—chapter twelve.

  ❛ I wish I was not so alone. ❜  

ELODIE WAS QUITE GOOD AT MOVING ON. 

Or so she would claim. She had adapted to the mindset of abandoning her problems the morning after, leaving them to rot under her bed so she could continue on with her life. It was how she had gotten through life, and it seemed to be working out for her so far -- if one ignored the mental strain and tragedy, as she so adamantly had.

And so she went to her new work with a light step and friendly enough smile, and ready to plough forward into whatever came next. Just as she had a hundred times before.

And the next day, when she returned to her apartment, he was already there.

Diego was slouched on her couch, idly flipping through a book that had rested on her side table. He had moved when she walked in, but only slightly - he seemed to know she was coming, at least expect it. As he saw her, his lips curled up into a smirk that always made her heart squirm. His eyes did not move from the novel in his hand, but it was obvious he had abandoned it the second he heard her footsteps in the hall.

She could not help but wince at the shiner on his face, half pressed into the indent from that mask he wore. A remnant of his Umbrella Academy days, she could only assume. His exhaustion didn't help the battered look, either, and she wasn't too hesitant to call him out for it.

"You look like you've seen better days."

He shrugged, barely a rise in the black-clad shoulder as though the back of the book was the most interesting thing in the world. "S'fine. Been worse."

"Eh. True."

He finally looked up to her, setting the book down beside him. His expression grew a little softer. "How was work?"

"It was...eh, work. Seven hours of watching people come in and out either returning books or getting some. Or just stopping to make out in the rows."

"They do that?"

Elodie nodded her head. Her coat went to the same hook as always, boots sliding off to fit underneath, her toque sliding into the little shelf it belonged. "Mostly teens. But sometimes they're older. Honestly, it's kind of cute, unless I'm walking by and get a glimpse of someone shoving their tongue back down a poor girl's throat."

"Wow."

Her gaze averted but her lips were rising, smiling already at the joke in mind. "Uh-huh. But, hey -- if you ever want...swing by and hang out in the rows - maybe you can pick up a couple of tips from them."

The silence after that quip was deafening. The only sounds filling it was her own heavy breathing, trying to hold in her laughter, and his little insulted huff that told her everything of his reaction. Elodie had to fight the urge to take it in herself, her only triumph being his shuffling on the couch and knowing how offended the man must be. He wore his pride on his sleeve, to say so much - and any jab at it was a gut-punch, surely.

"You for real?"

She finally looked at him, and it was then when she broke. Loud peals of laughter filled the apartment, and she laughed freely for the first time in a very long time. Sure, it was for a petty and perhaps rude reason, but the look of childlike anger on his face was too good to not appreciate. Diego Hargreeves looked more like a petulant teenager than anything, with crossed arms and a scowl to match, and it was far too adorable of a look to ignore.

"Oh yeah," she giggled, "'for real'."

"Now I know you don't mean that."

"Oh, but I do, Diego - with all my heart 'n soul. I mean, you're not the worst, but..." she shrugged dramatically, slipping past him into the kitchen. "We all got things we can work on."

He grumbled at that. "I am not a bad kisser!"

"You're not bad, just-"

"-just what?"

Elodie giggled, thankful her expression was hidden. At that point, she was sticking her head in the fridge to pull out two beers - the last of her last six-pack - and then an ice pack fashioned earlier. She handed him one bottle and then moved the pack to his face, clicking her tongue when he shied away. "Let me help you."

"It's cold," he whined. 

"Boo-hoo. Lil' baby."

"Asshole," he shot back.

Still, Diego moved in and let her press it against his face. She stood at least a head shorter than him and had to reach for it - something that he clearly noticed. She tried not to think about the way he smirked down at her, and only focus on the bruise.

He did not.

As Diego tried to move in closer, a hand went up to hit his mouth, gently stopping him before contact could be made. "Nope. Not right now."

"What?"

