Claire digs her tool into the soil, the sun beating down on her head. She reaches into her pocket to grab a bag of turnip seeds, scattering them into the ground. As she bends down to clutch her green watering can, its weight catches her by surprise, tugging back at her. Why do I keep forgetting how much water can seriously weigh? Both of her hands squeeze to lift it with difficulty.
"That's too heavy for you."
The voice startles her, causing her to drop the whole can on the ground with a loud thud. Water leaks out of it, dribbling onto the dirt. Of course, it misses her patch of seeds.
Claire turns and glares at the owner of the voice. "What the heck do you want?"
Gray stands by the entrance of her farm solemnly. He isn't wearing his hat, so she can see his whole face. His whole, stupid face. "I know you're mad," he begins, lacking an understanding tone.
Way to state the most obvious fact ever.
She squints at him. "Can you just go away, please?" Claire hasn't seen him since Monday, and it's now Thursday. She's been at the inn with Ann, Popuri, and Karen twice since the incident with this jackass, but has been sure to carefully avoid him, even though Ann keeps telling her to hear him out.
"I'm trying to be nice," Gray says rudely. The irony clearly has not dawned on him.
"What a change. You're doing a really good job; I'm so impressed."
"Alright, fuck this."
"Whatever," Claire scoffs, as he throws his arms up in exasperation.
Gray just stares at her, like she's a puzzle that he's gotten stuck trying to solve. "You really are fucking impossible, you know that? I barely know you, and I'm already fully aware of what a pain in the ass you are."
She takes a step closer, to show Gray that him dropping by all unannounced doesn't intimidate her. Even if it does a little bit. "At least I'm not some rude, arrogant jerk," Claire says, with her hand on her hip. She straightens her back and fixes her posture in attempt to appear taller.
"Don't really know why I bothered," Gray mutters. He crosses his muscular arms over his chest, looming over her. Her shoulders slump slightly, as she's once again reminded of just how little she is.
Claire glances up at him. His eyes are like glaciers: icy, nearly translucent in colour, and cold. She loves having blue eyes, and she loves blue eyes on guys (hello Leo DiCaprio), but Gray's are flecked with contempt. She can't tell if they're full of hatred, or empty with hatred; regardless, his irises pierce into her with his every word. Her gaze shifts away uncomfortably.
"Don't know why you did either," she responds. With a frustrated shake of his head, Gray exits the path of her farm.
Irritated, Claire lifts the now-empty watering can, walking over to the side of her field where the river runs. She pushes it under the water, holding it there and waiting for it to fully fill up. There are footsteps again behind her. She turns, feeling very bothered as she keeps the watering can under the stream.
"I told you, that's too heavy for you," Gray repeats in a harsh tone. He's returned, more aggravated than before, with his hands shoved in his pocket.
"Thought you left."
Red creeps on to his face. He looks away. "Don't be stupid. Just let me do it."
I'm being stupid? Claire internally decides to figure out how to train Maggie to sic unwanted visitors on her farm.
"I don't need your help," she says sharply, returning her gaze to the river in front of her. Unfortunately, she's wrong; she does need help. The can's been left under the water for way too long, so much so that it's filled to the brim. When Claire tries to lift it, she lets out a discouraged noise. He walks behind her, reaching over to lift it up with ease as his hand brushes against her own.
"You clearly do," Gray retorts gruffly. He walks it back to her field, and before she can protest, pours it down on her patch of planted seeds.
"What are you doing?"
"… Helping."
"You're going to mess it up."
"Blondie, if you can do it, then I'm sure that anyone can," Gray tells her.
Claire just huffs. Fine. Do my chores. 'Cause that makes you my bitch.
Aw jeez, she's gotta stop watching movies and internally reciting their dialogue. She'd never say a line like that in real life.
"Why are you doing this?" Claire asks him. Gray is wearing casual clothes: a pair of navy blue sweatpants, a white t-shirt with one horizontal stripe running along the middle, and some black Adidas sneakers. He looks like he's supposed to be spending his day lounging; not watering her crops for her.
