slow_burn | it's all just raging disappointment

Aiden wasn't seen for the rest of the session.

It was a few hours later he was finally released from the room in the house that was basically just a room with a lock on the outside, a quiet room of sorts. It might as well had been Aiden's second home.

He didn't kick the door or bang his head against the wall this time, though. Instead, he thought. And waited.

It was night when Aiden found her, gently knocking on her room. They had a lot more freedom here than they did a hospital, that was for sure--no nurses patrolling, anyway.

"Hey," He's opened the door somewhat ajar, peaking his head in but not looking directly at the bed (it's the same setup for all of them). Tracy's asleep, anyway. "Heather. Get up, I want to show you something."

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From:

slow_burn

He finishes the joint--because as far as he's concerned Heather doesn't get all of it because she needs to learn to chip in--and he immediately reaches for the cigarettes.

He grabs one, using the same lighter, still blinking slowly. His gaze does drift off to the sky, though, and it takes Aiden a moment to find his words.

"If you broke your legs, you would have stayed in a hospital. Procrastinated getting into this freakshow."

From:

sweetmotherofgod

"I hate hospitals."

Yes, more than she hates this place. It doesn't have the sterility, the smell, the heavy hanging fug of people who are dying or should be dying. But there's really no reason for her to tell him that. She watches the coal of his cigarette instead, the glow of it on his face and hand.

"Anyway, I had stuff to do."

From:

slow_burn

That earns a snort.

"Yeah, like being locked up in a house and being told you can leave whenever you want? That's busy work." He's amused, though, because the idea that rushing to the halfway house (or whatever the fuck this place even was) amusing.

"Oh man, dad's been shanked. Guess I got to run to the orphanage."

From:

sweetmotherofgod

There it goes. Like a switch being flipped, whatever she'd left open enough that she's even talking to him about this stuff slams closed. Eyes back on the moon.

It was a stupid idea, anyway. What was she planning on telling him, exactly?

"Something like that."

From:

slow_burn

"Hey we all have to do our shit. I'm a very busy guy, believe it or not."

No, he wasn't and no, they didn't, but Aiden doesn't bother laughing at his self depreciating joke, instead notign how she turned her gaze to the sky again.

"You don't want to talk about it, that's cool," he stated simply. "I just think it's cool."

From:

sweetmotherofgod

Sick

fuck.

Her shoulders tighten, her jaw sets, and she doesn't look back at him because if she does she's going to hit him. Not that he doesn't deserve it, but this jumping off roofs talk makes her very aware that he knows this place and she doesn't.

"How he died, or that I found him?"

From:

slow_burn

"That you're pulling the wool over everybody's eyes," Aiden corrects, and he leans over so he's resting his head on his elbow, moving to the side in a half-fetal position. It's almost like he's going to sleep but he stops blinking irregularly and smirks.

"It's good. You're good."

From:

sweetmotherofgod

When he speaks, she flinches.

She should leave. Slip back through the window and crawl into bed. Crawl into Tracy's, maybe, and warm away this chill. She should leave.

She should, and she doesn't. She lays back, twists onto her side and curls up, mirroring him. There's nobody around, nobody to hear, but she still speaks in a whisper.

"How do you know that?"

From:

slow_burn

"'Cause." He leans backwards, and for a moment all that's left is the light on his cigarette, burning like an ember.

He extinguishes it, almost at once, chipping it on the tile. Darkness engulfs them. Aiden feels at peace.

"I do it, too."

From:

sweetmotherofgod

She lays silent for a while. There's just the night and the sound of their breathing and the smell of his cigarette while her eyes adjust until the curves and angles of his face swim out of the darkness.

"How?"

Quiet. So quiet.

"It's making me so tired."

From:

slow_burn

"It's that or more medication," He points out. Not for Heather, maybe--or a temporary fix. Poison pills and little lies. Aiden decides maybe--just maybe--she deserves a real answer.

"This world is full of fucked up shit and people are monsters, Heather. Sometimes you gotta accept you're one of those terrible things choking the world and do what you can to hold yourself back."

