She's limping slightly, but not by much; the pain is sort of non-existent right now. Walking through town barefoot in her fire-engine red bathing suit sticks out like a sore thumb, even more than her loopy hobbling does. Everything is numb; numb like when the dentist pumps novocaine into your blood, streamlining throughout the site of discomfort until it runs against every other pore in your body.
Claire can't help but think about Trent's words. It's not that she agrees with him, but he was… right in certain aspects. She really could have been… well, anything could have happened to her that night. Hearing him say that old timey word: deflowered, made it even more traumatizing, as if she was re-experiencing the fear all over again; reliving her church telling all of the girls to keep their flowers' intact. What would happen if her promise did get broken? An instant smiting from God Himself? Permanent hatred from her mother up above? Automatic inaccessibility to heaven and purgatorial waiting rooms for decades to come? No thank you. She's done everything right up until this point; she can't let it get ruined now.
Maybe Trent is right: maybe it really was preventative on her part. She isn't sure… she's too tripped out right now to decide.
"Being high is overrated," she says, her arm slumped around Gray's shoulder like a makeshift sling to steady her walking. "Is this what it's supposed to feel like?"
He smirks. "Depends on what kinda drug you're taking. This is pretty on par for whatever pain meds they gave us." When she's all pressed up against him like this, the first thought that comes to her mind is that she's never seen him so naked… Well, jeez, that sounded a whole lot better in her head. What Claire means is that Gray has never been this vulnerable or exposed in front of her before. She reckons it's the lack of his signature hat, combined with the no shoes, no shirt thing that he's got going on, but again, isn't certain.
"Just how many drugs have you done?" she mumbles.
"FINALLY! My God, are you guys okay?!" Ann frantically rushes over to them in the middle of the paved street with an emotional Kai beside her. Claire's starting to wonder what would happen if this guy had even a remote dosage of estrogen in his system.
She frowns, holding out her bandaged thigh and gesturing toward Gray's hand. "Kinda smarts."
"Hurt like a bitch," he clarifies.
"We were so worried," Kai sobs, latching onto Ann's arm. She shimmies him off in annoyance like he's some kind of bug, flinging him toward Claire so that he can cry on her free shoulder now.
Ann shakes her head. "Does he do this every night?"
"Every night," says Gray.
"Every night," Claire confirms. She manuevers her body so that he isn't completely cutting off her circulation, but Kai takes this as a sign that no one wants him around, dropping and curling up into a little ball underneath the tree beside them. "Kai, c'mon. It's okay."
"Look what I got!" Popuri darts out of her house, clutching something in her hand as she runs toward the Claire and Gray. She throws her arms around them, nearly causing them to topple over. "And you guys are alive!" she screams happily, pulling backward to grin exuberantly.
Kai looks up quickly through his tears. "W-what'd you get? Your period?"
She ignores him, waving a piece of paper in front of Claire's face giddily. "It's a letter from my dad! He's finally coming home!"
"Jeez, how long's he been gone?" Gray asks, rubbing his jaw with his injured palm. He forgets that it's bruised, bandaged, and bound with aches though, because he winces immediately.
"For a good chunk of my life. But he'll be back for the fireworks festival!" Her eyes glisten with moisture as she joyfully embraces the paper against her heart.
"Aw, that's awesome," says Ann. "Your mom's gonna be so happy. And so's my dad and Zack!"
Claire unwinds herself off of Gray's shoulder blade, reaching her wobbly arms out to hug Popuri. "This is such great news," she says, squeezing her tightly. There's a pang of something inside of her… not of jealousy, but a yearning. It's physically impossible for her to have a reunion like this one day. Not that she wants to know her father, given that whoever he is, he's a trash individual, but she wishes that things could have turned out a lot differently. It's bad enough her mother had to be taken away from her, but to not even have someone that she can call a father causes her heart to ache with emptiness. "I'm so happy for you and your family."
"Someone'll be coming to knock the shit outta you, Kai," Gray says in a musing voice, helping Claire to seat herself down. Even though it's 6 o'clock in the evening, the lingering humidity in the air is starting to make her feel even more lethargic. He drops his bag of EpiPens to the floor, easing her under the tree without perturbing her thigh.
Ann plops herself beside them. "Man, can I pay to see that?" She peers into the bag. "What's this?"
