Who: Ansley and Sophie. What: Ice-cream and comfort. Where: Sophie's room. When: Backdated to whenever she found out her father died. I've forgotten when that was XD Rating: PG, so far?
For the first time since she had been at least eleven, Sophie was upset. She had spent so long dreaming about the moment her father would come and visit her, tell her that she wasn't crazy and demand that she be removed from the insitution but it never happened. Now it never would.
She sat on the corner of her bed, right up against the wall with her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms around them. Anyone who came in at that moment could see that she wasn't herself just with one simple look. Her usually bright, happy clothes had been replaced with a black pair of skinny jeans and a plain black men's shirt that she had stolen from God only knew where. The only thing about her that looked tidy enough to be presentable was her hair, which, even when she was upset didn't look scraggly at all. A quick glance was had, to the bed where Si slept. She was glad her room mate wasn't in here. She could only imagine the types of questions that would be asked, and how much taunting there would be had.
But there was Ansley and the ice-cream. That was enough to cheer her up if even for just a little bit.
Ansley walked with his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders hunched a little as his eyes stared down at his shoes, watching them as they moved over the tiled flooring beneath him. By now, he knew where he was going when he wanted to get to the cafeteria so, unlike when he had first arrived at Cheshire, he didn’t pass the door and find himself all the way down at the end of the hallway. Pulling open said door, he moved towards the window where they served everyone their food, and waited patiently for the woman to ask him what he needed.
“Can I have some ice cream?” ”Mhmm. What kind would you like?” “Uh…I don’t know, I guess…I guess one chocolate and one vanilla? They’re not both for me though…” He felt like he needed to explain this incase she asked him why he needed two of them. So, after waiting a few minutes, the woman handed him two small bowls and told him to have a nice day. He said thank you before he turned around and started making his way towards Sophie’s room, hoping that this would make her feel at least a little bit better. He couldn’t be to sure, though. He knew that if anything ever happened to his father, he’d be devastated.
Standing outside of the door, he adjusted the bowls, and knocked with one of his hands, standing there quietly until he heard her voice on the other side, telling him to just come in. Twisting the handle, he pushed the door open a bit to peer inside, seeing her sitting on her bed. He gave a sad sort of smirk before he stepped further inside, closing the door with his elbow as he moved further into the room. He looked at her before looking down at the bowls, his shoulders raising up into a quick shrug. “I didn’t know which kind you liked best, so I just…got you both.”
Sophie was glad when the knock sounded on her door, it was a relief to be able to have something distracting her from her thoughts. She uttered a quiet, "come in" and waited for her friend to enter. She couldn't remember the last time somebody had bothered to do something for her, even if it was just something as simple as getting her ice-cream. It was the thought that counted, and ice-cream was rather thoughtful as far as she was concerned.
She gave Ansley a small smile in return for his smirk, and let her hands fidget against her legs. At the mention of the ice-cream, she nodded her thank-you and looked down at her hands before scooting away from her depressing looking corner to sit in the middle of her bed. Perhaps she wouldn't have felt so bad if she hadn't of run away from home so long ago. Maybe this was all her fault. She didn't say anything, however, but sat there looking at Ansley.
Making the boldest move she could manage right now, she patted the spot on the bed next to her, indicating for him to come and join her. And maybe eat ice-cream with her. Sophie fiddled with the worn photo in her jeans pocket which she always carried with her and drew in a breath. "Thank you. For coming to see me."
He stood in place for a moment before moving towards her, taking a seat where she had wordlessly asked him to sit just a little while ago. He placed the bowls down on the table that was beside her bed, straightening up afterwards to look at her. It was unusual, to see Sophie look so upset. Not that he knew her for a long enough amount of time to make a judgment on how frequently she was sad, but for as long as he did know her, she had always been rather upbeat and quirky. “It’s not a problem. I wanted to make sure that you were alright.” He closed one of his hands around the other, which was balled into a fists on his lap, his brows raising with curiosity.
“So…are you alright?” He didn’t expect her to be, not after finding out that her father had been dead for almost a year. But, it was one of those things you asked anyway, even though you already knew the answer. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but if you do, I’ll listen.” He knew how quiet she could be sometimes, and he knew that sometimes she didn’t like to speak that much, since there had been times where they just sat in comfortable silence, whether it be while eating, or sitting in the common room.
