You don't have to bow.

[’Stunted’. 

He remembers the word. Remembers the way it had stung like a blade to his eardrums, discomfort prickling on the skin of his mother’s arm as she listened to whispering doctors, when they thought Owen could not hear. Or plainly speaking doctors who thought Owen could not understand. Owen was never sure which was worse. Maybe they were both the same. 

And ‘stunted’ though he might have been—whatever they deemed that to mean—Owen was not stunted enough to not understand that the men in white coats and with clipboards were saying that he was, for all intents and purposely, underdeveloped. Like he had gotten kicked crooked many years ago and had be left that way so long he grew up that way. Forever uneven, forever unintentionally different, forever stuck. 

And he knew, he knows that though it is the truth that he is different, he is not convinced by how much, and he is not convinced that ‘stunted’ is how he feels. They say he has ‘developed’ differently than other boys his age. Can he really deny that? Can he really look at himself in the mirror and not believe the ugly pictures they paint with their clinical terms and dark, educated gazes. 

Even the kind ones, they judge. 

But perhaps that is because they seethe truth. Perhaps Owen is ‘stunted’. He does now know. He can’t deny his is different, can not, but neither can he feel quite comfortable with being categorized as ‘less’ than what he should be. Behind when everyone else is ahead. 

Is that truly the case? Or is he just different? Had he simply carved a path in a different direction. 

He wishes he could say it was intentional. He wishes he might be able to say that truthfully, for then he might maintain a sense of pride.

He shrugs when Scott asks, smiles in the small and quiet way he does, because he does not know what to say and maybe it is easier to say nothing. To let the question slide past, as it seems to be. Like a car gone by in a rainy street, leaving only the spray of the disturbed puddles on the sidewalk, the smell of the rucked up slush. ]

Um. I could—I could do tonight, I think. I could do tonight. 

[ Scott smiled, it had been far too long since he had done anything other than training and assigned tasks. There wasn’t much time when Scott could do anything other than what he was forcefully made to do. It had all turned into some sort of sick sweatshop.

--Granted, it was for good reason, but it had still been somewhat of a hell hole. ]

Wait really? Hell yeah! Let’s do it. Uh-- Do I like gotta pick you up or something?

Oh—[he shakes his head, one, two, three] Because those things aren’t, uh, ‘me’ things, I guess. I do not… I do not have that many friends who invite me places, but I do not think that is because they do not like me and more because I do not often do many things. But no, I meant that those are not things I do often so… [he shrugs, trailing off, and unsure how comfortable he is with it.

Another shake of his head, this time with a gentle frown] Oh, do not worry. I do not think it would trigger anything or anything like that. Um, I would tell you if I was uncomfortable, anyway. [He shrugs again.] It would be nice to spend time with you, whatever you would like to do. I miss you, sometimes. So it would be nice.

[Owen actually snorts lightly in amusement, grinning back] Doing that to me? Scott, you can relax. I was not that young then either. I am twenty two. It was fine. It is fine. [He smiles shyly. And then he thinks, ‘besides, I have had thoughts about people far older. Been touched by someone older. Landon had kissed him too, after all. Many times, Landon had kissed him, and Landon was older than Scott, for sure.]

Me? Oh, um… [he bites his lower lip, shaking his head, eyes cast down. He shrugs. Again. There has been a lot of that.] I do not know that it is so surprising. I am not very good at being social. I probably do not… I probably do not make it easy.

[ It was hard seeing Owen as anything but a precious baby that Scott had the duty of looking after. Ever since he knew the bloke Scott had this overwhelming sense to baby the kid, and with the way Owen was fucking adorable and just was cute 24/7, Scott was sure that he got it a lot. And surely it was growing old for the guy-- no-- adult to be considered a child after all these years. 

Scott nodded, his grin still intact. ] Right, sorry. I’m sure you’re sick of the whole people treating you like a kid act, huh? It’s just easy when you’re honestly like the cutest person here... Like cuter than the children-- [ He shudders. ] --But uh, yeah... Nothing will make me regret those times with you, Owen. You’re a good guy.

