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iamthefirechild:

“Wh—? Oh, Ace, sorry, I’ll just — sorry — ” Apologies spilled out of her mouth while she wobbled to her feet, smearing the tears away. She was sure she looked hideous, makeup smeared, eyes and nose red and horrible. Getting out of his way, she went and draped herself over the rail on the other side of their little entry area.

Staring down, she wondered how badly it would hurt if she just flung herself over the edge. Would it hurt more than she was hurting now? “Can I just — I know you don’t, but maybe — can you just — a hug?” she said, trying to still her sobs and glancing at him over her shoulder.

Ace’s worries were internalized. As were his quips when, for once, he doesn’t want to put anyone on the spot.

His eyebrows were strung tight together as he observed the girl warily from where she had herself draped against the railing.

Though her back was facing him, he knew what was on her mind —

Over some fucking guy.

“He shouldn’t that bit of your thoughts, daor. Nobody should,” he offered in the softest voice he could muster, which was still quite callous.

Though he did hesitate, and even take a step back regarding her request, he soon gave in, stepping forward so his chest was pressed tight against her back, both arms wrapped tight around her waist. He hung his head low until his chin rested in the crook of her neck, and peered over the edge.

“He said he loved me,” she whispered, between sniffles, leaning back into his warmth. Ace didn’t like touch, didn’t do affection, so it was a little strange the way he’d wrapped himself around her, with an endearment in his words — she’d expected just a sidewise hug, a brief wrap of his arm around her shoulders.

She turned her head, and his face was /right there/, so she rested her forehead on his cheek. “‘m sorry,” she said, again. Her voice cracked in the middle. “I’ll just — I’m going to — ” She trailed off, because she didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay here, with his arms around her, safe.

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ace-omalley:

iamthefirechild:

Summer left the door open when she got home. It wasn’t even out of concern for the heat; it was shock, habit, forgetfulness — one of those. She just stood there, in the doorway, for a long time, staring into the dark, arms limp at her sides.

Who did that? Invited their girlfriend to meet their parents and then later that night told her he wanted to take a break? She couldn’t even make herself take another step into her apartment, too many memories mocking her from the corners. Finally she stepped back, and back, and sat down on the steps, head in her hands, and only then realised she was crying.

Ace came back from the club, shoes in hand, jacket drenched in sweat and booze draped over his one arm whilst the other was just about elbow-deep in his pocket, searching for his key.

On the way up, though, he found Summer sitting there, and by the looks of it, their nights were taking two completely different turns.

With a sigh, he used the toebox of his shoe to nudge her own heel-clad one, rousing her from her tearfest.

“Wh—? Oh, Ace, sorry, I’ll just — sorry — ” Apologies spilled out of her mouth while she wobbled to her feet, smearing the tears away. She was sure she looked hideous, makeup smeared, eyes and nose red and horrible. Getting out of his way, she went and draped herself over the rail on the other side of their little entry area.

Staring down, she wondered how badly it would hurt if she just flung herself over the edge. Would it hurt more than she was hurting now? “Can I just — I know you don’t, but maybe — can you just — a hug?” she said, trying to still her sobs and glancing at him over her shoulder.

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ace-omalley:

iamthefirechild:

What that really meant was ‘no’. ‘No, this hurts, stop.’ So she stopped, running the discarded necklace through her hands again. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to bring that up for you.” They didn’t look at each other for a moment, avoiding gazes and pasts and thoughts, and then she cleared her throat 

“So, uh, how long have you lived here?”

Ace tried to force down the annoyance building up inside of him.

But no.

That is his pain. It isn’t up for grabs, up to share with anyone else.

Those are his unshed tears, his figurative wounds that would scab over in time but always leave scars that run deep.

Thankful for the distraction, he answered in one quick breath, “Just a few months. Don’t ask where I was before then.”

“You must’ve moved in while I was gone for spring break,” Summer mused. Until the heat wave, she hadn’t actually paid any attention to her neighbors except to notice that they existed. Well, there was that couple weeks when the folks below her were fighting constantly, and she could hear them through the floor — that had sucked. “Do you go to school around here, or what?”

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ace-omalley:

iamthefirechild:

It was /amazing/ how Ace could go from lascivious approval to serious discussion in about half a second, she thought. That little voice inside whispered that she preferred the lascivious approval. She squashed it, the same way she squashed the way his backing away hurt. Collecting her keys and purse, she shut the door and headed out, resolving not to think about Ace all night.

