controlled

             .・゜-: ✧ :-　𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕣　-: ✧ :-゜・．

                                               guess i’m wasted...

                                                               time ticks and

                                       i hasten

          ❛   that  ended  so  well  last  time.   ❜    minjeong  isn’t  one  to  talk,  but  nick  really  should  pick  his  words  carefully.  no,  really,  she  might  have  fucking  ptsd  from  ‘ we  need  to  talk ’,  if  the  gulp  she  tries  to  hide  the  moment  it  hit  her  ears  is  any  indication.  she  had  no  plan  to  invite  him  in,  not  really.  not  because  she’s  upset  —  it  was  more  pettiness  to  follow  him  up  in  his  ignoring  game  than  anything,  the  rage  itself  had  stopped  about  two  weeks  after  it  all  happened.  she  just  doesn’t  know  how  to  react  to  him  anymore,  or  well,  doesn’t  know  if  he’s  the  same  he  was,  if  her  old  reflexes  still  apply  to  him.  but  then  he  says  the  one  name  they  both  can’t  stay  indifferent  to,  and  she  can’t  help  the  sigh  heaving  past  her  lips,  her  door  swinging  open  as  she  retreats  back  in.  he  knows  how  to  invade  her,  doesn’t  need  her  permission.   ❛   you  don’t  need  to  talk  to  me  to  talk  to  them.   ❜    if  there’s  still  any  anger  left,  this  would  be  the  root.  she  did  her  part  knowing  it  would  give  her  sibling  all  the  space  in  the  world,  but  he’s  been  making  himself  so  small,  he’s  impossible  to  find.  kennedy  didn’t  deserve  the  cold  shoulder.  minjeong  only  ever  wishes  he  could  carry  on  with  her,  but  leave  them  out  of  this.   ❛   acting  like  a  child  with  me,  i  get  it.  but  kennedy ?  they  didn’t  deserve  that,  nick.   ❜   it  doesn’t  sound  like  she’s  receptive  to  this  conversation.  mostly  because  she  isn’t,  but  she’ll  give  it  a  try,  for  her  sibling’s  sake.  she  drops  the  pen  she’s  been  holding  on  the  table,  takes  this  as  a  short  moment  to  ground  herself,  to  take  the  focus  away  from  how  weird  it  feels  to  have  him  stand  in  her  living  room  like  a  stranger.

open to: anybody location: the lounge

lovely sat on the floor, stirring in some coffee in her hot cocoa mug to make a cocoa-coffee combo. while she had been partly mesmerized by the movie playing and maybe a little entertained, she was getting a little restless. and maybe a little worried about how snailchu was doing back in her room. she nudged the nearest person with her sock-covered foot and tried to ask with a hushed tone - keyword: tried. “can you tell me how this movie ends? i kinda wanna do something else but i’m also kinda invested in how it’s going.” —- ( @nlupdates​ )

