Breakdown Who: Zania and Mickey Where: The playground When: Sometime after midnight
As she began to sober up, Zania’s mind began to spin, the realization of what she’d done finally coming around to bite her. Logically, she knew that sleeping with Lance shouldn’t be a big deal, but emotionally she was unravelling, wishing he hadn’t take the rest of her moonshine when he left. She wandered around town, not sure what to do with herself, feeling like she should be out when she could be out, since she’d be inside once the sun came up. Eventually she found herself on the playground swings, singing to herself as she rocked slowly back and forth. “And all the roads we have to walk are winding…”
Mickey had wound up getting wrangled into clean up for the festival, staying well after it ended to support pulling down the booths and everything else. When he finally started home it was later than he would have liked but he wasn't worried. At least not until he heard the voice. She was easy to spot when he looked her way and December's suggestions hit him, that Zania needed space, but she looked less of herself and he couldn't help himself. "You alright?" He asked, making his way towards her.
“And all the lights that lead us there are blinding…” Zania kicked a rock as she continued to swing, only half aware that someone was approaching. She was focused on the music in her head because music could get her through anything. It wasn’t until Mickey spoke that she looked up, realizing it was him. She looked at him blankly for a second, then blinked before shaking her head. “Not really,” she said, then looked back down at the ground. “How’re you?”
He didn't think she was. Mickey debated leaving, but honestly that wasn't like him and after a moment he moved to take the swing next to hers. It was an awkward fit, something far too small for his long legs, but he made it work. How long had it been since he'd been on a swing? Since before his sister had gotten sick for sure. "What happened?" he asked, not bothering to answer her question.
She debated telling him, since it didn’t seem like a good idea to tell the boy she liked about the boy she’d slept with, but since he wasn’t into her, it probably didn’t matter. Her hands twisted around the chains of the swing and she gave herself a little push. “I met this guy,” she said, letting her toes drag across the ground. “I thought… maybe I was putting too much weight on things, you know? Maybe he could just be a distraction.”
Mickey wasn't entirely sure where she was going with things, but hey, a new guy was a good start. It sucked a little, hearing that, but what right did he have? None. Honestly, Zania didn't even really want him anymore, not with everything else. So the tug of jealousy? That he kept to himself. "Okay..." He said gently, prompting her to tell more.
Her body fell forward, looking at the ground for a minute as she swang, then decided that was a bad idea. It made her head hurt worse. Shouldn’t vampires recover from a hangover faster than humans? That should be a perk. “People make it sound so easy, but I really just feel used now.” Lance was interested in seeing her again, sure, but only to screw. He hadn’t said to drop by to hang out or anything like that.
So it was that. Mickey felt something in him tighten hard, massively not sure why that was fair. Why she got to do as much and he was constantly doing the wrong thing? "Who says it's easy?" His voice was devoid of most feelings, positively neutral.
“Everyone,” she said, her voice cracking, so she stopped and attempted to compose herself before continuing. “People do it all the time, don’t they? Have a little fling and then go about their way like nothing happened.” But she couldn’t seem to make it that simple. “I wish I was like that.”
"I never said that," Mickey said. He'd had one fling in his life and it wasn't how he'd wanted it to end either. "You shouldn't have to be some way you aren't." He looked over at her finally, not sure what to say. It really wasn't fair. Even more so that some random guy was worth it and Mickey wasn't. "So you..."
“No, but… why’d you want me, then?” she asked, looking over at him briefly, her eyes red but dry. “You weren’t really looking for anything more, were you?” The second December became available, she knew he’d drop her, and she didn’t think she could handle that. As bad as this was, that would feel so much worse. “I just think it’d be easier if I didn’t care so much.”
Mickey hadn't wanted to turn this conversation into them. "I wasn't looking for anything, but if something had happened, I’m not the type to just walk away. Even know I'm holding out despite the fact that December made out with Mannix. I wouldn't have left you." He glanced at her, not letting his feelings show. "That's the case for everyone. It's be easier if you didn't care. Did you care about the guy?"
“How would that be fair to either of us?” she asked. “You staying with me because you felt obligated? It’d better this way. You still have a chance with her. Don’t settle for second best, Mickey. It feels like shit.” She wasn’t even sure Lance qualified as second best, but rather her only option on the table. “No. I don’t know. I just met him. I doubt he even remembers my name.”