When he placed the bowls down, she grabbed the vanilla one for herself and handed him the one with the chocolate in it. She began digging into it carefully with the spoon, occasionally taking the odd mouthful. Sophie didn't answer his question at first, just continued to eat in silence. It was a weird feeling for her to be upset, and she should be used to it after all because it was herself but she wasn't used to it. Because she was never sad, and if she was she ignored it, because Sophie talking about her feelings? It was very odd, and very rare. Feelings for Sophie were something she never talked about with anyone. You could ask her anything about anyone, but she wouldn't admit her feelings.
After a moment of slightly comfortable but uncomfortable silence, Sophie prodded her ice-cream with her spoon and nodded. "I'm.. okay," she replied with some difficulty. "Everything's so loud, now though. I think it's because they know I'm ignoring them." The girl chewed on her lip nervously. She was never nervous. "It's my fault. He must've been sad when my brother and I left. We didn't even tell him. And now.. wow."
He took the bowl in his hand, and stared down at it, thanking her for handing it to him. Ansley wasn’t really in the mood for ice cream, but he wasn’t going to not eat it if she had just given it to him. So, he took his spoon and poked at the chocolate dessert, placing a small amount in his mouth, feeling it melt on his tongue as he waited for her to speak again. His attention snapped back to her when she did, taking in her actions, and her expressions, trying to get a correct reading on all of them. When she mentioned the objects in her room being loud, he looked around, oddly enough feeling a little bit annoyed, even though he himself couldn’t hear them. He just wanted them to be quiet for her, since she was obviously grieving.
The next set of words caused him to let out a light sigh, placing down his bowl as he turned his body towards her. “Sophie…you don’t know that. I don’t think it was your fault…I mean, your Dad probably was sad when you and your brother left, but that doesn’t mean that it’s your fault, you know?"
She shook her head slowly, disagreeing with him automatically even though he was probably right about it. She continued to poke around with her ice cream, suddenly not really feeling like it anymore. "Maybe I should have been nicer to Sarah.. Then she wouldn't have tried to poison us and then we never would have left. My dad might still be alive, then." She nodded, mostly to herself. She didn't know that Sarah just genuinely hated children, it wasn't anything personal but she wanted an explanation and blaming herself was the only one she could give. A little part of her didn't even know why she cared, for so long no one had bothered with her, especially her father. There had to of been some way that he found out about her being in here.
"I'm sorry.. I'm sorry." She said quickly, scooping a large spoonful of the vanilla ice cream up and shoving it in her mouth so she wouldn't say anything else.
He didn’t know who she was talking about. Who was Sarah? This was the first time that Sophie had ever talked about her past, or anyone who she had known before she had gotten into Cheshire. He knew she had a brother, because of what she had told him about their mother, but that was about it. Whoever this Sarah was though, he didn’t like her at all, considering that she supposedly tried to poison Sophie and her brother. Then again, for all he knew, she could have just imagined it. She could have been delusional about Sarah trying to poison her, but something in his gut made him want to believe her. So, he did. He’d take her word for it.
When she apologized, Ansley shook his head. “You don’t have to say you’re sorry. You don’t have anything to say sorry about. You’re not doing anything wrong.” His hands fidgeted on his lap, feeling that he should be doing something to comfort her, but he couldn’t think of what to do. He probably would have reached for her hand, since that was the only thing that he felt remotely comfortable doing, since he had done it before, but both of her hands were occupied with the ice cream bowl. So, he just sat there, with his hands fidgeting, feeling rather uncomfortable and stupid. Knowing his luck, if he made any sudden movements, he’d make her drop her ice cream and then everything would just suck.
She looked down into her bowl as if it were a bottomless pit full of answers, but when she didn't magically receive any she put the bowl aside and shifted to sit next to Ansley more. Sophie rarely had anything to say and she didn't have much to say now, either. The voices were too loud, Ansley was too quiet and the ice-cream only helped marginally. Her eyes drifted to watch him sitting there awkwardly and she wanted to know what he was thinking. Probably about how crazy she was, everyone did.
Her hands drifted to play with the buttons at the bottom of her too-big shirt and she sniffled quietly. "Ansley," she began, turning her shirt over to see how badly one of the buttons was falling off. "You think I'm crazy, don't you? I think my room mate thinks I'm crazy." She didn't know why he was asking him this, maybe it was a nice distraction from thinking about how much her father probably hated her for running away right now. Maybe the other conversation was making Ansley uncomfortable.
