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The night would not be considered particularly cold. A jacket would surface to keep the chill at bay. I’d passed a young girl on the streets earlier, clad in a darling blue romper, adorned in flower sketches. She needed no more then a loosely worn piolet jacket to keep her warm, legs bare to brace the wind. Yet, there is not as much wind as I’d hoped for.
It was the cool nights like this I hated. Because it wasn’t right. There wasn’t enough temperature interference to clear my mind.
So, I find myself in the water of the harbour, finally embracing something cold.
As I drift, my head tilted back to view the display of constellations, my breath swirls a misty white as it leaves my lips. I can barely see the fog, the frost that I hope for, a chill that can freeze my heart. I do not mind the water soaking my black dress, tight and thin; it did nothing to protect me from the icy bay. That’s how I wanted it.
My heels, the gorgeous black ankle strap stilettos I had worn on many occasions, made floating all the harder. The heaviness of the clothes, my jewels, my shoes. It added up. For a moment I contemplated drowning. How the cold would envelop me. How I would shut my eyes first, not being able to stand the icy sting. How I would struggle to breathe, twisting and convulsing, eventually choking silently under the waves, air bubbles furiously escaping my throat. I imagine succumbing to the darkness, and sinking to the bottom. Laying my head to rest, the pressure fading. At the bottom of the sand, I would only need seconds for my body to revive, for the water to be forced out, and my consciousness to crawl back into my form. A consciousness that claws, bites, howls for this body to live.
My face begins to numb, along with the tips of my fingers, and my toes. My hair flares out, coming undone from its bun. It spreads around me like a halo, the pin that held it together taking my fate underwater. By twenty minutes, I’d surprised myself at how frozen my limbs felt, arms akin to lead. Would I even be able to swim out of this? Will I die from hypothermia?
I bring a hand to my lips, blue, and bite down hard on my knuckle. As I bleed, I stare into the deep abyss that is, space. I remember when it was only just dead planets and useless rock. When it was a harmless mystery, that didn’t drive good people insane. And it didn’t bring unwanted visitors. But in a sick sense, I can’t complain. My own heritage was born amongst the stars. We were just small in numbers and better at assimilating.
I sucked on the already healing wound, the pain firmly reminding me of my existence. And then what I was aiming for is achieved.
The ice crawls into my heart. It encases it, glaciated. My heart had hardened, impenetrable. The icicles flowing into my bloodstream, corrupting my system. My spinning head stills, and I sigh into the night. I don’t hear my breath, yet something about it felt loud. Deafening.
I grin, bloodily, at the shift of the wind. A sharp sting on my skin. My direction is changed, I’m being carried exactly where I needed to go. Not where I wanted to go.
Yet, with all that has happened these past few months, I am yet to care. My heart is, of course, ice.
Everything is fine.
I cannot pinpoint how much longer I floated in that water, knees bent from the weight of my heels, but arms floating, as if asking for an embrace. I’m defiantly not close to the shore anymore, not that it would matter. If I wanted to pull out I would swim miles in stubbornness, no shore would be far enough to avoid clambering onto a boat. That boat. More like a yacht actually. I am in every fantasy willing to sink it. But I am not a five-year-old, I do not throw tantrums, nor commit petty acts in favour of an emotion.
Self-destruction was my weapon of choice. I just hope no one knows that. It’s better to trick others into thinking I’d be violent when things didn’t go my way. Then they act how I want them to without lifting a finger.
I am struck suddenly, by the sound of a motor; the feel of water being disturbed. The waves are small, and so is the vessel. I’m glad I’ll have someone tolerable to talk to.
“Honestly.” A deep, tired voice grumbled, voice bouncing off the water. “What did I expect from you?” The boat slowed next to me, bumping my arm, which is soon grabbed by the passenger.
“Not going to let me drown, Slade?” My eyes snap open, and I grin up at him, muscles not feeling quite my own. “How about for once, I let you cut my head off?” I say that, but let myself be rescued. I’m hauled aboard, my weight not phasing Wilson’s strength. Getting my head chopped off would be so painful, and messy.
“When I didn’t see you at the dock, I just assumed you weren’t coming.” He completely ignores my suggestion, and in a somewhat graceful manner places me on the floor. It’s wet and cold. But the gesture of not dropping me defiantly show’s that he is aware of the seriousness present in…the situations. Slade signals to the driver, dark clothes and a face I can’t properly see, that we could begin again. The roar of the motor breaks the silence.
I note Slade’s covered face. Outfitted in his costume, like a pathetic job interview. I don’t stop grinning, but my teeth grind together; painfully. Lex sure knows how to choose allies. Maybe it wouldn’t be needed if he didn’t pick the worst enemies. Maybe.
“I didn’t want to come.” I shrug, the bare skin of my arms screaming in pain, the wind cutting through like a blade. It’s a raw, exposed feeling. I enjoy it immensely, even if my nerves say otherwise.