               ❛      yes.      ❜      inexplicably,    the  answer  is  plucked  from  her  lips,    earnest  in  its  sincerity.    it  crawls  out  of  her  mouth  and  sits  in  the  light  of  day,    the  edge  of  her  honesty  glinting  in  the  sun.    one  word,    three  letters,    and  it  doesn’t  even  have  the  decency  to  catch  on  the  lump  that’s  formed  in  her  throat,    the  barrage  of  words  she’d  rather  leave  left  unsaid  preparing  to  surface.      ❛      i’m  so  tired,    nick.    i’m  just  .  .  .      so  tired  of  hurting,    and  being  sad,    and  being  weak.      and  every  single  time  i  see  her,    it’s  like  she  doesn’t  care.    she  doesn’t  care  about  anything.    not  about  me,    not  about  this  place,    not  about  what  anyone  says,    and  i  keep  thinking  .  .  .      wouldn’t  it  be  so  nice  ?    wouldn’t  it  be  so  nice  to  just  not  care  about  anything  ?      to  not  have  to  feel  anything  for  a  while  ?      ❜      there’s  a  tremor  in  her  voice,    a  falter  in  her  words,    and  the  wetness  that  gathers  on  the  fullness  of  her  cheeks  is  a  burning  that’s  all  too  familiar.      ❛      and  i  don’t  know  what  i  did  to  deserve  any  of  this.    i  wish  i  did,    you  know  ?      i’ve  spent  .  .  .      so  many  nights  trying  to  figure  it  out.    to  figure  out  why  me.    i  keep  thinking  that  maybe  if  i  knew,    maybe  if  i  could  wrap  my  head  around  it,    it’d  stop  hurting  because  maybe  i  deserved  it.    maybe  it  was  something  i  did,    and  if  that’s  the  case,    i  don’t  have  anyone  to  blame  but  myself.    and  i  can’t  .  .  .    figure  it  out.    i  don’t  know,    and  that  just  makes  it  hurt  more,    and  i’m  so  tired.      ❜      her  vulnerability  strips  her  bare,    leaving  her  naked  and  exposed,    standing  as  an  open  wound    ;    in  a  crowded  room,    she’s  never  been  more  alone.      ❛      so  i  do.    i  do  want  to  be  like  her.    i  want  to  know  what  it’s  like  .  .  .    to  do  the  hurting  instead  of  being  hurt  for  a  change.    to  not  feel  anything  for  a  little  while.    to  not  have  to  answer  to  anyone  for  anything,    because  no  one  would  expect  anything  from  me  anyway.    doesn’t  that  sound  nice  ?    and  is  that  really  so  bad  ?      ❜      and  as  quickly  as  the  honesty  comes,    there’s  a  pause,    a  shift  in  the  room  when  the  world  seems  to  come  back  into  focus.    she  blinks,    once,    twice.    there’s  realization  in  his  subtle  movements,    what  she  assumes  is  the  beginnings  of  what  will  become  a  terrible  headache.    there’s  no  reason  she  would  ever  .  .  .    not  to  him,    not  like  this.    her  stomach  lurches,    heart  thudding  against  the  confines  of  her  ribcage,    and  the  bile  comes  up  before  she  can  tamp  it  down.      he  didn’t  need  to  know  any  of  that.    she  should  have  never  said  any  of  that.      ❛      i  can’t  .  .  .    i  can’t  believe  you  did  that  to  me.      ❜

“yeah, but i have the personality of a cactus. that’s my normal.” only half a joke. it wasn’t like nick to be acting like jake, the point was moot. as much as he gave his brother grief for acting like a parent, he did appreciate it from time to time, though he wasn’t sure how to return the favor. “you are not normal a cactus. what gives? do i need to call a doctor?” 

          some  days  are  just  better  working  from  the  apartment  to  avoid  starting  a  full  on  war  with  the  whole  business  department.  not  that  she  cares  about  chaos,  but  shit  has  to  get  done,  and  if  she  doesn’t  want  peter  on  her  ass,  he’ll  have  to  deal  with  the  paperwork  she’s  bringing  back  with  her.   anthropoteras  aren’t  much  of  a  new  thing  anymore,  but  fuck  does  it  still  cause  a  headache  in  penning  out  how  valuable  it  can  be  to  nemean  lion  when  she  doesn’t  believe  a  fucking  word  of  it  herself.  reading  all  of  this  and  ruffling  through  the  scattered  pages,  trying  to  make  sense  of  new  deals,  fixing  the  incompetence  on  some  of  it,  that  takes  so  much  of  her  attention  that  she  completely  misses  the  footsteps  coming  in  the  hallway  and  stopping  right  in  front  of  her  door.  so  of  course,  she’s  startled  by  the  knock,  hopes  whoever  it  is  doesn’t  hear  the  jump  in  her  breath,  only  the  annoyed  groan  that  follows  as  she  makes  her  way  to  see  who  it  could  be.