Ace’s night compared to his evening was such a welcomed… shift.

So much better than playing dress-up with Summer, instead snagging shots from his own customers when their backs were turned in-between pouring lines left and right.

It took a lot for Ace to forget, even if for the time being, this was true. But sometimes if he pushed just hard enough, his train of thought derailed.

Didn’t take much to do so that night – just a little bit of the sauce and the lad was properly on his way.

Summer left the door open when she got home. It wasn’t even out of concern for the heat; it was shock, habit, forgetfulness — one of those. She just stood there, in the doorway, for a long time, staring into the dark, arms limp at her sides.

Who did that? Invited their girlfriend to meet their parents and then later that night told her he wanted to take a break? She couldn’t even make herself take another step into her apartment, too many memories mocking her from the corners. Finally she stepped back, and back, and sat down on the steps, head in her hands, and only then realised she was crying.

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ace-omalley:

iamthefirechild:

Summer ducked her head, laughing a little. “I’m glad you like it. I’m supposed to meet his parents tonight, at dinner. I look all right? Grownup, responsible, smart?”

“Depends on the setting,” he said earnestly, taking a few moments to regulate the spoke in his hormones by sucking in a sharp breath.

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“They’ll appreciate the effort, if anything, though,” he added, quirking one eyebrow as he slowly backed out of her humble abode and past the threshold of his own in pursuit of something to eat.

It was /amazing/ how Ace could go from lascivious approval to serious discussion in about half a second, she thought. That little voice inside whispered that she preferred the lascivious approval. She squashed it, the same way she squashed the way his backing away hurt. Collecting her keys and purse, she shut the door and headed out, resolving not to think about Ace all night.

overlapping lives | closed | aceomalley

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ace-omalley:

iamthefirechild:

Summer nodded encouragingly, squeezing a little. Ducking her head, she tried to catch his eyes, but he kept pulling them away. She’d never heard a more unconvincing ‘I’m fine’ in her life. He seemed so prickly, and then it turned out there was this well of pain.

“It has to be more than just lust,” she murmured. She drew in a deep breath, drawing back her hand. “Can you tell me what happened?” Curiosity was her besetting sin.

It seemed like this tin man did have a heart.

But the difference was, at times like this, he didn’t want it.

He didn’t want to feel it tighten at the thought of her, how he let her force down the walls he’s built up for the better of his life, take what she wants, then leave.

Especially not in front of Summer, the ‘new girl’ in his life, per se, because she is new, to him, and a girl.

That he’s currently trying to make heads or tails of his feelings towards her.

“What’s there to tell? You already know the score,” he said, lifting his gaze to meet hers for a moment or so before training them on the coffee table once more.

What that really meant was ‘no’. ‘No, this hurts, stop.’ So she stopped, running the discarded necklace through her hands again. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to bring that up for you.” They didn’t look at each other for a moment, avoiding gazes and pasts and thoughts, and then she cleared her throat 

“So, uh, how long have you lived here?”

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ace-omalley:

iamthefirechild:

Summer looked up at Ace as his tone intensified, eyes widening a little. Apparently she’d accidentally ripped open a well of pain, and she put the necklace down to reach out a hand and put it on his knee. “I’m sorry,” she offered. She looked down, and back up at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Her own memories didn’t matter in the face of this. Yeah, Jesse had hurt her, expecting a kind of perfection she was never going to attain, but this — if they’d known each other longer than an hour she would have offered to hug him.

In exchange for his words, she said, “That person — that I was with, before — he … believed if you really loved each other you wouldn’t fight. And I’m … kind of a temperamental person.”

When her hand closed around Ace’s knee the first time, he stiffened, being snapped out of his own stupor by the simplest, most tender touch he’s ever been rewarded, a platonic action laden with something a lot deeper.

He swallowed, gaze lowering to the necklace she set on the table before them, and tried to meet Summer’s eyes, instead fixating on the curl of her lips.

“M’fine,” he muttered, his stare wavering as he fought to gain control of himself once again, because, of course, the eyes were indeed the window to the soul.

“See, they say opposites attract,” he started in a low voice, jaw set, “but I believe there has to be some type of common ground, if so. Something to make it all worth-while since they’re so god damn different from each other.”

Summer nodded encouragingly, squeezing a little. Ducking her head, she tried to catch his eyes, but he kept pulling them away. She’d never heard a more unconvincing ‘I’m fine’ in her life. He seemed so prickly, and then it turned out there was this well of pain.