"It's not..." Mickey started and shook his head. "Fine." It wasn't worth arguing and again he packed his feelings away, not saying more. "There must have been something about him you enjoyed." Though the not remembering names part, that was rough.
“It’s not what?” she sighed, looking over at him. “Am I really that wrong? I don’t want to be the one holding you back.” It really seemed like a silly thing to argue about at this point. Nothing had happened between them. It was either his fault or her fault, but it didn’t really matter now. He had a chance with December and he should be happy about it. “He seemed like a nice guy. Which is good. I don’t always pick the nice ones. But… he was just looking for a good time.”
"It's fine, Zania. It's nothing." Mickey couldn't explain to her in a way she'd understand that it wasn't second or first or anything. It was just the universe falling into place the way it did. "Just wanting a good time makes him less nice."
“Does it?” she asked. “I knew that’s all it was. I just thought I could handle it.” Lance hadn’t lied to her or anything. He’d been fairly honest, actually. It was Zania who was the problem, her emotions getting in the way of something that was just supposed to be fun.
"Nice guys usually want more," Mickey told her, but still didn't look at her. "It's why there are so few of them. Survival of the fittest wins out." He used his legs to move himself but didn't actually swing. "Why did you think you could handle it?"
“I don’t know,” she said, brushing at her eyes as they began to tear. She would not cry. She would. not. cry. “Because… I thought I would feel wanted, but I don’t.” In trying to wipe Mickey from her mind, she’d managed to make things worse. She wasn’t as preoccupied with him as she had been, but she hadn’t succeeded in making herself feel better. Not at all.
"Zania, you are wanted. He had to want you at least somewhat." And a part of Mickey wanted her. He wanted her now, especially if it would make her feel better.
“He just wanted my body,” she said, giving a rock on the ground a swift kick across the playground. She was starting to sniffle and she hated it. “It’s not the same. He doesn’t want to spend time with me, or get to know me, or stay with me while it’s light out. He just wants me to visit if I ever want to fool around again. It was supposed to make me forget about being alone and it only made it worse.”
Mickey sighed, not able to hide that. He really did have moments like these where he wished it was different. It didn't help that December had been making out with Mannix like what had passed between them was just a thing and not the thing. "I know how you feel," he said. "And I know I make it worse."
“Not as much as before,” she said with a bitter little laugh. That was one thing Lance was successful in doing, taking her mind off Mickey. “I want you to be happy. And I don’t feel like I would do that for you. But at least you know what you want. I just… I don’t know. I feel like I’m grasping for straws and coming back empty handed.”
He shook his head. "That's the point Zania. You can't be responsible for making me happy. I can't be for you. You could make you feel better or you could do that for me, but only you makes you happy." He looked ahead, shrugging. “I know what I want, but not what to do with my current situation. But I'm trying not to let it beat me down. There's something more out there. You never get more than you can handle."
Zania was quiet for a minute, letting that sink in. She knew she couldn’t make Mickey happy. Hell, she couldn’t even manage herself, let alone have someone else’s happiness resting on her. The whole thing gave her the overwhelming urge to sing and, while she was generally a good singer, drunken warblings were generally not appreciated by the masses. Still, it would make her feel better, so she leaned back in her swing, dreadlocks dangling along the ground, and sang, half upside-down. “If it makes you happyyyyyyy, it can’t be that baaaaaad. If it makes you happyyyyyy, then why the hell are you so sad?” It did make her smile, and it made the tears stop. Or maybe they were just rolling the wrong direction now. “So December made out with Mannix?” she asked, looking over at him as the blood continued to rush to her head.
Mickey rolled his eyes at her singing, letting her do what she wanted. "She did."
“So what are you going to do about it?” she asked, looking up at him.
"What can I do about it?" Mickey shook his head. "Thought about hitting him."
“You should,” she said with a small laugh. “Break his nose. It’ll fix itself.”
“If I can break his nose,” Mickey said before sighing. “I can’t decide if fighting for her makes me look like I care or a doormat and if her being willing to be with someone else just after is a sign that she doesn’t care enough.” He was sure it was something, just not sure what.
“I don’t know,” Zania answered, slowly pulling herself back to a sitting position on the swing. “I’ve always wanted a guy that would fight for me, but I’ve never had two guys like me at once.”