"The good shit," Gray answers, like epinephrine suddenly qualifies for that.
Kai shakes his head. "Your dad's not actually gonna beat me… right-?"
Popuri rolls her eyes at him. "You're being ridiculous."
"Calling my feelings ridiculous makes me even more hysterical!"
"Kai, seriously," Gray mutters, shutting his eyes. "Quit being a jagoff. We all need to go home."
"I'll take you home, Claire."
The voice belongs to her boyfriend. Trent has surprisingly walked up behind the group, kneeling down in front of her with warm, chocolately eyes. "Hi, everyone," he says with a gestured hand wave. He intertwines his fingers with hers. "Hi, you."
Claire's lips curve into a smile. "Hi… what are you doing here?"
"I owe you a nice evening," he says, and damn right! she thinks. "Let's go."
"Oh," Claire says, looking over at Kai and Gray's unreadable expressions. This will be the first night in a while that she's not spending with either of them by her side. Popuri fidgets with her hands while Ann stares at the two of them.
"Go, Claire," Kai finally says, dragging his fists across his wet eyes. "We'll all be good."
Trent lifts her up as she's still contemplating. "Um, I gotta shower first, but come by my place in ten minutes, okay?" Claire tells him. She lowers her gaze down to Ann glaring at her boyfriend, to Popuri who's surprisingly got her eyes fixed on Kai, to Gray who won't even look at her. She nudges him with her ankle, offering a small smile. "Thank you again," she says. "You really are the best."
Gray just nods at her, a glimmer of something shining through the iciness of his eyes for a tender moment. It's a fleeting second that makes Trent sear with jealousy, but honestly that's tough for him. She can't just have her best friend save her butt yet again, without letting him know how much she appreciates him. "Oh, you guys can all come, too, by the way."
Popuri shakes her head, as if trying to rid herself of whatever she was conspiring before. "We'll let you two have some alone time." She hoists herself up with Ann, taking one of Claire's arms.
"But we'll help you now," Ann adds, flipping her long braid over. She grabs Claire's other arm, draping it around her shoulder. "Let's motor."
"I could just wait in your living room while you shower-" Trent begins, but Ann and Popuri have already darted off with Claire between them, assisting her to her farmhouse in supported leaps across the pavement.
"Yeah, that's what I usually do," Gray says, his stoic expression breaking out into an arrogant smirk.
And Trent lunges for him, wringing his hands out while Kai gets in between the two of them like a stature-less human pillar.
"Trent? Trent? I've been calling your name!" Claire frowns over at him. He's locked his eyes on her chest, but for once, it's actually unintentional, given that he's completely lost in a pollution of his own thoughts.
"Oh, my apologies," he mumbles. He drops his gaze to her bare legs, milky in tone with a very slight golden glow to them. He's convinced her that she needs to wear the shortest stuff possible on the lower half of her body in order to speed up the healing process of her leg. Right now, she's clad in some very short shorts that he supplied for her, and a tight purple tank top. However, his previous staring must have made her nervous, because she's throwing a baggy sweater on, over her outfit at the moment.
Claire gestures toward her mutt, who has lodged itself between the two of them. "I was trying to tell you that Maggie just wants you to pet her, silly!"
How irritating. "I'm a little weary of dogs," he says, trying his best not to stiffen his tone. The mutt glares up at him, as though it has actually registered his words. "Actually, I cannot believe that you even allow it onto the furniture."
"Oh, stop. She's my family," Claire says, lifting the dog to nuzzle her fur. Trent hesitantly reaches his fingers behind its brown ear, but the animal just growls and snarls at him in response.
She apologizes quickly, placing the animal onto her lap. Her dog sniffs at her damaged thigh, pushing its snout over to the opposite one. If those urchin stings embed scars into her skin, Trent's going to be pissed. Claire'll probably be self-conscious about it, but he's going to be pissed. The ones that she's got on her back make her look butchered enough as it is.
"Sorry! I guess she can be super protective of me."
The mutt seems just fine running with that goddamn punk in the mornings. He tries swatting the dog away, but it's persistent and won't budge.
"Aw, Trent. Leave her alone! She just wants to be with me."
