I apologize, but I'm afraid I'm smarter than you

“I’ll be fine.” She replied, silent for a moment as she remembered she couldn’t actually go home – not without running into Sturgis, which was something she absolutely didn’t want to do. She knew she’d have to face him eventually but she was planning on pushing it off for as long as she possibly could.

“Just … don’t worry about me. Sorry for bothering you.” She gives him a tight smile and, not knowing what else to say, she turns to leave.

Dempster stood, as she turned to leave. He wanted to tell her that she hadn’t been bothering him, that she wasn’t a bother, and that he would always worry about her, but he felt like it was better to just keep his mouth shut. He followed her to the door and opened it for her, feeling like a terrible person for letting her go out there alone but not sure what else to do.

“I’m not drunk. I had a few drinks but I’m an adult and I’m allowed to.” She snapped in reply. She knew she was drunk, of course, she had enough common sense to be able to tell that, but admitting she was too drunk to find her way home was admitting she wasn’t adult enough to take care of herself – in her eyes, anyway. “You aren’t dressed to walk anywhere. I can just go. You’re probably waiting for Oliver anyway.”

Dempster sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with this. Whenever Lucy was upset, she rationalized everything and made it impossible to reason with her. He’d have to wait until she’d calmed down enough to speak to her about this.

“Of course you do. Everyone else does. They find someone else better and then I don’t matter.” She yanks her shoulder out of his grip, stepping away from him and crossing her arms tightly across her body, guarding herself. She’s sobering up by the second and hating herself even more each second she sobers up. “You don’t need to. I can just walk. I’m not a kid anymore. ”

Lucy pulls back immediately as if she’d been slapped, watching him speak, narrowing her eyes some as she listened to him. She pushes herself off of the couch and stands, running her hands over her face – it was her own fault she was in this mess, her own fault that she had gotten drunk and had sought out attention from someone who she knew couldn’t return it – but that knowledge didn’t stop the tears stinging her eyes. 

“Of course.” She spat. It wasn’t his fault but she was mad – furious – and he was the only person there to take it out on. “It can never be me. There always has to be another person. I can never be enough for anyone.” She feels sick with the knowledge that she’d potentially messed up their relationship, with the thought that she was, in her opinion, the problem, and sick from the drinks she’d had. 

She’s shocked when she’s pushed back, her drunk brain having never thought that it’d backfire on her – then again, she wasn’t exactly thinking straight. Her first reaction was to be hurt, pulling back some and pouting. 

“You can’t or you don’t want to?” Lucy demands – even drunk she knows that this could potentially hurt their relationship in ways she couldn’t repair but she wanted answers and this was the only time she’d be bold enough to say anything about it. “You wanted me back at school. What’s different now?”

Dempster sighed, rubbing his forehead and reminding himself that Lucy was drunk. She wasn’t in her right mind, otherwise she wouldn’t be bringing this up.

“But people don’t like me. That’s the thing. They find someone different and – and then I don’t matter anymore. I don’t matter enough to make anyone want to stay. No one wants to pick me.” Her grip on him slackens some and she looks down at his robe, spacing out some. 

“It doesn’t matter, though.” She says after waking up from the chance, smiling brightly at him. “I’m glad you don’t hate me or think I’m half a person. I think I’m half a person, but I’m glad that you don’t.” She goes silent for a moment, looking at him – her sober brain wouldn’t have gotten her into this situation but her drunk brain didn’t think it was bad – trying to figure out how to go about this. She just blinks and then pulls herself closer to him, in the blink of an eye pressing her lips to his. 

Dempster still didn’t know where she was going with this, but then suddenly her lips were on his. Once more, he was shocked into stillness. Then he took her shoulders and gently pushed her away from him.

“Lucy,” he said as gently as he could. “You know I can’t.” 

“People don’t like me. I think it’s because there’s something wrong with me. Like maybe I wasn’t born as a whole person or something.” She rattles off, brow furrowed as if she was in deep thought, her eyes focused on the decorations on the room rather than on him. She pauses for a moment and then turns to Dempster, in an instant throwing her arms around his neck to hug him.