"None of that 'til I've cleaned you up."

"Oh, come on--"

"--I may be an amateur, but my doctoring services are at least professionally conducted! Save your enthusiasm, loser."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously! Now stop moving!"

She hummed softly as they stood there, an awkward tune to try and fill up the silence. He just watched her under his lashes, and swayed ever so slightly. Elodie tried to ignore the frankly pretty look of him in her kitchen light, focusing in on her attempts to aid his mottled skin. She also did her best to not consider how lightly she threw out her refusal -- like it was nothing more than two people taking advantage of one another's warmth. Because it was, but...

After a while, Elodie finally moved away. She tossed an absent-minded reminder to keep the ice pack on the wound over her shoulder while she looked for her bottle opener. She took a long swig before passing the opener to Diego, who struggled for a moment but then managed to make it work - a one-handed skill she admired. 

As always, she pushed herself up to sit cross-legged on her counter, placing the bottle down on the only coaster she owned. She tried not to think about her exhaustion, pushing it away in hopes that he would stay a little bit longer, that time. She didn't want to be alone, but she knew if she showed all her cards, he would surely flee.

So, she distracted herself.

"You know," she began, absentmindedly fiddling with her sweater sleeve, "I never understand how you get into this much trouble. Or where you find it. Or, why. Can't deal with a nine-to-five like the rest of us?"

Just for a second, his smile slipped. Something flashed over his face and Elodie tried not to think about it too much, but it was very clearly there. Yet still, in typical fashion, he kept up his act and just shrugged. "Someone's gotta keep the streets clean."

"You sound like a shitty action movie."

"Hey," he retorted, "you should be grateful that shitty action movie's been there to keep you safe."

Elodie grinned wearily. "I've said this time and time and time again, m'dear Robin Hood. I am no damsel in distress. But it's cute that you keep trying to convince me otherwise."

He scoffed, mumbling something about how necessary he really was, but she hardly paid attention. Instead, she took another large gulp of beer before passing over the second ice pack she had, a sad plastic bag of miscellaneous frozen vegetables.

"You really don't need to fuss," he finally said, dropping the first pack to the kitchen counter. "M'good. See? Good as new."

"Oh, for sure - you telling me you came out of the womb with those bruises?"

"They're fine. It's fine. I've dealt with these things before, an' it all works out."

Once more, she clicked her tongue. She tossed her bottle in the trash (in it, not at it that time). "You're here, and I don't mind wasting my time."

"You're wasting your time?"

Her heels smashed angrily against the countertop, an unsteady rhythm kept up only by her growing agitation. "No. I just - well, you're the one who showed up."

"Not to make you take waste your time on me."

"That was a bad choice of words," she cut in, "I just meant that -- well, you're here anyways, right?"

"But not so you feel forced to deal wi'me," he barked back, swinging his hand through the kitchen. "I am capable of dealing with my own scratches."

"Really? Because it really hasn't shown."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

Elodie huffed. "You're gonna fall to pieces if I don't try'n tape you back up! I mean, seriously, dude, I don't know how you walked before you met me!"

"I'm perfectly fine--"

"--foolish to think--"

"--don't need you to take care of me--"

"--I want to take care of you, dude!"

It was then that they both fell short, staring at one another, cocked heads, chests heaving. But while Elodie's face twisted out of embarrassment for admitting that -- such a small thing, really insignificant but still -- Diego was incredulous, and flushed, staring at the woman in front of him.

They stood very still for a long moment, watching the other and waiting for their next move. But neither so much as flinched under the others stare. 

Eventually, Elodie slid off the counter and scooped the ice pack up from where he had left it. She pressed it to his face while avoiding his gaze. "Gotta get that swelling down."

"Elodie..."

"Let's not talk about it," she murmured, barely a crock of sound leaving her lips. "Okay?"

Diego snorted humorlessly. He waited a beat, then two, before,

"why are you doing this?"

