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Scary doesn't care.
Scary has a reputation of 'not caring' to uphold, and then here comes Lincoln to throw a huge spanner in the works. She's been just fine not-caring, and suddenly she's caring a lot and it's killing her, slowly, her cool persona rotting, flaking away like a dead husk. It's infuriating, that all it took was one cute guy and a few kisses for her to drop all her progress as 'Scary' and start thinking like stupid Terri again. She can't believe she let herself slip even a few times, giving in to stupid Terri and her stupid 'love'.
So, Scary doesn't care. She doesn't care when Lincoln buys her a cool shirt in Carnaby Street and her eyes keep trying to find his. She doesn't care in Kew Gardens, when Lincoln walks next to her the whole time, pointing out beautiful goth flowers (they even have a cool name- black magic hollyhock sounds so metal) and her stupid hand keeps brushing his and her idiot brain wants to hold it. She doesn't care in the Tate Modern, with incredible artwork all on display, and her traitor face is bright red because of course Lincoln knows exactly which art Scary wants to see.
And Scary thanks him, like a friend, and doesn't say anything else as she walks into her hotel room and she doesn't care that he looks hurt, a sad puppy waiting. She doesn't care about it so much that she cries, curling up into a ball and thinking up a thousand excuses for when she does care, even a little bit. It's self-destructive, the Terri part of her mind tells her. Shut up, the Scary part of her mind tells the Terri part of her mind.
And Scary doesn't care the next day, either, when she spends all of it with Taylor, talking about anime and cool goth stuff, and she sees Lincoln trailing behind sadly, glancing at her. She doesn't care in the Globe Theatre, when she sits as far away from him as possible. She doesn't care when they go to Nando's, the same one they went to, and they're shoved in a corner booth right next to each other, Normal and the others blissfully unaware.
They order, and Scary doesn't care that ignoring Lincoln is like being ripped apart from the inside, and that having Lincoln ignore her is even worse. She doesn't care that Lincoln orders the same food he ordered that night, doesn't care that she did, too, without thinking. It doesn't taste the same.
She has to leave.
Scary stands, abruptly, bashes her legs against the table, sits again, hard. It hurts. 'I have to- go to. The. Um. Bathroom.' She's gone before the end of her sentence. She doesn't care that she can hear Hermie still, hear his worried words. She's fine, thanks for asking, now go away and leave her be.
And Scary doesn't care that it takes almost ten minutes to calm down, reapply her mascara and fix her puffy eyes. She steps out of the bathroom not caring and comes face to face with Lincoln, standing right outside the door, leaning on the wall. She doesn't care that it looks good.
'You're avoiding me.' He says. Statement. Fact.
'I'm not.' Statement. Lie.
'You are. I'm not stupid.' Statement. Fact. Fact, unfortunately, though it would make it a lot easier if it was a lie.
'Well, you're not the only person I can hang out with. Just because I spend time with other people doesn't mean I'm ignoring you, okay!?' Her voice rises at the end of her sentence and she tries to storm past him, his he catches her wrist, spinning her back to him and holding her there. Her face is red. He smells like grass and Peri-Peri sauce.
He looks hurt. '"Hang out"? That's what you called this?' He gestures between them in disbelief. 'That's all it was? Would you do that with Taylor? With Norm?' His eyes are accusatory and fine, maybe Scary does care that it's painful.
Scary hangs her head, embarrassed. '...no.' They both pause. A stolen breath between them, a word, a quiet admission. Scary does care.
'Then why?' Lincoln's voice breaks. 'Why push me away? Was it just a game? A distraction? It doesn't seem like it, from your reaction. What are you doing?'
Scary can't answer that. Not that last bit. It hurts too much to admit that she's scared. Scared of losing another someone who cares. Scared of caring about them.
Lincoln breathes in, steadying, an ever-encompassing ground 0, reliable, sturdy. 'No games?
'No games.' Scary still can't look at him.
'So why?'
'Don't leave.' That whispers out. Stupid Terri, not knowing when to shut up. Lincoln's eyes go wide and he hugs her closely. It's comforting. He's a good hugger.
'I promise you, I'm not going anywhere.' He whispers into her ear, hair tickling his face.
~~~
Scary doesn't care,
Scary doesn't care that everyone can see them holding hands. She doesn't care that Taylor stares at them whenever they kiss, talking about fifth-wheeling and losers in love. And Scary doesn't care that that's exactly what they are.
'I love you.' she says at the top of the London Eye.
'I love you too.' He says back, flying high about a city that shines and loves and cares.
And Scary doesn't care that everyone else totally heard them.