"And what if I want to be with you?" Trent mumbles. He pulls on the sides of Claire's thighs, bringing them over his own lap so that the dog has no choice but to get off. It sulks into the other corner of the couch as his hand trace designs into the curve of her cheek, smiling broadly. "What are we doing for your birthday?"
She giggles. "Why do people keep asking me that? It's really not a big deal."
"You'll be eighteen," Trent says, threading his fingers through hers and bringing them against his mouth. He plants kisses all around her hand. "It is a big deal. And I have a surprise."
Claire just sheepishly smiles, fiddling with a lock of her beautiful hair. "Jeez! What'd you have in mind?"
"I was thinking that we could go somewhere, just you and I."
"Where? Like the inn?"
"I meant as in travel," he replies tightly.
Claire tilts her head. "Like the Sunny Islands? I heard that they're beautiful!"
No. He can't be seen there. No one who knew Trent before can know what he's like now.
"Hm, not what I had in mind either," he says, brushing his raven mane away from his forehead. He misses his naturally coffee-coloured hair. "Perhaps I could take you to the city."
"Oh, if I went to the city without Popuri, she'd kill me! She's always wanted to go."
His eye is about to start twitching. He tries to lean back on the couch, but he's never really been one to relax.
Well, never say never. He'd relax more if Claire were under him. "I could take us to your city," Trent suggests.
Her face wilts. "Uhm, I dunno when, or if, I'll ever be able to go back there. Mineral Town is-"
"-Your home. I know." How many damn times do I have to hear this one? "Why don't we go to see my city?"
"Dallas? That'd take a boat ride, and then a plane ride on top of that. Imagine what it would cost!"
"Money is no issue, Claire," he says, patting her hand. Trent's family has always had wealth. His family's cash has gotten him out of more trouble than he can count; it's what made being here even remotely possible. "You know that I will always take care of you."
Claire shakes her head, pieces of her bangs falling into her eyes. Her hair is so long and soft, like individual ribbons of spun gold. He's got to make sure that she keeps it like this; he'd hate for it to ever be chopped. "I need to start taking care of myself more," she says.
But keep having that blacksmith come to your goddamn aid, that's fine.
"Then what's the point of a gift?" Trent chastises, brushing her fringe away.
Claire swallows, fiddling with her hands while cracking her knuckles nervously. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but it would be a total waste to take such a long trip and only spend the day there."
"… The day?"
"Well, yeah. The day." She chews on the inside of her cheek; a habit that he's grown to detest. He doesn't even know why Claire does it, but it's unattractive and it happens far too randomly for his liking.
"You shouldn't do that," he chides, trying to prevent his tone from getting too sharp.
"I do it when I'm uneasy, or when I'm thinking," Claire replies complacently. Guess it isn't random, but when did she get so mouthy? He liked it better when she never challenged him at all. This blacksmith's garbage attitude is affecting her far too much for his liking: another reason to keep him the hell away from her.
Or, has she always been like this, and Trent's just too blinded by his overwhelming desire to have someone uncontaminated, immaculate, and pure as her?
"I couldn't just… stay the night – stay multiple nights away," she continues. "I mean, who's going to watch Maggie, or feed my animals, or take care of my farm?"
"The waitress, the poultry runners, or even… what's his name again? Kale?"
"… Do you mean Kai?"
"Sure. Or, there's always Gray to the rescue-"
"Trent," she says lightly. "I don't think that jealousy is cute. At all. You really gotta stop."
He presses his mouth into a tight line to keep himself from losing his temper. Play the part of a gentleman… you know how. He's done everything right up until this point; he can't let it get ruined now.
"So you don't think that I'm cute?" Trent grumbles, trying to modulate how pissed off he is.
"I mean, you're all right, I guess," Claire teases. Her expression immediately shifts to a more serious one, though, as she slides off of his lap, repositioning her leg to elevate it. "Look, I know I moved here on my own, and I'm trying my best to mature, but I couldn't just suddenly… vacation with you. It seems like a big step… one that I'm just not ready to take."
Trent says nothing, staring at her leg perched on her coffee table, extended out. Even though it's been almost a week since her incident, the area on her thigh is still swollen and red. The holes where he removed the stingers remain scabbed, bruised, and relatively unhealed. It's naïve of him to think that they won't leave a scar, and he's not allowed to be naïve about anything anymore. "Have you been soaking your leg in Epsom salt?"