“You sounded very sure of coming last night.” He huffs, sitting down on a proper seat. I should really get off the floor, I am aware this looks very pathetic of me. The thought of seeing another well-respected person in my place, shivering clumsily in a soaked dress, is laughable. But Slade and I have seen each other in worse states, in actual battlefields. Maybe I don’t look that silly to him. Just indecent.
“No one would know if I don’t show up. I am as it stands, uninvited.” I regain as much balance as possible, and move myself to sit next to him, wiping wet hair out of my face, “As my luck holds, I might just face a firing squad tonight.”
“Is the dress expensive?” He chuckles, a joke in such an inappropriate time,
“Ouch.” I pretend to be hurt, hand clutching my heart, “The pain of replacing this dress is significantly less than having to regrow my torn lungs and tissue.”
“Serves you right for wearing something he’d put you in.” Bickering already?
“Well, I thought you were over donning that costume.” I scoff, “Deathstroke sweetie, when did you start considering becoming someone’s lackey?”
“Not a lackey.” Slade’s response is not angry. He’s regretful, I realize.
“Sorry.” I apologize, there’s weight behind my words. “I know your situation. I’m not going to judge you for doing what you have to.” I stare at the disappearing shoreline. The lights of the city twinkling.
“Would we still be friends?” Maybe it’s a hard question for him to ask, but I’ve already thought it over multiple times. My hands clasp in my lap, tightly.
“Of course.” Voice steady. “My personal afflictions with him are separate from our friendship. Never forget that. Me and you have a deeper history.”
He nods. The air is thick with conversations we probably should have had weeks ago, but we are approaching the yacht already, no time for anything meaningful now.
“Are you going to be calm tonight?” He asks. Another question he should already know the answer to.
“What do you think I was doing in the water tonight? Enjoying a light dip?” Every inch of me is damp and uncomfortable.
“Most people would do something else to calm their nerves you know? Take a walk, have a drink.” He gestures with a hand, “Beat up some thugs. But freezing in pier waters, wearing clothes that could pay for a new car?” I can just about imagine the face he’s making right now.
“Don’t sound so smug. It’s meditative.” We are now too close for me to speak loudly. I’m scared even a hint of my voice could change their conversation.
“As discussed then, yes?” He’s lowered his voice too. We are almost drowned out by the motor.
“I’ll be patient.” I wink, but shift my tone, “Be careful of your words. He likes to twist them.”
I sit silently on the bottom of the steps, the driver not bothering me. He’s in on this maybe? I’m not sure what Slade told him. But I don’t have to deal with him. I’m left alone, waiting, listening in on the distant conversation of the two.
It’s defiantly less cold now that I’ve dried myself, magic weaving it’s way through my dress and hair, fixing the water damage of the heels, and restoring the warmth of my fingertips.
It’s too convenient, the things I can do. How any normal human would have to wait to dry themselves, who would have to sit by a fire to warm their hands. But I’m too dependent on its availability, too dependent on magic. I was born into it, I have no memories without it. I always think that maybe, one day, God will take this gift from me. That I will be persecuted for misuse, and thrown into the void I dread most; a life powerless and useless. Because I’ve only ever lived in the comfort of my magic, it might even seem right to ban me from using it. I’d fail as a regular person. Then again, don’t I sometimes wish I could just suffer normally? That I could have a cut on my body longer then a minute?
Bad thoughts, I must concentrate on Slade and Lex.
I hate hearing his voice again. Unlike last time, it’s back to sounding cocky and arrogant. And the name Injustice League? Honestly, sounds way too comical and uncreative. But as much as I loathe having to spy, I hang onto every word. I don’t want to miss a thing in his devious actions. I want to be in on whatever bullshit he has planned next. I may not be here to stop it, but I like to know what’s coming.
My heels lightly graze the water. I feel like a kid again. Though my memories of being a child are messy and unreliable, scrambled by what I’ve guessed are too many brain injuries (though I would not rule out malicious magic use and battles I have long since forgotten. I don’t even remember the exact moment I came to Earth).
I’ve had so long to come up with a proper speech. But all I’ve thought up is bashing his skull in, or leaving the planet. My university lecturer would be up my ass right now about not being prepared, he hated me winging speeches. But any re-run of whatever conversation could happen, I can never predict what Lex is going to say. Or if I’ll even let him talk.
There is a lull in the air, and I’ve realized the conversation has ended. I barely grasped the final words. It was less Slade talking then Lex monologuing. A terrible habit of his, even though I use to adore his rambling and passionate speeches.
“There is one more thing left to settle.” Slade might not sound smug, but if he could smirk right now, it would be a wide one. This is his gotcha moment. Something he knew and Lex didn’t. And something controllable, in a way, something that made him feel like the conversation ended satisfactory.
“Yes? Intrigue me.” I may have been using magic to make their words clearer, from their distance and my resting place; the steps. But I let those last words be heard at a distance.
