Meredith just sat, eyes widened in surprise, and then she was up on her feet, indignant.

"Are you just looking for a way to be offended?" she shot back, not even glancing towards Neil. "Because it seems that no matter what I say, she's going to find some way to be offended by it. I never once called her trashy, nor did I even think that. I said that it was nice she didn't mind it, that she didn't care if someone saw. Not everyone feels that way, you realize. Not everyone can just do as they want without thinking about the people around them and what they might be thinking. So I apologise if I err towards conservative and think that it's nice that other people don't think that way!"

She grew shrill as she shouted, hands balled up into fists of frustration, cheeks blazing a shade of red nearly as bright as her hair. "And maybe I'm a little bit envious that I can't be like that, that I'm not comfortable being so open. But I never said it was trashy, so stop looking for things to be pissed at me about!"

Meredith turned sharply, arms wound around herself, the motion upsetting the can of Coke that sat on the blanket, and she marched away, picking a direction at random to walk in. She didn't look back to see if Neil followed, didn't wait for him to run after her. He would if he felt the need and she wouldn't beg him to do so. No, she was just tired of being made into this horrible person. Yes, she had opinions, and yes she had thoughts about the others that she shared the world with, and no, those thoughts and opinions weren't always popular or nice, but she wasn't horrible. And that Sam had nearly started crying over her comments... Too much was being assumed, and everyone was so quick to take offense at a moment's notice, and she just couldn't do it.

She didn't cry, but her cheeks burned hot as she ambled down a small hill, shoes skidding for a moment, until she came to sit hard on the grass. Everyone seemed to think she was out to get Sam, to make her feel bad, and honestly, that was the last thing on her mind. She knew quite well that Sam would always hold a place in Neil's world, and that didn't bother her, even if everyone around her seemed to think otherwise. Neil loved her, told her that he loved her. That's all that mattered to her.

But with everyone else... it was a mess that she couldn't even think to start poking at.

Her hands dug into the grass at her side, sparse and not quite green enough, a handful pulled out and tossed into the light breeze that rustled through the city.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Log, best idea in Ocean's Eleven: Meredith J/Neil D/Sam A/Cris M

tinieblas
2015-04-27 07:28 pm UTC (link)

Neil liked this kind of woman, yeah? Mean and nasty under a veneer of fucking innocence, and that made the hairs on Sam's arms rise like quills on a porcupine. Protective or whatever, and she was really trying to make this shit work, she was. And maybe she would have simmered, calmed, Cris' knees at her back and only a slight wince when he shoved the meat out of her hand like that, rough. But she reached up to take the hand he offered, and she would have simmered - maybe. But she never got a chance to figure that shit out, because Meredith was talking, and Sam stayed there, ass against her heels, and she listened.

"You are so full of shit," Sam finally replied, before the redhead took off. Quiet, yeah? But there was no fucking way she was going to just sit there, Cris' hand outstretched and Sam's fingers starting to shake like leaves in the non-existent Vegas wind. Meredith grew more shrill, and Sam just watched her spin a fucking story that wasn't true. Sam actually laughed a wet, broken laugh when the woman wound her arms around her stomach like she'd taken some fucking blow, when she knew Cris probably had a thousand fucking things he wanted to say that he was holding back.

She watched Meredith bail, and something snapped. Fuck that. Fuck her. Fuck everything Meredith had said since she gotten to this fucking hotel, and this peaceful outing? It was all Sam's fault, but she forgot that as she stood and moved away from Cris and the hand he offered.

She followed the redhead, and she stopped before the woman seated on the grass. And, yeah, ok, so Meredith wasn't crying, but Sam was, messy and dirty and she didn't even give a fuck about that. Like she didn't give a fuck about the dangerous pallor of her skin, or the shaking of her hands. She looked down at Meredith, and she didn't yell or scream or pounce the other woman and yank out fistfuls of red, because she'd always lacked that Alexander fighting spirit. She cried, and that sucked, but whatever.