"Every night after work like you said."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure!" Claire seems a little offended for some odd reason. "Does it… does it look bad?"
It looks imperfect… and he requires perfect. "Well, if you want my honest opinion, then yes, it does. You don't want it to scar like this. Try soaking it twice a day now." His lips press against her ear. "You know, I can always help you with that."
She doesn't answer him, though; she just hangs her head low. Trent watches as her fingers begin to toy with a cross-shaped pin on her top.
"Who got that for you?"
Claire looks up at him. "Oh, Gray made it for me." She manages a smile, even though he suspects that his previous comment upset her. "My second week in town."
"How…" Ridiculous. "Charming." Trent forces a grin. "You like jewelry, then?"
"I don't have a lot, but yeah, I guess so." She shrugs, sounding a bit distant. "I mean, what girl doesn't? Plus, Gray and Saibara are so talented at making it. Their work always turns out so beautif-"
"Claire?"
"Yes?"
He brings himself closer, gently drawing her on top of his lap once again. "You know that I'm constantly just looking out for you, right?"
Claire unstiffens her appearance, reluctantly nodding and dipping her chin down into his shoulder. "I know that."
And it's fine; he's fine. He knows what to do. He's always known what to do this whole time. He'll make her swoon with his gift, he'll get under her, and he'll even find a way to rub it all in Gray's idiotic face. Trent's lips press against Claire's throat desperately, peppering her with kisses.
"Hey…" she says softly, her neck craning back almost instinctively. She gasps when he finds her sweet spot, but Trent makes sure to keep his hands to himself so that he doesn't have to fucking hear it from her.
"Hey," he says, his mouth closing over hers.
"How's Kai?" Claire leans against her counter, nestling a towel-wrapped Maggie into the crook of her elbow. Her dog whimpers, burrowing her way out of the swaddle and hopping into Gray's arms. She's always way too excited after her baths. "Jeez, Maggie, chill!"
He just seats himself down on her floor, towel-drying the sopping-wet puppy. Her fur has left damp imprints on his beige jumpsuit, but he doesn't seem to mind. Gray's grandfather invited her to have dinner with them tonight, so he'll probably have to change out of his work clothes regardless. "I like it better when he cries on your couch, not mine."
Why is he being so dry? Claire wonders if this is a jab at the fact that Trent's been over her house for the last three nights in a row, meaning that Kai hasn't been given the direct opportunity to cry on her couch. She sits down next to Gray, careful not to bend her sore thigh too much. "Still that bad, huh?"
He nods. "Oh, and I wanted to let you know that I was right. When he started bawling, my grandfather instantly told him to shut the hell up."
"He did not!"
"He did. He said 'put a goddamn sock in it.' I told you, and I should have friggin' bet you so I coulda won."
Claire shakes her head. Is everyone in Gray's family rough around the edges, with a soft, gooey inside that most people don't get to see? She can only imagine what his father is like. "Where's Kai tonight?"
"I dunno. He said he had to figure some shit out."
"Oh!" Claire exclaims brightly. She takes Maggie from his arms, gently ringing the water out of her furry brown ears "Working through his problems is a good sign… right?" Gray doesn't answer, though. His eyes are fastened on her bare legs. She blushes. "THESE ARE PANTS BY THE WAY."
"HUH?!" His face reddens. "What…? Uh-"
"They're not… underwear, if that's what you were thinking."
"I wasn't."
"Like, I'm pretty sure that they still count as pants."
Gray grabs Maggie back, using the white terrycloth to dry her self-consciously with his non-dominant hand. "They definitely don't."
"Okay, well, whatever. They're just really short shorts. Trent gave them to me to wear so that I could heal my leg faster."
He pretends to be in agreement. "Sounds logical to me."
"Oh, stop it, Gray. How's your hand?" She grasps his wrist, inspecting the damage done to his palm. The flesh is cracked with some still-bleeding scabs from the sharp pricks of the sea urchin stingers, meaning that he clearly hasn't been doing his Epsom salt rinses like Trent suggested. They'd benefit him greatly, given that Gray's hands are already super rough with callouses and scratches from his trade.
He leans back. Maggie has escaped from towel-prison, darting around Claire's farmhouse like a lunatic. "And just imagine how many girls he convinced to wear those before you," he continues, ignoring her question.