Mickey laughed and shook his head. “You are easy. You, I’d fight for because I know you would appreciate it. She...is not as easy.” He ran his hand over his face, then his jaw. “She thinks right now she doesn’t want to be with either of us.”
“Not a night to say I’m easy, Mickey,” she sighed, folding in half and wrapping her arms under her knees. “What the fuck does that mean? She’s got both of you wrapped around her finger and she chooses neither of you?”
“Not that kind of easy Zania. You definitely aren’t that.” He shrugged again. “Yeah. She doesn’t want to lose both of us.”
“Does that bullshit really work?” Zania asked, ignoring Mickey’s first comment because it didn’t feel true. Not tonight, at least. “If it was me, that’d still feel like rejection. But we’re obviously different.”
“It still feels like a rejection,” Mickey confirmed. “And...I know she won’t lose me. I told her as much. Even if she was with him, I’d still be around.” He was too used to having her there to put more space between them. “Which is probably just giving her a reason to go to him.”
“You know that’d suck, right?” she asked, making a face. “Being around her while she’s with him?” Zania knew she wasn’t all that fond of it from her side, so she could imagine how Mickey would feel. “I don’t know if that’s a reason. Things would be different between the two of you, if they’re not different already.”
“Losing her would suck worse,” Mickey said, shaking his head, fingers running over the bird tattoo December had given him. “Yes, but knowing she won’t lose me completely while she might lose him, that’s like having your cake and eating it.
“Well, kind of,” Zania said, sitting back up completely and beginning to swing slowly. “That’d be better fitting if she decided she wanted both of you. At least she’s not doing that.”
He glanced at Zania then nodded. “Yeah, at least that.” Or so he hoped. Not that Mickey doubted December, he wasn’t sure he trusted Mannix.
“So she said no to both of you. Maybe Mannix will be bored with that and will go find someone else,” Zania suggested. “Maybe the doors will open and he’ll wander off again.”
“Is it bad that I wish he would leave?” Mickey said, laughing at himself. “Not just because of her. Just...don’t feel comfortable around him.” And now his brother was seeing Maggie, which left Mickey more unsettled than he would like to be. “I guess I’ll see what happens.”
“That doesn’t really surprise me, but I’d have thought it was just because of her. He doesn’t really bother me,” she shrugged. She hadn’t spent a lot of time around Mannix, but he seemed nice enough most of the time. “His brother brought me flowers today. For saving his life,” she said with a small smile. “He said he would, but I didn’t expect him to remember.”
“Maybe it is mostly her, but it feels like something else, too.” Mickey really wasn’t sure. At mention of Jack he looked up, frowning. “He seem like a decent guy?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Zania said with a shrug. “He might be a werewolf though. Not that that bothers me, being what I am. I get this feeling when I’m around him, like he could kill me at any second, but I get that with my brother, too, so it’s not just Jack.” It didn’t occur to her that maybe she shouldn’t tell Mickey about the werewolves. He knew about vampires, so why not?
That made the hair on the back of Mickey's neck stand up, anxious for what it could mean. He could have put that together based on what December had told him, but he hadn't gotten that far into thinking about it. "Justin?" It was sidestepping the Jack comment, but he couldn't help it.
“Yeah. He feels dangerous now,” Zania said with a little laugh. She wasn’t entirely sure what her brother was capable of, but thinking of him as dangerous seemed silly, at least in relation to her. She knew Justin would never hurt her. “I think maybe that’s me being able to sense something’s different. It’s weird.”
That was right, her brother had gotten hurt too. "There's going to be less of us who aren't different," he mused out loud. "You really think he could be dangerous? That could be a problem."
“No, I don’t think so. I think that’s just my vampires senses,” she smiled. She didn’t know what else to call them, but she knew that Justin hadn’t really changed, not anymore than she had.
Mickey still nodded. "There'll be trouble if he hurts people. Same as you," he told her, looking over.
“Same as anyone,” Zania corrected, not liking the feeling that that might be directed at her and Justin because of what they were. If any human hurt another human, there would be trouble.
He was directing it at her for that reason. They were hunting vampires and werewolves, but only if there was an issue. "Sure," he said, not really meaning it like she wanted him to. "Just be careful. Warn him too."