Gray stares at her for a very long time, his eyes still unreadable and aloof. Claire silently wishes that didn't look so gross and sweaty in her overalls today. "I'm sorry," he finally says.
"What for?" Claire scowls. "Apparently, I'm the one in the wrong. According to you, you don't owe me sh-" She stops herself hastily. "You don't owe me crap."
"Do you just not swear?"
"No," she answers, feeling like a little kid.
"That's cute," he says with a smirk.
"And you think that I'm impossible."
"Y'know, I'm trying to apologize."
"Don't bother."
"Jeez, you're really that fuckin' headstrong, huh?" Gray tosses the watering can to the ground once he's done. When he's all pissed off like this, Claire can detect a rough, Midwestern dialect from him. It sounds so different than her own rounded, New England accent.
"You're pretty lousy at apologies," she informs him.
"Yeah, I don't do 'em often."
"I can tell."
"Alright, listen," Gray says, wiping each of his hands off on his pants. "I really didn't mean to be such a dick."
Claire looks away, rubbing at her forearm while sighing. She focuses on a humongous patch of yellowy weeds that she still has yet to tend to. Would staying in the city have been easier than moving out-of-state, in the middle of nowhere to this small town? She enjoyed the hustle and bustle of Boston, but prefers the quietness of Mineral Town a tad bit more. The whole farming aspect though? Not so much, yet.
Something nudges at her elbow. Huh?
Gray holds out a tiny black box in front of him, expression still stoic. She doesn't bother hiding her surprise. "This is for you," he says, softening his rugged tone. "Open it."
Claire takes it gingerly, giving him a once-over. A gift? She's never gotten a present as an apology from someone before. Come to think of it, her convent hardly gave out presents at all. Lifting the top of the box, she gasps, staring down at the small, Christian cross pendant that rests inside. The pin is completely silver, with minuscule, clear gems dotting along the edges of it.
She widens her eyes. "Did you make this?" Claire asks Gray, astonished.
"Yeah, it wasn't hard at all," he answers, fiddling with his hands. "I noticed you don't really wear any jewelry, and... I dunno, I figured I'd make this for you."
"It's beautiful!" she exclaims. "Oh my gosh, you really did this?"
Gray looks over at her slyly. "Do I look like I'm fucking incapable or something?"
"No, no!" Claire says quickly, feeling like she's offended him. "I just-"
"I was teasing you."
She smiles at him. "Wow, it looks like something you'd find in a jewelry store!"
Gray just chuckles sheepishly. "Tell my grandfather that, next time he says that my work is shit." He pauses, holding out his hands. "A-actually, don't. I was supposed to be working on a broach for Mary's mother. Her husband ordered it, but…" His voice trails off. "Figured this was more important."
Claire throws her arms around him gratefully. "I love it!" she tells him. "Thank you so much! You really didn't have to do that." Gray seems taken aback, like this simple hug is a foreign action that he hasn't experienced in a long time. But his arms slowly wind against her body, returning the gesture awkwardly.
"I'm actually… sorry about what I said," Gray mumbles. "I can be a real jerkoff."
She pulls backward to face him, frowning. "I'm sorry I reamed you out. That was uncalled for, and I shouldn't have gotten in your business."
He shrugs. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."
"It's okay. You have no clue how often I lose mine."
"Ha, I think I've got a pretty good idea."
Claire doesn't realize that she's still holding on to Gray tightly. She lets go of him, and he does the same immediately.
"It's my day off," he says, trying to hide the embarrassment from his flushed face.
"I can see that," Claire responds curtly, gesturing toward his attire. "What about those new and improved hours?"
"Pfft, the old man realized that he needed a break too, I guess."
"Hmm," she says, pretending to think. "Wanna walk to the Goddess Pond with me?"
He isn't smiling, but he's also not frowning either. "I'd rather die."
Claire grins, holding the pin in her hands. "Let me just put this inside, and we'll go."
"Ann told me something," she says. They're sitting on a meadow of bright green grass, listening to the crashing sounds of the waterfall across from them. Apparently, the pond is haunted, or inhabited, or whatever, by some urban legend named the Harvest Goddess. It's kind of creepy, but the rushing water almost becomes a mere trickle in the distance, as if the deity in question is trying to hear their conversation.