She drops his hand, glaring as she pushes it back to him. "Are you still talking? What's wrong with you?"
"I heard that you're going away with him."
Her stomach does a flip-flop. "Wh-who told you that?"
"Your charming doctor boyfriend said that he made plans." Gray's eyes have narrowed to their usual ice-cold colour and demeanor. He's mad at her right now. Walking into her farmhouse, she sensed some tension, given that they haven't seen each other since he had saved her ass last week, but it's not like it's completely her fault. Her boyfriend's finally paying attention to her again, constantly wanting to spend time together, and she totally loves it. It's put her in the best of moods.
At the moment, though, Claire's irritated. She doesn't believe a word that Gray says when he bitches about Trent. Ever. "Jeez, when did you two have a heart to heart?"
"Heart to heart? You're dreaming. Let's see what was covered at my last visit to the clinic." He pretends to think, and it's causing her to be the mad one now. What a smug jerk. "He wants me to keep away from you, and he can't wait to fuck you when you turn eighteen."
Her cheeks glow crimson, the scarlet colour spreading from the centre of her nose to the tips of her ears. Why does he always have to be so vulgar? "Oh, really?" Claire dismisses him with her hand angrily, her face all hot. "Trent said that? He really said all of that to you?" What a bullshitter. She doesn't like that kind of language, but it's fitting for Gray. Sure, Trent's envious of their friendship, but he's got manners, unlike some people.
Gray stares at her. "Did he say that exactly? No. Was it implied? Um, yeah-"
See? I knew it. "Would you just stop? My gosh, quit talking out of your ass! I'm not even going away with him." She rises from the floor, walking over to her sink to rinse her hands. She's gotten up far too abruptly, though, because her thigh is swelling painfully beneath her.
"What? You're not?" Gray makes no motion to move, but he still keeps his light eyes on hers.
"No!" snaps Claire. "Not now, not later. And you'd know that if you actually listened to me for once."
"Maybe start saying something worth listening to."
She lets out a strangled, frustrated groan, turning off the stream of water and drying her hands on a checkered tea towel beside her. Gray's really just instigating and asking for a fight at this point. "You're so… freaking impossible, you know that? He brought the idea up, and I said that I didn't want to, and he totally respected that, just like he respects me not being able to have sex." Her voice unintentionally wavers at this part, and she isn't sure if it's an unconscious action or not.
"Pfft, that's believable. Y'know, maybe I'd know some of this shit if you didn't just cut me outta the loop and ignore me." His voice is sharp and gruff. Maggie powers toward him, barking and circling the floor as if she's a non-threatening vulture. But Gray just hoists himself up, tall and proud, like the arrogant jerkwad that he is.
"Talk to the hand, 'cause I don't wanna hear it." Claire holds out her palm in front of his face, the way that Karen does to get people to shut up when she's totally PMS-ing. "You're acting completely ridiculous."
"How the hell am I acting ridiculous?"
"Just stay the heck out of my business! You know that I don't have to devote every minute of my time to you, right? Like, I've clearly got a life, too."
This is the first time that she's seen him with hurt smeared all over his face, and it's worse because she's the reason behind it. Gray's eyebrows get drawn in close together, the pierced barbell maneuvering on his skin as his eyes shift away, his forehead crinkling with disappointment. But, this pained expression that he wears is fleeting, because he snaps his angry eyes back to hers, mouth coiling into a terrible snarl.
"Real fuckin' nice, eh, Claire?"
One part of her wants to snap right back, because how many times has he put his foot in his mouth after saying something awful to her? More than I can count on both damn hands. But then there's another part of her, the part which knows that this was a horrible thing for a friend to say. Doesn't she know better?
"I didn't mean it like that, Gray," Claire says softly, dropping her chin to the floor. "But… I'm not always gonna be free to do… whatever, y'know? And… I know it might seem like you don't have a lot of other people around you, but I swear you do. You just tend to push them away sometimes." She steps toward him when he stays quiet, reaching for his arm. "Say something, please. Are you gonna cry?"
Gray scoffs, pulling back to free himself from her grasp. He's royally pissed right now. "You think I'm a friggin' little brat like you? No, I'm not gonna cry."
She glares. "I am not a brat."