“It has to be more than just lust,” she murmured. She drew in a deep breath, drawing back her hand. “Can you tell me what happened?” Curiosity was her besetting sin.

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ace-omalley:

iamthefirechild:

“You too?” Her voice was soft, sympathetic. “I figure I was just born broken, and nobody wants to take the time to figure out how to fix me.” She busied her hands among the beads, but she wasn’t really doing anything with them — the equivalent of playing with her food.

“And as soon as they realise that the things they want to fix aren’t the things I want to fix — that’s the end.” She really can’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. She ran the half-finished piece through her hands and asked, in a musing tone, “Do /you/ think it’s bad for two people in a relationship to fight?”

“I think, sometimes people think they’re really up for the job. That they’re ready to find you sitting at your dinner table with nothing but a bottle of scotch and red eyes and… they think they can just take you apart like an engine, examine your deepest, innermost thoughts, and put you back together in one night… and then they realize it takes time, and that’s one thing they can’t offer, because they’re so fucking ready to jump into the deep end…”

The lad’s anger spiked with every word he spit out, laden with venom and hurt he’s bottled up since Allison up and left. He laid it all out unabashedly at first, but soon found himself trying to sweep the whole angsty revelation under the rug.

“I think it’s normal. To fight every once in a while, I mean. Perfect relationships are boring — you need room to change and grow.”

Summer looked up at Ace as his tone intensified, eyes widening a little. Apparently she’d accidentally ripped open a well of pain, and she put the necklace down to reach out a hand and put it on his knee. “I’m sorry,” she offered. She looked down, and back up at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Her own memories didn’t matter in the face of this. Yeah, Jesse had hurt her, expecting a kind of perfection she was never going to attain, but this — if they’d known each other longer than an hour she would have offered to hug him.

In exchange for his words, she said, “That person — that I was with, before — he … believed if you really loved each other you wouldn’t fight. And I’m … kind of a temperamental person.”

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ace-omalley:

“So, Ace, what do you think?”

“A more accurate question would be: ‘How do you feel?”

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“And quite frankly, I feel a little hot around the fly, if you’re pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down.”

Summer ducked her head, laughing a little. “I’m glad you like it. I’m supposed to meet his parents tonight, at dinner. I look all right? Grownup, responsible, smart?”

Summer sleeps very late one morning, and when she finally appears, she moves stiffly. She spends most of the day on the couch, wearing even looser clothing than usual and occasionally whimpering. Helios actually fetches Ace, staring at him with half-flattened ears until the boy comes with him.

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ace-omalley:

Ace enjoys watching Helios, the peculiar thing.

He comes and goes as he pleases; watches Diesel with narrowed eyes from where he’s perched comfortably, even flitted around the dense pooch for a little amusement.

But never did he give Ace the time of day like he did that particular morning.

So, with furrowed eyebrows, he follows the kitty past the threshold of his own home and into Summer’s, where he finds the lass curled into her couch, face contorted in obvious discomfort.

It takes him a moment to process what’s happening; he thinks back to Echo, and all the times he’s found her (and Allison) curled up in this position, what foods and drinks they best sought comfort in…

He didn’t want to assume she was on her period; maybe that would anger her in such a state of discomfort. But, maybe she has cramps. And he doesn’t want to come off as careless and retreat back to his apartment, so the lad straightens up and goes to retrieve the jacket he left there the night before.

“I’m getting you a hot water bottle from Rite Aid. Do you want me to pick up anything else?”

It takes her a moment to be able to speak, as it feels like something twists in her middle. She squeezes her eyes shut and makes a garbled sort of sound. “There’s a heating pad under my bathroom sink, but it’s so hot already … can you just bring me some water?”

It’s not like Ace to actually be solicitous; she can’t quite decide if she should take advantage of it or not. Another twist in her guts takes the choice away from her; all she can do is moan and grind her teeth together. She doesn’t want him to leave, though. Anything that will take her mind off what her body is doing is awesome.

When he brings her the water, she gulps down two painkillers and flops back against the pillows, clutching at her middle and breathing hard. It’s not that it’s excruciatingly painful, really, so much as the pain is constant and the cramps make her feel /really/ strange, which she hates.

Helios, having fetched someone with hands, lies down on the floor with his belly up and looks smug. Which is standard for a no-balls kitty.