Breathing hard. "You want to know why no one likes you? Because you're fucking mean. You're judgmental, and you paint yourself as this fucking victim, when you deliberately do shit to hurt other people's feelings and then pretend they're nuts, that you didn't do anything at all." Her voice shook. "Try being a nicer fucking person, yeah?" And, yeah, that was all hurt in the rise and fall of Sam's chest.

She knew that Cris and Neil had to be close by, so she didn't bother looking over her shoulder when she caught her breath and spoke again, paler. "We're not telling Lou about this."

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Log, best idea in Ocean's Eleven: Meredith J/Neil D/Sam A/Cris M

foundling
2015-04-27 08:51 pm UTC (link)

Oh, Cris had more than a thousand fucking things he wanted to say. And they were bubbling up in him like hot oil.

Just because Meredith had all the empathy of a well-bred white girl (which was to say, none), and just because her understanding extended just to her unmarred, precious fingertips, didn't mean she hadn't said anything worth crying over. You get a girl, stressed, sick, coming from a rough, rough, rough run, with a long and sometimes traumatic history with the guy this other woman's with and no closure, all this baggage about love and stuff, and only a little distance, you're gonna be sensitive. You're trying to welcome this other woman, the one he's with you feel inadequate next to, but you going outta your way when you feel bad, when you're stressing and you want her to like you, and she sits and judges you through her teeth? Yeah, you might just cry about that. The thing that made Meredith a horrible person wasn't that she said those things—though Cris mighta argued that point—it was that she was ignorant of everyone's feelings but her own—willfully, it seemed like. And that made her selfish. That wasn't an assumption. That was a point of fact.

And Cris, he was just trying to get Sam away before things escalated, 'cause he knew himself. And he would take the bait, whatever it was, and it would upset Sam and she'd tell him she was trying to make this better and he was making it worse. She'd tell him this wasn't what she wanted. He was trying to be good for Sam, but he'd take the bait. (He saw the little syringe at the bottom of that basket too, but he didn't get a chance to react to that.)—He was saying it over and over, ven, to Sam, clenched jaw and all, just before Meredith exploded with entitlement, and Sam responded, leaving his hand hanging there, waiting, even as he saw her start to tremble. She took off as the redhead tried to flounce off, all kindsa privilege and superiority in her stomp, a white girl's tantrum, and Sam hounding her.

Yeah, he followed. He was faster than either of them and he didn't miss much.

He didn't disagree with what Sam was saying through her tears. She was right. Meredith was mean. She wanted to talk like she was some sweet thing, and she wanted everyone to believe it, and she was surprised no one liked her, never realizing everyone could see right the fuck through her act.

He shoulda let it go, but he was aggressive. He was pissed as he came up behind Sam toward Meredith. He was like a pitbull on its tether. He didn't look like he was going to hurt anyone, there was no threat of that, but Cubans didn't fight across the room from each other. You got up close. He was above Meredith, his hands closing around Sam's upper arms as he stepped around her, between them, and he spat words at down at his feet, fast, vicious.

"I dunno if trying will do it, huh? You come here, on her invitation to this thing, after all the shit you pulled, runnin' away 'cause no one's lookin' at you, and all the tears you cry to everyone when they don't think you're Little Miss Perfect after you do stuff like this—and you sit down, takin' her hospitality like it's somethin' you deserve—when it's NOT. It's not. You deserve nothin' from this girl, this girl you think is beneath you, whether you say the words or not; you think we can't see it, but we can—you do that, and then you sit and judge her and wanna smile about it? Like we can't see what you're doin'? You kiddin' me? You think you got money, you're better than everyone? You think you're better for Neil 'cause-a that? You think we owe it to you to like you, since, y'know, you're so nice and all? No. The best all Neil and Sam's family could do is stay away from you. I been at my job long enough to know what rotten looks like and it's you." He didn't linger.—That out, Cris turned to Sam, who he'd somehow cut in front of, staunch and protective, and he looked down at her, all waxy and white, taking her shaking hands in his, palms hot, grip steady. "Okay, mami, creo que hemos terminado aquí ahora. Estás temblando como una hoja. Vamos a tu casa."