"You're the very goddamn definition."
"Screw you, Gray. I try to-"
"You don't try to do shit. You don't try at all anymore. The only thing you try to keep intact is your messed up relationship with that prick."
"What is your damage?!" she screams, stomping away from him. She's going to have to mop later, because her bare feet are stepping in tiny puddles of the remnants from Maggie's bath, but she doesn't care. She's too livid to care about cleaning or keeping things tidy or ruining the hardwood or anything like that. "And don't you dare call my relationship effed up. Don't you dare."
"He's only with you 'cause he's got a thing for virgins. It's a weird-ass fetish and yeah, it is messed up." His feet follow hers, and his next words hurt more than any wound, ache, stitch, or car accident combined. "And you feed into it… because you've got some real fuckin' daddy issues."
… Ouch.
Claire quits her trudging, whirling around with balled up fists as she wills herself not to cry. She's not going to start bawling like a baby… like a little brat. She won't prove him right. Her shoulders just slump dejectedly, and her teeth immediately go for the side of her cheek. She bites down so hard, and she isn't sure if she's caused herself to bleed; although, her mouth is tasting pretty metallic right now. When her nails dig into her palms, the stinging sensation almost awakens her from this heated, catatonic state.
The father complex is a psychological term used predominantly for women; it shifts the blame of a poor paternal figure onto the child. The jocks in her high school hurled this insult at the girls who they deemed as "easy," or the girls who just didn't do exactly what they wanted. In the adult world, it apparently meant females who lacked a father figure in their life, filling this void by dating older men outside of their age group. And in her mind, Gray may as well have slapped her across the damn face, because it would have hurt a whole lot less than this. She knows that she didn't grow up with a dad, she knows that she doesn't have one… she knows that some sorry excuse for a man raped her mom and stayed anonymous the whole time, and that's the only reason why she's even here today. She doesn't need a raw reminder of it, because the very idea makes her want to sob. This factor of her life didn't totally mess her up… right?
Maybe she does have daddy issues. Maybe it hurts because it's the truth, and no one enjoys hearing the truth.
It's just that Gray of all freaking people shouldn't be the one delivering it to her.
The look on his face tells her that he regrets these words big time. "Blondie… Blondie, please. I'm sorry. I never meant… Claire, c'mon. Look at me, please. I didn't-"
And instead of crying, or being sad about it, she's decreed that she'll be furious instead. She just begins shouting at him, hurling invectives and readying herself to tear out her damn hair. Gray listens for a genuine eleven seconds before something that she says stirs him the wrong way, and he starts yelling back. It becomes a ping-ponging screaming match that causes Maggie to get between them, barking at her, then at him, and then finally at the door that he's stormed out of. Good. Get lost and stay outta my face.
Claire lifts Maggie, shaking with rage as she finger combs the tufts of hair on her dog's head. "What a freaking joke. What an absolute joke. He's the whole package, he really is. Arrogant, obnoxious, stupid-"
As if Maggie doesn't want to hear this, she jumps out of her arms, scurrying around the floor like a little mouse. With her teeth grit, Claire shimmies out of her shorts, carefully bringing them down her short legs as she kicks them off to the side. They pretty much resemble the same length as the star-printed boyshort underwear that she's got on, just with a thicker fabric and seam. She rummages through her drawer, in just her plain cotton bra and panties, kicking on her slippers while bringing the hem of a green and white floral sundress over her head. She turns away from her reflection in the vanity mirror, so that she doesn't have to look at her scars, or how red-faced pissed she is, or any of that crap-
The sound of her door flinging open elicits in her ears. "My grandfather wants to know if you're still coming for-" He lets out a smothered noise as she screams.
"GET OUT!"
"I DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING!"
Claire drags the sundress over her head in record timing, down the perimeter of her breasts and torso as it hovers above her knees. She then turns with another irritated screech as she chucks her slippers at him. Gray isn't facing her, so one hits the back of his head with perfect aim as though he's got a target on it.
"WHY THE HECK-"
"IMSORRYIDIDNTSEEANYTHING."
This is clearly a lie. A blatant, obvious lie. There's no way he didn't see her complete backside, her butt in her underwear, the grey band length of her bra clasp… the brandished scars under the straps.
Well, he's seen those before.
