—chapter six.

  ❛ well, this was an experience. ❜  

WHEN SHE WOKE UP, AT FIRST, ELODIE HAD FORGOTTEN all about the happenings of the night before.

It was like every morning, really. Maybe the only difference was her outfit, a part of her wasn't sure why she had actually worn pajamas to bed that time, but her half-asleep mind brushed past that easily. Elodie had done what she always did; yawned, stretched, and cursed the world for allowing her to wake up again to such a miserable world. She rolled out of bed, forcing her tired limbs to function, lifting her out of bed and out. It was only nine, she wasn't sure why she was up so early, but-

"-oh, shitballs."

As though propelled by the devil herself, Elodie collapsed back onto her bed facedown and screamed into her pillow with all the fear, horror, and shock she could strum up.

Diego was there.

Diego, as in from-the-bar-douchebag-who-wasn't-so-much-of-an-asshole-as-she-first-thought-but-still-confused-her-to-no-end, Diego.

Diego Hargreeves, she reminded herself blearily - at least she had gotten a last name out of this entire debacle. It didn't offer much comfort, but still...

"...stupid, stupid, stupid, you crazy loser woman, you," was all Elodie could repeat to herself, declaring insult after insult as her honourary titles. She her weight from her stomach to back, just so she could properly smack her face with the pillow below. "You-" smack "-weird-" smack "-dumb-" smack "-ugh--!"

He was there. In her apartment. A place that no other human being had stepped foot since the debacle of '09. After she had cleaned his wounds and played doctor, and after she had threatened him with a fork in order to make sure he stayed.

She, Elodie no-middle-name Verbeck, was digging her own grave.

Her face-to-pillow routine paused, however, when a thought crossed her mind: what if he wasn't even there anymore? He had been when she had hit the sack, but that was several hours ago, and who was to say how stubborn the man really was. Maybe he had just left as he said he would have.

She sighed and sat up on the bed again. Her mind was reluctantly decided; while it would be much easier to devote her life to a single-roomed apartment, it would be a dreadfully short existence, and she was certain that if he was still there, Diego would find a way to chop the door down. Or something stupid like that. And while it would be easier for her to ignore her past actions, it wasn't right - and considering she had been the fool to bring him there, she had to be the fool to accept her actions, too.

Elodie made her way through the tiny room, swapping her tank top out for a sweatshirt and piling her hair up onto the top of her head. Pieces of it stuck out every which way, and she hated how frizzy it had gotten from her restless sleep patterns, but it'd have to do.

Five minutes later and her teeth were brushed, she had found socks (not matching, but that was no surprise) and made herself smell less like sleep and more of, well whatever the semi-opposite of that would be. Elodie yawned once more before even daring to open the door, stretching out her back and shoulders to the brink of pain just as she did most mornings.

Only that morning was wildly different. She was not stepping out to an empty apartment like she normally would, free of noise and people and really her only place of peace left in such a miserable city. It was a warzone; a catastrophe waiting to erupt; a murder-mystery novel just itching to reveal its act three; a place of terror inspiring too-intense emotion that crawled through her mind like termites, eating away at her conscience.

Or something like that.

Elodie stepped out cautiously, then stopped to survey the scene. It was all mostly how she left it the night before, only with the 'equipment' stacked on her armchair and the blankets spread across her couch rather than on the table. And speaking of, the couch was not bare like it had been last night, rather lumpy to say that perhaps there was a being under the grey and white stripes. A tussle of black hair peeked out from underneath and she could see some movement, very limited but still, signs of life that she could attribute back to him.

So, he was still there.

The woman bowed her head and kept her footsteps light, walking carefully into the kitchen. With such a small apartment, everything was within a couple of feet and she was certain noise would awake the sleeping beast. If he was still there like she had made him be, well she might as well play a good host.

Though, what did that exactly entail? It had been a while since someone had slept over, and in such circumstances. She did not do guests, and the only sleepover she had ever had ended in flames and tears. She had no clue how to care for people that were not under the age of ten or past retirement. Especially not grown men with an affinity for spandex and stab wounds.

