—chapter nine.

  ❛ big dumbass energy ❜  

THE PROS AND CONS OF TELLING THE COWORKER YOU'RE SLIGHTLY FRIENDLY WITH about your failure as a person in the midst of a sort-of possibly romantic situation: a list by Elodie Verbeck.

Pros: bonding with a coworker, getting quality advice about little-known topics, feeling a little less alone in the great big scary world...

Cons: being a terrible liar and horrible at making up tall tales creates the issue that no matter what is said, Charles Alonso will know exactly what, who, and why you're talking about.

In summary, Elodie Verbeck had screwed herself (and not in a good way).

"I never thought such a day would come. Is this the first sign of a great big apocalypse, or what?"

Elodie meant well. Selfishly, she wanted help, knowing that her limited (and quite negative) experiences with romance was just going to lead her down a bad path. She was confused, and quite lost, and Charlie seemed like the best bet. He was wise beyond his years and always friendly no matter the day or time, leading to usually pleasant conversations. He always acted like he was there  for her, and she supposed he was - for what little she allowed him to be.

So, she had swallowed her pride, and asked him for advice.

"Just shut up about it already."

Which had been a big, fat, miserable mistake.

He guessed she was talking about Diego right away (he hadn't known his name, but judging by the way her cheeks heated up, it wasn't hard to know he was talking about the right guy). And that had lead down a horrible rabbit hole of questions, and chuckles, and her composing her last will and testament on a bar napkin, believing this exposure was going to be the death of her that night.

(sadly, it hadn't killed her yet. but there was still time for that, she had to hope.)

"Oh, no, I don't think I can - this is too good to ever shut up about. Who knew that was lurking underneath all that rough'n'tough gristle?"

Elodie rolled her eyes behind her coat collar. "Screw off."

"You know, you might be one of us after all."

"Huh?"

"You know...hopeless and pining, emotion-driven and-"

"-don't you dare pin that bullshit on my name."

Charlie just chuckled harder. Which in turn, made Elodie a little angrier.

"Don't you have anything better to do?"

"No, I think I'm set - hey, should I tell Claire, too? I-"

"-no!" yelped Elodie, tugging him back before he could shout out to their coworker. "Share this and you will die, Charles. An'I mean that."

Charlie chuckled but still quieted. He stepped back and his arms crossed, watching her bundle up. "Did you say anything else?"

"After that? No, I couldn't. I mean, we went from one thing to another and then I'm calling him like that, after he -" she stopped herself short. "Just--"

No way was she going to give him more ammunition. She had already had a hard time asking for advice from someone on her drunk conversation (that she wished she could block out of her memory forever), there was no way in this cruel world that Elodie was going to blurt out the worst bit of the matter. Not even to someone like Charlie.

Instead, she swallowed back the words and straightened up. "It's just not something I -- I don't know what to do now. With him."

"Just...just be honest."

"About what? Say what?"

Charlie shrugged. His focused went to the shelf he leant upon; worn hands shifted back the bottles too close to the edge, making easy work of a could-be quite bad accident. "I dunno. I don't write the president's speeches for a reason; words aren't my forte, and you know that."

"Well, sure, but you're better at'im than me." She scratched her head absent-mindedly. "And I don't want to...you know. Say the wrong shit."

His gaze softened a little. "You're not gonna say the wrong thing."

But I always do, she mused, deep in the recesses of her mind. Outwardly, she just shrugged. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."

"Oh-ho no, you can't just turn on this now."

"On what? I'm just gonna go home and live my life."

"You like this guy, and-"

"-gross words, and wrong, too." Elodie felt like a kid again; small and running too hot, looking for a way out of the conversation but with all the doors slamming in her face. Fuck. "Let's just let this go."

Charlie followed close behind her pacing. "You are a horrible liar, Elodie."

"Yeah, that's what everyone says, and yet I've gotten this far on my world of lies. I don't know if I should believe 'em."

"Who really believes you when you lie?"

"More than you'd think."

"I will never believe that. Or you."

To that, she only shrugged, parka zipped up right to her chin. She did not bother with the gloves or hat - leaving in the daytime for once meant catching the bus, which meant she only had to shuffle onto the chilly vehicle and not brave the cold. "Dear Charles, I'm a woman of many means."

"Oh, I do not doubt that. I am doubting, though, that you have any idea how to lie, because I can see right through your game."

"What game?"

"Elodie..." His tongue clicked; it reminded her of Grandmother, and not in a good way. Her blood ran a little hotter. "You don't have to be embarrassed."