"She does tend to talk a lot," says Gray, rubbing at his eyebrow. He wonders when the damn piercing is going to heal. Some freaky hot blonde who called herself the "Witch Princess" did it for him, when he and Kai went over to the Sunshine Islands for a day. He hardly remembers getting it though; it's like she had them under a spell or something.
"How long ago did your mother pass away?" Claire asks.
Normally, he snaps at anyone who asks questions regarding his family. Last year, when Thomas knocked on the door of Mineral Blacksmith to introduce himself, he kept prodding Gray as to where his father had gone. When he wouldn't answer the messed-up details about his whereabouts, Thomas wanted to know if he'd "run off" with someone else. Saibara had to physically pull Gray as far back as he could to prevent his grandson from sucker-punching the mayor square in the jaw.
But Ann's words ring in his mind. Maybe he really isn't alone in this. Maybe she's right. Maybe actually… talking about what happened, instead of bottling it all up, could be… beneficial?
"Last year," Gray says. His face is somber. "From cancer."
Claire reaches forward to touch his arm, almost instinctively. "I'm so sorry," she murmurs.
"Me too." He just picks at the grass, plucking a blade, then tossing it to his opposite side. Gray repeats the action until he's ready to continue speaking. "She had these… awful headaches. Like a migraine cranked up ten notches." All he can picture is his mother's face, twisted with pain as she constantly rubbed at her temples. "The doc assigned to us was this… cocky sonofabitch who just got out of medical school. I don't even remember his name, but I fucking hate him. We kept asking for an MRI, but he just kept prescribing my mother with these painkillers. We weren't able to switch docs, for whatever reason. He told us to try and wait it out, but she never got better. It's like he wasn't… fucking listening."
Claire looks appalled. "Where was this?"
"Back in Chicago. That's where I'm from."
"That is so messed up."
"The United States healthcare system is messed up. Doctors who write off their patients are messed up."
Gray thinks of that smug asshole who let all of this slip under the rug. Some pretty boy from the south, who could probably pass the MCAT with flying colours, but didn't have it in him to actually give a shit about his patients. "When we realized that this city doctor wasn't gonna help... I mean, we coulda tried another hospital, but my grandfather told us to come here and see Dr. Hardy. He's the best of the best. Low and behold, he finds a malignant tumour in her brain." Gray keeps his body still for a moment. "She went on chemo, but she didn't stand a chance. He told us to just complete her palliative care here… where she could go peacefully."
"That's awful," Claire whispers, her eyes red-rimmed. He inwardly prays that she doesn't begin to cry. "I'm so sorry."
Gray shakes his head. "We were too late. And it just shows how some young, conceited prick let this all go undetected. And we kept asking, but he just… it's like he didn't care. It's bullshit. Tore my fucking family apart, too."
"Is Saibara... your mother's father?" Claire asks.
"Nope, my dad's dad."
"Oh."
"My old man's not in the picture, if that's what you're wondering."
Claire bites her lip. "I-I'm sorry," she stammers. "I didn't mean to-"
"You wanted to know if I even have one, right?" Gray says, rubbing his neck.
She chews on the inside of her cheek, before finally speaking. "Did he pass away?"
"You'd think," responds Gray bitterly. "But, no. Losing my mom… messed him up pretty bad. He's trying to get clean now." It was like his father forgot that he still had a son that he was responsible for. He turned to any cocktail of drug he could find, getting himself high every night to self-medicate the emotional pain. "I was almost seventeen when she died, so because my dad wasn't fit to take care of me, he made me stay here with my grandfather... so that I could learn a thing or two. 'Cause I was just fucking everything up for myself in the city."
"Gosh," Claire says softly.
Gray nods. "I did so much dumb shit when we were still in the dark about her illness. I mean, I was always there for her, and I never let her know… how bad I was acting out. But I was fighting anyone who came near me, I thought that I got my girl pregnant, I smoked and drank in my bedroom all day." He shakes his head. "I was a disaster in school."