Okay, she's never let anyone see her panties. Because duh… why would she?! Whatever. It's not like she was wearing, or even owns, a sexy pair anyway. It's just weird that Gray's seen more of me than Trent has.
SHE'D LIKE TO MAKE IT CLEAR THAT SHE'D RATHER NO ONE SEE ANYTHING.
"Why are you here?!" Claire snaps, awkwardly smoothing out her dress. Gray still isn't facing her, so she throws Maggie's ball at his feet. Bad aim this time, though, because the rubbery, spiky material hits the top part of his calf, where his tough hamstring muscles are.
He spins around, glaring. "I didn't see anything," he repeats, his face entirely flushed.
"Why are you even back here? And you can't just not knock-"
"I didn't think you'd be getting changed," Gray mutters. "And I've told you to fix the damn lock on your door, 'cause that shit juts open majority of the time."
"Oh, so now it's my fault."
"Jesus, Claire. I'm sorry. I didn't-"
"Why. Are. You. H-"
"My grandfather told me to march back over here and ask if you were still coming."
"Why?"
Gray lets out an exasperated breath. "'Cause he thinks I was being a cockshit."
"No, I mean, why would I come?" Claire stops. "But he's right."
He ignores this last part, rubbing his jaw. "For him, 'cause he already made the shepherd's pie. You really think I want you there?"
"Oh, you think you'd ever be the reason that I'd come?"
He stares at her now, really stares at her. "Do you ever think about your words before you speak?!"
"You are so impossible," Claire mumbles.
"This is coming from the biggest goddamn pain in the friggin'-"
"Oh, you know what-"
"Whatever. Fine. I don't give a shit. I'll tell him that you said no."
She glares. "It'd be great if you could just eat somewhere else entirely-"
"-It's my house."
It's not, and Saibara always makes a clear point to remind him of this. "-But I'll obviously go for your grandfather still."
"You're so noble. What a martyr. God, what would we do without you there?"
"Okay, that's it-"
"What the hell makes you think that I even want you there?"
Claire bends down, grabbing the slippers that she tossed at him. "Like I said, it's not for you, it's for Saibara. I'd never come for you."
She honestly doesn't understand what his deal is, because he just glowers at her blankly. "Seriously, think before you speak."
"That dress looks nice on you, Claire," says Saibara, weakly standing up to grab the finished plates. She and his grandson remain glaring at each other from across the geography of the little table, her arms crossed in front of her and his sprawled out lazily.
Claire notices him getting up, and rises quickly to clear the dishes before he has the chance to. "Thank you, Saibara. And your dinner was super good." She goes to seize Gray's plate, but his fork still lingers on it, and he's left all of his peas. "Are you done?"
He looks up at her from his chair and rolls his eyes back in annoyance. She lets out a groan.
"Grayson," cautions Saibara. "Doesn't Claire look nice in her dress?"
"Nope. She looks goddamn insufferable."
This isn't true at all. First of all, Claire's a beauty regardless; like a youthful Grace Kelly back in his day. His grandson's a mix of a young Paul Newman and the late Rebel Without a Cause, with the shitty attitude of the latter, but besides that, everyone's seen the way that Gray looks at her. She's a beautiful, kind girl, no doubt, and even though they're angry with each other, his eyes tend to go soft when he catches a glance at her.
Claire just barks out a laugh, grabbing his dish angrily and making her way to the sink. "Oh, I'm insufferable? That's rich."
Here we go. They were arguing outside the door when they both arrived, but remained quiet when they got inside. Then, his grandson said something stupid and raised his voice first, to which Claire reacted irately. Saibara can tell that she's been trying very hard to remain calm in the company of him tonight, but right now, she's quickly losing her temper alongside Gray, and it develops into a back and forth bullshit match.
"You are so full of-"
"I'm not doing this in front of your grandfather."
"'Cause you know I'm right."
"Oh, as if-"
"Quit while you're ahead."
