silentlystrong (silentlystrong) wrote in the_dome, @ 2013-11-19 19:23:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | 04-14-2017, december, december and mickey, mickey |
In the Dark Corners of Your Mind
Who: Mickey and December
Where: December’s house
When: Early afternoon
Mickey wasn’t going to do anything, but as soon as the weather got bad, he couldn’t stop looking at the spot on December’s roof that he’d been thinking about fixing for a while. He shouldn’t bother with it considering he wasn’t sure if his help would be an invasion or well appreciated, but then the sky got dark and he couldn’t stop himself. Which meant when the rain and sleet started, he’d already climbed the ladder and was working on part of her roof. He’d started at fixing it, then wound up just putting down a tarp as the weather turned, hoping it would hold through the worst of it. It was weird thing this weather, reminding him way too much of home, which was always an unsettling feeling. And if it was anything like home, it wasn’t going to get much better.
After December had gotten home, she'd showered and slept, even through the start of the storm. It was soothing over her head, so was the darkness the clouds provided. But, then she heard sounds on her roof that had nothing to do with rain, so she got up, threw a robe on and looked out the window. At a ladder, which a few moments later had Mickey coming down it. When he was face level with her, glass separating them, she arched a brow.
He was drenched, which meant his hair was hanging in his eyes, shirt soaked through. She wasn’t supposed to be home. Or if she was, well she wasn’t supposed to be the in the window. He’d only half glanced at it, not wanting to be that guy staring in her window, but there was no missing the face staring back at him and she was lucky he didn’t fall off the ladder when he spotted her. For a moment he looked sheepish, the pointed up. “Your roof needs to be fixed!” he tried to yell over the weather and through the glass between them. He deserved something for only half glancing at her in the robe though, because that was a sight if there ever was one.
December leaned over and pushed the window up. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure it could have waited," she told him. "Get inside, you're soaked and it's freezing," she sighed. Only Mickey would be pulling that. But she knew him well enough to not be surprised at all. It had probably been bugging the shit out of him the second it started to seriously rain.
“Except it’s freezing and pouring rain out here.” Obviously. He was evidence of it. “What through the window?” he asked, quirking half a smile. He figured it was back down the ladder, but maybe they could joke a little. It might be an improvement on that sigh at least.
"That's what mop buckets are for," she told him. "And ha ha." She shut the window again, and disappeared back into the house, figuring it would be a good thing to start up the fire now. She was thinking of her conversation with Zania, about Mickey. How he wasn't even with the girl he'd given her both barrels over. And, of course, she was thinking about the new ink she'd given herself.
“Until it caves in,” he said as she closed the window and he was left staring at it. For a long moment he considered going back to his house. It was right there. But she was something close to speaking to him and who was he to just walk away from that. So he got down from the ladder, folding it up and storing it and his tools on her porch before letting himself into her house, looking around for her. “December?”
She half flinched when he came in, but again, wasn't really surprised. She was over in the living room section of the open front area, starting up a fire, which probably should have been going before now. It was pretty freezing. "Over here," she alerted him to her presence, striking up a match so light some kindling.
He headed that way, chewing at his lip, not sure what to do, other than try and not to drip too much on her floor. “It’s freezing in here.” Which didn’t really need to be said, but what the hell else was he supposed to say. He really did need to go back to not talking. “Do you need anything? For the weather? I don’t think it’s going to get better.”
"I'm sure I'll be fine. I just need to get this fire going properly," she said. "And, apparently I need my roof fixed, but that's all you. Just let me know how much I owe you for it." Which she put in there because she was aware at this point she probably should pay him for work he did around her house.
Mickey looked visibly uncomfortable at that. “You don’t have to pay me. You...never had to.” He looked away from her, pushing his hair out of his eyes, opted for being quiet again.
"Maybe I should," she said, as the fire caught. It lit up her and the room better. She stood, to go grab blankets from her room, and some towels for him. Part of her almost had the urge to hide the new ink, but that wasn't who she was. And she didn't even quite know why she felt the urge to start with. Because if he saw it, it was fully true? She didn't want to argue with him? She didn't quite know.
“You should? Why would you think that?” Mickey asked, following after her even if he probably shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it. He was confused. That was a hard thing to place, that she’d say something like that.
She got to the hall and grabbed a big bath towel out of there to toss in his direction, aiming for his face. Then she continued to her bedroom, and dug blankets out of the closet, not wanting to use the ones on her bed. "I don't know. Maybe I just should. Does it need to be a big discussion?"
Mickey caught the towel before it hit him, holding on to it, and not sure what to do with it even if the purpose was obvious. He followed after her, watching her get things from the closet, ready to help her if she needed it. “I guess it doesn’t, but it’s different and unexpected…” he trailed off, looking at her hand, seeing something different there. He took a step forward, looking at her arm a little closer. “What...what’s this?” he asked, fingers reaching out but not touching her.
It was only a matter of time, really. She got that. She just sort of hoped that time would be later. "New ink," she told him, turning to walk past him (hopefully) with the blankets. She had the idea in her head, though, that he was going to stop her.