I wore heels for a reason. Yes, these stilettos are killer gorgeous, something I would wear to an acclaimed social event, to show a powerful statement; that my skin will not bleed, and I would walk around in these ankle breakers for hours in front of renowned heroes and villains. I would show that I’ve been in both social and bloody battlefields alike.
But tonight, I wear these heels for the simple reason of sound. It’s his move, to be dramatic. But I’m taking it tonight. The distinct click of my heels going up the stairs, I would imagine, sent alarming shivers down his spine. A long time ago, the sound of my heels meant something very, very different.
I’m one of the only two calm figures as I stand at the top of the stairs. If you could count Slade’s excitement as calm; I can see it in his eyes, the first time I’m seeing his face unmasked tonight, that he’s glad I’m here. Unlike him, Lex can’t touch me, he has no one to kill to harm me, no money to bribe me with. And I know way too many of his secrets. Plus, the look on his face was priceless.
All guns on this yacht, the price of which could put hundreds of families out of debt, are pointed at me. Woman, all clad in black, and very beautiful, all ready to shoot me with a single word. Is there possibly an academy for models who really just wanted to wield a gun? I have never seen so many attractive guards before. His tastes have changed this past year.
Oh, and his face, I did recall seeing that. That shock, so pure and natural, I wish I could take a picture. Capture this rare moment of seeing dear Lex become the opposite of put together and losing that ‘expecting anything’ attitude. And the surprising amount of fear. I didn’t expect him to seem frightened of me. Angry or unkind, but the tiny shudder I see in him makes my mind stop for a second. It might be that his fight with the famed Superman did this, or maybe my absence has. Heck, why not both? But he doesn’t like to show his fear, so this is yet again, something new of his. I’m starting to forget him already.
Lex’s mouth hangs slightly agape for a moment, not that many seconds have passed as I analysed the situation. He quickly shuts it, abash, and regains composure. Forever the actor.
“I did not ask her to come.” Slade begins, Lex finally tearing his eyes off me, “And I believe this is my cue to leave.”
“I believe it is.” His voice tight, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Ladies, weapons down. We have an honoured guest on board.” They might put their guns down, saving me some bullet wounds, but I can see their unease. I don’t think they were told about me, not like I’m part of any emergency procedure.
“Catch you later Wilson.” I smile as he strides past me to the steps, I have barely inched away from the exit. He doesn’t even bother to say goodnight, and just salutes his farewell.
Brash suits you well.
As soon as he moves past me, I stalk toward my prey. I’ve noticed he stood up, almost ready to flee, but that’s not his style. My steps are premediated, each sound deliberate. I don’t pretend not to notice how he’s taking me in. I haven’t changed since last year, unlike him, but he’s still looking. For any sign that I’ve been hurt, that I’ve been affected by him as much as he was affected by me. But I know he won’t find anything. And then his eyes drift cautiously towards my lips, and I have to begin this intervention.
“You kept the shaved head. Interesting choice.” I don’t sound in any way unnerved. I’m powerful. My words are strong, deliberate, and almost not my own. I am, in this moment, infallible.
“And you kept the dress.” He nods back at me.
Hm, not like I was going to throw away an expensive dress. Some people have a concept of resources and money. Having an almost infinite limit of resources, he couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to have ten dollars as spending money, and a hundred-dollar dress as a priceless artefact. I once ripped a dress that cost twice as much, and my mother slapped me so hard I was knocked to the ground. She regretted it afterwards, so much so she never hit me for the sake of money ever again. She complained for many years before her death that Earth was a bad influence on her.
“Might’ve needed it for a fitting occasion.” I sing song, half shrugging. This was the fitting occasion. He knew it.
“Are we going to be discussing a public or private matter?” Lex fervently asks, a tad anxious. I take my time to position myself in front of him, two feet away, but my spine is straight and my head high. I feel more confident in this moment.
“Oh, it is a private matter.” I announce, the entire deck hearing me clearly, “But I do not mind discussing it publicly.” I look at him with a questioning gaze, a quirk of an eyebrow, a dare.
“But I do mind.” He gulps, just slightly, almost caught. He still wants to seem impressive, even in front of bodyguards that he could force to do practically anything for him. I’ve seen those orders and instructions before. Pay well, or have enough dirt on someone, and they do everything, “We’re going to talk inside.”
“As you command.” I punctuate that last word. Lex picks up on that jab.
There is a still moment when our eyes clash, when he’s trying to figure out if I’m here to ruin plans or just talk. I keep my gaze cold and indifferent. No part of my body language indicated we were at one point close, no, even acquaintances. I stare him down like a stranger, who just happened to be in the way of something else. One, might’ve even guessed that he would lead me inside only for me to discuss a topic with someone else. Of course, that was not possible, since Slade left, there is no one else of importance on this ship. And certainly no one with real power.
He wordlessly gestures for me to go first, in front of him.
“Scared I’ll stab you in the back?” I chortle, a giving him a half-hearted eye roll, as I set off towards the entrance. “That’s more in your taste.”