“I have. I just hope he’ll listen to me.” Her brother was stubborn, but she didn’t think he was stupid. If he believed he was a werewolf, hopefully he’d take the necessary precautions and not get anyone hurt.
“I can’t even begin to imagine what the full moon is going to be like.” If they were werewolves, if any of the legends and myths were true, it would be difficult to deal with. People were going to get hurt. It was just inevitable.
“Dangerous,” Zania frowned. “I’d be willing to say it’d be a good hunt, except now I know the wolves I kill might be humans. I don’t know I like the thought of that.” Even if they were dangerous to others, what if they weren’t in control? She really hoped that all those that were bitten were prepared to deal with the moon.
Mickey tilted his head and thought about that. “Or that they could actually hurt you…” Because as giant and fast as the wolves had been, they’d still mostly moved like humans. Werewolves might be a different issue.
“Maybe,” Zania said, giving a little shrug. She wasn’t as concerned for her own safety as she probably should have been. The wolves hadn’t really hurt her and, besides, she’d been considering watching the sunrise earlier. Werewolves were the least of her concern. “Are you going to hunt them?”
Mickey cut his eyes at her. “No maybe, Zania. Probably.” He didn’t like that, the way she didn’t seem to care. “Probably. If there’s a need.” Which was his own version of a death sentence maybe, but he had more faith in himself.
“You’re worried about me being out with the werewolves, but you’re willing to go yourself,” she said, looking over at him. It didn’t make sense to her. She was faster than him and could heal. Mickey was a far bigger target, in her opinion.
“I never said I made sense.” He pushed himself, moving without moving his feet off the ground. “I worry about you. Something happening to you.”
“Why?” she said, a bitter laugh catching in her throat. “I’m invincible to everything but the sun, it seems.” At least physically she was. Emotionally, not so much.
Mickey watched her then reached out for her swing, pulling it sideways and closer to him. “Because I do care about you. Even if you don’t want me to.” His eyes watched hers, intense and close to where she was.
“But why?” Zania said, trying to read the answer in his eyes. “Why do you have to be the one who cares, when you’re the one who’s unavailable? It’s never the nice guys that really want me.” They always ended up being friends, which was fine, so long as she wasn’t interested in them either.
“Because I’m the one with the time to notice,” he told her, watching her eyes too, voice lower. Why wasn’t it different? He wasn’t with December. Not right now. Maybe not any time soon. And being with Zania would be easy, except Zania didn’t want him like she thought he did and December wasn’t completely gone.
Zania gave him a small, sad smile. She thought about laying her hand on top of his, then thought better of it. “I’m sorry. I’m having one of those nights where I just want to curl up and die. I’m not very good company.”
His eyes studied that small smile before letting go of her swing and reaching for her arm instead, pulling her towards him. “Come here,” he ordered gently.
“Why?” she asked, though she let him pull her over. His hands always felt warm on her skin, even when they were cooler than usual.
“Because I can’t stand it when you’re sad.” He wrapped his arms around her waist once she was close enough, giving her something to hold on to if she wanted it.
The second Mickey wrapped his arms around her, Zania let go, the flood of emotion overwhelming her. She began to cry, her arms wrapping back around him, taking advantage of the hold he offered. It’d been so long since she cried that this seemed like the stupidest thing to cry about, but she couldn’t help it. It was easy to handle the unavoidable obstacles, but those that she brought upon herself were so much harder to bare.
He had a feel that had been coming, but when she started, he pulled her more into his lap and against his chest. “It’s okay,” he murmured softly, pressing a small kiss to her forehead. “I promise it is.”
It didn’t feel okay. It never felt okay when her heart hurt, and it certainly didn’t help that she was crying. It always made her feel weak. She knew that crying wouldn’t help anything, but right now she couldn’t help it. She curled up against Mickey, embarrassed at her current state, but unable to turn down the comfort he was offering. “I feel like such an idiot,” she sobbed softly.
“You aren’t,” Mickey promised, rubbing small circles on her lower back. “You definitely aren’t.” He’d soothed so many tears before, but it wasn’t often that the tears made his heart hurt as well, which just made it all the harder.