       she’s  not  expecting  anyone,  and  she  doubts  it’s  kennedy  with  their  hands  full.  all  ready  to  cuss  out  whoever  it  is  that  came  to  bother  her  —  unannounced  visit  pisses  her  off  —,  minjeong  opens  with  an  irritation  on  her  face  that  fades  for  unusual  shock.  every  time  she  sees  his  face,  it’s  only  a  blur  in  passing  when  he  exits  the  room  she  steps  into.  to  see  it  so  defined  now,  so  clear,  it’s  jarring.  what  the  hell  is  he  doing  here.  minjeong  almost  slams  the  door  shut,  wants  to  with  her  whole  being,  but  her  hand  clinches  to  the  knob,  making  her  arm  so  rigid  a  simple  swing  feels  like  it  could  break  it.  is  he  really  standing  there ?  this  place  is  turning  her  crazy,  but  not  enough  to  hallucinate  things.  but  he  hasn’t  been  here  in  months,  today  is  no  special  than  any  others.  there’s  a  lot  on  her  mind  ;  she’s  missed  seeing  him  in  her  doorway.  why  is  he  there.   how  long  as  it  been.  why  does  he  think  it’s  okay  for  him  to  show  up  like  this.  none  of  it  come  out,  or  it  would  be  all  at  once.    ❛   you’ve  got  the  wrong  door.   ❜    it  has  to  be,  why  else  would  he  stand  on  ground  zero  of  his  own  personal  plague  if  not  by  mistake.

“oh, right, sorry. ‘did you eat?’ is such riveting conversation,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “seriously, what gives? are you ill?” jacob reaches to put his hand to nick’s forehead, to feel for his temperature.  

               it  would  be  so  easy  to  walk  away.      his  words  seem  to  swelter,    tearing  at  every  nerve  -  ending,    slicing  her  from  root  to  tip      ;      it  would  be  so  easy,    heel  to  toe,    one  foot  in  front  of  the  other.      her  teeth  press  together,    an  uncomfortable  tightness  taking  hold  in  her  jaw.      the  sliver  glint  of  the  knife  was  in  his  hand,    and  now  it’s  buried  somewhere  deep  in  the  pit  of  her,    the  crimson  stain  of  her  own  sorrow  pouring  out  between  the  tips  of  her  fingers,    and  she  knows  .  .  .      she  knows  how  it  got  there,    how  she  should  have  left  well  enough  alone,    how  she  should  have  known  better  than  to  back  herself  into  the  same  corner  time  and  time  again,    prey  sitting  pretty  for  the  next  predator  in  line.      and  it  would  be  so  easy,    so  painfully  easy,    heel  to  toe,    one  foot  in  front  of  the  other.    until  she  stands  close  enough  to  reach  out,    fist  her  hands  in  the  softness  of  his  shirt,    draw  him  close  enough  to  end  things  once  and  for  all.      she  thinks  she  could  do  it.      she  knows  she  could  do  it.      she  wheels  around  on  shaky  legs,    stalks  across  the  room,    pointedly  ignoring  the  crowd  that’s  gathered  to  watch.    after  all,    it  isn’t  every  day  you  see  two  people  on  the  same  side  duke  it  out.      ❛      you  think  you  know  everything,    don’t  you  ?      and  you  know  nothing.      my  god,    you  think  everyone’s  just  as  obsessed  with  her  as  you  are.      ❜      a  giggle  bubbles  up,    ghastly  and  dissonant.    because  it’s  almost  funny  that  they  have  the  same  weakness,    the  same  vulnerability.    his  makes  more  sense,    but  that’s  neither  here  nor  there.      ❛      how  brave  are  you,    nick  ?      lashing  out  at  everyone  who  tries  to  give  you  the  time  of  day  because  .  .  .      what  ?      does  she  not  give  you enough  attention anymore  and  now  you’re  sulking  about  it  ?      i  don’t  owe  you  an  explanation.      i  don’t  owe  anyone  an  explanation.      and  i  sure  don’t  owe  minjeong  an  explanation,    so  why  do  you  think  i  have  anything  to  say  to  her  ?      i’ve  said  all  that  i  need  to  say  right  here  and  right  now.      you,    on  the  other  hand  .  .  .      you  look  like  you  have  a  lot  you  need  to  express,    but  find  yourself  another  punching  bag,    nick.      ❜

He doesn’t really even think before he’s at her doorstep. He’s walked the path to her apartment too many times before, he could do it with his eyes closed. It’s autopilot leading him there while the rest of his mind is too busy second guessing itself and fighting what might be the first symptoms he’s ever felt of anxious panic. His breath comes short, the edges of his vision blur almost imperceptibly, and he can’t shake the slight buzz in his hands that causes them to clamp together despite trying to flex them back to normal. Funny. Nick’s been training to be a hero fighting monsters for the better part of the last couple years, but nothing has ever scared him like this has. Aside from that night in Colorado. Still, beneath all of the fear sits something bigger. Something he doesn’t want to think about or admit, but it sits there like a thorn lodged deep beneath his ribs, unable to be removed. Eight months. He misses them.