Claire scooches over to put her hand on his shoulder. "That's so terrible, Gray," she says. "I'm really sorry that all of that happened."
He turns to face her, before his cheeks flame again. How long has it been since he's opened up, or felt vulnerable to anyone? How long has it been since he's even cried? Did he ever take the time to fully sit down and mourn the happy, normal life that he once had?
Did he ever have a happy, normal life?
He likes to think that he did. Before his mom started experiencing the headaches, everything was good. He still did dumb, teenage shit, but he was popular in high school. Him and Kai always got invited to every party, his mother was happy, his father was sober and consistently there for him... Gray was even a helluva lot nicer. Still pretty serious and sarcastic, but girls digged that about him for some reason.
"What's your story, Blondie?" he asks, in attempt to change the subject.
"Well, can I give you my two cents first?"
"No."
"I think," she says, ignoring him. "That you're still very angry at your father."
"Huh, what gave that away?"
"I wasn't finished!" Claire exclaims sharply. He'd rather not hear life-advice from a girl who clearly hasn't even lived yet. "Despite everything, I think that you should try to forgive him."
He pulls back away from her, eyes flashing. "How the fuck am I supposed to forgive someone who isn't sorry?"
"Relax," she says, squinting at him. "You need to appreciate that he's still alive, and trying to get better."
"Yeah, I appreciate him dumping me on my grandfather and getting me stuck in a life that I never wanted." Gray feels himself getting angry as he furiously picks at the grass around him. "My dad's too depressed to handle being sober. Just watch; when he's finished with rehab, he's gonna relapse."
"You don't know that."
"Oh, yes I do."
Claire frowns. "You can't live with this kind of anger forever, Gray. It doesn't sound healthy."
Watch me.
"I thought you were a farmer, not a shrink."
She smirks at his comment. "I told you that I watch a lot of Frasier."
Gray's ripped out all of the grass from the dirt around him, the earth barren in certain patches of the ground, while some of the green blades stay glued to his pants. He wipes them off, staring at the waterfall in front of him in an attempt to calm down. Forgive that asshole? Yeah, right.
"Why don't you take it from someone who has no family at all?" Claire's voice is soft. She touches his hand again.
"What do you mean?" he asks.
She looks down, hugging her knees. "So, it was always just me and my mom. As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a dad. When I was a kid, she'd just say that he didn't exist. And she'd always warn me to be careful of boys and strangers, and to not drink or go to parties when I would turn older... so that I didn't repeat the same mistakes that she made." Claire doesn't meet his eyes. "I found out later... um, not when I was a kid, but later... well, she never told me this, but I overheard that she went out one night, and some stranger put something in her drink. She woke up, didn't remember a thing... and then a few weeks later, found out that she was having me."
"Holy fuck," says Gray.
"So, that happened, and I guess looking back now... that's probably the reason why she decided to get involved in the church. Plus, she wanted me baptized, and they accepted us both with open arms when I was a little. She started to work there, and I'd have these nuns babysit me all day." Claire smiles faintly at the memory, her eyes glazed over. "Because the wintertime is so busy for the church, my mom had to make deliveries for the priest constantly. The nuns weren't offering childcare at that time, because of all the holiday donations that they had to sort through, so I'd have to go with my mom in the car. I was eight years old, and then during the drive one day, this pickup truck came outta nowhere." Her lower lip trembles. "... We ended up getting t-boned. They said she died on impact, and that I was lucky to even..."
Claire begins to cry. Not loudly or anything, but silent tears are rolling down her cheeks, running their way past her sun freckles. They land on the bed of grass, like raindrops falling. Gray widens his eyes, giving her hand a squeeze.
"Jesus, d-don't cry," he says frantically. She's reliving her trauma; of course she's going to cry. What the hell's wrong with you? "Please, Blondie, please. It's okay-"
"It just gets me so sad," she sobs, burying her face in her hands. She brings her knees to her chest tighter, weeping while curled up into a little ball. "I miss her."
"I understand," Gray consoles, panic mode set. Being an asshole for so long, he's not very good at the whole comforting-process, and he doesn't know what to do when people start crying. But, at least he can honestly say that he somewhat relates to what she's gone through. "I get it, Claire. I promise you that I do."