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Log, best idea in Ocean's Eleven: Meredith J/Neil D/Sam A/Cris M

incharge
2015-04-28 05:48 pm UTC (link)

Maybe Neil only saw what he wanted to, or maybe he was foolishly focused on making peace with Cris, thinking that was where the problems would be, without considering that Sam and Mere might actually be more troublesome. He didn't always see what was right in front of him; the fact that he'd dated Chloe at all was proof of that. But they were all here in this park, sun beating down, and they were all--he thought--trying, so he offered to help with the grill and there was nothing judgmental or malicious about his offer, he wanted things to go smoothly. He missed the way Mere looked at the affection between Cris and Sam, and he thought talking about PDA was mostly harmless. Alright, so he wasn't very affectionate in public. His parents had been cold and distance, his upbringing much of the same; he cared about people, very much so sometimes, without knowing how to show it. But everyone was different, and he didn't want to compare and contrast their relationships.

He did, however, since ever so slightly when Mere remarked that it was nice, Sam not caring about who saw her. Even if she didn't mean anything by it, the words carried a sort of... judgment. "Affection isn't bad," he began, even though he could feel this double date and the possibility of it going well slipping through his fingers. "You're not trashy, Sam, she didn't mean--" But his words were useless, he might as well have not said anything at all. Cris stepped forward and he did too, positioning himself at Mere's side out of instinct, a protective thing, even though Sam was the one whose eyes watered with hurt at the perceived insult. But she didn't need protecting, she had her boyfriend for that. Mere needed him. He put a hand on her shoulder and yes, maybe they should just go, Cris pulling Sam to her feet and this was a bad idea, it had been from the start.

But he wasn't expecting Mere to stand the way she did, and he wasn't expecting her voice to raise as it did. The hand on her shoulder slipped to her upper arm but he didn't pull, didn't tug, he just... stood there. Ineffective. His eyes closed briefly and if he'd been a religious man, he might have sent up a prayer to whoever was watching. "Mere," he said quietly, thinking that it was best if he could calm her down in private, and he could talk to Sam later or something. His hand dropped as the redhead stalked past him, arms around her middle, and he watched her for a few seconds before turning back to the pair. "I--" What he'd meant to say, he wasn't sure. But it didn't matter because he was too slow, always too slow. Sam followed his girlfriend and Cris followed her, and Neil was left to follow in their wake. He was tired of this, he was. So, so tired.

Their words, Sam's hurt and Cris's anger, barely registered. He got the gist of what they were spitting down at Mere, about her cruelty and judgment, horrible words hurtled down and Neil stepped between Cris and Mere, even though there wasn't much space to do so. "Stop. Just stop." He reached for Mere's hand to pull her up, away, before the situation became any worse. "This was a bad idea. I'm sorry." He glanced to his side. "Let's just go. All of us. Just call it a day." It wasn't a suggestion. He started pulling Mere away, and he didn't even say anything about Louis. Of course he wasn't going to tell him. What did it matter? He didn't like Mere anyway, and he had enough to deal with as it was.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Log, best idea in Ocean's Eleven: Meredith J/Neil D/Sam A/Cris M

ex_perspecti86
2015-04-28 08:34 pm UTC (link)

In her nearly thirty years in this world, something that Meredith had rarely ever been called was mean. Sam's words were like daggers in her back, and Cris' only served to push them in further, to bury them to the hilt until she could nearly feel the pain at the front of her chest. She didn't think Sam was beneath her, just that Sam was different from her, that they came from a different upbringing, but those differences weren't bad. Then came the comment about money, about how she had it, about how she thought she was better than other people, and Meredith nearly laughed at that. Neil's money wasn't her money, and she certainly had little to her own name. Her parents weren't well off, and it was only good grades and massive amounts of hard work that had seen her through college. She had worked for what she had, and even now, she worked for Neil, had her own money separate from his. They might have shared, they might have combined things together, but Meredith never once considered his money her own.

