find a thread to pull and we can watch it unravel.

[demonspawn]

WHO: terry ward and rick bradbury.
WHERE: the pancake place.
WHEN: after this brief awkwardness.
WARNINGS: teen angst.
SUMMARY: eating pancakes is what you do when father figures shoot best friends.
FORMAT: quickbutts.

[ it's strange for him to be out in the world again. he'd almost forgotten that normal people exist -- might have actually forgotten, if it weren't for his powers, their fears whispered in his head at night. it's different though, to actually see them and be around them.

it makes him feel a little claustrophobic, like he's having trouble remembering how to behave. he's trying to figure out what made him decide to go along with this anyway, because he's not really ready to face bradbury and to talk about the inevitable subject of jenny and the bullet that bradbury put in her. he's still trying to figure out how he let that happen too. and all that quiet time, alone in the dark, isolated in his apartment, avoiding the world -- that didn't really help much.

it feels like he's just constantly trying to catch up with his decisions and constantly feeling stupid. maybe he'll grow out of it eventually. but for now, he's stuck, sitting in a corner booth by a window, hiding behind wild bangs and dark eyeliner, waiting to talk with the guy who assassinated his best friend. ]

Comments

[demonspawn]

Thirty-nine? Oh. I guess you're not ancient yet. Just almost ancient.

[ not that terry has any room to talk about ancient when he's looking at existing for the rest of eternity. now there's a daunting thought. ]

I bet you were a jock. I totally hated jocks. They hated me too. [ a small beat. then, almost like it just occurred to him: ] So. When is your birthday anyway?

[waiting]

Totally a jock. [ bradbury confirms, not looking chagrined in the least. he knows he was a dick, but he figures everyone is that stupid in their life at one point or another; at least he got over it eventually.

at the question, he raises a brow, then snorts. ]

The twenty-first. When's yours? [ he says it almost like a challenge. ]

[demonspawn]

[ terry makes a face. to him, jocks were always the equivalent of bullies. but it wasn't like he'd been the most likeable highschooler either. he'd been one of those awkward kids with hot topic clothes, black nail polish, and friends who did hard drugs. he's matured a little since then, but it probably wouldn't take much guessing to figure out what kind of labels he had in school. ]

Gross.

[ bradbury's question makes his eyebrows pinch, like he wasn't expecting it. he almost looks annoyed. but it's more that he's caught off guard, and it takes him a second before he answers: ]

It was in January. Missed it already.

[waiting]

You little shit!

[ in a supreme act of maturity, bradbury kicks terry in the shin -- and he's none too gentle about it either, but he's affronted, as if the fact that he stopped mid-chew just to glare at terry peevishly. ]

The fuck didn't you tell me?

[demonspawn]

Ow -- what the hell, Bradbury!

[ terry flinches, then glares back across the table, pointedly drawing his legs up and sitting indian-style in the booth. he's all bones, okay, there's not very much padding! ]

What was I supposed to tell you for? So we could have some kinda awkward party or something? And who cares anyway, I'm going to have an eternity of birthdays, most of which I'm probably not gonna celebrate.

[waiting]

Wouldn't have had to have a party. [ terry wouldn't have been around to celebrate with, after all. ] You could've said something so I could have sent you a picture of a shitty birthday cake.

[ he's never been good about keeping up with friends, never exactly had many of them in the first place, but he would have made an effort for terry. kids deserve to have at least one less shitty birthday. ]

How old are you now, anyway?

[demonspawn]

[ his shoulders hunch a little, and he sinks into his seat like he wishes he could just be absorbed by the cheap cushions. irritably, he runs his fingers through the unkempt fringe of his hair before folding his arms loosely over his chest. somehow this turned into "talk about terry's personal crap" time, and he isn't sure what to do with it exactly.

at length: ]

I'm eighteen.

[waiting]

Guess that makes you officially old enough to smoke legally now. Don't, by the way. It'll stunt your growth. [ although if he hung around jenny, it was probably inevitable that he'd have done it at some point already. hell, they'd already gotten ridiculously drunk, and that was just once on-camera. who knows what else they've done.

those days, though, are probably long behind them. he wonders if terry still thinks about those days. they weren't that long ago.

belatedly, he realizes he's henning again, and grimaces in apology, shaking his head. ]

Can't really tell you what to do, though. [ as terry already knows, bradbury's a bit of a chain smoker under stress himself. ]

[demonspawn]

[ if he were asked, he might deny it ever being a big deal -- those late nights, the ones where they woke up late in the afternoon the next day in various states of disarray, barely remembering anything, laughing at each other. but sometimes he misses it. that was as normal as their gang of misfits probably ever got -- the closest thing they ever had to being like other teenagers.

but terry's used to good things being transient. if he wasn't, it would've hurt so much worse. ]

You can if you want. [ the sullenness hasn't completely left him, and there's a boyish sort of petulance in his body language, but he's not being that contrary. it makes you wonder if there's a part of him deep down that welcomes the parental nagging. ] Doesn't mean I have to listen though. What's next, telling me to go to college, making me get my hair cut?