“But I am. I just keep making things worse,” she cried. Maybe if she’d let Mickey kiss her that time, or if she hadn’t turned him down. Maybe if she hadn’t had as much to drink tonight, or had stopped Lance before things got too far. It felt like she was always making the wrong choices and each time it hurt worse than before.
He listened to her before kissing her forehead again and lifting her up to get her to standing and joining her. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” It was late enough already. And she’d worried him with her darker thoughts. What he wanted was her safe, then they could deal with this. He wasn’t leaving her that was for sure.
“Okay,” she sniffled, climbing to her feet. She wobbled a little bit, but it was only because her head hurt, now from crying as much as the slight hangover she still had. Zania looked around, disoriented, trying to remember which playground she was at, or which direction her house was, then slowly started walking as she wiped at her eyes. “I hate crying.”
He walked with her, one hand reaching out to catch hers, just to keep that contact. “Why? it’s normal.” Not that he was very good at it either, but it was normal.
“You almost never see men cry. Or people who have all their shit together,” she said, squeezing his hand briefly, just to confirm it was there. It felt like a lifeline right now, making sure she knew where she was going. “I feel strong enough until I start crying. Then I just feel feel weak and sad and stupid.”
Mickey shook his head. “I’ve seen plenty of men cry.” Too many months in the children’s hospital, in the part of it where the kids didn’t leave the hospital still breathing. “You aren’t weak or stupid.”
“Not over things like this. Death. Death is a good reason to cry,” Zania said, thinking of the zombies. She hadn’t felt stupid crying over Dorian’s death because if that wasn’t a time to cry, then when was? But crying because her heart hurt didn’t make it feel any better. Instead it just made her eyes swollen and her nose run. “You’re sweet to think so.”
He frowned, looking at her. “You know it hurts when you say that right?” he asked, wondering if she did.
“When I say what?” she asked, looking over at him in confusion.
“That it’s just sweet that I think you’re not an idiot or weak or stupid. I mean it. I’m not wrong.”
“I’m not saying it to hurt you,” she said, frowning as she wiped away the tears that continued to trickle slowly down her cheeks. “I’m saying it because I don’t believe it. I’d like to, but that’s how I feel.”
“And I’m saying it hurts that you shoot it down when I do believe it,” Mickey told her, squeezing her fingers.
“Why do you believe it?” she asked, since that’s where she was hung up. “I’m not trying to shoot you down, I just… I just can’t see it from your point of view.”
“Because I see it. Everything about you is strong. And you’re not stupid. You’re lonely. You’re looking for something, but you aren’t stupid.” That was how Mickey saw it, not sure if she would still believe him.
Zania gave a little nod, glad that he saw her that way, even if it wasn’t how she saw herself. She spent a lot of time wanting to appear strong, but didn’t know if she actually achieved it. Right now it didn’t feel like it. “Do you think you can spend so much time looking for something that you forget what it is?”
Mickey nodded slowly. “Of course. Or at least, why you were looking for it.” He paused for a moment as he spotted her house. “I also think you can spend a lot of time looking for the wrong thing.”
“Yeah. That too,” she agreed, seeing her house up ahead. She wanted to get inside and wash her face. She could only imagine how bad she must look at this point, eyes red and puffy, nose swollen from rubbing it. Zania swallowed, then took a deep breath, trying to pull herself back together.
“Why do you ask?” Mickey questioned, not planning on letting go of her hand or anything else for the moment. Not even so close to her house.
“Because sometimes I just feel lost,” she said, looking at the ground. It seemed she had to remember to keep walking, one foot in front of the other, to get home. “I think I’m making the right decisions to head in the right direction, but I’m not always so sure. And then I end up like this and I know I must’ve made a wrong turn somewhere. Or that I’ve forgotten where I’m going.”
Mickey nodded slowly. “I think you have to have faith that the path is laid out ahead of you already. You’re on it, you’ll go through things, but there’s something on the other side.”
“My path my be very long if I live forever,” she said, a part of her hoping that wouldn’t be the case. She’d never wanted to live forever. She hadn’t asked for this. She didn’t want to drink blood or stay inside all day. But she did like being able to listen to Mickey’s heart. It was soothing.
He shook his head. “Just lots of paths, back to back.” He didn’t stop at the walk up to her door, following after her. “I hope you do. You deserve to out live us all.”