Elodie eventually just shrugged and began to sift through her kitchenette. Admittedly, it was pretty bare out of substantial meals; she had forgotten about grocery shopping, and had just about nothing to stand as proper breakfast. But at least she had eggs and stale bread. She shrugged before setting it all out, removing her tiny collection of spices too. 

"Hopefully you don't have an allergies," she huffed to herself, "cause you get what you get. Mr Hargreeves."

She felt weirdly domestic, standing there and cooking a meal for more than one person. How long had it been since she had done that? Even when she lived with others, feeding herself had never been high on priority lists, and she sucked at picking up on any cooking skills. Grandmother had tried to teach her, but she got too frustrated, and then distracted and before long the older woman had kicked her out. She was left with simple skills, knowing what tasted good and when burnt was too burnt and how to feed herself and occasionally Ellis, but...

Maybe she was trying too hard. After all, he was already staying over, could that be enough? He already got a bed, her support and a whole lot more conversation then she'd ever give another living soul...he could just want to zip out and go, and that would be the last time she saw him. Maybe that was what she wanted, also.

(But a part of Elodie knew, no matter how she suppressed it, how exciting it all was - and that she liked the interruption in the normally disheartening shitshow she had grown to tolerate.)

The eggs hit the pan one by one and slowly, Elodie stirred them around, breaking them down so they eventually formed scrambled bits clustered on the pan. Her movements were sloppy and little bits of egg flew about, but to give her credit, it had been a while since she had cooked more than one portion in that pan. And at least, in the end, it did look like scrambled eggs.

"If bartending doesn't work out..." she chuckled to herself. "Can't wait to start the worst food truck this city's seen."

Eventually, Elodie found herself wrapped up in the motions of cooking. Too easily, did she become so focused on preparing a half decent meal - as though it was more than eggs on toast. But it was nice, and she didn't mind the chance at a proper breakfast herself. So many mornings she slept in and headed out half-dressed and a cup of tea spilling all over the carpet - she couldn't even remember a day lately where she had a good meal. Maybe she should take up the task. It did feel good to-

"-hey."

And with that, the spell was broken.

At the sound of another's voice, Elodie's hands promptly stopped and she squealed, loud and shrill and proper. Even as the sounds left her lips, she was flushing red, realising her mistake. 

Diego stood behind her counter, hair sticking up all over from sleep and eyes lidded, still, but making that silly little half-smirk he always made at her antics. How had she forgotten about the very man she was making this stupid meal for?! 

He crossed his arms over his black top, albeit a bit slow to protect the bandages, and raised a brow. "Are you alright?"

"I'm great. I'm fine. I'm, uh, cooking."

"I can see that."

Elodie turned back around and busied herself with the plates. "You sleep okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, again."

"S'nothing, I wasn't going to just kick you out." Of course, she had considered it, but only because she was not sure what the procedure was after helping an injured dude patch himself up again. She still wasn't sure if she made the right call. "You, uh, hungry?"

"Nah, you've already-"

"-I did not make this meal and spend far too long cooking it just for you to say you don't need it," Elodie frowned, and even with the jest in her tone she sounded genuine. She spun with the plates in hand and shoved one his way, waiting for him to sink into a seat. "Just sit and eat."

She never meant to sound so harsh, but perhaps she did - Elodie really did not know how else to talk to him. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism. It was not as though she could just be honest about how weird this all was, or fake some sort of character because sure they had only met three times or so, but he most certainly knew her. So, she dealt with the same way she would deal with anyone she knew a bit more than absolutely nothing; blunt, forward, yet shut off and forced back so he could not get through her walls.

And so she ate from a distance, holding her plate up and chomping down on her toast with a fervour of an angry viking. Elodie tried not to think too hard, for fear of overthinking, but her mind did wander and even subconsciously, things grew grim.