He ignores that too. I’m starting to feel as if half the words I’ve said this night have been disregarded. Maybe I should’ve saved some time and written a letter, with pressed Daffodils and Red dahlias. Not that I would expect him to know the meanings of flowers, but in my heart, I would know that I expressed my feelings of betrayal in the purest form.
When we enter, I feel the unease of all crew members on deck, they are instructed not to follow. I might look innocent, a young woman; but they know not to trust anyone. Especially one that unnerved the boss. I possibly made them nervous too.
As I enter through the glass doors, a woman in front of me is instantly ready for assistance. She holds her shoulders tight, tighter then her bun of wavy red hair. I could almost imagine her with the girls I saw earlier tonight; dolled up and laughing, walking through the night, holding her dress down with every gust of wind, deciding which club they should enter next. Happy, and young. But this woman is lacking the smile, I hope she is here of a free will, or promise of good pay. He is not a nice person to work for.
“Escort our guest to the lounge downstairs. Then leave.” Oh, he’s abandoning me already? I turn my head to give him a questioning glance, but follow the woman, who have him a curt ‘yes sir’ and signalled for me to follow her. I don’t look back as I set off, deeper in the vessel (albeit the notion that I would have less escape options is uncomfortable), but I hear the distinct clicking of a cup.
He’s taking another drink? Didn’t think he’d be that nervous to talk with me.
But it’s better for me also, to have a few moments alone; to walk through the ship without worry I’d be caught looking at every window, door, corridor and available weapon. I took a few steadying breaths as we descended on an elevator, feeling the cold still deep in my core. That was my drink, my nerve calmer. I was going to be fine, no matter the light twitch of my fingers, and itch to jump back into the water. Escape all thought and sound at the sandy bottom I was aching to sink into an hour ago.
When we reached the lounge, she did just as she was instructed, and left me to wait with forceful patience. She didn’t say a word to me on our way down, or her way out. I don’t know her name, yet I almost said goodbye when she exited the room.
I can tell why this is a good private place to chat. I mean, as a lounge room, it is comfortable. Plush couches, a hidden tv somewhere, drinks in a corner cabinet. A few more lavish things I would not keep on a sinkable object. The windows have their blinds down, the floor is carpeted. Voices don’t echo in here.
I’m not exactly sure what to do, so I sit on one of the couches, the one closest to the door. I stare up at the ceiling, the chandelier that is a grand central piece of the room. I want to see those crystals shatter, fall like rain. They remind me of teardrops, crying when I didn’t want to. Maybe it’s too poetic, but their presence is irritating.
I lean back, trying to get comfortable. Crossing my legs, I think of the possibility that he might blow up the whole ship. He might gas me. Or as I was thinking with Slade, bring in a firing squad. Even worse, I could be captured; forced into one of his labs. Experimented on, cliché, but most defiantly a fear of mine. The loss of freedom.
Flames flicker to life on my hand, my anxiety spiking. I remain outwardly clam, stable, but watch the flames dance on my fingertips, trying to distract my thoughts. They weave around my fingers, harmless, almost like a living entity. Lex wouldn’t actually do that to me, would he? I’ve been gone for a year, no way would he miss an opportunity to talk with me. But, I did notice he changed.
Just as my overthinking reached a peak level, the door to my left opened, and a huge wave of relief washed over me when I saw it was just him, alone, as promised.
I did not look alarmed, rather, I looked bored. I lazily looked over to him from my spot of the sofa, flames slowly disappearing as my hand dropped back to my side. As he walked in he noticed the flames, something entered his mind but was shaken quickly. He himself was unsure if I would hurt him.
Of course, it’s mutual. We are two unpredictable beings. I just hope none of us will be at each other’s throats in five minutes.
“Took your sweet time.” I exhale, my attention purposefully looking distant. But I’m glad he actually arrived.
“If a few minutes of waiting is too much for you, what is 13 months? An eternity?” He quips back, closing the door, but not locking it. He doesn’t walk over to sit next to me, as I momentarily thought he would. Out of habit. No, he walked over to, no surprise, the liquor. I’m starting to believe he doesn’t want to remember tonight, and I don’t want to use my magic to check his blood alcohol level, but honestly, I didn’t come here to waste my time. I’ll sober him up if I have to.
Oh, and 13 months? He’s certainly been counting our time apart more than me.
“Do you honestly think you deserved my time this past year?” I can’t even bring myself to jokingly smile. I’m being dead serious.
“Maybe not a conversation.” He says, still not facing me, too busy pouring another drink. “But more than just disappearing. I wouldn’t have minded a single message telling me,” He turns back, drink in hand, “I don’t know. Anything? That you were alive. That you were angry with me. That you were leaving.” He starts walking over the sofa adjacent to mine. Of course, he would not sit next to me. I’m not sure which way I should take that.