But then came the best part.

You think we owe it to you to like you, since, y'know, you're so nice and all? No. The best all Neil and Sam's family could do is stay away from you. I been at my job long enough to know what rotten looks like and it's you.

The words stung, and for the first time that afternoon, Meredith could feel the tears burning behind her eyes. She refused to let them fall, however, refused to let them see that weakness in her. So she swallowed hard, the anger and the hurt, her ears burning even as Neil approached with a hand reached down to her. She wasn't normally a person who was insecure, who needed the validation of others in order to find any sort of happiness, but just then, she was the very definition of the word. It made her wonder how people could say things like that, could spit out those words with not a care. They called her mean, but she had never said those sort of things to anyone - ever - about anything or anyone else.

She wasn't mean. She just didn't know her place here.

She let Neil pull her up to her feet, but as he started to pull her away, away from Cris and Sam and their poisonous words and hatred, Meredith gave a firm shake of her head and pulled her hand away from his. "No, no," she started, her voice thick though she was stubborn about letting any wetness stain her cheeks. "Maybe they're right. Maybe it's all me. Rotten, y'know." The words could barely come out before she started off, one hand pressed to her head, to the pressure that was building, her head throbbing with tension. Her chest felt tight, making it difficult to breathe, but she didn't stop.

Maybe they were right. Maybe she was rotten, horrible, all the words and labels that they threw at her. Maybe Neil was better off without her, even if the last couple of years told a different story. The world was full of maybes, and in every single one of them, Meredith just couldn't find where she fit in to the story. Coming here had been a mistake, even if she didn't have any say in it.

She wanted to talk to Loren, Loren who was honest and blunt with her, who even if he criticized, it wasn't done to hurt but to help, but he was gone and she wasn't sure if she'd ever talk to him again. And other than Neil, there was no one else.

Hard steps through soft grass, the toes of her shoes stained green, and Meredith kept walking without looking back.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Log, best idea in Ocean's Eleven: Meredith J/Neil D/Sam A/Cris M

tinieblas
2015-04-28 09:01 pm UTC (link)

Sam knew Cris was trying to help, yeah? He was being protective, whatever, and maybe she needed it. She knew she was doing exactly what she was supposed to not fucking do, yeah? Get herself worked the fuck up, and here she was doing just that. She knew he was helping, or trying to, but she knew it wasn't going to make anything better. But she couldn't blame him, because she had a hard fucking time keeping her mouth shut when someone she cared about was hurt. She wasn't a hypocrite, yeah? Not if she could help it.

She heard Neil approach, and she didn't move while he shoved in between Cris and Meredith. In fact, Sam took a step back, away from the crowded argument brewing on the grass. And it had been a bad idea - her bad idea. She'd tried to make shit better for him, and she knew she'd just made it harder. She could see it in his face, yeah? How tired he was of all this bullshit, and she balled her fists and cursed herself for not just shutting up and taking Meredith's condescension. It didn't change anything, what Meredith felt about her, and this had all been a farce to make the woman feel included anyway.

"Sorry," she began, the apology offered to Neil, not to the woman with the red hair, and she nodded at Cris' suggestion they leave, because she was bleach white, and she could feel her head getting heavy, sluggish, like too much weight and too much cotton; she needed to sit the fuck down. She needed to sit the fuck down now. But Meredith started agreeing she was rotten, and she did it in that perpetual fucking martyr tone, and Sam realized the woman was never going to fucking change. Meredith would rather throw herself a fucking pity party than accept that maybe she'd been rude. And people like that, they never fucking changed.