Her gaze dropped from his chin to his sweater, focusing her attention on a gray fuzz. An actual answer tickled at her mind, reminding her of a reality that frankly, scared her. It was genuine and dramatic, but it was the truth he was searching for. And in a different life -- well, maybe she'd be more willing to be honest with him.

But this was not that different life. In one fell swoop, Elodie smashed the thought to smithereens and left it to die in the shadow of her mind. She shifted her weight and shrugged. 

"Well, I said you weren't the greatest kisser, but...you know, you are far from the worst."

Diego hung his head, grinning. "You're gonna drive me crazy."

"Even more than you already are?"

"Can I kiss you, already?"

But Elodie was slipping away, grinning as she flitted out into the next room. "Maybe later, sweetheart."

"Elodie-"

"-come let me nurse you back to health, ol' man, and then I'll consider it."

Funny how quickly he 'felt better'.

THE COLD WAS NICE, FOR ONCE.

She had a huge blanket wrapped around her torso, a cup of tea idly sitting in her hands, and an ache in her back that wouldn't leave no matter what position she took. She imagined it was from the harsh wall digging into it, but Elodie couldn't find it in herself to move.

It was long past midnight, she knew, but past that she had no semblance of time. All that she did know was that it had been a long time since she had left her bed and crawled out here, looking for an escape in the bitter Canadian winter's arms.

Elodie shivered and brought the cup up to her lips. Her body was still faintly radiating some heat, a natural effect that at least kept her from hypothermia. Sooner than later she'd regret the choice, but...

Before too long, there was a small rap at the screen door. It was Diego, with tufts of hair sticking all over the place and eyes squinting from weariness. And yet despite being half asleep (and half dressed), he was there at the door, staring out at her with a rather confused look on his face.

Elodie reached back to slide the door open, eyebrow raised at the half-dressed man. Before she could say a thing, however, he did. 

"Why're you up?"

"I, uh -- had to pee."

"Out here?"

"Yep. I like the power of free-pissing off my balcony - sometimes, I try to aim towards some of my neighbours? It's hard considering I lack male genitalia, but I make it work."

Diego rolled his eyes and slipped out the door. The cold seemed to hit him immediately, though, leaving him to stoically quiver. She never knew such a thing was possible, really truly it was a strange sight, and yet he made it work, standing stock-still as he trembled. As though revealing he felt cold like a normal human being would ruin something for him.

"Why're you up?" He repeated.

She really had no good answer. Or, at least, no answer she could give him without screwing herself over. All Elodie could give him was a half smile and a crappy joke, mumbling that 'her spirit was too free to be confined to a bed', and that she quite liked the cold. Course, he did not buy it. He immediately moved to point out how often she had said she hated the winter.

Which was unfortunately quite true.

"S'cold out here. You're gonna freeze."

"If you're cold, go back in."

"M'not letting you freeze out here. M'not that much of an ass," he grumbled, words slurring in his weariness. Diego stepped closer and lightly kicked at the bundle of blankets. "Come on, 'Lodie."

"Nuh-uh."

"Fine."

Elodie, still facing forward stubbornly, had no clue what was going on until the blankets shifted. With a start, she realised Diego was sliding into them. He kept some distance between them but pulled the comforter up so his half-naked body was covered and the wind could not bite so much into his skin. 

The woman stole a glance to her right, meeting his gaze halfway. She tried to bite back her smile, but failed miserably. But for once, she didn't mind that so much.

They sat there, silently, for a while. She sipped at her tea and he stared off the balcony at the lights. Neither had any clue what the other was thinking, but perhaps they were too lost in their own worlds to consider the person right there and their own creative minds.

After a while, though, Elodie sighed. She set the mug down and let her hands fall to the covers, warmer than she would have wanted them to be. She spared another glance his way.

"I wanna say something."

"Hm?"

"I just - I dunno. It's more of a question...and you might possibly hate me for asking it. Like, I think this is overstepping so many boundaries of ours. Just from this."