At least he would interrupt her thoughts before they got to be too much, him coughing and swallowing before lifting his gaze to her. "Why're you doing this?"

"Doing...what?"

"This. Takin' care of me, letting me crash on your couch, feeding me...thought you said something about not having any interest in me."

Elodie frowned through a mouthful of egg, "nevwer swaid vat." She swallowed. "Never said that."

"Uh-huh. Multiple times."

"Nuh-uh."

"I was there, I think I'd remember."

"I was there, too, dingbatass!"

Diego frowned, but it was obvious he was trying not to break into a grin. "Dingbat...ass?"

"Yep," she retorted, standing behind her words with little pride. "Does it matter, though? Can't I just a nice person? I could do this like every other night of the week, you know."

"You don't seem the sort to be interested in charity work."

"Did you really just call yourself charity work?"

Diego shook his head with a scoff, "m'saying that's what you think this is. I'm a damn blessing who could've just taken care of himself."

"You came into my work!"

"As a halfway point, not as a fuckin' hospital!"

"Language in the presence of a lady, asshole."

"Fuc'off with that."

She stuck her tongue out at him; he grinned and repeated his same overplayed (and pointless) argument all over again.

The brunette swung around to place her plate to one side of the sink before grabbing her kettle. As she stood over the sink, waiting for the silver pot to fill up, she shrugged. "Look, pal. You came into my work, and you needed help whether you'll say it or not. I was there to help. Simple as that."

"It's not just 'that simple'."

"And why the hell not?"

He frowned. "You -- I don't know. People don't just do this."

"Huh?"

"I mean, I don't ever do this," he gestured with his fork at the plate in front of him, then the apartment, "unless things happened and for some reason in the morning, they don't want to kick me out just yet."

Elodie's adrenaline was raising, maybe too high, and she turned around to hide her trembling fingers. Carefully, she plugged in the kettle, though she didn't switch it on. Still with her back turned, she pressed her hands against the metal, growing warm from both her own anxieties and the water boiling within. After a moment or two, she twisted around, though still with one hand behind her back.

"Do you want me to kick you out? That it?"

"Okay, no, but-"

"-then just eat your food and, I don't know. Relax for a moment, Diego, let yourself breathe. Refuel your chakras or something, whatever you want to say that'll float your boat. Eat my damn eggs and then you can scoot."

To her surprise, he did exactly that. His head bent down to hide that dip of a change of expression Elodie couldn't catch. And he ate, though a bit faster that time, while she waited for the water to boil. 

She practically rejoiced when it had, eager to escape the awkwardness of their silence. Her hands moved without even thinking; they found the tea bag and mugs with the practiced grace of a well-trained addict. She smiled softly as it stepped, before turning around and dropping into a blank stare.

"Tea?"

"Nah." He paused. "Didn't think you'd be a tea person."

"Me neither, but it's soothing. You should try it."

"I'm good."

But Elodie could not just have that, and with another tiny smile, she prepared another mug. Her foot tapped out a steady rhythm as she worked. Her hands traced silent lyrics into the burning porcelain, finding solace in the bubbling heat sinking into her trembling fingertips. 

"Try it," she finally said, turning to hand him the large cup. "I've got honey n'milk, no sugar left if that's what you like."

Diego leant back in his seat. "I said, I'm good."

"And I say I like the Beatles just so that my coworker won't kick my ass. Drink it, 'else I'll like, I don't know. Keep you locked up here or something."

He mumbled something that sounded a little like would that be such a bad thing, but she tried to disregard that. Elodie took her own mug and sipped tentatively as he fidgeted with the cup. Seeing that she would not relent, he sighed and added in a bit of honey, raising it to his lips before pausing.

"You didn't poison this, right?"

"I swear if you don't-"

-he grinned and finally sipped at the drink, pausing and bringing it down again. Feeling her eyes on him, Diego glanced up and dramatically rolled his eyes. "What? I tried it."

"And?"

"It was...fine."