She's still crying when she speaks up again. "I don't even remember the accident, but I had to have all of these surgeries… I was just this stitched-up little kid, without any family anymore, without anywhere to go, and the church ended up taking me in. When I got out of the hospital, the parish told me that they already buried my mom, but that they were going to give her a really special funeral mass. I was so young, and... my gosh, saying it out loud now, it's so messed up, but I was told to swear on her grave that…"
Gray frowns. "That what?"
Claire sniffles, swiping at her eyes. "That I'd be chaste. You know, stay a virgin." He blinks. "Like, when I think about it now, after overhearing the nuns and knowing what I know, I was brought into this world… by sin, I guess. Even though it wasn't my mom's fault, I guess they were trying to... well, I dunno what they were even trying to do, actually. Probably just trying to get me to follow the church's teachings. But, they made me swear off of her grave that I'd stay pure... until I get married."
Gray can't even believe what he's hearing. It explains a lot about that night last week, for sure. What, with Claire's fear about sex, her crying about not wanting to have sex, and even her anger when she found out that he was lying to her about sex. "Can… can they even do that?" he asks incredulously. It all sounds so royally screwed up.
Claire goes back to her hands, sobbing some more. "I don't know! I didn't even know what sex was when I was eight. They just made me swear off of her life, and I did."
"That's not fair to you."
"I know," she whimpers. "But, I love my mom, and even though I didn't know what was going on at the time… I've grown up not wanting to break that promise. Besides, she wouldn't want me to end up used like she was." Claire inhales and exhales through her tears, trying to calm herself down. "I'm grateful that the convent took me in and raised me, and helped me get closer to God when I was all alone. I'm still dedicated to my beliefs, and I think that I'll always wanna practice my faith... but it was so toxic in a lot of ways. I'd agree with some things, and then others just didn't make sense to me at all. We were made terrified to commit any kind of sin, or break the rules of the church." She rubs at her eyes. "There was only a couple of other girls who lived there, too, but the second that they could, they dipped. When I had enough money saved up from working, I was gonna buy an apartment nearby in the city, but... I saw the ad for here, and I realized how badly I wanted to get away."
Gray is completely dumbfounded, not knowing what to say. Religion is supposed to help people stay grounded in their faith; not scare them into doing it. He attempts to comfort Claire, tentatively stretching his arm out to reach for her, but apprehensively stops. She lifts her face to his for a moment, staring at his hovering hand over her shoulder.
"What are you doing?" Claire asks hoarsely.
His face feels hot. "I was trying to-"
She stares at him in disbelief. "Are you afraid to touch me?"
"Well, yeah." You idiot. Has he ever mentioned that City Gray would never do embarrassing shit like this? "I mean, no! What the hell? Of course not. I... didn't wanna put my arm around you and have you think-"
Claire's thumb drags across her eyes, blinking fast to get rid of anymore unwanted tears. "You're not used to comforting people, are you?"
"Have you seen who I live with?"
She just manages a smile, gently tilting her head on his broad shoulder. He slowly brings his arm across her back, trying to ease his erratic heartbeat. Why is he so nervous just sitting next to her?
"Aren't we a mess," Claire says, breaking the silence.
Gray shrugs. "Speak for yourself; I'm not the one with snot all over my face."
Can you not be a dick for five minutes?
She pulls away from him in horror, hand flying to her cupid's bow. "I do not!"
"I know, I was just-"
"Being an ass?"
The corner of his lip raises. "Guess so."
"Thank you for listening," Claire says, laying back on the meadow beneath them. Her long blonde hair sprawls out all around her, like a golden halo. Gray wonders if she realizes what a true knockout she is. Her eyes are the colour of dark waves that crash in the sea, so deep and watery blue, but sparklingly warm at the same time. When she's angry, it's as if there's an oceanic storm contained beneath them. Her brows are symmetrical arches, slightly brown in colour, similar to her curled lashes that help compliment her pretty eyes. A collection of light freckles are dotted along her cheeks, spattering across her small nose like a constellation of stars. While her face is smooth and pale, the apples of her cheeks are rounded and naturally blushed pink; nearly the same shade as her pillowy, full lips. Everything about Claire is a contrast to himself; where her features are innocent and soft, Gray's are corrupted with sharp contours.