Her smile tightened. "See ya, Charlie. Have a good shift."

"You're allowed to be a kid, you know?"

She swallowed back the adolescent angst threatening to come out then, screaming that she never got to be a kid, and why should this be different? Her eyes shifted to the door, her escape. "Night, Charles. Thanks for your help."

"You hold yourself too high, girl."

Her lips pursed. "Ha. If only you knew." 

She finally bid him ado, realising the time and the need to catch the bus. Elodie waved goodbye to Claire and then to Charlie, silently begging him to keep his mouth shut about her brief vulnerability. He winked and mimed zipping his lips, and for just a moment, she thought that maybe telling people about the zoo running rampant in her mind might not be so bad of an idea.

She squashed that idea just as fast as it came.

The wonderful thing about public transit was that it was cheap and if one timed it right, efficient. The horrible thing was that one never knew who else had timed it right, and was often stuck sandwiched in between two strangers wondering just what to expect that time. Elodie was lucky to find a seat right next to the bar so she was not right next to the person on her left, but to her right sat a drippy nose who had to talk as loudly as possible on his cell, yelling at a Kevin in a way that made Elodie shudder. She knew she had a bad mouth, but she had never been that vulgar.

The ride was only twenty minutes, though, and then she was hurrying from the stop to her building, hoping she had not contracted a cold by association. She had no time to be sick. Elodie stomped off her boots, brushed off the flakes settled on her toque and jacket, and hurried into the lobby and into the warmth.

Luckily no one was in the elevator that day and she could hop in freely, brushing off the snow that had settled to coat her in the mere moments of leaving the bus. Just a block away and she was covered in white. She rifled through her mail as the elevator rose, frowning at the repeating pattern of the same beige and white envelopes. Nothing stood out past the bills and reminders, and so she passed the curiosity off and dropped her hands back to her side. 

The elevator dinged and she stepped off, slipping out her apartment key to hold in the hand not filled with bills. Her fingers fumbled with it and struggled to push it through the lock, and the long moments only made her mood sour faster. She was cold, soaked with snow and the bills in hand were feeling heavier by the second - was it always such a monster of a lock to work with? 

But finally, the beast gave way and Elodie fell in. She set the bills down on the tray table and sighed, shrugging off her soaked coat with a grumble. So lost in the dour actions, it completely slipped her mind that all the lights were on. Only too late, did she look up, pondering the oddity when-

"Finally, I-"

-the woman screamed, just as one would when seeing a darkly lit figure alone in her home, all lights on, who had suddenly lunged her way. With only a split second of time before said figure inevitably attacked, and with nothing but fear then coursing through her veins, Elodie threw the only thing left in her hand: her keys.

Which, of course, collided straight into the person's head as he moved forward, causing them to fall back and groan.

"Ow!"

"Holy crap - Diego?!"

"No shit!"

Elodie stared at him, mouth agape. "Why the hell are you here - did you break into my apartment?!"

"I didn't!" he protested, clutching at his head. "I mean, I - but - I - you weren't home."

"Why didn't you let me know ahead of time!"

"I did!"

"Don't you think I would'a not been so fuckin' scared if I knew?!"

"I-oh."

He then stopped, a sheepish expression slipping onto his face. "I left you a note...?"

"What note?"

"On the door!"

"On the-" Elodie stopped, and for a second she really did want to genuinely facepalm. "You mean this slip of paper lying face down on the floor in front of my door? Dude, I am not going to see that! Am I supposed to stare at the floor as I walk!?"

"Okay, well -- it is not my fault you have crap tape!"

"Now you're insulting my tape?" Elodie retorted, reaching down to untie her boots. "Jeez, dude, you are really pushing my buttons."

"I just - I - yeah, okay, I'm sorry."

His apology was so genuine, that she had to stop and take it in. When she glanced back up to him, he was just standing there, stiff as a board and looking as forlorn as a lost kitten. It was then, too, that she noticed the awkward way he held his arm, and thought about why he was there - and oh, hadn't she been the one to tell him to come 'whenever he needed help'?

Elodie's sour mood dissipated into something a little sweeter; she didn't hate him, and she wasn't really mad at him being there (even if she had contemplated his existence in her life for the entirety of her bus ride home). It was better than him licking his wounds alone, if anything.

She sighed and tugged off her boots, setting them off to the side to dry off. She hopped over the puddle formed, mis-matched socks curling into the warmth of carpet as they landed. Her hands found their place on her hips as she stared at him, waiting for him to speak.