“I think within the premise of breaking a promise, I didn’t have to say anything.” I shrug, resisting the urge to fiddle with the hem of my dress. I understand why he holds a cup in his hand, at least that provides an activity to. I’m under a hot glare, with nothing to preoccupy myself with but words. Use of magic would either be considered rude or threatening. And I also don’t want to show him any signs of being uncomfortable, or nervous. I want to seem detached and bored.
Even though I’m not. As I sit here, I realize in a sick sense I miss his company. I nearly want to ask about his activities this past year, how prison was, how he’s feeling. I hate that I can’t properly hate him.
“I thought you’d come to a realization.” He sits down, mirroring my place on the other couch. He also looks too comfortable. “See my views were right. Change your mind. It’s unfortunate to realize you still can’t grasp-”
“I don’t need to.” I interject forcefully, “I’ve dealt with all your antics, supported you through so many projects and ideas I would consider immoral or questionable. I let you do what you wanted for so long. But then,” My tongue swipes my bottom teeth, I almost grimace, “You actually did something stupid.”
“Oh, so you’re still taking his side?” Satirical, it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Do you still care about the Earth or? Maybe you also see yourself above others. Above the law, above human anatomy.”
“We have had that conversation many times.” We are actual toddlers fighting, “Never have I thought my magic makes me superior. And unlike you, I don’t misuse power for actual evil.”
“You think of me as evil?” He taunts. I don’t even have to think about the answer.
“I do now.” I scoff and look off to the closed window, which I can still see outside through a tiny slit in the blind. “I knew you weren’t a good person when I met you. But like any silly girl, I believed I could fix you.”
“What is there to fix?” He sounds offended, but when I turn my eyes back to him, I know he’s lying. The night’s we talked about his past, his issues. He’s a train wreck. But even broken people can tell if what they’re doing is wrong, when to not excuse their actions as acceptable because their past was traumatic and damaging. I’m even a good example of this.
“I didn’t come here to have a heart on heart. I came to give closure.” I change the subject, “And in all cases, to try never speak with you again.”
He doesn’t like that. I can tell he wants to argue. Anything that could make him feel less lonely. He never really had close friends, and now I’m here. Someone above all exceptions. I’m sure he could take any bickering and still feel better afterwards. I can tell he misses me. I didn’t count down the months apart.
“Just that? No interrogation, or fighting, or asking me about incineration?”
“Nope.” He rolls his eyes at my straightforwardness.
“Then go ahead. Waste my time more.” Why is he such a pain?
“Time doing something you love isn’t time wasted.” I smirk, but mentally kick myself. Am I kicking a hornet’s nest, or just teasing? Maybe I just want to see what reactions elicit what reaction from him. I’ve never had an ex before. It’s almost intriguing.
“You’re so sure I loved you?” He scoffs. Oh Hun, you did not just go there?
“If you're denying it, I’m leaving.” I sigh, unimpressed and dejected. I’m already fed up with his lies, why now add more fuel to that?
“Are you denying it?” He sounds daring, but there is desperation hidden in that question. I regretfully know I can’t answer dishonestly.
“I’m not denying I use to love you, no. I’m also not denying that I regret my feelings. Being in love can make one such a fool. In ways, I think it would have been better if I had just stuck with being a friend. You needed that more then you needed a lover.”
He scoffs again, but stays silent. I don’t want to hear his side, so I continue.
“I left that night not because I take Superman’s side. Truthfully, I detest him and his ideals. He’s become morally too grey, and I agree that he is treated too much so as a God. But you did some truly stupid, dramatic, and damaging things because of your dislike for him. If I didn’t leave because of one thing, it was another. Take a pick.” He tries to interject, but I silence him, and speak even louder.
“Killing innocent people just to man Superman look bad? Also capturing his mother and holding her hostage. Capturing Louis and God quite awfully being flirtatious with her. Literally not thinking that Batman and Superman could team up? Using Zod’s blood and your own to engineer a monster that didn’t even listen to you? And that ship was bad news in the first place, you have no clue what the other worlds are capable of. Steppenwolf was literally only defeated because Superman came back from the grave. You are plainly and painfully the centre of disaster.” My voice is already going a million miles an hour, but as a professional babbler, I’m not worried he can’t keep up.
“Which part of that do you want me to respond to?” He shoots back.
“I don’t need you to say anything if you don’t want to.” I snap, “I’m just telling you the facts.”
“Facts are this all could be avoided if you hadn’t left. I don’t doubt Superman could escape you and your powers. And you seem to already have so much knowledge of other worlds. You could-”
“Don’t pin the blame on me, Lex. You are mortal. The other worlds are none of your business, and too much for you to handle. And Superman has not done anything bad enough for me to act. I’m not a party trick or a hero, or – ugh” I raise my hands defeatedly, “I don’t act when I don’t need to. This world is fine without me, that’s decided. And it will defiantly be better off without you.”
“Is that a threat?” He asks, voice not wavering as it has before. When did he finish his drink?
“Merely a suggestion.” My voice finally calming down, “I am not judge, jury or executioner. Unlike you, I don’t pretend to be more then I truly am.”
