A/N: So I want to thank all of you who are adding this to your story alerts and even greater thank you for (I hope you are) not losing hope in me and this story. You have no idea how much that means to me. :) Especially when school constantly ruins your mood.
Meisha blinks water from her eyes, feeling the warm spray fall from the shower-head onto her face and a barely audible moan comes from her lips. She watches the warm water stream down her slim body, across her unmarked skin to her feet, and then disappear down the drain. And she can't help but think: her smooth, unscathed, unmarked skin—her virgin skin.
Her arms rise to wrap around her waist and she rests her forehead against the cold tile and finds her breath coming out heavy. Her hair is limp and unbraided, falling to the bottom of her thighs. Her mind trails to memories of a few days ago with the two she calls friends. Meisha's fingers press into her tan skin and she shuts her eyes tightly. She doesn't register the sudden choke for air she makes then.
Her virgin skin
Her bangs are soaked as they frame her face, and she sigh before pushing them back with one hand.
A part of her doesn't want to be alone; a part of her wants to be one of those girls in the hallways when her hand draped around another's arm, fingers intertwined, to feel large, stronger arms wrap around her instead of er own.
Her teeth digs into her lip, feeling the ends of her hair begin to twitch on its own again in discomfort. Meisha tries to remain calm—but her mind just couldn't. Her mind is racing with memories, with fantasies and suggestions, with wishes she wants to make reality. This wasn't the first time her mind has wondered like this—thoughts towards a certain friend that definitely exceeded past friendship were a reoccurrence for almost a full two years now.
Breathing is harder now in the shower steam. She blinks several times, and wipes the condensation from her eyelashes with the back of her hands. Meisha heaves another sigh. All this was way too heavy.
The faucet gives a slight squeak as she turns the water off. She has a deep purple towel that she wraps around her hair after ringing it out in the shower. She purposely squeezes her hair tighter than was necessary.
Steam creates a thin layer of moisture across every surface in the small bathroom. She wipes she the mirror for a clear view. Remnants of the heat prickles her skin as her bare feet touch the cold floor. Showers were one of the few times she could relax, one of the few places she felt that didn't have to worry about becoming a psycho—because she she could sing or vent to herself or cry and there was no chance anyone would see. It is almost therapeutic too.
Her second towel remains abandoned on the hook near the shower curtain. The mix of the steam and the cool air seeping from under the door cause goosebumps to explode across her body.
She isn't sure how long she had been in there; her parents were outside, elsewhere in their one-story house.
Meisha frowns at her reflection. All she sees is frizzing, ugly red hair against slightly too-tanned skin and light brown, almost golden, puffy eyes with equally puffy skin—all traits she acquired from her parents; now if only they could find out where she got her eyes from... There are bags under her eyes from staying up late one too many nights, and a faint trail of freckles that splayed across her face, in her mind, reminded her of a raccoon.
Needless to say, some parts of her way of thinking hasn't changed
Meisha pokes at her face and scowled this time. She pulls at a bottom eyelid, annoyed at what she sees. She didn't want to step outside with pink-rimmed eyes like this. Her parents would surely notice and she didn't want to sit and try to explain to them what she couldn't even tell her closest friends.
She had teared up again sometime during her shower up again. Her nose holds a pink tinge as well.
"Teared up" again
Her hands fall to the counter in a huff. This had been enough, she told herself, but continues to scowl at what she sees in the mirror. This is enough of just standing around, being "one of the guys"—she gives herself a pep talk again—she's in high school now for goodness sake!
Wrapping herself in her second towel, she exits to go her bedroom to dress in the pair of overalls Pietro remarked about once.
She o going over to meet the boys today. And as she slides on a sock, she freezes, a thought passing through her mind that makes her nervous and a blush spread across her cheeks.
Thoughts that definitely exceeded friendship
Meisha was sure that Wanda Maximoff would probably—likely—give her hell if ever found out.
The school's library is mostly empty except for a few study sessions and overachievers. It's regarded as one of the more boring locations on campus by some, and a good place to drop off students by other teachers.
Such as today, for example. One classes had been scheduled to visit the library for an assignment, and it was study hall, a free class period, for others. While one class's teacher is generous teacher that allowed students to roam free. The others have one that's cranky, chapped lipped, and a grating, offensively condescending voice that monitors them for this study hal period. Students the to watch others with sealed lips and remain silent lest they'd have a wet shush from their teacher fly their way.
Rainy is a part of the second class. Exiting the bookshelves and to the large wooden study-tables, hands at her side, she merely glances at a boy behind her who is readying to flick a paper football to another several tables in front of her. Their teacher is turned away and Rainy wants to feel bad, even for them; they all were stuck with the strict one who sneers at the slightest noise.