Their eyes met again, tired and drooping. He nodded.

Elodie hesitated. A part of her knew what was to come from this. Their 'relationship' was fragile and built on twin mysteries coming together - and overstepping that line would mean they might end up knowing too much. But she was tired, and it was late, and the cold air was cracking the walls she normally had built so high. She wanted to know.

"Why do you do this? Run around on the streets in a kooky mask n'outfit, taking down petty criminals? You get your ass handed it to you some nights and you still keep on, over and over -- I doubt you're even getting paid for it."

It was Diego's turn to pause and mull over her words.

"I don't know," he shrugged. He swallowed hard; the action was illuminated in the city lights, and she couldn't make herself look away. "Guess it's what I'm good at. And who else is gonna keep the streets safe?"

"The ones hired to do so?"

At that, Diego let out a bark of a laugh, sharp against the night. "No. Not them. Everyone takes too long and they only do it for themselves. By the time they get there, the people are already dead. There's gotta be someone who's gonna do the real work. Without givin' a shit about what's in it for them."

"And you're that guy."

"Guess so."

At that point, Elodie's gaze had gone soft. Her eyes were wide and sad as she took in the man beside her. But it wasn't pity that watched him shiver in the moonlight. She got it, somehow, in the poorest way -- she knew the determined drive that kept him going night after night. The reason he danced with death without hesitation, risking his life for people who didn't even know his real name. She didn't need to hear him tell her why, because it was an ache that had filled her own chest, many a times.

Slowly but surely, she inched herself closer to him and let her shoulder press into his. It was warm against his bare skin; Elodie shivered, despite herself.

"You're gonna kill yourself one day, doin' this."

Diego shook his head, swallowing back the 'so' he almost let slip out. "I'm too good to die."

"Ha, ha. Not like you're immortal."

"Who knows, maybe I am. Never died yet."

Elodie laughed under her breath.

Diego nudged her arm with a small, empty grin. "What about you? You want to bartend all your life, n'deal with the world's worst assholes forever?"

"Well, hey, it does pay well. And you get used to the hecklers, it becomes more of a compliment, really."

"But..."

"...but," she sighed, and it was her turn to shrink into herself, "I...well, it's a job. I need the money. It's better than most jobs, what with tips and all. And it's a good setup for hours, so I can...get as much money for those who need it."

Elodie could almost see the cogs in his mind turning, piecing together the evidence she provided until he could answer. And maybe she already knew what he would say, but she waited until he rasped out a--

"--your brother?"

Elodie nodded. "Yep."

"Does he live in the city?"

"No. Thank hell. He's a long, long way away."

"Oh."

Elodie picked nervously at the blanket. She could feel herself grow a little hotter, but her internal thunderclouds seemed to be quelled by the cold. She could only hope it'd remain that way. "I, uh, came over here to start over. Hoping to support him. But he lives with a family friend, back...home." The last word tasted sour on her lips. How long had it been, since she had thought of that place as a home?

"Why not here, with you?"

"Cause...I don't know." Her picking grew more incessant. "I don't wanna bring him into this...life if he doesn't have to. Back home, he's got a good school, a life, kids to hang out with. He doesn't have to worry -- and call me selfish, but I don't want him to be stuck in this shitshow with me. I don't think I could provide all'at for him."

Diego leaned in closer. His skin was cool. "I don't think you're selfish."

"Hm?"

"I don't think you're selfish," he repeated, a little softer that time. "At all. How could you be? You're giving everything just for this kid. That's not...that's not selfish."

Elodie felt her lips purse up, a poor attempt to hide her leaking emotions. He would probably never know how that line affected her, or why -- but it did. Because while she knew in the back of her mind he was only saying that, and that he wouldn't say it if he knew the whole truth, it was nicer to hear that then the guilt and shame she carried around with her. It was nice to think that maybe, she was possibly doing the right thing.