“New? You tattooed yourself?” Mickey asked, moving to block her way, but not completely. She would still have space to get around him. “It’s next to your bird...can I see it?”
"No," she said first, because she didn't want him to see. She tried to step around him the other way, knowing that wouldn't be the end of it, and she was being an idiot, so she should stop that. But it was her knee jerk reaction here, and she needed a second to get past that.
“No? I can see half of it,” he reminded her, already recognizing the chains for what they were up close. “Since when…” Mickey reached out an arm for her, fingers grazing her arm, willing her to stop. He knew he’d messed up last time he wouldn’t let her leave, but he didn’t feel right letting her walk away. Something was clearly up with her right now. “What’s going on? What is it?”
"Since when what?" she asked. "And can you at least let me get back to the fire with blankets before we play this game?" she added. She leveled a glare at him, one that clearly said 'Move'.
Since when do you do such a shit job of hiding things from me. He didn’t say it, as much as he wanted to. Instead he pulled his hand back and moved clearly out of her way, giving her space to go back towards the fire. “Didn’t mean to make it seem like a game,” he apologized, letting her lead the way, hell bent on keep a safe distance from her then adding an extra two feet on the end of it.
"That wasn't an answer," she said, unable to help herself. Then she got back to the fire, and she sat down, pulling one blanket around herself as she grabbed the poker, to start messing unnecessarily around with the logs and flame. "And it seems to me like there's been a lot of songs and dances going on."
Mickey hesitated, then went to sit next to her at the fire. They’d done this before. It had been a while and he’d said a lot less, but there had been nights just like this. The two of them and a fire. He ran the towel through his hair then draped it over his shoulders. The tattooed arm was the one she was using to stab at the fire with so he got a better view before reaching for the poker since the fire didn’t need it. “I’m not much for singing and we both know I’m not really able to dance, so I’m not sure what you mean.” He looked at the tattoo on her arm and then her face. “Please. Show me. This isn’t something you’d usually hide from me.”
She rolled her eyes at the first statement, but skipped bitching about it. Instead, she didn’t answer him at all, she just held her arm out. He wanted to see? Fine. And he was right. It wasn’t something she’d hide from him.
Mickey wanted to fight that look, but wound up taking her hand gently, turning it over to look at the tattoo. The chains were new enough, but as he changed the angle, he spotted the new bird, and the break that bound them together. Biting at his lip he brushed a finger over the still healing new bird, feeling the difference in the skin there. Something was off about it. Connected to her bird, something that looked like his, it had to have some sort of meaning. And the more he let it sink in, the more he realized that the meaning might have to do with him. Especially if she was hesitant in showing him. He ran his fingers over the broken chain, swallowing. “What’s it mean?” he asked, unintentionally turning his hand so his own tattoo showed.
“What do you think it means?” she asked. “Things just aren't what I thought they were, I felt like things were pretty broken, so I reflected that in a way that I could. Or maybe, I was just really bored, and felt like it. Pick one.”
“You wouldn’t do this if you were bored,” Mickey countered softly, no bite in his tone. No, something else maybe, but not this. “You think we’re broken.” He hated that that sank deep in his skin. He’d been so sure he hadn’t meant enough to her, enough to not want Mannix, to be able to walk away from them being something more and in reality she was feeling the rift between them like he was. “What did you think they were?” he asked, eyes finally meeting hers.
“I don't even know. I just know this isn't it. And when you talked to me the other day, how you were treating me, that didn't feel like it either. So, I accept that now. But I felt the need to do something. I did this.” December hoped they weren't going to go over this, she didn't especially want to. But she also knew Mickey better than that.
Mickey hated the sick feeling at the pit of his stomach. “The other day shouldn’t have happened. I was...I was stupid. I’m sorry for that.” He sighed softly, shaking his head. “This isn’t what it should be. Nor should the other day. Don’t accept it. I don’t want it to be like this.” He touched the space where the chain was broken. “I don’t want this. The last thing I want is for us to be broken December. I wanted too much, and I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have. I don’t need that. I just need...I just need you. However I can have you. Whatever you’re comfortable with, whatever you want. I don’t want a life you’re not in.”
“Maybe it shouldn't have, but it did. You had no respect for me at all, or my decisions. You practically came right out and told me I was not only stupid but had no integrity. Then you dropped 'forever? Yes or no?' in, like that was totally a thing I could come up with right then and there. You were incredibly intense at me this entire time, ever since Mannix showed interest, and after being friend zoned, three days later, you're dropping everything like it didn't happen at all.” She made a gesture to him, indicating his whole person. “I don't know this guy you're being,” she told him. “What I do know is out there, everyone's a different person. Survival-mode is a strong thing. But we aren't out there anymore. So, maybe this is you – thus, not what I thought it was, and all that shit.”
