A/N: so I looked at the old chapters and there are eight more chapters until this is first installment is done (finally!)
"Ah, you're earlier than expected."
Actually, Pietro's late. After having yet another argument with his twin sister which, in turn reminded him about this meeting in the first place, and followed by a scolding from Marya, he had barely made it out the house. Only thanks to his abilities was he able to arrive at this meeting place right on the dot. He had been even more surprised that it was a house, and that this is her home, and also that Rainy hadn't lied about the location—but it's not like he is going to tell her any of that—and knocked at the girl's front door.
This is the day Pietro went over to Rainy's house for the first time.
"—And wipe your feet will you?" she retorts without looking behind, leading him through a short hall hung with family framed portraits and awards. A dog is in one of the photographs, though there isn't evidence of one in the house.
The small home is quite quaint, he'd admit, and not the type he'd figure a girl like her would come from.
It's been a good three months since this all started. Two months since their meetings began and this is the closest encounter he's ever had with the shorter brunette. He's always heard things about her, talks about her, rumors of butt-hurt rejection and glorified acclaims, of her biting remarks that rub the wrong way; how the girl started track in fifth grade and then had to quit because of a mysterious "illness."
Now, Pietro knows better. He knows it had been no illness, it never had been. But still, he can't help but wonder...
They're at the dinner table now, one of two in the house. Rainy tells that the other, more decorated table is only used for holidays and special business occasions. Her parents aren't home either.
Rainy writes notes on pages in her notebook. Pietro isn't paying attention and his interest has wondered to the living room. Her finger twitches, cutting on the edge of the page—she doesn't flinch, she doesn't feel it. She would need a Band-Aid later, he notes. A strand of dark brown hair intercepts his vision and Pietro clears his throat.
This is a girl that he'd expect to have been brought up by bulls and wolves and the tough, gritty streets out in the city—not some opulent, flame-stitch patterned suburban home.
She had said that the pictures on the wall made her sick and to not look at them. Pietro had rolled his eyes and looked anyway.
She scribbles something else on her notebook paper.
"Say, Rainy..."
Her writing stops. Their class is three chapters until finishing the assigned novel now, and she has stated how she wants to go over the chapters from the two weeks before as a review before their test and essay.
"Where are your folks?"
Her bright eyes shift to his direction, and they're cut and slant and remind him of a cat's. He swallows, deciding to add a wisecrack comment as a sort of safety net.
"So, like, if I smoke a doobie they won't come charging in screaming bloody murder, will they?" He chuckles. It doesn't sound confident.
She pauses.
"Actually, my mother has an eighth gram baggie in her top drawer if you'd want me to get you some."
"Uh—-"
Drugs
He's caught off guard.
And she had said that so calmly!
"What of it?" She blinks.
"It's just that—-you said that so...calm, and I...!"
"Do not turn this into a schmaltz fest. You asked and I answered," she replies, tone monotone but words still holding a jagged edge. "Don't get that mixed up; my personal affairs are not something I like to discuss, and it's not in any of your immediate interest." Her eyes turn back to the paper she's writing. "Do you want to smoke, or not?"
He sees that she's writing answers to math homework.
Pietro frowns. She's getting the answers wrong.
He hesitates. "How do you know it's not in my immediate interest?"
"Because you're... " She pauses as she thinks of the words to use. "You know..." Then she lies again with a straight face, like about her lack in memory. She then insults him, and: "This is not your responsibility. It's none of your concern. And, besides, someone like you would never be able to grasp a concept outside of Blondie, marijuana, and wherever to wreak havoc next."
Ouch.
Pietro scowls. "I thought we weren't going to keep being rude," he snaps.
Rainy finishes the equation on her paper and then moves on to the next. "Since how long have you has that improbable request? Whether someone chooses to express themselves is entirely up to their being, and is not something you can particularly change. To assume that would bring you terrible disappointment. And don't try any tricks 'cause I'm no different—it's not like you can really change anything, anyway." She types into her calculator, writes down the answer. "The past is done."
"I'm not talking about anyone—I'm talking about you, and—-"
"And that's where you will keep being disappointment." He watches her erase her answer and delete the information from the calculator. "I told you: I can't change. It's improbable—impossible. Sad, maybe, I was told at least. So make sure to get comfy so you could can get better acquainted with my mother."
"That's only if you've never tried. I'd bet that you've never even tried!"
"You're right. I haven't."
"Exactly! So how do you even know?"
"Don't spend the money 'til you've robbed the bank."
"What?"
"That means don't assume that you'll get the things you want until you have them. You can't be sure of anything until it happens. Have you really never heard of that before?"
There is a pause.
"Of course you haven't..."
Pietro grows frustrated. "What does that mean?"
And Rainy blinks. "It's not important."
He grunts, demanding more detail. So she replies that she doesn't want him to override his mental capacity.
Rainy Capulet is hard-boiled, brash, and bruising.
Pietro calls her a bitch.
"Don't keep asking questions to something that doesn't concern you. You might not like the answer."
His jaw is offset, molars grinding.
She is rude, unforgiving unless she has to be, and unapologetic. He marvels at how she doesn't need him, or anyone.
"Do you want a drink? You look parched."
And under an hour of attempting to do homework, she shows him the kitchen.
"I'm not having my father find a half-dead pot-smoker on our floor passed out from hunger when he gets back. Your stains would never be able to come out the carpet."
"I don't think that's how it works—-"
"Ah, I guess you're right."
He pauses. "I thought you didn't care about what your father does or thought."
"I don't. That still hasn't changed."
At least she isn't a bad hostess—definitely not the best out there, not nearly one of the best—but she isn't bad.