She sighed, creating a puff of air in the chill. "You're sweet. But you don't know...if you knew everything, you wouldn't be so quick to say that shit."

"I doubt that."

"Really."

"Really," he insisted, with a new curl to his lip. "You're too hard on yourself. Look what you've done for me."

"C'mon, that's just--"

"--s'nice. Most people don't do that shit."

Elodie stared at him, watching his soft brown eyes silently press that information into her. Oh, how she desperately wished he could be right.

"I think you and I have too much in common," she whispered. "And I don't know what to do, with that."

Diego sighed. "Yeah."

"But--" Elodie cut herself off that time, shaking her head with a bitter chuckle. "Sorry. Anyways."

"Sorr--why?"

"About going on like that. Didn't mean to dampen the mood."

His shoulder bumped against hers again, hard; she moved to protest, but he got to it before her.

"Don't say sorry."

"I--"

"--I mean that," he grumbled, remaining tucked against her unnaturally warm body. If he noticed the heat, he didn't say anything about it, but she did not miss how he almost cuddled into her. "It's alright, Elodie."

They were just words. Three and six syllables barely muttered in the night air But they were enough to consume her heart and light it on fire. It was painful, burning at the frozen layers around the organ and pushing a strange little feeling back into it, and she had to stop herself from clutching at her chest and pulling it out.

She didn't know what it was, not really. It felt familiar, but for what, she could not place. It was just something about those words, and the way his long fingers just barely grazed her skin, and how his eyes just seemed to know exactly what she was really thinking...it was a connection she had not felt from anyone in a very long time.

And it should have terrified her.

But in her tired, weakened state, Elodie could only slump down against him and give in. She felt his head against her shoulder and rested her hair on his own. Stubble tickled her bare neck, replaced then by two kisses barely pressed into the skin. One arm encircled her waist, the other tugging her into him and deeper into the comforter. If he spoke, the wind tore it away before she could catch it. But she didn't need words, anyways.

Diego never stayed the night. It was an unspoken rule and one he had never broken. But without even planning on it, he threw away their greatest boundary and fell asleep with her in his arms, hot enough to keep the both of them alive 'til the morn. 

It would be hours later when he realised this mistake, waking up with her in his arms and the smell of her shampoo lingering around him. But even then, he did not move right away. No, he took his time untangling himself from her, taking one last moment of peace before taking her with him. 

Diego laid her down carefully in her bed, tucking her in with a tenderness he didn't know he had. She hardly stirred in his arms, just cuddling closer until he had to set her down. But that made sense -- if she slept, he certainly wasn't aware of it.

Only a moment later and he was slipping away, leaving her sound asleep in her bed without so much as a second glance. The only sign that he was ever there was the slightest bit of saliva on her forehead, left from a kiss he would adamantly deny 'til the day he died. And of course, Diego assumed she wasn't even awake to feel any of it.

If Elodie was awake, she never said so. Neither of them brought up that night, either. It was smothered down and left to die in the hopes that they wouldn't remember just how nice it was to be held by someone who really cared. But no matter how either of them tried, they couldn't forget any of it.

Though they did try, very, very hard to pretend otherwise.

I'm realising how bad I was about reading through my chapters because I somehow managed to write before the phrase 'nudged her/his shoulder' like seven different times...past me really gave up on ANY other word skskskks.

ANYWAYS -- This was one of my favourite chapters before, and tbh, it still stands as so. I'm a sucker for soft angst, and the unsaid words between two people like this -- it's just such a beautiful state. But I also wanted to make sure it wasn't so OOC, and that Elodie wasn't just this untouchable, amazing being because while she does so much, she can't see herself that way, and she's still consumed with what was done to her and how she sees all her actions after it as selfish.

Honestly, editing this book just makes me want to write essay after essay on both Diego and Elodie and their trauma. I won't, obviously, but...cue a long drawn out sigh.

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