The room is silent. I hear the waves lightly crashing into the yacht, and feel the slight sway of the boat. I am not sure if this was the best way for the conversation to go. It’s defiantly longer then I would have hoped for it to be. But I have said a lot I wanted to. And for once in this relationship, I did most of the talking.
“You still act like your better than everyone else.” It’s a silent statement, like he was debating whether or not he should say it. But I let it slide.
“I act like someone who isn’t affected by my sentiments.” I correct, “But I won’t lie to you, I’m not perfect. I have many flaws I’ll probably take to the grave.” Another pause in the room. He defiantly didn’t expect me to be so transparent, too willing to be truthful. Where is the conversation even supposed to go from now?
“Is that it then?” Lex looks up from his empty glass, discarding it on the couch, “You’re going to leave this room, and we never speak again?”
“I was hoping for that.” I nod, making strong eye contact for maybe only the first time.
“No apologies or grudges. Just, what? We forget everything?”
“I’m planning to. Not that I expect you to follow by any rules. But I’m letting you know that I’m moving on, and I’m not holding anything against you. I’m mature enough to not be grudgeful.”
“What if I’m not happy with this?” He asks, a mix of anger and disappointment. “What if I get people to track you down? What if I do something so bad you’ll step in. Would you be able to kill me?”
“Why would you do that?” I question back, “I’m giving you a free pass on a lot of your bullshit. So please, tell me, why would you purposefully attack me in full knowledge that it won’t end well?” A pause. Then he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
“I'm not used to having you out of my life.” He simply utters, turning his head away from me, “I still turn corners thinking you’ll be there. I still think your part of my schedule. I don’t know how to deal with,” He upturns a palm, “Y’know, not thinking about you.”
“Give it another year. Heartbreak doesn’t last forever.” My voice nonchalant
“You’ve become cold.” He’s almost in disbelief, but he says it more as a sigh.
“You’ve also changed. And I’m not planning on discussing that any further.” I uncross my legs and stand slowly. He doesn’t even bother looking my way and rests a palm on his chin.
“You never officially broke up with me.” His gaze far off, he’s not even faced my way. I know this night is coming to an end.
“It wouldn’t have been hard, after a betrayal and my disappearance, for you to guess that the relationship was dead.” I pat down my dress, even though I know there’s magic that holds it from wrinkling. “But if you want to hear it out loud, then-”
“No.” Lex, abruptly stops me, turning his attention, and body, back to me, “No I don’t want to hear it out loud.” His voice cracks a little, shame covers his face. If not for the ice in my heart, I’d feel sorry for him. He’s holding back tears, I know. He’s cried in front of me many times before, but now is not ideal. It might have been too many drinks for him, but the heartbreak in those eyes- oh, fuck I don’t want to see it. I don’t need to see it. All I see are gravestones, people in mourning, fire. No, the ice holds strong, and I turn away from him, and those sad, evil eyes.
“Great. I’ll leave now.” My voice stone cold, as I turn to the door.
And I almost make it.
The moment I shift, he shifts. Lex never has been one for fighting. I’m not going to say he’s not physically fit, but in a battle, we both know who the winner would be. So, I conclude him rushing towards me, is not to stab me with a knife (and that would only mean me pulling out that knife to stab him back).
My arm is grabbed, inches from my freedom, and I let him. The strength of the yank forces me to turn around. He’s not threatening at all. I know that dejects him a little, the way I look unsurprised, prepared for anything from a punch to a threat. He can’t kill me. So, what is he up to?
“This conversation has been a little unfair,” He gulps, still unsure of what he’s doing, but determined. “I may not be as observant as you, but I’m still smart.”
It’s alarming, and I might fail to hide that in my eyes. And at this moment, I almost forget that this is the first skin contact I’ve had from him in over a year. He certainly knows that. Then Lex’s free hand moves to my chest, right above my heart.
“It’s cold.” His voice low he’s gained some high ground. I’m cursing at myself. “That’s cheating.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know this conversation had rules so it.” I hiss back at him. But that won’t help.
Ice magic, to freeze my heart, to help stop my emotions. Although it’s not particularly powerful at the moment, I still used it. Unlike other magic’s, this one defiantly leaves traces. It might have been something we didn’t talk about, but I always told him I would never use magic to influence our conversations, I stuck to that deal for years.
And he knows a lot of what I can do. Though I was careful, missing points here and there, hiding whatever could’ve been used against me (of course I don’t fully trust him, I never did). And now he defiantly knows that I’ve been using magic in this conversation. Which in a way, proves to him I’m not as cold as I’ve been acting here. That though my words were true, I’m still hiding.
Of course, I’ve been found out. Yup, that’s just my luck. It’s more of a dignity issue though.
“I just believed we would respect boundaries today. No lying.” He says, not taking his hand off the cold radiating out of my body.
“What gave it away?” I sigh, his grip really is painful. Is he actually angry about this?
