"I didn't talk to anyone, alright? Not even my mom," he said, his voice raising as well. "I didn't want to bother anyone with my problems. You had your own things to deal with. A whole family that you had to keep in line. (He's speaking about the Reapers) What the hell would it have done if I added my condition on top of that?"
"It would have made me stop fuckin' worryin'!" She said, finally turning around to face him. The reason she hadn't wanted to look at him became abundantly clear with the move, the pained expression on her face a shocking contrast to her usual expressionless look. "I had a family t' look after, but you are family. An' I couldn't even get ya t' call me back!"
Raymond took a step back, flinching at how sudden her turn was and her expression. It made it abundantly clear to him how badly he fucked up. God….I just left her in the dust, he thought for not the first time. Not even thinking of how she felt.
"I…." something in the back of his throat prevented him from continuing. He couldn't meet her eyes, could barely stand to be in the same room as her. "You….I-..I'm sorry."
"Don'-don't do that." Khione said, shaking her head and taking a step back. Her bottom lip twitched a few times, her struggle to keep it from wobbling too obvious for her tastes. "I don' need your fuckin' pity, Ray. I just wanted t' hear from you. Once. In two years. That's all I wanted. I wanted t' know you were okay." She wiped furiously at one eye, ignoring the warm tear rolling down the other cheek. Fuck. Shaking her head one more time, she turned, pausing just before leaving the room. "An' part o' me hoped ya hadn't moved on from us, form me, completely." And then she was gone, footsteps soft on her way down the hall and the stairs. She needed fresh air. Something to cool her thoughts.
Raymond watched her leave the room with a stunned expression. If their was anyone who cried less than him, it was Khione. Yet, here she was, breaking down into tears over something he had done. Or, more precisely, something he didn't do. It took him a few minutes for everything to sink in, as he was feeling as overwhelmed as he did at college. Go out there, stupid! his brain screamed at him once it finished processing the entire conversation, so he walked out of the room and down the stairs, noticing the front door had been unlocked.
"Khione?" he asked quietly, poking his head out of the door. He was about to mention how cold it was, but then remembered she was wearing his things and was wrapped up sufficiently. It was him who wasn't dressed for the weather.
Khione was sitting on the curb out front, elbows on her knees and hands pressed to her eyes. Stop crying. Stop fucking crying. You're supposed to be strong, remember? At Raymond's voice, she straightened slightly, back stiffening as she wiped at her cheeks before crossing her arms. She had the sleeves of the hoodie rolled up, allowing her to dig her nails into her arms in some slightly crazy attempt at regaining control of her emotions. "Yeah?"
He stepped out into the cold air, rubbing his hands together as the door shut behind him. His bare feet made gentle slap slap slap noises as he walked down the driveway to where she sat. He had a far way to go, but he managed to sit down with minimal damage to his rear end. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he wrapped an arm over her shoulders. It was a stiff, awkward motion, but it was the most physical contact he'd ever allowed between them.
"I do care," he said, his breath forming little puffs of crystallized air as he spoke. "I always have."
"I know." She said, voice so quiet it was barely there. Her nails still dug into her arms, hard enough to draw little crescent moons of blood, but she didn't seem to notice. "But I'm the one who should be sorry. Yellin' at you and shit…" Even if it wasn't even yelling, it sort of was by her standards. "I'm sorry. I know ya care. An' I know ya didn't mean t' leave us quite so finally like that, even if I wouldn't blame ya."
"Like I said, I didn't mean to," he said, pulling his arm back and putting it on one of his knees. He looked fairly ridiculous, such a tall guy trying to sit comfortably on a curb that barely got 5 inches off of the ground. "I won't let it happen again. I'm sorry for making you cry."
"I don' want ya feelin' guilty. Tha's-tha's a lie, but I'm not proud of that feeling. So do me a favor and don't." She said softly, shaking her head. "An'-I'd rather pretend I didn't cry. Y'know I don' cry." It had, in fact, been exactly five years since she had cried, and even during those few years between her parents' death and the year she finally lost connection to her emotions, only one person had seen her cry.