[Scott has always made him laugh. He has always done that, and Owen thinks it is not even on purpose, really, and he thinks that he likes that. That Scott is just silly in his own right, and that Owen can laugh at the way that he is, but not have to feel like he is doing something bad. Because when he laughs, Scott smiles, and he thinks that maybe Scott does not mind. Knows that he is silly, sometimes, and embraces it whole heartedly because he does not know how to be anything. Or because he does not think he should have to be anything else. Owen would agree.

He chuckles, biting his lip and rolling his eyes just a little, only a little. He looks back up with a smile.] You… have picked two of the things that no one else would ever ask me to do. Because it is me, and I am… I am the way that I am. [Despite the awkwardness in his tone and the flickering lack of a smile, the grin returns and he continues, brushing past it] But I think that I like that. About you, I mean. [he shrugs] I do not drink a lot, really, but I could go, if you wanted. If we could maybe pick a time that is not busy. I do not like… going there when it is too busy. [He gestures his fingers vaguely in the air, shrugging shyly] Crowds, [he explains, in a word.] 

And I do not like training even when they force me too, so I can not imagine doing it more than I have to….but we could do that too, if you wanted. Maybe. [he bites his lip, smiling budding brighter as the amused questions form curiously between his brows] But of course I am old enough. Of course I am old enough. I hope you would know that, because if you did not then maybe you should worry about kissing me, um, before. If you thought I was not even old enough to drink. 

Wait-- honestly? [ Owen was his friend. He was a kind soul and he was always friendly to everyone. Well-- He was whenever Scott was around. There very well could have been someone out there that Owen downright hated, but that was an image that was so obscure, it turned out fuzzy in his mind. ] Because those things aren’t “you” things? Or because no one asks you to hang out? ‘Cause if it’s because no one asks you to hang out everyone must be insane. --You’re probably the easiest person to talk to, I don’t see why anyone would question spending time with you at all.

Hell, if you don’t enjoy either of those things we can do something else. I’d hate to trigger anything. I mean, I don’t know how your... Thing... works, but I don’t wanna cause any stress. 

[ He nodded, biting his lower lip as he fought back a growing combination of blushing and smirking. ] Yeah, yeah... I guess I should’ve thought of that factor before uh-- Doing that to you. [ He scratched the small on the back of his neck. ] Couldn’t really resist myself back then, especially when you’re such a sweetheart.

Hell, I’m surprised you still haven’t got yourself someone, man.

[The soft embrace seems to make every feeling in her body expand, until it fills every corner of her. Like some sort of ghost within, it rattles at her ribcage until she can barely breathe– - rising up like n orchestra.

Everything feels colossal, a tear turned into an ocean. These wilted afternoons are for running bare, and she wonders when Scott will take her down from that pedestal she never deserved.] 

I’m the one that’s cheating, Scott. How can you fucking say that Jason is the toxic one even after I tell you that?

Jesus Christ London... Because he is. [ He kept her close, not tight--  Not enough to scare her, just close. ] I’ve been telling you that since day one. By now I feel like he only sees you as a possession. He isn’t letting you go because you’re nothing but a trophy to him.

--Hell, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he kisses you goodnight and tells you you have the most beautiful smile. Maybe he holds your hand under the dining hall tables and kisses the back of them when you make one of you awful puns. Maybe Jason- Fucking- Thatcher thinks about how nice it’d be to hold you at night and how falling asleep with his nose nuzzled to your neck is probably the most wonderful thing he’ll ever experience. Fucking-- Perhaps he adores you every moment of the day and tells you.

But if that’s the case fuck me, right? Because I sure as hell NEVER see that from him. And I don’t say all this to bum you out London, I don’t. I just honestly think you’re just way too terrified to lose the one guy who was there when you went through your shit with-- yeah.

But you aren’t losing the one guy because I was there for you too. Hell, I wasn’t the one who punched the mother fucker in the face and told him to piss off like I’m sure Jason did. But-- whatever. If you are really as happy as you pretend to be then just-- Just up and say you’re that in love with him. Tell me he does all the things I’ve said. [ Scott takes a breath. Not knowing where the fuck his rant came from. Jealousy? No... It couldn’t be. ]