Chapter Text
I pull up my hood and head out instead.
Wanting her makes me feel like my heart is getting ripped out. Everytime i close my eyes her face manages to find its way in. like its etch on the side of my brain. This is inconvenient. Especially now. Especially when I’m already annoyed and damp and being sent out for groceries like a teenager grounded.
If I'm being honest-all I want is my bed. To go back to an hour ago where I was comfortably covered in my sheets and not having to face my own thoughts
James pov:
I pull into the gas station, Rain spits against the windshield, thin and cold, the kind that soaks through your clothes without having the decency to look dramatic about it. Splotches of dark.
I sit there for a second longer than necessary, forehead resting against the steering wheel. empty fridge empty stomach.
The house had felt more uncomfortable when I left. Maybe it was because Aaron sent me out doing busy work, again. I'll never beat the childish allegations-i'll never be treated like my age. even after breaking into an evil, morally wrong, civilization. Maybe it's just the weather getting to me. I'm acting like going out to grab food is the end of my world. It's not-i love food.
Kenji would laugh to death if he saw me now-soaked in my own pity. It's almost embarrassing.
No, it is embarrassing.
I think about her for a second and suddenly-proof- that's all I think of for the next few hours. Sleep is going to be great tonight. Cannot wait.
automatic doors hiss when I step inside warm air hitting my face like a punch. Fluorescent lights. The smell of burnt coffee and something fried beyond recognition. The melodramatic music in the speaker really fits my vibe. I grab a bottle of water I don’t want and a protein bar that looks like it's going to make me shit for hours. Have I been to the gym this week? Or was I too miserable to get out of bed? I think I went on Thursday-or Tuesday.
I take the protein bar anyway.
The cashier doesn’t look at me. He rings up my items and fidgets with his rings while telling me the price. Fair enough. My eye bags are likely hanging to the floor, or he thinks I'm Aaron. To be fair-why would Aaron Warner, co leader, be at a gas station? In a sweat suit? Really? He can't even leave the house if he's not in a “ready to direct the nation” outfit.
I say thanks and give my best shot at a “i’m james” smile.
Back outside, the rain’s picked up. I’m digging my keys out of my pocket while walking toward my car, silently begging my last chapstick to be at the bottom like they always are.
Left pocket. Nothing.
Right pocket. Lint.
Fantastic. I lost my last good chapstick.
I’m mid groan when I notice them.
Just a shape at first. Hood up. walking on the side of the store like they're taking a stroll in the rain-Which is a weird thing to think about a stranger, and I immediately tell myself to stop being like that. People walk to gas stations all the time. It’s sort of the point. Atleast, I think. I really never go to gas stations. But they are easily accessible.
Still.
There’s something about the way they're walking. Nothing remarkable—except There’s a rhythm to it, familiar enough that my brain stumbles over itself trying to place it. like they're half annoyed with the ground.
I slow without meaning to.
It's familiar in a way my brain absolutely should not be entertaining…..
Nope, we are not doing this.
Absolutely not.
Get your heads out of the clouds James-
Then I caught it. A thin flash of white hair slipping out from her hood when she shifts under the lights.
My stomach drops.
White hair exists in the world. It’s not exclusive property just to rosabelle-wether not she looks the best in it.
This is confirmation bias. But the statistics of me seeing her is close to none. That’s not how the world works. That’s how people end up emotionally unwell. And I'm already unwell enough.
I start walking again, because stopping would be suspicious and also emotionally irresponsible. She lifts a hand to her ear, tilts her head, and—oh. That tilt.
That’s her tilt. I know that tilt.
This is the part where I should leave. This is the part where a normal person minds their business and goes to do the task he was supposed to do. But it's Rosabelle. I'll never be normal about her.
Instead, I slow. Then stop. Then very subtly turn around like I forgot something incredibly important. Which I didn’t. Except I could have. You can't drink a protein bar and water without…gum. Yea-i need gum. Gum is a basic necessity, everyone loves gum. Like me. I love gum.
She walks and and head turns to the cashier. I barely see it-over the rain. She nods her head at him-the closest thing to a greeting. A simple acknowledgeme- its the same nod I’ve gotten approximately a thousand times in my life from her. Efficient. Emotionally vacant. I don’t need a hug. I’m not insane. But it would be nice if she looked at me differently from how she looks at everyone else. I'm not everyone else.
The last remaining shred of denial packs its bags and leaves town-and so does my dignity.
You have got to be kidding me.
I spin back toward the store so fast I nearly trip and faceplant on the concrete. The automatic doors hiss open like they’re exasperated with me. The gas station cashier double takes me.
I nod at him like this was intentional. Like I didn’t just spin around with the urgency of a man who was starving for someone.
“Forgot something,” I say.
He glances at the protein bar in my hand. Then at the water. Then back at me.
“Gum,” I add, because I’ve committed now. “Very urgent. Can’t have bad breath”
The clerk turns to his left and there is in fact, a whole stand of gum. Why didn't you say anything else? I wince and grab the first one I see, which leads to being a bad omen. Cinnamon. Who purposely buys cinnamon gum?
I don’t see her.
Which is… fine. Normal. This is good. This is what I wanted.I came in here for a snack. Not another mental breakdown involving pillow-cuddling and crying, only to look up and find Naz staring at me from the doorway.
I walked down the first aisle anyway. Just to prove something to myself. I scan the shelves like I’m actually interested in the 20 hour energy shots and not the fact that Rosabelle might be two feet away.
Nothing.