There’s no fully tricking Kennedy when it comes to emotions since that’s basically their whole ordeal but they don’t want to have to keep asking Nick to clarify for them. They don’t want to constantly have to be asking for explanations that they know realize are never going to come. The tears threaten to form at this singular thought but they know that crying right now would only cause him to feel bad for them and it would turn into something completely different. Kennedy doesn’t want Nick to offer them an explanation out of guilt or pity but because he genuinely thinks that they deserve to know. 

Somehow they’re still waiting for him to have some magical response that’s going to piece everything together and have it make sense. Something that’s going to tell them that Nick feels the same way but in the same breath that Minjeong and he can still be close. They desperately feel the need to be able to fix it all without knowing what exactly it is that they’re trying to fix. “Yeah, I knew you.” Past tense. Nothing of that feels as if it remains now and it’s his fault as much as it hurts to think. “Why doesn’t this still matter now? Why won’t you actually talk to me instead of going back and forth between Minjeong as if it’s a competition of which one of you is finally gonna speak up first?” 

He hears their words, hears how absolute and detached they sound. I knew you. Nick wonders for a moment just how precise Kennedy’s power is, if they can feel the way his own heart sinks in that instant. He had told himself until now that it would be okay if he lost the both of them, so long as it meant that the two siblings could keep each other, lean on each other, be each other’s family. But as much as he’s been repressing just how much it hurts, it’s a reminder again now that he considered them his family too.

“Of course I do,” she said. “I’m just only nice to those who deserve it.” Or whenever she wanted to make use of someone like, like Nick for example. “To the forge, I had to restock on some things and buy a new jumpsuit.” 

“dude, what gives?” it was unlike jake to be the one to check in on nick instead of the other way around. “are you sick or something? i haven’t heard from you in weeks.” 

@nickspencer​ !

“that was supposed to be a one night stand? you held me like you were gonna wife me up. damn, okay, okay. well, good to know you’re a cold-hearted-ass bitch, making me feel special and all.” otis turned away to leave hoping nick would call out to him.