He hated that she was right. Hated it so much. He hadn’t been acting like someone he knew either. For a long moment he was quiet, not looking at her. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. Especially not the way I did. I’m sorry.” He took another deep breath before starting again. “It wasn’t doubting your integrity...it was hoping you’d eventually make a decision, that you’d pick to be happy rather than be alone. And wanting to make sure I didn’t fuck up the chance of being the one that made you happy because I was trying to move on like you wanted and I thought I needed to.” Mickey shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “Honestly, I was. I am. Everything I feel about you is intense, but I should have just shut up and let Mannix do his thing. You’d be happy and smile and maybe things could be normal for you again, not like it was out there. But I felt like…” He paused, then motioned towards her tattoo. “I felt like that when Mannix showed up. And I panicked and I let on about how I felt about you hoping it would change your mind when in reality it just put you off more.” Mickey’s attention was back on his hands instead of her, picking a callous from working on Zania’s bar. “That wasn’t me. Maybe it was who I wanted to be, but it’s not who I am. I’m not that guy that swoops in and charms the girl or can say things like that and not look like a dumbass dick. I’m the guy that moves aside for the guy she feels more intensely about.” He looked at her tattoo, frowning again. “When you get a chance, I think I want the same thing, but without the chain broken. I’m always going to be bound to you.”
“You don't have to be sorry, I didn't ask for an apology,” December said, irritation in her voice. “And what I decide is my decision. What you hope for me is something else entirely, but maybe it's about goddamn time people just let me do what I'm going to do, and stop trying to control it. Stop trying to fucking force things, or whatever bullshit this is all meant to accomplish. If I was unhappy, people would know it. I was getting unhappy – so I changed things. Went for friendships, because they're important to me. That makes me happy. Or it was meant to. And you can stop deciding everything about Mannix, too.” She glared at him. “'I should have let Mannix do his thing'...just shut up on that. You know what Mannix' thing has been? To be there. He's been fucking awesome with the friend thing.” That appreciation rang in her voice.
“And just because someone else shows up shouldn't have meant everything was broken. And you clearly don't actually understand everything that went down. It's like you forget I'm a person with my own opinions and feelings and I view things from my angle, not yours. Just because you think something's a certain way doesn't make it so.” She glanced at his hand, the tattoo there. “Fine.”
“I can apologize for something if I feel shitty for it,” Mickey said. “Doesn’t matter if you didn’t ask for it. I’m giving it.” He heard her irritation and looked away again, hating that all he did was piss her off. Hating that Mannix of all people was being a better friend than he was. After a long moment he looked at her, forcing away any of the arguments or counters or even the obnoxious comments about Mannix and his being there, because if Mannix was being there, what the hell could Mickey really say? He was just being childish and stupid. “You’re right,” he said finally, meaning it, sincerity in his voice. “I made assumptions when I should have asked or trusted you. I don’t want to do that any more. So I’m trusting you now and I’m asking...what can I do to help us get back to us? To the other day when you came over and despite everything we managed to spend some time together. Because that was important to me too, our friendship.” I don’t have anyone else.
“I don't know, Mickey.” She wished she had a good answer, but she didn't. There wasn't some list of tasks he could undertake to make it all better. She didn't have anything in mind. She wasn't shutting him down and saying there was nothing ever or anything, but she just didn't have anything to give him then.
Mickey. Not Michael. He tried hard not to think on that, to let it worry him, but the thought was there. After a moment he reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly, not wanting to do something that she’d recoil from, but thinking that contact might important. “I don’t know either. But I’m gonna think about it. And I’m going to do what I said, trust you.”
She nearly pulled her hand away, but in the end didn't. Or, she didn't immediately, anyhow. She gave his hand a squeeze in return, even if she was looking at the fire. Then she took her hand back. “Being trusted would be nice,” she said. “But...I think I'm going to lie back down. And you should do something that isn't being out in the rain.”
It really was that bad wasn’t it? Mickey let her hand go without an instance of hesitation then got up, almost before she said she was going to lie down. “I was planning on getting out of your way anyway. I’m sure there’s already a whole host of people who need something fixed now that the weather’s taken a turn.” He folded the towel she’d given him and set it where he’d been sitting. “Stay warm. I’ll fix the roof when the rain stops. Try and do it while you’re at work so I don’t wake you up again.” He took a step back then turned to go.
December didn't like leaving it there. She wasn't going to stop him, because she did think maybe both of them had some thinking to do and it may be best to do that while not in the same room. “This it? Or will you be back eventually?”
Mickey stopped, turning back to look at her. “Eventually tonight or just eventually?”
“Just eventually,” she answered. “I'm guessing tonight might not be the best plan.” Though not only because of what was going on with them, because of the storm. Mickey was bound to be getting calls all night long, people lining up to get shit fixed.
“Of course. Soon.” He leaned in, fingers brushing the top of her head since that was all he could reach with her sitting and him standing. “Unless you need something, then tonight.” He paused for a moment, before turning again. “Plus...door’s always open. You can come by too. But soon. You’ll see me soon.”
December nodded, and let him go, falling silent. She knew she would have trouble falling back to sleep, but she was going to try. Maybe thoughts of Serge, and meeting up with Mannix would help get her past the dark corner Mickey stood in in her mind.