From:

sweetmotherofgod

"It's not-"

No. She has the sense at least not to say it's not fair, because nothing is and whining about it has never changed that, ever. But it's all still so fresh, and in between the days when she thinks the best thing she can do is grow into someone her father would be proud of and the days when she wishes she just wouldn't wake up, there are days when she wants to burn the whole world down just to see if she feels it.

She reaches for his face, catches herself and drops her hand to the tile beneath them. Watches, watches, watches.

"Help me."

From:

slow_burn

Aiden sits up. It's not bolt upright, not really, but he's looking down at Heather with an odd look in his eyes, masked by the darkness.

i
n
t
e
r
e
s
t
i
n
g
.
.
.

The word bleeds out of him like it bled from his sister, and it nearly escapes his lips before he catches it and gently scolds himself.

"Normally I just ask what's in it for me. You're lucky you're beautiful."

From:

sweetmotherofgod

Oh.

She rolls onto her back, eyes seeking the moon again. There are stars out here - clearer, bright away from the smoke and the light of the city. Out where they put the fuckups so they won't interfere too hard with the people whose masks haven't slipped yet. Maybe that's a metaphor. Or maybe she's grasping.

She wants to tell him that if he doesn't want to help he should just say so instead of making fun of her. Because she's not beautiful, she knows. She's a cracked vessel, tainted and broken.

But maybe that's why he thinks she is. Like why -- in spite of every instinct she has telling her to run as hard and as fast as she can -- she thinks he's beautiful, too.

"Beauty's overrated."

From:

slow_burn

"Yeah." Aiden's over her now, not quite looming but definitely looking down at her, smile surprisingly gentle.

"We're all mummified zombies, anyway. But still, you want to know something, I got it." He extends his hand, nodding slightly.

"S'promise."

From:

sweetmotherofgod

How does he do that? Go from scaring her to seeming so warm, so kind so easily?

"You wanna be careful with those," she says. "I've never made a promise yet that didn't get me into trouble."

But she takes his hand, pulls herself up. Holds it for a moment, watching him closely.

"Thanks."

From:

slow_burn

"Come on, I'm in a home for the mentally fucked up and the only reason you got shipped here is 'cause there weren't enough spaces in normal orphanages."

Aiden's grin cuts through the moonlight more than the cigarettes ever did.

"I'm made for trouble."

From:

sweetmotherofgod

"That's not-" she pauses, wonders if she should think better of this - "that's not why I'm here."

His smile is a knife edge, a sharp slice of silver in the dark. She wants to press her fingertips to it, feel the sharp cold of if, see if it'll cut her.

From:

slow_burn

"Yeah? Why're you here, then? You're too clueless to be an oldtimer but you're smarter than the average cry-fest they bring us."

He's curious, now, still moving over her, that slow, slow blink prominent.

From:

sweetmotherofgod

"They can't figure me out."

It's not said with pride, it's not gloating. It's flat, a statement of fact.

"There's a gap in their timeline they can't fill. I don't come up crazy on any of their tests, but they know there's something I'm not telling them."

They're close. Too close. She thinks she can feel his heartbeat, the shudder of his breath.

"They don't know if I'm dangerous but they can't prove I'm safe."

From:

slow_burn

"Are you?" Aiden doesn't bother to beat around the bush--it's not his style; it never was. He doesn't think Heather would appreciate it, either. Instead he nestles up closer, really looking at her, really staring.

"Dangerous, I mean."

And he's grinning from ear-to-ear.

From:

sweetmotherofgod

"Not to everybody."

That knife-edge smile is inches from her face, close enough to tear her apart, but she won't move. Won't back away.

"What about you, Aiden? Are you dangerous?"

From:

slow_burn

"Doctors say I am."

Aiden's shrug is small, but definitely there to prove a point. "Says I need to watch my temper."

And the grin is back: "But you know what doctors say. They're all full of shit."

From:

sweetmotherofgod

"They are," she says, and it's quiet, whispered on a breath, an invitation to lean in closer. She can feel her pulse in her throat, hammer-loud and rabbit-quick.

"But sometimes they're right."

From:

slow_burn

"I do what I have to do." Aiden's smile fades, reaching out. Touching a strand of hair from Heather's face and tucking it behind her ear. "I'm sure you did the exact same to survive your little horror-story."