Rainy had left her schoolbag at the table she shared with Michelle and a few others, and had gone to left to waste time at the shelves, not finding any productivity partaking in their gossip. She uses her time to do so something productive, and to her, homework is the obvious choice since. There is nothing else to do. Since there is nothing else she could do. Michelle and the others at the table are discussing something about suspicions about one student or another.
Students from the first class circle the shelves of the nonfiction section and Rainy makes a bee-line until she comes to an aisle with less others who are fighting over encyclopedias. The class is here for a sort of scavenger hunt; Rainy thinks it's a science class.
She stares at worn patterns etched into the bookshelves. She doesn't trail her hand across the polished wood anymore. She hadn't any reason to given she wouldn't feel it anyhow. There are marks and signatures carved into the shelves from over the years. Along one of the sideboards, someone has carved two names in a heart. Next to it, probably some years later, a knife had made an arrow through the heart surrounded it with obscenities.
It would be similar to if blood circulation throughout her body had stopped, or, similar to emerging from a stay in a tub of ice water. These were the examples Rainy could come up with if she was ever asked. This is how it felt to not feel at all.
Back at the table, Michelle waves, hoping to catch the attention of the boy sitting in the chairs across from her, and she gestures to the entrance of the school library. The lot begins to snicker at something said about the girl with the long red braid who walks in then. Meisha's in the too-long sleeved shirt under denim overalls. The girl looks around the library for a moment before disappearing into the section of history books and map encyclopedias, long braid flowing behind her.
"Meisha Babinski never laughs."
"She only does to her own jokes she keeps to herself."
"She'll snicker to jokes she makes up herself
that she snickers and mutters to herself."
"She talks to herself."
"She doesn't talk at all."
"Meisha never laughs
Unless she's with one of those other geek weirdoes she hangs around."
When Meisha comes to the aisle, the gray-haired other who had been walking beside her had vanished. She would have sighed but Meisha had become well-adjusted to Pietro's behavior. Of how he would be beside her one second but then disappear the next, returning eating out a box of snacks. She marveled at how he managed to avoid growing overweight with the amount he eats. Meisha also marvels at him for different things...
She scans the titles along her left as she walks, a finger raised absentmindedly to trace the wording etched in the book spines as she passes. An map about land elevation in Asia is what she is looking for. Meisha is a part if the guest class here who had decided to take a spontaneous trip to the library. Many of the required books for this assignment were already taken by students rushing to finish in order to gain those few extra credit points.
Meisha holds up the work directions again, flicking her wrist to make her loose, stripped sleeve fall from her knuckles to her elbow, and then double-back to check again for that book needed. She stands on tip toes, looks to the directions again. It isn't here. She suspects someone had gotten to this one again. Sighing as she turns to leave, Meisha stops in her tracks seeing a bushy-haired brunette popping gum and sliding her hands high up a shelf above at the far end of the book aisle.
Mckenzie Shabotz
Gender, Female.
Bushy, dark brown curly hair
Dark brown eyes
Birthday, August 25
Caucasian American-born citizen
Meisha's hands unconsciously tighten on her sheet of paper. Instead of continuing, she turns to the opposite way to wait at the other end of the aisle and wait for the girl to leave, all the while, huffing under her breath.
It is obvious that Mckenzie doesn't want to be here—she always complains about this—and Meisha is partially certain that the fall of books that happen then is caused by her. The brunette wears and uninterested, not-caring, and blatantly bored-looking permanent pout. The redhead could tell that much. As well as the way Mckenzie muses about the shelves, oblivious that it isn't allowed to copy someone else's answers. Also, that she'd rather be doing other things... Mckenzie pops another purple bubble of gum before sighing loudly and turning to round the corner to join the others she hangs out with.
A small gust of wind hits Meisha's side and she doesn't have to turn around to know its cause. The ends of a breath faintly wisps the nape of her neck as Pietro comes to a sudden halt behind her.
And then her pulse leaps in her chest
"Hey Meisha I—-" He stops to catch the last sight of the brunette turning the corner to return to her friends.
He calls after her, but it was either spoken too quickly or she hadn't heard. Both mutants watch the girl disappear around the corner. Pietro hastily shoves the few books he had gathered on a nearby side table. Meisha watches him with narrowed eyes as he takes a steadying breath and pulls at his sweater to straighten it before striding to where the brunette had gone, and Meisha's shoulders slump. She knows he isn't going to approach her friends that way, at least, not directly.
The girl had continued on without a glance behind; Mckenzie takes no notice at all and he can hear her complaining the next aisle over.
Pietro smirks. "'Kenzie," he calls out again. He could see her—at least, he hoped it was her—through the spaces between the books.