“Though you seemed off. Call it a hunch.” If I acted the same way, without the ice, what would he have done then? Stalked off, fuming that it was my actual decision never to speak to him again? I might have had the exact same conversation without the ice. But oh boy, does it help. A lot.
“It doesn’t prove anything.” I give an experimental tug on my arm, which he doesn’t let go of. “It doesn’t change anything I’ve said.” I wonder if there is any guard waiting outside. One that could shoot me now. It’s starting to worry me.
“Then get rid of it.” He growls, eyes basically cutting into me, “If it doesn’t matter, then you don’t need it.”
I am a proud person. And if there is any way to lose his respect, or make myself look like a liar, then this moment decides it.
With an ungracious pout, I place my hand over his (if only because he refuses to move it), and call off the ice. This is much easier in a warm room, with a warm hand over it. Much like why it was easier to cast it in the freezing water. The heat seeps through my hand, passes through his, startling him slightly, and melts the magic away.
It feels wrong, exposing. I notice the shift instantly. My earlier self-confidence has faded immensely, and my heart beats faster. But the matter has been solved. Lex feels the magic is gone, smug asshole. Doesn’t mean anything if I’m leaving now, I can feel time has started to pass even slower, I’m getting fidgety. I really want to go before he presses more questions.
“I’ve done as you asked, perceptive bastard.” Oh, I can hear the change in my voice too. Defiantly sounding more emotional. “Now let me go.”
“Do you want me to?”
“Of course, what sort of-”
“It sounds,” He cuts me off, I’m certainly nervous, “like a lie. And you don’t lie, do you?” He can feel my pulse, there is no way to make it seem convincing now. I’m not really going to resort to pleading now? I can just burn him, or shatter the glass or, I don’t know, anything. I’m magic after all. Just why can’t I think of the right way to deal with this situation?
“No, I don’t lie.” My words slow and quiet, “It’s just sometimes, you have to do what you need to, rather then what you want to.”
“This isn’t one of those moments.” That could be debated. He leaves no time for it.
In all my renditions of how this conversation could go, on what I would say and how things would end, I concentrated too much on me. What I know I would say, and do. I didn’t think enough about him, not that I could possibly predict his reactions. But I always imagined us fighting, or leaving silent, or being shot. Not once did I imagine I would have to deal with this.
There’s that familiar hunger in his eyes. Being this close to me always did that to him, months before I made the first move. I make no mistake of recognizing what my body does to him. He probably recognizes it too, he isn’t hiding it. The way his breathing becomes shallow. How his eyes flicker from mine, to his hand over my heart, and then my lips. The second time I’ve noticed tonight. For a moment we are both frozen, in knowing of the compromising position, and the awkward yet serious tone of the situation.
“Lex.” I whisper. My voice, for the first time tonight, sounds weak. Desperate. “Don’t.”
“Stop me then.”
But I can’t.
He shifts the hand over my heart further around my waist, holding me tightly. All the while his other hand releases mine, to find my neck. I’m shoved against the wall, stunned in surprise, right before his lips crash into mine. Almost against my own morals, my eyes flutter shut. I can’t help but revel in the kiss, in his lips. They’re chapped, I expected it, he has a bad habit of licking them. But still soft, and needy, and familiar. He might never have been the sexy or seductive one in the relationship, taking more casual and innocent roles. But right now, he could’ve fooled me.
He pushes my lips apart, a whine escaping his throat, and I almost melt. I’m not sure if I should stop this now, or let him continue. But how far will this go? His tongue slips into my mouth, and I’m engaging in a battle with my own urges.
He’s holding onto me uncharacteristically tight, possessive, not wanting to let go. His entire body cages mine against the wall, I’m enveloped, there is no escape. His mouth tastes like liquor, unlike the sweetness it usually was, the sugary tongue I craved to taste every time he finished work. The liquor sticks to his breath, in hot moans and sighs. It was dizzying and intoxicating in its own way. He was not mine, the same man I use to hold so dearly, yet his touch brought the world to a standstill.
I knew every inch of him. I couldn’t help exploring the ridges of his mouth, tracing his teeth, caressing his tongue with mine. My hands went to weave through his hair, but then I felt myself stop, remembering it had all been shaven. Would it be awkward to still touch his head? I gave another idea to my hands, and ran my fingernails from the base of his skull, down his neck. I separate one hand to place behind his ear, stroking with my thumb. It's so unusual to me. The other hand slips over his collarbone, then around his body to catch his shoulder. The kiss deepens.
Why the hell am I doing this?
I’m aware I’m recuperating, enjoying this even. But this is so wrong, I came here to break up. To say goodbye. Not to make out. And certainly, nothing more then what is happening against this wall right now. The onset arousal frightens me into hyperawareness.
There is a moment before a wave crashes, you can pinpoint before it hits the water. I know if I don’t stop now, things will be out of hand. And both of us are emotionally not ready for this. Even the kiss is pushing it. He’s upset, rash, and defiantly tipsy. Oh god, he may be the one who regrets this.