She glanced over to Neil, and the question in her inky blue eyes was fucking obvious, it was old, yeah? Like when she'd met Chloe, and she'd never understood what he saw in her. But maybe this was his thing, maybe it was what he liked. Whatever. Hurt on her features, she reached out with a hand that was shaking and starkly pale.

She nudged Neil's arm. "Go after her. We won't follow." And apologetically. "Sorry, baby."

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Log, best idea in Ocean's Eleven: Meredith J/Neil D/Sam A/Cris M

foundling
2015-04-28 09:21 pm UTC (link)

Cris didn't step back as Neil shoved between him and the redhead tearing grass up from the roots, like it'd done something to offend her. He stood his ground, chin up and eyes narrowed to points on the other man, only turning away once he'd said his piece, to try and coax Sam to leave. He didn't care how tired Neil was. He didn't care how hurt Meredith's feelings were. He just cared that Sam was paling fast. He ignored her apology to Neil and he was ready to start walking away. His fuse, the cable connected deep and fast to the core of his spine, compacted with sawdust, nitroglycerin, and blasting cap, was shortening by the second, and he needed to go as much as Sam did, he could feel it in the acid build-up on muscles, in the jump-pump of heart and pulse as it throbbed against where his fingers bit into flesh of palms.

Meredith's pity party, confetti of tears and all, erupted in full regalia, and Cris just closed his eyes, not exhausted like fucking Neil, just an attempt to calm himself, a visual cue he was counting to ten, just like he was supposed to. He sucked on his bottom lip, chin down, back to all of them, missing Sam's glancing question, and only looking up to see her trembling fingers push white against Neil's arm, her voice hurt, promising they wouldn't follow, and apologizing, baby.

He didn't turn. He didn't look at Neil. He didn't watch Meredith stomp off in Tantrum 2.0. He just stared at Sam, who he was facing, and he let his eyes drop to her hand, away from the expression on her face that said she was hurt Neil liked women like the redhead. And, Dios, he was trying. He was. But it felt crowded there on that balding hill, and all of a sudden, it was him who felt out of place, too dark, too angry, to something,—not in love with Neil? Maybe that was what it was—and he tried the ten thing again. He kept it off his face and he counted.

Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis...

Cris practically bloodied the inside of his cheek with his teeth. He gave them ten seconds to do whatever, stare or exchange looks or apologize, all that, whatever, then he took Sam's hand, the one that was bloodless against his brown palm, and he tugged at her, continuing to deny Neil's existence.

"Vámonos. vamos a casa." His voice was raw and he just kept his eyes on where their skin clashed in his hand.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Log, best idea in Ocean's Eleven: Meredith J/Neil D/Sam A/Cris M

incharge
2015-04-28 11:13 pm UTC (link)

Neil just looked at her, voice thick like she was trying not to cry. And then Mere pulled away, her fingers slipping free of his, and he watched her walk away a second time, and he said nothing. Of course he'd go after her. He had to; he certainly wasn't going to stay here with Sam and Cris. He never, ever should have agreed to this. He should've been smarter.

Sam's apology drew his gaze away from the redhead's retreating form, and he shook his head. "No. You don't have to be sorry." He avoided looking at Cris for longer than a second, perhaps purposely avoiding the anger he knew would be there. But that left him looking at Sam, her hurt expression like she was bothered by his choice in women, like she didn't understand what he saw in the ones he'd chosen, Chloe and now Mere. The thing was, he hadn't seen Chloe for who she really was until it was too late. And he was sure, so, so sure that Mere was nothing like her. Not perfect, no, because no one was, but not like the ex who'd tried to kill him. He couldn't possibly be that blind.

"You don't have to be sorry." Repetition, and he hesitated, looking back over his shoulder to where Mere had gone. "But I do. I am. I'm... sorry," he said, a sigh following the words. "She didn't mean..." But he stopped himself. Neil didn't know what else to say, and so he said nothing more, just turned and walked away.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

(Read comments) -