"Can we bring this touching moment inside, please?" he asked, shivering as a cold gust of wind blew by them. His skin was covered with goosebumps and his chin was beginning to chatter. "It is really cold."
"You can take your hoodie back, y'know." She said, standing up anyway and releasing her arms from the death grip she had them in. "Still as warm blooded as ever, huh? Ya remember that winter it snowed for weeks? Ya wouldn' stop complainin'. Mighta been 'cause your court was covered in snow though."
"And for that," he grumbled, standing up with her and hugging himself, "I will never forget Mother Nature. I could play basketball afterschool for three months. All I did was sit around and talk to Mr. Yamoto while you chased around Reaper recruits."
"They were really bad that year." She mused, turning on her heel and leading the way back inside. "Somethin' in the water, Silas said. Made 'em all friends. Least they ain't this year's recruits. Now those kids…heathens. Poor thing, couldn't play basketball."
"If I didn't have basketball, I would have never met you," he pointed out as they stepped back inside his house. The chattering quickly stopped and his skin went back to normal as they walked up the stairs. "You should be more thankful for it."
(Θ艸Θ)
((what is that))
"I'm plenty thankful for it." She said, stopping once they reached the second floor and waiting for him to catch up. "I just think it's funny that ya got all upset o'er it. I don' think I've ever cared 'bout somethin' that much, other than people." That wasn't quite true, but she had her secrets to keep.
"It makes me feel normal," he said with a shrug, reaching the top of the stairs and walking for his room. "When I try to have conversations with people I don't know, it's difficult. My brain just…shuts down. But when I'm on the court, it isn't about conversations. It's about basketball. It gives me a different point of view that I don't get anywhere else."
((what is that))
((I have zero fucking clue))
She nodded as she listened to him talk, thinking. Her statement had brought up a tangle of thoughts in her own mind, but she was doing her best to ignore them, focusing instead on his words. "I guess that makes sense. Things're set on a court, and ya ain't gotta worry 'bout all the shit ya do off it."
Raymond nodded, relieved that she understood. "Exactly. So…..are we good after….all of that?" He stopped at the doorframe and gestured into the room, indicating he was talking about the argument that happened about half an hour ago.
Khione tugged the sleeves of the hoodie down, folding them over her hands as she nodded. "Yeah. We're good. We were good, anyway, just…had some things we needed t' acknowledge, I guess." She said, shrugging a shoulder.
He nodded and walked back into the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the front of the bed and looking up at the TV. A post-game press conference was on and the guy looked very annoyed with every question he was asked.
"They really shouldn't try to talk to him when he's like that," he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. "They won't get any productive answers."
(**)
“They don’ care much about productive answers.” She said, plopping down on the bed and shifting back into her spot by the headboard, legs crossed. “They just want sound bites. His face or voice is enough to get them paid. Part o’ it is hopin’ to catch him off guard and get somethin’ spicy, too.”
"I never realized how bad it was for those guys until I had to do a press meeting," he mumbled, frowning as the guy's voice began to get heated. "You lose a game, then have to sit there and listen to people criticize you for it. And you're tired on top of that."
“Press interviews should only be before games, like before enough that it ain’t distractin’, and a day or two after. Any other time is stupid.” She said, shaking her head. “They gotta stop puttin’ players on the spot like that.”
Raymond watched for a little longer before scooting back slightly and laying his head down in her lap. He did it incredibly casually, as if it was something that ha did every day.
Khione froze. Raymond was laying his head in her lap. Her lap. She opened her mouth to say something, glancing down at him, and promptly paused. If she said something, he’d move. And she didn’t quite want that. So instead, she kept quiet, settling back down against the headboard. “This is kind of boring. Wanna go back t’ crime shows?”
"Yeah, I guess," he said, settling into the position he was in. It was…comfortable. Much more comfortable than a pillow, at least. "I just hope he doesn't say something he gets in trouble for."