"Thanks for hearing me out," he replies. She's curvy, too... like, ridiculously curvy. He tries to keep his gaze facing forward at the waterfall, so that he doesn't start staring at her like some kind of mesmerized freak, but Claire motions for him to come beside her. He hesitantly does, head falling back onto the bed of grass.
Her voice pipes up again. "I'm not missing much, am I?"
Gray frowns. "Missing much of what?"
She just gives him the side-eye in annoyance.
"OH," he says. "... Yeah. Right. You're not missin' out on anything."
Claire pushes at him playfully. "Jeez, I'm lame," she mumbles, hand on her forehead.
Gray props himself on his elbows. "You aren't. I mean, you are, in literally every other aspect." She groans in embarrassment. "But, even though it's bullshit of how it all… went down for you, I think it's fine that you wanna keep that promise. And anyone who tries to fuck with it isn't worth your time."
Claire looks over at him doubtfully. "You mean that?"
"For once, I actually do," he says, staring up at the clouds. They're all shaped and puffed up in different ways, like dollops of fluffy icing that've been carefully placed in an impossibly blue sky. Despite a chilly wind running past them, Gray doesn't feel so cold lying next to her.
"Gray?" Claire asks.
"Mhm."
"What's your favourite colour?"
He shakes his head at her. "Oh no, I'll open up about my internal pain, but this is where I draw the line."
"JUST TELL ME."
Gray chuckles at the deep, comical change in her voice. "Blue."
"I like red," Claire says.
"Hm, I don't remember asking."
"Have you always been so unfunny?"
"You're pronouncing hilarious wrong."
Claire laughs, before prodding him with another question. "What's your favourite band?"
He doesn't give her a hard time with this one. "Green Day."
"I like Bon Jovi."
"God, no," Gray says painfully. The most overrated band to ever exist... and I mean that with every fibre of my being.
"I do!" Claire exclaims. "I told you, I love-"
"The 80's. I know. You've said that before." He tries to contain a smile. "Can you play an instrument?"
"Did you just ask me a question?" Claire feigns being impressed, hand pinned against her heart.
Gray pretends to pick something off of the grass to flick at her. She shrieks, covering her head. "On second thought," he says. "I don't really care anymore."
"Okay, okay! I used to play the flute in school band. And I'd sing in the church choir. How about you?"
"Bass," he tells her. "And a bit of piano."
"Really?"
"Really. My dad taught me. He's a big rocker." Which would also explain the heavy drug usage, but anyway, Gray would like the subject to be changed.
Claire seems to take the hint. "Can you cook?" she asks.
"Not at all. Can you?"
"Yessir. I'm pretty good, actually."
"Interesting. What's your favourite movie?"
"Ugh, that's so hard. I love movies," she says wistfully. "I guess The Little Mermaid, though."
He rolls his eyes. What a child. "How adorable."
"But I also like Clueless, Bring it On, and 10 Things I Hate About You."
"Why am I not surprised," he says. "But I've actually seen that last one, and I didn't hate it, if you can believe that."
"Ha, what's your favourite movie?"
"Probably This is Spinal Tap."
Claire grins. "I've watched that before."
"Or The Shawshank Redemption, but the book's better." He winces. Why'd I say that?
"Hm," she says coyly. "I didn't peg you as a reader."
What the fuck else is there to do in a small, hick town like this one? Gray looks away, embarrassed. "I'm not," he says.
"Well, you just admitted it, sooo..." Claire shrugs at him, but he merely rolls his eyes at her, pretending like he didn't just expose his inner lameass. Gray's also surprisingly good at math, but he doesn't go around preaching that either. "Ohhhh!"
He huffs. "What?"