. . .
. . .
red pause scene
This house is larger than the one Rainy grew up in, and it has a terrible view. When she was smaller, she had a clear view of the moon, which would illuminate her room at night and provides light to read after her bedroom lights were cut off. Now, however, power lines and street poles obscure the view.
It's growing dark outside.
Pietro should have to been heading home by now.
"My mother got roped into this sorta cult group when she and my father fell apart."
There have been TV spots aired about her father's campaign; it's no doubt that everyone in school has seen the ads at least once. They're a very different dynamic than the one Rainy is telling him about.
"But they look so happy on TV—-"
"They're supposed to. That's the concept of campaigning."
black pause scene
"Anyways, it was around the age of ten I is when I found my mother with another man in her room. I didn't see his face—not this one—but it had been the third time I was woken at night. And I remember—-I remember seeing the two of them sitting on my parent's bed, talking, luckily at the moment. But still. I didn't say anything. Even today she probably doesn't know that I know. But my father took it well—at least I thought he did. The coward—he just seems to ignore it, not even trying to intervene."
"Your parents," Pietro asks.
"Those two people you saw in the pictures—the deadbeat and the asshole in the suit."
Man in a suit and briefcase, slicked back, umber brown hair.
Candid of a woman in an unbuttons housecoat, weed cigarette between her fingers
Hours ago when Rainy met Pietro at the door of her parents' house, there has been pictures lining the hallway wall there.
"Don't look at them," she had ordered.
He rolled his eyes and hadn't listened.
It's late. The sky is a vary of orange, pink, and yellow, indigo rapidly creeping across the horizon. Marya wouldn't mind if he missed dinner again, because he's done so before and there is almost always leftovers, but he hadn't called.
Earlier in the evening, the two teens sat at the table in the dinning room. Rainy turned a page in the novel they are assigned to read for class. "What place are you at," she had asked, not looking up, wearing a rather bored expression.
Pietro didn't respond. He sat cross-legged, fingers digging into his knees; he took a daring breath.
"I gotta ask," he breathed. "You said you can't feel anything, right? So what exactly...how exactly does—-why are you so weird?"
Rainy blinked. She doesn't answer for some time.
"That's something you don't need to concern yourself with," she has said in the beginning, wanting to appear cryptic, but he soon got her to speak. And she began telling him about her parents.
black pause scene
Now, Rainy stares at the open novel in front of her, eyes glazed and far in thought as she recalls the memory of how her unfortunate condition began.
"It wasn't long until after that she roped me into her plans," Rainy continues about her mother. "But... I found out that my parents weren't on disagreeing terms like I had thought, and they weren't getting a divorce. But the group that my mother got involved with—the one where she gets her lovers and weed from—she wanted me to become a part of it. And when I refused, it all backfired. That's when I met a shaman at a carnival and wished it all to go away, that I wouldn't have to feel my mother's disappointment anymore. It was such a cruel irony. So be careful of how you word your wishes, Maximoff."
There's a heavy pause between them.
"You're speaking really lighthearted about all this." He doesn't know whether to become concerned or—
Or? Who is he kidding?
"Well how do you expect me to reply? To scream or grow angry? Sorry, I don't have that ability or luxury, like you, when you confronted your sister the other day—"
When Pietro had shoved his sister's back against the lockers
When he found out that she revealed to some girl—
Michelle—
That he and Rainy had been hanging out after school, studying
And Wanda's eyes had glowed red.
YELLING
They had almost yells in the quiet hallway in the middle of classes
"—Or when you apparently tried to win over Mckenzie," Rainy continues. "You like her don't you? They talk about you. A lot, her group does."
"Don't call me 'Kenzie!"
She adds, "I'm afraid I don't think she's your type though."
How does she know about that?
"Who's to say I should trust anything of what you think?"
"Hm.. Good point."
Silence fills the room again. This is probably the longest time they have been this quiet around each other.
Rainy looks to the clock high on the wall; one of her parents should be getting home in the next half-hour.
Her eyes roll over to his direction. "Why do you like her though?"
"That's none of your business," he snaps, using her words and tone. "Why should I tell you anything?"
Rainy blinks. "I dunno." She pauses, thinking. "It's just that...if you are...if you're planning on at least trying to snag a girl's heart, you shouldn't do it when her current boy toy is around."
Pietro hesitates. "Boy toy...?"
"Yes. Do you really not know? Mckenzie never keeps her relationships serious. She's a busy woman. ...That is a joke."
Pietro quiets.
"If you want any girl, if you want to woo any girl—no matter how absurd—first, you'd have to be confident. Show her what you mean and—-"
"Why should I listen to you? Bet you got that all from some book, didn't you?"
"Yes I did." Rainy doesn't miss a beat.
He scoffs. "Exactly."
"Exactly what?"
He jabs a finger in her direction. "Why should I listen to advise from someone so inexperienced—-"
"Don't point at me. I don't want to be infects with your virgin."
He is appalled. "That's not even a thing!"
"And what made you think I'm inexperienced?" she questions. "I have more experience than you, certainly. I've had more dates than you've probably been kissed, which I'd guess hasn't been since, what, third grade?"
"How can you even do anything when you can't feel?"
"You don't need emotions to have experience."
Pause.
Well.
"Well I'm pretty sure my Kenzie isn't going to be like any of that," he insists rather confident.
Rainy muses, "I wouldn't be too sure."
And he crosses his arms and that snarky smirk returns. "I don't care what you think, Juliet. Just watch."
Rainy looks down to her notebook page full of math problems in front of her. She is almost certain that most of them are wrong.