“I don’t know what to do.” She whined, looking up towards him, brows still furrowed some as if she was trying to work something out. “You like me, right? You don’t think I’m a half person?”

Dempster stiffened, as Lucy threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her back awkwardly, patting her between the shoulders before she leaned back enough to look up at him. He swallowed hard, noticing their proximity, but not wanting to push her away while she was talking about people not liking her, not wanting to give her the wrong impression. Then again, allowing this might be giving her the wrong impression as well.

He didn’t know what to do, either.

“Dempster! There you are. I’ve been out here for so long.” Without waiting for an invitation, she walked past him into the room and flopped down on the first seat she saw. “Everyone hates me.” She said in a wine, folding and pulling her legs closer to herself, hugging them as she sat her chin on her knees. “No one likes me.”

She’s silent for a moment before she pats the seat beside her. “But then – I was drinking and I remembered something! I still have you!” She no longer looks sad, beaming excitedly at him from her position on the couch. She pauses, noticing the bewildered look on his face and a hurt look immediately overtakes her features. “You don’t hate me too, right?”

Dempster was even more confused when Lucy strolled in and immediately sat down on his couch. He followed, listening to her ramble. Sitting down beside her, he shook his head at her question.

After Tristan had left with a tearful apology and Sturgis had tried to talk it out, and after she had brushed him off multiple times before leaving the house herself, she took to a bar yet again that was somehow thankfully basically empty and drank to forget. Forget what had happened, forget that she had to deal with it, forget the aching pain from allowing herself to have feelings she knew she shouldn’t have.

She was several drinks in by the time she lost her right mind, and by that point the bartender had cut her off and offered to call a cab for her. He’d asked for her address and she knew she didn’t want to go home, she couldn’t go home, so she blurted out the only other one she knew.

That was how she found herself standing outside of Dempster’s door. Had she been in her right mind, she would’ve knocked quietly, waited for an answer, rang the doorbell perhaps, but instead she began banging on the door. “Dempster! Dempster, helloooo!” She called out loudly, regardless of how she was probably disturbing the neighbors.

To say Dempster hadn’t been expecting visitors would’ve been an understatement. He had no plans with Oliver tonight, so he was in his dressing gown with a cup of tea and a book, sitting in bed reading. When he first heard the banging on his door, he nearly leapt out of his skin. He definitely spilled some of the tea.

Setting it and the book down hurriedly on his bedside table, he moved toward the door. He paused when he heard Lucy’s voice, then approached more cautiously. Glancing at his wall clock, he wondered what she was doing at his door so late. Tightening the dressing gown around his waist, he inhaled deeply before opening the door.

Well, they got their reaction. [ She removes her hands from his to drop the bits of paper in the trash, though mostly to distance herself as she can feel herself getting sad rather than angry. ] 

[watches her with a soft sigh] Can I do anything that might help?

[ She’s still trying to keep her anger down, to breathe, to not scream and make a scene like she wants to deep down. He takes her hands and she relaxes her grip on the papers some. ] I just want to forget. I don’t understand. Why … why would they bring it up? Why does anyone care?

Because all they care about is their own careers. They just chase after stories they think will get the biggest reaction. You can’t take it personally . . .

[ She’s grasping onto the shreds of the paper, jaw clenched when he approaches. She takes breaths to calm herself, not wanting to snap at him. It’s not his fault, she tells herself. A moment later, she looks at him. ] They have no right to dig up my past. To … to talk about him.

[looks down at the scraps of paper in her hands before slowly reaching to take her hands in both of his] I’m sorry.

I don’t know. Does he know it’s not true?

I have told him. But this is also about my own reputation.

Yeah, no one does. But they’re always gonna do it when you’re around her. The way I see it, the more you try to fight about it the more it looks like it’s true.

So you believe I should not contest these claims that we are engaged in an affair? That I should let people believe that I have been unfaithful to Oliver?

Oh. I mean, not do be an ass but does it really matter if it’s not true?

I do not enjoy people questioning me about my personal business.

Hey, not so loud. Be cool. I barely got in here as it is.

What happened? I thought the whole article thing was a while ago.

Yes, but it seems people are still talking about it.