"I know why Mary started hating you!" she says gleefully. Here we go with her hypotheses again... even though she kind of hit the nail on the head with her last one. "You'd go to the library, you'd ignore her to read, she'd try to talk to you, to recommend books or whatever, and you just wouldn't give her the time of day!" Claire smiles triumphantly. "Tell me I'm wrong."
"You're wrong," says Gray, even though she isn't that far off from the truth. She's just missing the many shocking, romantic advances that Mary had made towards him. "You forgot the part where her parents went out of town a couple of times, and she kept asking me to come over." For someone as shy as her, he was pretty surprised when she meekly approached him, wanting to know if he was busy.
Even more surprised when she unsubtly let him know that no one was going to be home.
It still puzzles him, though, why Mary wanted him; especially in that way. Gray isn't arrogant (well, maybe a little), but he'd like to think that he's pretty good looking, from his high cheekbones (courtesy of his dad), to his Grecian nose (courtesy of his mom), to the strong, sharp jawline that shapes his face (courtesy of both of them). He still doesn't know how the hell he ended up with auburn hair and menacingly light blue eyes, given that neither of his parents possessed features like that. His mother used to tell him that it was likely from his father's Irish side, because apparently, Saibara used to look the same in his youth. Whatever.
Gray's handsome, sure, but is that reason enough to make someone shrewd like Mary want to jump his goddamn bones?
"Can I ask you a question about sex?" Claire's voice cuts through his thoughts. She looks flustered, her face pinched crimson as she stares at him through wavering eyes.
Gray has to laugh. "... Yeah?"
"Is it like… is it actually good?"
"Is it what?"
"Is it-"
"I heard you." Gray's cheeks feel hot as he awkwardly chuckles. He wishes that he brought his hat today, to pull in front of his face during times such as these, but he wanted to challenge himself to stop using it as a crutch. He's failed the challenge, because he'd like to use it right about now. "It's fine," he finally answers, tone mimicking her squeaky one.
Claire snickers. "I hate you."
"Are you asking if I'm good, or if it's good?"
She stares at him incredulously. "If it's good! I don't care if you're good-"
"Because I am."
Truth be told, Gray's only good because he forced himself to get good. When he lost his virginity, he thought that lasting four minutes in the back of the chick's '01 Honda Civic made him some kind of sex-God... until he went to school on Monday, and she told all of her little girlfriends that he didn't bother trying to get her off. It was his first time ever, and he was only fifteen; Gray thought that she got off. At one point, she even threw her head back and shut her eyes tightly. Kai said that this was always a clear indicator for him, while Kai's older brother insinuated that she was probably just praying for it to all be over. He advised them that in future, the female's clitoris needed some sort of stimulation if they even wanted to be considered as "kinda good."
When the two of them mistakenly let on that they thought the labia was the clit, Kai's brother stifled a groan, throwing them his VHS copy of Up and Cummers 11, featuring rising adult-film starlet: Jenna Jameson. They studied the porno religiously (there's an oxymoron for you), and when the girl reluctantly offered to give Gray another chance, he managed to get her off with his mouth and his dick this time (plus, he even lasted a whole extra six minutes!) In turn, this lead to a very positive rumour spread about him, which also caught the attention of other girls.
This also lead to Gray kicking that chick to the curb; if she couldn't handle him at his inexperienced worst, then she certainly didn't deserve him at his skillful best.
Claire rolls her eyes back. "Ugh, never mind. I think I got my answer."
"Ding ding ding. It's actually good."
"But I heard it's better when you actually care about the person, and since you're clearly heartless..." She lets her voice trail off, before giving him a look. "Have you ever been in love?"
No.
"I don't think so," says Gray.
"But, you've had sex before."
"Ah-huh?"
Claire blushes again. "Oh. Um, forgot those two things don't go hand in hand."
"Rookie mistake." He smirks. "Have you?"
"I don't think so," she says, now mimicking his deep voice.
Has Claire ever been out on a date? She must have; she just probably had to make sure that they made room for the Holy Spirit between them. A classic way to ensure that there won't ever be a second date. "You're probably going to need to go to confession after this conversation, so do you want me to come to church with you this Saturday?"
Claire looks over at him hopefully. "Are you being serious?"