               protest  rises  in  her  throat  like  bile,    cheeks  reddening  and  warming  with  shame.    she  detests  being  thought  of  as  a  kid,    a  child,    this  innocent  little  thing      —      she’s  not.    the  reality  is  that  she  hasn’t  been  in  quite  some  time,    not  with  the  way  the  world  seemingly  enjoys  swallowing  her  whole    &    regurgitating  her  all  the  same,    taking  bits  and  pieces  of  her  with  it  each  time,    over  and  over  again.    she  doesn’t  know  where  the  old blair  ends  and  the  new  blair  begins,    the  one  stripped  of  her  naivety,    her  ignorance.      all  she  knows  is  that  she’s  tired,    so  very  tired,    of  being  assumed  to  be  gentle,    pure,    soft.    her  hand  rises  to  stop  his  spiel,    theatric  and  exasperated.    at  least  she  tried  to  be  nice,    handle  him  with  the  kid  gloves  she  so  desperately  wishes  someone  would  use  towards  her.    and  just  like  that  .  .  .    something  inside  her  cracks,    the  remnants  of  her  resolve  shattering,    ragged    &    sharp,    slicing  through  the  one  last  tender  place  she  had  concealed.      ❛      you  know  what  ?      who  do  you  even  think  you  are  ?      don’t  call  me  ‘  kid,  ’    nick.    i’m  not  a  kid.    i’m  here,    just  like  you,    and  judging  by  the  level  -  five  pity  party  of  one  that  you’re  throwing  for  yourself,    i’m  doing  a  far  better  job  at  being  a  hero  than  you  could  ever  hope  to  be.    maybe  if  you  stopped  feeling  sorry  for  yourself  and  walking  around  with  your  tail  between  your  legs  only  to  lash  out  at  anyone  who  makes  the  mistake  of  being  nice  to  you  when  you’re  clearly  the  last  person  who  deserves  it  right  now,    you’d  feel  better.      ❜      her  chest  heaves,    outburst  startling  even  herself,    but  the  words  keep  coming.    the  flood  -  gates  have  opened,    they’re  past  the  point  of  no  return,    and  she  wonders  for  a  moment  so  brief  if  there’s  ever  going  to  be  any  coming  back  from  this.      ❛      i’m  not  going  to  lie  to  you,    nick.    from  afar,    i  actually  thought  that  you  were  salvageable.    even  when  minjeong  was  making  my  life  a living  hell  day  in  and  day  out  .  .  .    you  didn’t  do  anything  to  stop  her  of  course,    and  please  don’t  think  i  was  ever  expecting  you  to,    but  you  never  made  it  worse.    but  i  was  wrong.    you  two  deserve  each  other.    you’re  a  perfect  match.    birds  of  a  feather.      ❜      she  doesn’t  know  what  happened  between  the  two,    and  truthfully,    she  doesn’t  want  to.    it’s  far  from  being  her  circus  and  far  from  being  her  monkeys.    once  upon  a  time,    her  mother  had  told  her  to  be  careful,    that  sympathy  fell  somewhere  between  shit  and  syphilis  in  the  dictionary.    she’d  laughed  and  told  her  mother  that  she’d  never  feel  that  way,    that  she  could  never  be  so  cold.      now,    the  tips  of  her  fingers  feel  like  ice  where  she  clenches  her  hands  into  fists  at  her  side.      ❛      and  of  course  you’d  be  so  shallow  and  self  -  absorbed  to  think  that  i’d  want  to  be  alone  with  you.    i  was  here  because  i  felt  sorry  for  you.    contrary  to  popular  belief,    i  have  standards  now.    you  can  have  your  table  all  to  yourself.    i’m  done  trying  to  be  nice  to  you.      ❜      in  the  end,    it’s  almost  poetic    ;    the  girls  always  say  ‘  new  hair,    new  me,  ’    and  as  she  turns  on  her  heel  and  walks  away,    blonde  ponytail  swinging  tall  behind  her,    she  can’t  help  but  feel  that’s true.

It tears them up that he can just stay there and watch them, show no reaction or indication that he’s going to start explaining. That he’s going to suddenly apologize and reveal some big secret that’s going to make everything okay. Kennedy needs everything to be okay because otherwise, why did they make the decision to come here in the first place? “You didn’t.” They start, looking down at their shoes. The pale green sneakers now more of a brown-ish color from how much they wear them everywhere. Soon they’d have to get rid of them. Replaced. Is that what he was doing? They’d just run their course and he could find someone else now. “Minjeong and I are fine.” Which wasn’t exactly the truth but they were certainly doing better than either of them were with Nick. 

Kennedy’s unable to peel their eyes away from their sneakers, a question caught in their throat. They’re already aware that the moment they meet his gaze, they’re going to break. They’ve never been able to play it cool the way their sister and him seem to. Emotions are kind of their whole deal. “Nick…did you only ever like having me around because Min is my sister?” Which is a very roundabout way of asking what they actually want to ask. Because Minjeong is beautiful and she’s mysterious and cool and although they love each other wholeheartedly, she’s everything that Kennedy lacks.

A dry laugh escapes him, despite it not wanting to. It’s not Kennedy’s fault, but their response tells him Minjeong still hadn’t explained what had happened between the two of them. Maybe it’s a mercy his ex friend had granted, saving him the embarrassment of just how terribly he’d fucked up and having Kennedy know it. But he doubts anything Minjeong has done since February would ever be for him. “I’m glad then, that you two are good,” he mutters, nodding once.

@nickspencer​ || nick & otis 

“did i mean so little to you that you couldn’t call me? not even to tell me you made it back safely? i see how it is.”