He did not, however. 

She huffed. "What happened?"

"What?"

"I'm assuming you're here for that," a hand left her hip to gesture towards him, waving through the stale air. "I don't see you as someone who likes to play tea party, and I doubt you're here to just see me, so-oo...?"

Diego blinked. "You're not- you're not upset."

"Oh, I'm right pissed that you didn't find a way to announce your presence gently, and that you had to scare the right shit outta me - but I'm glad you're not dead." She was speaking faster than her thoughts could process, leaving her scrambling for words and speaking from pure feelings (a poor choice, but adrenaline didn't let her stop and consider it). "I'm glad you're here. Not glad you're here, but like - you know - you're not dead, and you're here, which is...godfawkwhatever."

She moved away from him to head into the tiny kitchen, eager to shut herself up before she never could. She reached into her cabinets and grabbed two mugs, preparing tea like everything was perfectly normal.

Which it wasn't. Obviously. Nothing about any of it made sense, and it was really destroying everything inside of her that made her a civilized human being - but what was she else to do? She couldn't admit how freaked out she was, and really why, so making tea was her next best bet.

"Out of curiosity...how did you get in here?"

"Oh. Window."

Her movements slowed, nearly halting before she picked momentum up again. "And that's not creepy at all."

"You did leave it open."

"What?"

Diego was leaning against the wall, seemingly both to support his weary figure and to accent whatever cool-guy approach he was going for that day. He was watching her hands move, eyes flitting with the quick motions and the way her fingers flew through the practised routine. "It was open. Closed, now. But, you know...am I really in the wrong if you're the one inviting people in?"

"Normal people just, you know, use the door."

"I-I know."

Once more, his response was soft, and she wasn't sure why it made her heart twinge like that. Elodie's frown softened again. She didn't look at him, mostly because knowing he was looking at her was difficult enough, she couldn't have that intensity just yet - but she did consider quite hard, what she had seen. And heard, and knew.

Jeez, she needed to toughen up her heart.

"Tea?" Elodie's hand flew up the second his mouth opened, forming a retort that he would never be allowed to speak. "Not a question, actually. You're havin' some. I know you liked it the last time."

She began to fill the kettle up and chose to plug it in that time. Once that was done, she was pulling out the makeshift equipment stored away from last time, and gesturing for him to head back to the couch. "Let me see those boo-boos, Robin Hood."

Diego groaned. "God, I should've-"

"-should'a, could'a. You're the one who broke in, you gotta pay the price now."

"What are you, the mob?"

"Shuddup. I promise I'll be gentle." Elodie chuckled then, "maybe."

"Oh, I'm terrified."

"You should be."

He tilted his chin up, smirking as she came close. Even with bumps and scrapes all across his face - and was that a gash, staining his forehead, how had she not seen that before? - he was a charmer. "Kidding."

"Hilarious. Now sit there and think about your decisions, I'll bring your tea."

As she headed back into the kitchen, Elodie cringed; she sounded like a mom, scolding her child after he played in the mud and made a mess. Was it becoming so obvious, that the only person she cared for anymore was a freakin' nine-year-old?

"Hey," Diego called, his voice hardly lifting to carry into the kitchen. "So, what - what were you saying, the other night?"

In her confusion and shock of him being there, she had forgotten all about that. How, she had no clue, but at that moment, Elodie was faced with the realisation that he, of course, was going to call up her stupid little conversation sent when she was far too out of it to think, clearly.

Her voice shook a little when she responded. "Huh?" Ever the poetic sort.

"Come on. You know what I mean."

"Nope. Not at all."

"Oh, come on!" His voice wavered, not of pain but laughter; he was laughing, dammit. Should she just run for the door and leave him to succumb to his wounds? They weren't bad enough to kill him, but...

 "You can't make me forget all that."

Elodie poked her head around the corner. "Can so. This is my place, I make the rules. And when I say, we don't talk about that, we don't talk about that, else you can head right out the same way you came in."

"Oh come on..."

She huffed. "I was drunk. That's all. Drop it."

"Oh, no, I-"

"-don't make me kick you out, Robin Hood."

"You wouldn't want that, would you?"

"If you keep asking, yes, yes I would."

He fell quiet, but without seeing his face, she could have no clue why or what he was thinking. Elodie was set to prepare the tea and wait for someone to speak, or something to happen, or hell, for some divine being to descend from the heavens and tell her this was all a joke and she could continue on with reality once more.