If the girl knew it was him who called her by that self-given nickname, she would have not been happy...
Meisha listens, rolls her eyes, and proceeds flipping through the books Pietro indirectly brought her, searching for an answer for this treasure hunt assignment. She doesn't follow him and begins talking to herself about stubbornness and oblivious and cursed shyness.
"Hey, Mckenzie!"
Two dictionaries over, a book is pulled and Pietro speeds over to be the one to greet her on the other side with a wide, cheeky grin.
Meisha can see him bouncing on his toes, figuring there was just no way to diverge him otherwise from this plan and would have to let him ride out this heartache on his own. She grabs the rest of the books and leaves.
Pietro fidgets his hands in his pockets hearing the book on the other end taken and then resolved, and then the next one over is taken—where Mckenzie had removed one, so there would now be only an empty space between the shelf to talk. But his smile quickly waters down when it isn't the girl he had been hoping looking out from the other side.
Both he and Rainy freeze, the look on their features radiating discomfort and much awkwardness. Rainy is still holding the large book, raised in her hand and Pietro watch her slanted eyes and imagine them seeping venomously. She opens her mouth and he knows she is about to spit an accusation, but he has his hands up before she could utter a word.
"This isn't what it looks—-"
She doesn't care and interrupts. "I thought I told you to stay away from me." She pauses. "You're following me." She still holds a straight face. "But then again, I shouldn't be surprised," she adds. "I should have known. I was foolish to think you wouldn't have shown resistance. But I didn't think it'd be this fast."
"Still rude," his lips pucker. "And next time I need someone to extremely bitter I'd come to you first. You aren't exactly on my top list either sweetheart."
Her brows raises out of habit.
"Ya know...I know someone who could help with your problem." He jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "You might like it too. They have darkness, long flowy dresses, and lots of control over themselves. Heard they're awesome and have a whole bunch of potions and even a sale on cauldrons and brooms you might like. Of course, you might catch them better around Halloween. You all have the same attitude though; I'm sure you'll get along swell."
Rainy continues frowning at him. Or maybe, he thought, that was her normal look. He notes that to be a question for another day.
"That's beyond the point," he waves his hands, still blabbering. "Besides, you shouldn't go around saying you're surprised. Just doesn't fit your image," he mocks. "Because, you know, it'd be a shame if that little secret of yours were to leak out." His gaze flickers to the book she still has raised in one hand and a grey eyebrow raises.
Rainy didn't say any more and leaves, and Pietro follows her to the next book she pulls. "That's a pretty odd book for someone like you to be reading, isn't it?" He points an arm through the space. Now, he swears that her eyes narrow dangerously.
The smirk on his face grows in arrogance.
The book she holds is a romance of sorts. He can tell that much by the cowboy and the damsel atop the horse and the cursive writing he's seen on some of his sister's books. Rainy quickly tucks it away with the others held in her arms.
"My, Maximoff, is that a threat? You just don't know how to keep your nose out of things, do you? Would I have to cut your tongue off after all?"
He barks a laugh. Insults were one of the things that he cared least for; threats certainly didn't faze him.
Pietro pokes his head in the space between them. "I'd like to see you're smart little ass try," and backs out before she could lash out at him, which she doesn't even, but just in case. "You'd never be able to catch me. No one has yet or ever will. You wanna know how," he asked, and not waiting for a response: "'cause I'm the fastest thing alive. I can take your world and drop it on your head before you'd even know what happened."
...Was he threatening her?
"And you never know, I might just mention your little "problem" to Clarice or someone. I don't know, it might just slip."
If there is a problem one had—if one was from a poor family, or weird kink or embarrassing habit, or a health issue—Clarice would know of almost everyone in school, and use it to build herself up.
That was a threat
Rainy's gaze flickered to the direction of his shoulder. "Aw," she speaks in mock disappointment. "I was hoping you'd have a gnarly scar. It'd add character...and mystery, something interesting." A finger flickers to her lips before returning to hold her books. "I hope that assumed "fast" characteristic of yours doesn't apply to everything." Her lips twist into what she hopes is a smirk. "Or else, that would be a shame it would hinder your relationship like that.."
It is his turn to glare. He growls, "why you little—-"
"Don't get mad at facts, Maximoff."
His words begin running together, and she can see just the smallest hint of color spreading up his neck. "You know that's not what I meant!"
"You said it, not me."
"You are such a witch you know that?!"
She's unfazed, still with a calm look to her face.
"And those're mighty big words coming from somebody who hasn't even had a boyfriend." He pauses for a second, his face scrunching up a little, expecting a comeback. When there isn't one, he continues. "You don't, do you, I presume?" It was in sarcasm. "So how would someone like you even know something as that, hm?"