"Damn you, Diego," Elodie shot out, biting back her own grin at his laugh. She really did want to smile that time; she never was a person to like a laugh, but she liked his. It was soft, but hearty, and there was an addictive nature to it that made her want to hear it over and over again.

Not that she would share that with him.

"HEY, WAIT."

He paused in the doorway but did not turn around. He craned his head, though, to look her way. "Yeah?"

"I know I'm not the most pleasant human being ever, all the time."

"You don't say?"

"Shut it. I'm trying to be nice here, you know."

Diego grinned. "doin' great so far."

Her fist clenched and she very nearly raised her hand to flip him off, but decided instead to cross her arms and hold that back. Maybe not the time. "I mean, I know I'm not the greatest being in this world, but I want you to know...ugh!"

He smiled, and she wanted to smack it right off. "That's your speech?"

"You know what, I am trying to be hospitable and tell you that you can trust me, but your talking back is not appreciated. At all! You're making me regret all of this, actually."

Diego leant his weight against her door frame, full-on smirking at that point. If she wasn't so pissed, she might have appreciated the morning glow hitting his face, smoothing out the normal pain he wore so easily, but as it were-

(She did notice. But to hell with such poetic trash; she'd not turn a cheek no matter what or who it was.)

"I know I was joking around before, but I don't...I..." she groaned and pressed a hand to her forehead, pounding the palm of it as though to jostle out the words she was struggling to say. "If you need help again, I mean...you know where I work. And I wouldn't mind helping again. Lending a hand. You know. Whatever."

"Okay, I-"

"-I might not be a certified doctor, but I do for some reason have a tonne of gauze that I've got to use up. And I can work on my beside manner, watch a couple of those shows on late night television about that shit-"

"-I don't need you to-"

"-I'm just saying, if you're in a sit-u-a-tion again, stop by. If you really need it."

That might go down as the most awkward speech given in the history of human existence. She couldn't be more embarrassed of herself - but she was already confused as to even where it came from, so she supposed the delivery was as good as it got.

Elodie knew she wasn't a good person. She didn't really want to be. She was content only handing out her love when she had to, and scorning the rest of the miserable people around her. She had enough problems of her own that never got dealt with; let alone another's, physical or not. Diego was too complicated for her already messed-up world, and she really shouldn't be offering him a window inside of it. She desperately needed simplicity, and a routine, and a set and go cheap lifestyle that kept her and her family alive and everyone else out-

-and yet, despite all that, she wanted to help. For no good reason, aside from feeling slightly bad for him, and finding him weirdly super attractive...and he was nice enough, he didn't seem to be the worst of the worst.  Maybe those were not really good reasons - or any at all, but whatever way, she had already extended the offer.

"Just saying. Don't need to take up the offer, but if you do, give me a heads up. I mean," Elodie spread her arms and gave a little twirl in the spot, "you do know where I live."

Diego had stood stock-still throughout her entire ramble, sort of as though he did not really know what to do with any of it. But his face...his face told a story she couldn't quite understand. His jaw had gone slack and there was a softness in his eyes that she hadn't seen in another in a long, long time. It wasn't pity; she knew pity, and it certainly wasn't the same half-smirk he normally wore around her. It was different, and weirdly tugged at her heartstrings.

maybe a look she had never expected from him - and something rather sad, about the way he stood. Not in a pitiful way, but a tugging-heart-strings way that made her even more curious.

"T-t-thank you," he stuttered, then cleared his throat. Coughed once, then again. "Uh. Yeah. Thanks."

"Uh-huh."

"See you."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

He did not smile, but his head did bob up in a once-nod before opening the door and stepping out. They caught eyes for a single moment as he headed out, and for a second she debated saying more.

But then he was leaving, and she was left standing in her now-empty apartment, wondering what the hell her life had just become. She would scream, if she was not certain he would hear, so instead Elodie had to resign herself to kicking the wall and immediately collapsing in pain, because she had never learned a better way of dealing with emotions.

The gif above was made by the lovely cIeopatras.

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