None of those three options happened, of course. 

"Alright," she hummed, "here you go. If it's not good, feel free ta'get some honey or milk...y'know, whatever."

Diego begrudgingly took the cup and it was then she could properly see his face, softened a little during the interval of their quips back and forth. He smiled a little, taking it from her hands, and she did her best not to have a reaction back. 

Elodie turned away, setting her own mug down, and began to move into the somewhat familiar actions of before. With tentative fingers, she reached to his face and began to wipe the blood away with a quickly staining white rag. He grimaced but held still, letting her work on the wound as best as she could. Not that she could do much more than clean it, with no medical supplies or skills in the field, but it was still something.

She would have recommended him stitches, or at least a professional to look it over, but c'est la vie - she was not his mother. Thank goodness. One day, she would have to applaud the patience of that woman.

Her gaze flicked down and while her one hand continued to focus on his face, she patted the previously injured bicep. "How's your arm?"

"S'fine. Thanks."

"Hm-mm."

They fell into a silence, her studying his face and trying to clean it up as much as she could, and him sitting stone-faced with the occasional shiver of pain. There was a lot both of them wanted to say, or perhaps even do, but neither of them said a thing aside from quiet murmurs, asking if this was alright and him assuring her gently that it was, thanks.

Finally, though, Diego's hand twitched up and stopped her arm. Elodie paused and looked his way, only realising then how close their faces were. Though, she did not move. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Huh?"

"I shouldn't come in like this, sayin' nothing and expecting something. I shouldn't have com, and m'sorry." His eyes were wide and if she ever had to say a being looked like a puppy dog, it would be him, a doe-eyed charmer who did genuinely seem to mean that. "M'sorry to do this to you."

Elodie, with a little sigh, moved back and set her rag down. She sat back on her haunches and tried to smile at him, though it was probably a watery failure of any genuine emotion. Still, it was hard to give anything real when she still had no idea how she felt on the situation, or what to do about it - there were no rulebooks or Cosmopolitan magazine articles that told someone how to do any of this. Even if there were, they would fall flat, advice wise.

"Don't be sorry," she said, voice hardly above a gruff mumble. "I'm the one who told you to come back, yeah? Sure, I'd appreciate a head's up, but...it's whatever. You're here and you don't need to say shit about it."

"I do-"

"-I don't want to hear it, though," she retorted. Elodie slid back forward and resumed her work, licking moisture back into her lips before speaking again. "I hate apologies. They're garbage. Means nothing. You came here, showed up, and now I'm going to help you out. Wasn't like I had anywhere else to go tonight, so it's fine."

She turned his head so he faced forward, her hand grazing the white scar traced back into his hairline. Still, he glanced her way, watching her move out of the corner of his eye. He hesitated, clearly wanting to say something but not knowing either what or if it was right to say.

Before he could speak though, she was pulling back and dropping the rag, smoothing his hair back with a little grin. "All done."

"Thanks," he sighed, rolling his neck. He adjusted himself carefully, clearly aching but too proud to say a thing about it. "Maybe you're not so bad of a nurse."

Elodie frowned. "Nurse? Oh, no, I am a doctor. Don't demote me, dude."

"My bad - doctor."

"Much better."

"Has a ring to it," he smiled, rolling back his bottom lip to bite. He had a habit of that - she was not sure how she felt on it. "Doctor Verbeck."

"Does sound nice."

She thought about moving back more, still so close to his face, but for some reason, she remained frozen. He then only got nearer, turning so with just one more movement, the two of them would be touching. His face had softened, so much so that it seemed like years had rolled away in mere seconds, and his eyes shifted for a second from her eyes to her lips. Just one glance, and she knew what was to come next.

But the delicious toxin that was panic set in, yanking Elodie back just as he moved in. She fell as gracelessly as an elephant; that was, thumping her butt angrily against the hardwood floor in a way that would surely leave a mark, then scrambling up to her feet. She was running hot and cold, a phenomenon she never counted on, and struggled to even think of a way to calm herself down.

Diego, too, had shifted, though in a completely different way. The calm had dissolved and was replaced with a tight-lipped frown, him getting up to stare at her. A silent 'what' formed itself, then died on his lips. 

"Had to get up," she forced out, as though that made any sense at all. Her arms crossed across her chest and her fists folded against her thin shirt, trying to keep the flush contained. "Um...sorry."