[waiting]

You can keep the hair. [ bradbury props his chin against his hand, to all appearances giving the matter as much serious thought as possible. ]

College might not be such a bad idea, either. [ that's only half a joke. he knows it'd be complicated for a number of reasons, not the least that terry's an import. ]

Or you could get a real job. One where you don't have to clean up after raccoons.

[demonspawn]

Right. I'm sure there's like, dozens of jobs out there where being a Satan spawn cult baby with zero social skills is a prime prerequisite.

[ terry rolls his eyes lightly -- but more for show than anything else. it isn't like he hasn't thought about it now and then, but some days he just doesn't feel functional enough for something so mundane as an ordinary job. he used to be better, when he had healthy relationships in his life (abby, carrie, other people long gone), but he doesn't know if he can even stand to be around normal people long enough to work a real job.

he's sort of become resigned to always being the misfit. ]

Seriously? I didn't even finish high school.

[waiting]

[ why not, bradbury almost asks, but he stops, because the answer is obvious enough. after a moment, he shrugs. ]

You wouldn't be the first. And you could get a GED.

[ or join the military, but he knows better than to suggest that option. not that they'd let an import enlist, in all likelihood. ]

Seriously, though. Maybe you need to get out more.

[demonspawn]

I don't like getting out.

[ it's almost a touch petulant the way he says that -- grumpy, but in a teenager's way. he can't even pinpoint exactly why he's so avoidant of social interactions in general, except that somewhere between always being able to sense people's worst fears and having hurt people he cared about too many times, it's almost instinct to reject the idea of being around people whenever he can manage it.

bradbury, of course, is one of the few exceptions. ]

What would I do with a GED? Put my score on the fridge for posterity or something? And besides, what difference does it make? I'm basically screwed for life anyway.

[waiting]

On the fridge? Nah, it'd have to be framed or something, at least.

[ somehow, appetite notwithstanding, he's finished his pancakes off, and he looks at terry like he's trying to decide how to articulate something even he isn't sure how to feel about.

it's funny how similar he is to jenny quantum, in the sense that they've resigned themselves to an inevitable fate, don't seem to believe they could be something better. he doesn't know how to convince them of it, either -- or if he has the right to. everyone has to make their own decisions. ]

Why do you stay in the City, though? [ it's an abrupt question, as if he wasn't really planning on asking it. ]

Hell, if you're screwed for like, you might as well see what the fuck's out there. [ he waves a hand. ] I used to dream about doing that. Seeing the world.

[demonspawn]

[ terry seems a little surprised by the question, like he didn't expect it and doesn't exactly know the answer himself. it isn't like he hasn't thought about it now and then -- traveling, exploring or whatever. he's immortal after all. he has all the time in the world to see everything there is to see, learn everything there is to learn. he doesn't have to squander his immortality locked up in his room.

but most of the time, he wants to. and some days he can articulate his reasons better than others. at length, he responds a bit crankily: ]

What's to see? I just got back from Africa, and all I had to show for it was a nasty sunburn. [ a beat. ] Besides, all the dumb shit I care about is in the City. And it's not like I'd go around spreading joy and cheer or whatever. Even Jenny can help people. The best I can do is not fuck them up.

[waiting]

[ bradbury wrinkles his nose, like he doesn't know what to make of that answer -- since he didn't know why he was asking in the first place, though, that's fair enough. it seems like a waste of a life, somehow, but he doesn't really know what it's like to grow up not being human, the kind of problems it brings. growing up (almost) normal was already hard enough. ]

Never know what might happen unless you try it. [ he brushes crumbs off his tie absently, gives him a nod. ]

You ready to head out?

[demonspawn]

[ he won't dwell on it. he knows somewhere in the future he'll try his best at the bettering-the-world thing. he'll finish his education, become a counselor, clean himself up a little. but he can't see how he gets there right now. he' still got too much anger and conflict inside him, and not enough control.

his attention comes back to bradbury when he asks that question. he doesn't respond right away, but after a second he gets up, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans. ]

Yeah. Let's go home.