"Nope." Gray rises from his lying-down position, standing at the edge of the pond while staring back at his smug expression.
"You're an ass."
"So I've been told."
"Will you teach me self-defence? Or even boxing?" Claire's voice is optimistic once again.
"Hell, no."
"Still an ass."
"You aren't strong enough to box," Gray replies, facing the waterfall.
"Can you swim?" she asks.
"Yeah," he answers quizzically, cocking his head. Claire has walked behind him, looming behind his back. "What the hell are you-"
With all of her might, she uses her shoulder to ram Gray into the pond. He topples in with a very loud splash.
The water is freezing. Gray stares at her from in the pond, treading in one spot, his mouth agape. He's not even mad, he's just… stunned. He never gets what's coming to him; karma always manages to skip him for some reason. He lowers himself down into the pond, tilting his head back to shake the hair out of his eyes. "You're dead," Gray tells her, in an eerily calm voice.
Claire is bent over, giggling like crazy. "You deserve that," she sing-songs, stopping to pull on the bottom of her eyelid.
Gray swims to the edge of the pond, hoisting himself up in one swift movement. Her eyes widen, as she backs away slowly.
"Come here," he says, all levelled.
"Aw jeez, no!" Claire screams, giggling as she rushes past him.
Gray runs after her, the wind biting into his cold, wet skin. He ignores this, chasing after Claire as she zigzags along the trees of the forest. He catches up to her in no time, grabbing her wrist with one hand and her waist with the other. She shrieks, trying to free herself from his grasp, but he just crouches down to hoist her over his shoulder. Claire clearly doesneed to learn self-defence, because she doesn't know a single way to get herself out of this.
"Gray, don't you dare!" She's panting hard from her short-lived run, thrashing while breathlessly laughing against him. He ignores her, propping her in a fireman's carry. She's pretty much weightless like this. Gray adjusts one hand over the backs of her knees, the other holding on to her arm as she gets slung behind him. "Y-you're all wet!"
"Here we go," he says plainly, walking as quickly as he can to the crystal blue pond. Gray wonders if he's in shock or something, given that he doesn't feel pissed off right now. He feels... normal. If his hat were on his head when he got pushed in, then that would be an entirely different story.
Claire begins to protest for mercy between her snickering. "Gray, I'm actually sorry! IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"
"Bullshit." How he lost his balance and toppled in from this scrawny girl behind his shoulders, he can't say for certain. "3… 2…1…" Gray finishes his count down, holding on to Claire tightly as they reach the edge of the pond.
"NO!" she hollers, trying once more to wiggle out of his strong grip.
And he jumps in with her.
They come apart the second that the water engulfs them. Gray rises quickly, watching as Claire's blonde head bobs up at the top, bangs all matted to the front of her face. She coughs, pushing her hair back as she swims over to him. Every time her shivering body tries to grab onto him, he keeps pushing her off lightheartedly, until she swims behind him and latches onto his back. He treads, bucking her off as she flies back.
Gray just bursts out laughing when he sees her come back up at the top; laughing harder than he ever remembers laughing. He can't recall the last time that he was so carefree like this; or the last time that he wasn't miserable. Claire stares at him in amazement between coughs, like she can't believe what she's seeing. Her arms stretch around Gray, holding onto him as she laughs along with him.
"You… suck!" she manages in between snickers.
Gray truly cannot recall the last time he had fun like this. Had it been years? Years without fun? "You are no better," he tells her.
Claire sticks her tongue out at him, but then smiles, pulling her head back a bit. "I guess I deserved that, but you deserved it way more."
The sounds of the waterfall rush over them, like big, crashing waves along the sea shore. The sun is out, the rest of the world is quiet, and there Gray is, ignoring his frigid tremors to holds this beautiful, soaking-wet, pain in the ass in his arms.
"Are you happy here?" Gray manages to ask her, after their laughter has died down.
"Yes," Claire says with a smile, as she swims over to the edge of the pond. Her fingers are all blue and icy as she grips the ledge. "I'm much happier here than I was in the city. How about you?"
"I used to say no," Gray says, swimming up next to her. "But I think that I am."