He didn’t scoot away as she moved towards him, like he probably would have just a few weeks ago. Instead, he stayed where he was his eyes staying focused on her as she began to play with the broken button of her shirt. The mention of his name caused him to prepare himself for whatever she would say next, making sure he was paying close attention to what she would ask or tell him next.
But nothing could have prepared him for the question she threw at him.
Those wide blue eyes turned down to focus on his lap, his lower lip tucking under his teeth. “I-…” Damn it. Damn it he didn’t know how he would phrase it so that she wouldn’t know that he was lying. It made him upset, that he couldn’t say ‘no’ without a stutter, because…well, she thought she could hear inanimate objects talk to her. If he said no, she’ know he was lying, but if he said yes than she’d hate him. So, he took his time, trying to think of the right thing to say that would be truthful but not as harsh as saying ‘yeah, I think you’re nuts.’ “I think…I think that everyone who’s in this place is at least a little bit crazy…” He didn’t look over to her again, not wanting her to keep pressing further. He really hated not being able to lie without everyone around him knowing about it.
The button fell off her shirt and she watched it roll onto the floor with a deep frown. Well, that was unexpected. That would probably be forgotten about and the shirt would never see its final button ever again. Not that she cared, she hated buttons. She sighed when he answered, she knew he was just avoiding telling the truth. Everyone did.
Sophie looked at him with her darker, usually empty eyes and sat closer to him so they were touching shoulder to shoulder. "It's okay if you think I am.." Her shoulder gave a light shrug and she looked at her jean-clad legs. "Because I am, really. At least; I think I am." Her long fingers fidgeted in her lap and her head bowed forward slightly making a screen with her hair between the two of them. "Maybe that's why my dad didn't try to find me. Because I'm crazy." Glancing at her discarded bowl then back at her hands she shrugged again. "I suppose it would make sense."
He felt his shoulders sag as she moved closer to him, feeling very guilty about not being able to say anything positive in response to her last question. Most of the time, even if no one would admit to it, people told others lies to make them feel better. Ansley wasn’t able to do that, so he wasn’t the best person to sit and comfort his friend, but he really wanted to be. So, after she finished speaking, he adjusted himself so that one of his hands was pressed against her mattress behind her, as the other hand moved over to tuck her hair behind her ear so he could see her face. His fingertips brushed against her cheek as he did so, causing him to swallow roughly due to the skin to skin contact.
“I think he just didn’t know where you were…he didn’t know where to look to find you. I don’t think he didn’t try. He would have been crazy, not to try.” The words sounded and felt weird coming out of his mouth, because he was being genuinely honest with his opinion, and that wasn’t like him at all.
When he touched her she had to force herself not to flinch away from the sudden contact. Sometimes when she wasn't the one giving out the enthusiastic hugs she had trouble with physical contact. Her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she considered what he told her thoroughly. Maybe he was right. Her dad might have gone looking for her at some point, and then tried to find her and her brother regularly but just couldn't find them at all because they picked such amazing hiding spots. The only reason Sarah and her despicable daughter had found her was because she was extra greedy and spent more time looking for them than her dad.
She looked up suddenly, her eyes to his and she nodded. "Yeah.. Maybe you're right." She gave him a watery smile, it didn't reach her eyes but she felt a little bit better. "Maybe.."
She shifted uncomfortably, her hand drifting down to finger the worn piece of paper in her pocket again. Did she dare show him? What if he laughed at her for carrying the thing around with her everywhere? The girl wasn't sure if other people carried photos of their relatives around with them and she wasn't sure if it was the done thing. Of course, she had shown it to Deidara and he hadn't laughed at her so maybe it was normal. Nodding, she pulled the crumpled object out of her pocket and held it out to him for him to take. "It's my father. Do you think I look like him? Sarah always said I didn't and that she liked my brother more than me because he looks like our father." She shrugged off-handedly and pulled her legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed.
Her eyes would be drawn back to the photograph every so often as he continued to look at it, and she felt her eyes start to blur with the onset of tears. She tried to stop herself, really, she did because when did Sophie Meyer ever cry? Never. However, as the realization started to kick in that the photo would be the last she would ever see of her father the waterworks started and she wiped her eyes furiously, praying that he wouldn't notice.