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It was such a stupid fucking moment.
Scott had invited Cleo over to the Isles, something about their new alliance. But he didn’t appear to be there yet, because the only one Cleo saw milling about was Martyn. So, in light of Cleo and Martyn’s newfound “truce” (honestly, it had been very successful in satisfying both of them– Cleo just threw in the quotation marks for their personal comfort,) they went up the steps to greet him.
He hadn’t noticed her arrival, though. He was standing on the house’s deck; the back of it, near the lounge chairs, which he seemed to be messing with aimlessly. He was almost directly against the fence, which is why–
“Hi,” Cleo said.
–it maybe shouldn’t have been so surprising that Martyn would fall over the edge when he jumped at her voice.
Cleo quickly rushed to the railing (it was only, like, 7 feet tall, but still) just in time to see Martyn tumble into the water. They never noticed how close the back of their house was to the edge of the island. Martyn’s splash knocked over a reed of sugar cane.
After a moment of silence, Cleo called “Martyn?” and around then, Martyn broached the surface with a gasp. He coughed (dramatically) as he reached for land. When he had a hold on it, he looked up at Cleo accusatorily.
“Christ, Cleo!” he exclaimed, “Care to announce yourself some next time?”
Cleo, although she had tried to keep from doing so, laughed.
“Oh my god,” she giggled, “Are you okay?”
Martyn huffed with a roll of his eyes.
“Yeah,” he admitted, before adding, “‘Cause I got lucky! Coulda snapped my neck just then.”
“Hm,” Cleo hummed as Martyn hauled himself onto the grass, “So you’re saying I could’ve accidentally made you fall to your death?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m– ohhh,” Martyn stood and looked up at her with a smarmy little smile, “I see. Cheeky.”
“We’d be even, is all I’m saying.”
“Not true!” Martyn declared and, for whatever reason, he appeared to be trying to climb back onto the deck as opposed to taking the stairs. Cleo watched him. “For it to be even, you’d have to accidentally fall to your own death as well. And then I’d call you a motherfucker, and then we’d be even.”
Cleo rolled their eyes.
“Martyn, what are you doing?”
“Getting back up,” his foot slipped against the wood twice before he was able to get a decent footing, “Wossit look like I’m doing?”
“Looks like you’re making a fool of yourself.”
“Well, I’m getting up aren’t I?”
Cleo had to give him that. He was, indeed, and he was nearly at the top. With a sigh, she leaned over and offered him her arms. He looked up and smiled at her, and it was a smile he’d never directed at her before. Not cocky or sneering, but just grateful and genuinely… pleasant. He grabbed her wrists, and she grabbed his, and she tugged him over the railing and above the deck. The force of it had both of them landing on their asses.
After a second, Martyn laughed. And it was infectious, really– always had been– and Cleo began laughing as well. They laughed together, maybe for a bit longer than was really warranted. When Cleo stopped, shaking their head lightheartedly, Martyn was still chuckling. They looked at him– a mess, sopping wet, dirt and seaweed on his clothes. But more than any of that, really, Cleo saw his smile.
She’d seen this smile, naturally, one full of life and mirth, but something… she didn’t know. This one felt more intimate. Something about it stoked a light in her chest, making her feel warm and…
Wait. wait.
No.
No no no, absolutely not, surely not.
…
Shit.
That’s why she was talking to Scott now. Because she needed some way to… to air this out, or something. Just get it out of her, somehow. After their meeting, she’d pulled Scott aside and brought him back to the Clockers’ base. This did have the unfortunate side effect of Scar and Bdubs butting their way into the conversation, but she could live with that.
And now they were all laughing at them, and Cleo was not happy about it.
“What?” she asked. “Is that not a perfectly reasonable conclusion to make?”
“No!” Bdubs giggled.
Scott, who at least had the decency to suppress his laughter a bit, said “Cleo, honey, that’s not how that works.”
“What do you mean?” they asked defensively.
“The soulbound is gone. There’s no ‘residue,’” he said. Which she didn’t want to hear, really, because her feelings just being messy soulmate leftovers was her only way out of this. So, she scoffed.
“Well, what would you know?” they asked. “You’re gay, you never liked Pearl anyways. And you–” they pointed at Scar, who had stopped laughing, but still had a dumb grin on his face, “You and Grian don’t count, you’ve got… there’s something going on with the two of you.”
Scar, to his credit, did nothing to rebut this.
“Yeah?” said Scott. “Then how about Bdubs?”
“Yeah! How about me!”
“What about him?” Cleo said. “I refuse to use Bdubs as a point of reference for anything.”
“Hey!”
“Or Joel and Etho,” Scott went on.
“They were always just sort of bros, anyway,” Cleo ignored Bdubs’ grumble, whether it be at that or he was still on the last thing.
“Jimmy and Tango.”
Oooh. Hm.
“Got ‘em there,” Scar said.
“No,” Cleo said quickly, “You didn’t. I mean, I don’t know what all they’ve got going on, it’s hardly any of our business–”
“Cleo, are you making excuses?” Scott asked with a smile, and Cleo wanted to just punch his smug little face in.
“I’m not! I’m just—”
“Oooh, you likeee him,” Bdubs sang.
“I don’t!”
“You do!” responded Scott. Cleo groaned, loudly.
“... even if I did,” she went on after a moment’s quiet, “unlike some people, I’m not too interested in getting cozied up with someone during a death game.”
“Didn’t you and Bdubs–?”
“No,” Cleo cut Scar off, “We didn’t.”
“What about Lizzie?” asked Bdubs.
“Lizzie?” asked Scott.
“Shut it, shut up,” Cleo said sternly, “Those don’t count, this is… different.”
“How’s it different?” Scott smiled.
“You know how.”
“Do we?” Scar asked. Cleo shot him a glare and he and Bdubs started snickering.
“Awww,” said Scott. Cleo did not appreciate this, “Are you sure you don’t want me to set you up on a date?”
“Scott I swear.”
“I just get you both somewhere, leave you be, if you want–”
“Scott.”
“Okay, okay,” he relented. Then he smiled, “We can talk about it when the boys are gone.”
The boys in question laughed and went “Oooooh!” in sync. Cleo swatted at them, saying something about going and doing something.
Five minutes later, Cleo and Scott were sitting in the tower alone.
“So, seriously,” Scott said. Cleo sighed. “I mean, just say no, but I can totally do that.”
“I don’t– I don’t know, Scott,” she admitted, putting her head in her palm.
“That’s okay.”
“Just… let me think on it, alright?”
“Sure!” said Scott. Then, after a moment, “Although… can I say something?”
Cleo looked up.
“Go for it.”
Scott pursed his lips and looked to the side, like he was about to reveal a big secret. Then he leaned over.
“Martyn still has the fattest crush on you,” he said in a quiet tone, “So…”
Cleo groaned.
“Don’t tell me that,” they bemoaned. Scott smiled. “Dammit, Scott.”
“Just saying…”
“You… get out of my house. Let me think.”
“Okay, okay!” he stood, walking to leave. “Our doors always open!”
And he left. Cleo huffed a breath.
Yeah, she thought, I bet it is.