Second aisle. Snacks. I pretend to compare two candy bars knowing they're the same brand. Still nothing. I feel like a creep. I stalked a woman into the store-and now is looking for her. I feel desperate. I feel desperate like kenji.
Okay. She probably left. That makes sense. Gas stations are more of an in and out thing. That's okay. She got what she needed and went on with her life. Like a functional person. She functions perfectly fine. She functions amazingly without me. Also because if she were here, she wouldn’t be out in the open. She’d be where she can see exits.
I glance toward the door. Clear line of sight.
Back corner by the shelves. Where the drinks are. Blind spot from the counter.
Of course. That makes sense.
I circle back toward the drinks, because circling is normal. People do that. Especially people who forgot something. Like gum. Which I already have.
I spot a shadow near the back.
Hood. Familiar posture.
My heart stutters.
I slow, pretending to read a sign that just says WATER. Very informative. Thanks.
She’s standing near the back cooler, body angled just enough that she can see both the door and the counter in the reflection of the glass. Hood is still up. One foot positioned half a step behind the other, weight balanced.
I let a breath out on instinct-the sight of her hand nearly knocked all the breath out of me. Quite a loud one at that.
She reaches for something on the shelf, pauses, then puts it back—not because she doesn’t want it, but because she already heard me. She already knows someone is watching. Of course- i dont know why i thought i could get away with this. Its rosabelle for fucks sake.
I exhale slowly. Half relief. Half irritation at myself for being right. She already knows someone is looking at her-no point in not saying anything. No point in acting anymore like a creep.
I step closer before I can talk myself out of it.
“Fancy seeing you here, doll hands”
The words roll off my tongue so naturally-i missed saying it.
She double takes me and her expression softens the slightly-registering its me. She looks different from the last time I saw her, but also the same? It's weird. I know her face by memory by now-but that doesn't stop me from stopping in my tracks every time I see her.
“James?”
My respectability flies away, right in my face. I can't help but smile. All the times Aaron told me “it's better if you two don't interact” leaving my mind at an instant.
“Rosabelle, been a minute”
She turns to face me-placing her headphones on her neck. I raise my brows. She's wearing something similar to me. A dark blue tracksuit-just more fitted. It's unzipped-showing a thin white tank top snugly hugging her. She's practically glowing.
She’s stupidly beautiful. Effortlessly. The kind of beautiful that makes me aware of my posture, my face, and every bad decision I’ve made in the last twenty four hours. Do I have an eye crust around my eye from sleeping?
“Why are you here? I didn't take you for a…. gas station type”
“What, you think i'm too good for gas station?.” I hold up my gum pack.
She glances at it, then back at me. A corner of her mouth lifts. Rosabelle has this talent for looking unimpressed most of the time.
“Cinnamon?” she asks.
“Don’t,” I say. “I’m having a day.”
“What are you really doing here? This isn't in your area” she asks, tugging her hood down the rest of the way, damp hair curling against her collar. It could put a man in his grave. Me, I'm the man.
“Officially?” I sigh. “Errand.”
“Unofficially?”
“Being sent away from my house before I start an argument over an empty fridge.”
She hums, like that makes perfect sense. “That tracks. Your brother?”
I nod, she grimaces and travels off to another fridge-me following behind slowly.
Aaron and Rosabelle are not…nicely associated. Rosablle tells him all the things he doesn't hear often.
For example, ark Island was the topic of the meeting. He refused to let her talk to the hostage spy they found-rosabelle was appalled. She said quote, “you're too scared to admit to yourself- you're losing.”
They are so alike it hurts.
I stand there for a second, while Rosabelle grabs for an energy drink. The hum of the coolers filling the space between us. It’s not awkward. It’s just… careful. Like we’re both aware it’s been three days.and even before then, our conversation died out quickly. Not on natural terms, someone would call to get info on ark, Adam would ask me to watch his kids, that kind of stuff. We haven't gone out to do something for months. She looks like she's been living. Me on the other hand…not so simple.
She shifts first. Always does.
“I'm grabbing Clara and my roommate candy,” she says, nodding toward the aisle. “And something that doesn’t taste like it expired months ago.”
“Good luck,” I respond. “This place has been here since the mark of time. I remember kenji got food poisoning from a twinki ”
That gets a soft-barley laugh out of her. I take it as a win.
“I, uh. I’m supposed to get groceries. Like. Real ones. Enough to convince someone I’m responsible.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “You?”
“Low blow,” I say. “I take my grocery shopping seriously.”
She glances toward the front of the store, then back at me. “Where?”
“Market down the road. Assuming it's not closed because of the shitty weather.”
She considers that, eyes flicking briefly to the rain streaked windows.
“Thats sounds like heaven compared to this”
“Why not just go to the market instead?” I say, like I didn’t just emotionally track her across a gas station using nothing but vibes and poor judgment.
“My base is 5 minutes from this place-it's easy. It has sidewalks for a reason.”
I blink. “In this? You walked?”
She shrugs. “I’ve done worse.”
I nod, because of course she has. My mind runs all over the place for a moment-placing itself on one idea.
“You want a ride? Maybe you could pick up something that hasn't expired?”
She looks surprised- studying me for half a second longer than necessary. Her eyes tracing down my body, then back up. I won't comment on it. I'm used to it. She's been studying me ever since I met her. I've learned to like it honestly. I like looking at her. And seeing her. And hearing her. And god, i love touching her-
“Really?” she deadpans.
“Yes..?” I responded slowly.
More staring. She glances at the fridge of drinks-then slowly at the floor. There's a split beer can, the brown soaking the brown tile.
Silent.
“sure”
Something in my chest loosens. I can't hold back my smile.
“After you then,”