She would have scowled at this, but instead, keeps watching him bounce on his feet.
"And I wonder how'd he be about your little issue."
Rainy's tone remains flat. "Speak of this to no one or you'd get more than just a scratch on your arm." He can easily tell it was not a question. Regardless, a smirk curls his lips. "Lest I have a little chat with Mckenzie over here..."
"Was that supposed to scare me?"
"I don't know. Were you really going to risk trying to make me look bad?"
And then a glaring match resumes. Heavy tension only Pietro could feel passes between the small space between the bookshelf. Finally, Rainy glances down, returned one of the large books in her arms to the empty space.
Still, he persists, talking through the shelf. "Why does it seem that whenever I try to say something, you're so crabby.?"
"Why is it that you persist to stalk me—-?"
"Will you stop with the stalking. Why the heck would I stalk you?!"
"Oh, so you are admitting that you do..?"
"No—-!"
"How sad," she tisks as if he hadn't spoken at all, and left, only to find him still close.
Rainy was incredibly blunt
"Were you not taught the concept of personal space? It's a very valuable thing," she calls back.
She didn't stop and is already turning another corner, getting further and wanting to leave this conversation behind. But when she enters the next aisle, a figure could be seen through the book spaces and Rainy pushes them aside to find Pietro staring back at her.
"I'm not sure it's that valuable. You're just being mean."
"What would it take to get rid of you..." she sighs, almost as if she is speaking to herself. "I'd should have done it day you where snooping about." She watches him smack him wet his lips. "Now I'm beginning to regret ever telling you that secret because you are surely to blurt it out to someone..."
His gaze studies her.
"Should I have not told that to you, Maximoff?" She finalizes, her face deadpan. "Just know that if you answer "no," then you are indicating that you are, in fact, unreliable and I do not hold mercy for or have any tolerance for unreliable people."
"Wouldn't it be considered two-faced to say that you, yourself, feel mercy, seeing as—-"
BLOCK
She shoves the book back in its place, blocking him. It just graces his nose, otherwise if he had been leaning any closer, he would have received more than a hard knocking.
Pietro could could hear her shoes shuffling on the carpet as she leaves and he pauses to think, weighing his chances, considering his outcomes.
"Ice Queen!" he calls—practically yells—after her. "Hey, Juliet!" He catches up to her in the textbook section where students could rent to do homework in the library. He comes to a stop and watches her with hands in his pockets as he stands, looking over her shoulder as she squatting to level with the lowest shelf. "I want to ask you something." He lowers himself as well.
"Of course it was too good to think you would learn." When hearing that he had a question, she mutters, oozing sarcasm, "delightful."
Peter cranes his neck to peer at the open book she flips through. He ignores her snappiness. "I wanted to ask you..."
Rainy refuses to look up. Her attention is only taken seeing a foreign hand slowly closing the book in front of her, and she uses her finger to mark her place but still keeps her gaze fixed on her lap.
"...What is your name, exactly," he spoke. His gaze is fixed on her but to his disappointment, she only looks calm. "I mean you already know mine is Maximoff—Peter, actually, by the way," his hands flew to his chest upon reintroducing himself. There is a slight smile he wears, but when she does finally look over to him, she has none whatsoever.
"What? So? What's my name have anything to you? It's none of your business."
His brows crinkles and she barks what was supposed to be a chuckle. "Funny. So what's this for, a prank? What bet did you lose?"
"Pfffft. Why do you people always assume I'm here with some sort of agenda or to gain something?"
It was the bet against Ronny, actually, to why he asked. But he wouldn't have agreed to chase her if he didn't find her somewhat interesting.
He flashes her a cocky smile. "Can't a guy just ask the name to a...a fellow classmate? Ya know, that's the first step for becoming social."
Rainy continues to frown, looking him in the eyes. This silence persists longer than he would have liked and he watches her lips part slowly as finally she draws in a slow breath...
"No," she finally states, firmly.
Peter's smirk fades, his eyes trained on her as she stood.
"No. Now for the last time, go away. Don't talk to me, don't look at me, don't think about about me. You are to ignore me. None of this," her finger waggles between them, "ever happened. We have never met." She shuffles the books in her arms as she stands and glares down with a hard look he wasn't sure she was making on purpose. "But if you ever reveal to anyone what I had told you, I will make sure that you regret it."
And with that, she goes to check her books to the counter, grabs her bag, and leaves the building, Michelle not even getting an answer to why.
That was the last time Peter Maximoff spoke to Rainy Capulet. He did see her in the halls, but even he knew that he couldn't keep that promise. He knew that he couldn't live up to her orders. Not when there was forty dollars in cash on the line.