It takes a strong will, but I push us apart. We separate with a loud exhale, and he stumbles back a foot, taken off guard. Our eyes meet, he looks so delicate right now. Red lips, flustered, a little surprised by my push but also satisfied. He looks me over too, and gulps.
“That was a bad idea Lex.” I mumble, out of breath.
“I didn’t see it that way.” He advances again, but this time I know better. My arm shoots up and I press a firm hand on his chest. He grits his teeth, I have to defuse the situation.
“Look the- the kiss wasn’t bad. But you,” I whine, “You are upset. You’re heartbroken, and in your own sense betrayed. Don’t pretend you aren’t sensitive. You are very emotional. So please, stopping is better for you then it is for me.”
“I’m fine.” His voice low as he disagrees. He’s not fine.
“Neither of us are.” I sigh, and he stops pushing against me. The frustration and anger flooding back into him.
“I don’t want us to be broken up. I don’t.” His hands running down his face. He might start pacing now, if I remember the stages correctly.
“I didn’t want to be either, ok?” I let out my own frustrated grumble, and lean back against the wall. “I didn’t know what was happening when we started dating, or where it was going. I don’t think I honestly cared if we were ever going to be more then that. But I never wanted to break up. Yet the bullshit I have to go through for being together? I didn’t mind the late nights, long distance, any panic attack or existential crisis you would go through. But Lex, there are people in the grave because of you.”
That last sentence hits hard, and we are both left in silence again. He isn’t looking at me, rather, the carpet, as if it had some helpful answers if only he gave it some attention.
The silence continues, and I need him to break the tension this time. Time is still passing too slow for me. I notice his tie is a little off centre. In a bout of dumb courage, I move forward to correct it.
He stills as I tug it into place. I plan to step back again, but a hand catches mine. He really has to stop doing that.
“I can’t promise to be better.” He sniffs, “I can’t promise to be any different then I was before.”
“That’s a given.” My voice unreadable. His grip loosens, but I don’t move. He doesn’t go on. “I’ve done some terrible things in the past too. Yet what I did was atonable.” I never talk about my past, with anyone. He’s right to seem confused, but I don’t elaborate.
“Please don’t leave.” He begs, as my hand drops.
“I will.” I take a step back, then two. “I’m giving you some time to think about tonight.” I continue, “But I’ll be back, at some point. To discuss if anything could happen…” My voice trails off, it gives Lex a moment to process. He’s realized I’ve changed my mind. That I’ve given another chance.
“I can take that.” He’s tired, but grateful. I debate on the goodbye; Do I hug him? Kiss him? No, neither of those work. We’re both drained, and exhausted from whatever has just traversed.
“Escort me out.” I nod towards the door, and he complies. “Oh wait.” I say, just before the door is opened, and wave a hand over his face, magic colliding harmlessly into his face, seeping into his reddened skin. “Your face really gives away too much.”
I smile. I real one. Not sarcastic, or mocking. I smile for real. And he even gives me a small one back. Then I am escorted outside, him in the lead.
I can’t find myself regretting tonight.
---------
I could have done many things to get to shore, walk over the water, teleport; but this air makes me feel very human. I take the offer of a boat and enjoy the rush of cool air over my face. I needed that cool down.
When I make it to the docks though, I need a vice. Something to take my mind of the decision I just made, a rash one. So, my mind travels back to the thoughts of those girls out clubbing. It is still early in the clubbing scene. I’m sure I can track them down.
So, as I walk up to the roads, my hand wavers over my body, changing into a less mature, more revealing, louder outfit. Tonight, I will dance my heart out in boots, let my hair down, and forget my mind in pointless music.
Within minutes I’ve located the exact building they entered, already alert by the loud music. I purposefully walk to the entrance, glossing the bouncer’s eyes, and slip right past. Inside, it’s an explosion of strobe lights, smoke, sweaty bodies and screaming. The floor is sticky, and the laughter puts a smile on my face. My first stop is the bar, of course, because that's where I see her. Blue romper, Violet hair, and a dark shade of lipstick. But I have no clue where the piolet jacket went.
After downing four shots that I didn’t have to pay for, I turn to her. She doesn’t notice the healing charms I place on her feet, easing the blisters that made her sit in the first place.
“Need a dance partner?” I smile foolishly, acting young and excited. Her eyes light up as she looks me up and down.
“Yes please!” She giggles back, grabbing my hand, and plunging us both into the sea of dancing bodies.
My head is pounding, my eyesight fuzzy, and I’m touching maybe five people at the moment. I can’t help but play around with some light magic, hoping everyone will think the dancing animals and wisps in the air are just great effects, or drunk hallucinations. And then I increase the smoke levels, just a tad. The crowd has excitedly noticed the change of atmosphere, and the DJ yells something encouraging I cannot understand.
Laugh into the crowd, the sound drowned out by anything else. Now, this is how you end a night.