“It means I’ll lose everyone, eventually,” she said, leading him up to her door. She had to let go of his hand to find her key, then open the front door. The house was dark, even if she suspected Clementine was in her room, asleep.
Mickey held the door open once she had it unlocked, stepping in and waiting for her so he could close it after. It was strange, dark and quiet, but he didn’t mind it. It seemed like it would be more soothing anyway.
“I think Clementine’s sleeping,” she whispered, stepping inside so Mickey could close the door behind her. She’d expected him to leave her by now, but wasn’t going to protest his company a little longer, not when she appreciated it. “This way,” she said, leading him through the dark, the moon’s light coming through the windows providing just enough light to see by.
Mickey closed the door and locked it, then followed after Zania, fingers trailing along the wall. This was not his best idea, and there was a chance he’d regret it, but he didn’t like leaving her alone.
Zania stepped into her room and turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room with a soft, yellow glow. Her room was made up of a conglomeration of everything she loved in life, somehow exploding all over the place. There were record albums on the wall, cds and ipods on wooden shelves, all labelled by hand. She had a dress form in one corner with fabric still penned to it, a bright fabric that would make a dress, when she finally got around to finishing it. There were boots, heels, and sandals pouring out of a bin near the closet, and all manner of trinkets on the dresser from jewelry to perfume to makeup she had trouble wearing these days. And there was color. The windows were covered in dark purple curtains, the bedspread an emerald green. Her sheets were golden to match the gold paint she’d flicked across the walls over the white. It had a bit of a mardi gras feel, but that’s what she was aiming for at the time. It felt like home. Zania took a seat on the bed and began to pull her shoes off. “Thanks for walking me home,” she said, giving him a smile.
He looked around the room, smiling a little at how much it looked like her. How much it felt like her. Bright colors and collections of things, like his but without the order. He watched her sit nodding, then closed the door to her room as well and went to sit with her, reaching for his own shoes. “Any time,” he told her before untying his boots and pulling them off.
“Are you staying?” she asked when she realized he was taking his own shoes off. Maybe him coming this far in should have been a clue, but she’d thought he only wanted to make sure she got to bed. She didn’t mind him staying, but it still surprised her.
He nodded before pushing his shoes away then pulling off the flannel shirt he had off, leaving him in just the undershirt. “Yeah. I am.” Normally he might have asked, but he was pretty sure Zania just needed the company.
“Okay,” she said with a small smile, pausing for a second while he pulled off his undershirt. She didn’t tend to wear a lot to bed, which left her wondering what she had that she could wear around Mickey. Grabbing a tank top and a pair of boxers out of her dresser, she headed for the bathroom. “I’m just gonna wash my face. I’ll be right back.”
He was quiet when she left, nodding then working his way out of his pants. It might be too much to just sleep in his underwear, but there was no point in being uncomfortable. With that done, he stretched out on her bed, waiting for her to come back.
It felt good to wash her face and change her clothes, to get out of her bra and put on something comfortable. When she returned, she saw that Mickey had made himself comfortable and she climbed up on the bed beside him before turning off the light. It was dark in the room. Darker than the rest of the house because of the curtains. She was tempted to open them so she could see him, but knew that wouldn’t do. She couldn’t fall asleep with them open. “Thank you for staying with me,” she said, turning on her side to face him.
Once she was settled he reached for her, pulling her closer to his chest. “Of course. Any time.”
She hadn’t wanted to cross a line that he didn’t want crossed, but once he pulled her against him, Zania curled up, arm over his chest and her head against his shoulder. The covers didn’t make her warm like being close to him did. It was the kind of thing she didn’t know she was lacking until she felt the warmth radiating off him.
Again, it probably wasn’t the right thing to do. Not when he was considering how easy it would be to kiss her or something, but also at the same time, that wasn’t what he was there for. He wasn’t angling for that. And he wasn’t sure if anything had changed. “Rest,” he told her snuggling against her as well. “And have sweet dreams.”
“You too, Mickey,” she said, closing her eyes. She kissed his chest, then hugged him tight for just a second, then let her fingers play with the cotton of his undershirt for a moment. A part of her wanted to enjoy the feel of him there, holding her, but then she had to remind herself that he didn’t mean it like that. He was just there to make her feel better and it was working. She just needed to let her mind stop spinning and go to sleep.