"W-"

-she was already pulling away, though, before he could finish. Elodie wanted to say more, so much more, but all she could do was choke back her panic and try to not think about the shitshow caused.

Course, it was his fault considering he was the one there, pulling up randomly to see her, and then trying to - dear sweet whatever was up above, Elodie was going to lose her shit. She could not deal with that right then, not anymore, not with so much on her plate. It was bad enough that she had to care, worse that it had all erupted to be so much in such a short amount of time - but of course, it had. And there they were, at her apartment, with cooling tea and a bunch of bloodied rags to tell for the sorrowful tale.

He was moving behind her, but she dared not look his way. Could not look his way.

She wanted to, though. There was still that part of Elodie that felt for him and had wanted to let him move forward, close the gap, cut away from the conversation and all the worries of the real world. Maybe she should have stayed still.

"I-I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't," she sighed, nails scraping at her skin, white rivets carved into the flesh as she tried not to say how she really felt. "You're fine. Um...if you need anything else, I got-"

"-I'm good, thanks. I'm gonna head out."

"You don't have to."

"Nah, I do."

Her shoulders rolled back and her head lifted, though she dared not look at him - could not look at him without breaking. Instead, she focused on the counter, the swirls and grooves of the wood, and breathed slowly in. "I just - it's not that I didn't want to kiss you."

"Okay, no. We are not, we do not-"

"-let me speak," she said, before swivelling to face his direction. "For all its worth. You're a swell guy, Mr Hood, I just can't do - do a thing with anyone. Right now." Right ever, most likely. "I mean, I don't even have my own shit together."

Diego snorted mirthlessly. He tried to play off it all in the same way he always seemed to, completely with a roll of his neck and a saunter over to his things. He didn't look her way. "I wasn't expecting anything, no worries."

"Well, don't say it like that. You gotta know that like, I want-" she bit her tongue with a groan. "This isn't where I expected this shit to go."

"I get-"

"-you know you're hot, right?"

He stopped, stock-still.

"And I," Elodie hesitated, trying and failing to hold her resolve as she realised her actions. "I respect you dude, I think you seem like genuinely okay. But I - I can't - fuck you."

"What?"

"Didn't mean that. Ignore that."

Diego crossed his arms and smirked. "You're confusing, you know that?"

"Ha. Yeah. M'aware." She laughed, but it was dry and sounded more like a sob than anything. "I think I'm blowing this."

"Nah, you're not."

She squinted his way. "What's that mean?"

"I...dunno."

"Okay. Well...I..." was it so obvious to him that it had been aeons, since she had a chat like this? "I can't do anything serious, right now. If that's what the hell you're looking for. And if you're not, than good! And if you don't want anything, than-"

"-I'm not looking for serious, either!"

She blinked and looked up at him again. "You're not?"

"No...?"

"Oh. Nice. So you're saying I could'a just summed this up with 'you're a hot kisser' and moved on? Cause this is really fuckin' up my emotional stamina, and you should know I'm not good with conversations before-"

"-if you want me to leave, I'll go."

Elodie blinked again, surprised and a little confused. "Oh. Uh - no, I don't want you to go."

"Okay."

He took a step forward, then another.

"You should know, I am a very complicated person," she blurted.

He shrugged. Another step. "So m'I."

"I'm not a very good person, either."

"Doubt that."

"It's true!"

He shrugged, moving impossibly closer. "Fine. Neither am I."

"Diego-"

"-if you want me to go, or stop, I'll stop. You don't have to see me again."

"Stop asking me if I want you to go - I don't want you to go! Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Then what do you want?"

She stopped, breath hitching in her throat. "I..."

He was close, closer than ever before, toe to toe with her in the dimly lit living room.

At that point, Elodie had worked herself up to the point of total and complete curiosity. Over the man in front of her.

She could not muster up any more fervour, just found herself mumbling a very soft, "can I kiss you?"

Hesitantly, Diego nodded, barely moving his head against her own.

Her body pressed forward then, hands moving to his biceps and pulling him impossibly closer to her. And just before her lips hit his, she whispered an ever so soft, "don't go".

UPDATED NOTE - the awkwardness in this remastered version of this fic is so...ah, que c'est pas the words to sum it up??

Before, this was accidentally awkward to read, now it's a little bit more purposeful. The first draft read more like a bad erotica's beginning and I cringed heavily - it was far too obvious that I had very little romantic history. And now...well, again, the awkwardness is actually purposeful.

I've written 'awkward' way too much now. But oh well. 

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought. :)