"Y'know, maybe if you didn't-"
"Like I'd ever-"
"Just hear yourself, Gray-"
"You are so goddamn-"
"Look who's talking! Look who is freaking-"
"When you talk… instant friggin' headache, I get, Blondie. You know that? An instant, friggin'-"
"You talk, and nothing comes out. Your words mean literally noth-"
Saibara just lumbers over to the kitchen, searching for his method of shutting out the noise. He listens as Claire calls his grandson a "fire crotch," to which Gray responds with, "do you even know what that means?!" and she mumbles out a "well, no… I just hear Kai call you it," before thankfully retrieving his earplugs from the cupboard. Beside their casing lies an album that rests under the fine china from his wedding; the only piece of porcelain he owns.
His grandson… Jesus, he can be difficult, but this pint-sized farmer is giving as good as she gets. Most people don't yell back at Gray, yet here she is, shouting obscenities at him that she doesn't even quite understand, as hard as he's shouting at her.
With the two of them on mute, he's half-tempted to dig out that note that Gray wrote for her weeks ago… but he wonders how that would even help. There's always a time and a place for everything. Instead, he grabs the album, seating himself once again to prop it down on the table as they hurl insults at each other. Back in his day, they'd call this chemistry… actually, no they wouldn't. They'd call this a damn chemistry imbalance.
"Hm," Saibara murmurs to himself, thumbing through the album as he scans each photo.
Claire breaks her gaze away from his grandson for a moment, tilting her head and walking over to Saibara. She says something, so he removes both earplugs to hear her.
"What is that?" she whispers.
"Ha. Just admit that you don't have a friggin' comeback for-" Gray stops, staring at the album. His voice goes hoarse. "Where'd you get that?"
Claire has already pulled up a chair as she peers over Saibara's weakened shoulder. "Is that you?" she asks, pointing to an old, worn-out photograph.
Saibara nods. It's a black-and-white picture of him at the age of nineteen, standing strong and tall. If it were coloured, he'd be depicted with his shock of once-auburn hair, the same shade as his grandson's. "Yessir."
"My gosh! Look how handsome you were." Claire quickly corrects herself. "Are, I mean! I'm sorry-"
"I'm pushing eighty-one, Claire," he tells her with a wave of her hand. "My prime's over."
"Wow," she murmurs, sneaking a glance at Gray before clipping her attention back to the page. "You guys look just like each other."
"Sure do."
Gray arches his brow, the one with that damn piece of metal in it. "Thought you said I look like Uncle Kurt."
Saibara shakes his head. "Never said that. I said you act like him."
His grandson looks like he could care less though. He grumbles in his seat across from them, drumming his knuckles on the hollow table.
"C'mere, you little brat," Saibara chastises.
Claire looks up smugly. "What'd you call him, Saibara? A br-"
"Like I said… goddamn insufferable."
She glares, her mouth agape like she's going to snap back, but she reverts to the pages. "Was that… your wife?"
Saibara reluctantly nods his head "yes." That's her alright, standing next to him with her hair pulled back in a tight bun, a small smile gracing her lips. Sometimes, it's too painful to talk about her. To talk about the absence of her, or the lack of her in his life.
Good thing his grandon's here to do it.
"That's my sorry-excuse for a grandmother," he snaps. "Walked out on the family 'cause she liked heroine more than everyone 'round her combined. Remind you of anyone else you know, Gramps?"
"Your father's not on heroine," is all he responds with.
Claire grimaces. "You're such an ass, Gray."
Saibara decides to change the subject. "Here's one your dad sent me, Christmas of 1991."
"... Is that the one Mom took? Where I'm between dad and Uncle Kurt by the T.V?"
"That's it alright."
"I was like, six there."
Claire peeks her eyes at the picture. It's one where his grandson is being hoisted up on the shoulders of both his father and uncle, wearing a pair of Chicago Blackhawks pajamas. He gives the camera a thumbs up with his big, toothy grin. A brightly lit Christmas tree sits proudly in the background.
"Those are my sons," Saibara tells her. "The one on the left is Gray's father, Joseph. And the one on the right is Kurtis."
"They look identical," she says in surprise. "Are they twins?"
"My father's older by four years," Gray mumbles in response. "Sure doesn't act like it, though."
She stares at him. "You're so… cute here. What happened?"
"Turn the page," Saibara says. "Look."
She does, and there's a photograph of a brace-clad Gray, giving a cut eye to the camera while wearing a cocky smirk on his mouth. He stands in an old ice rink penalty box, wearing skates, a helmet, and a number 7 Chicago Blackhawks jersey. He looks proud, gripping his hockey stick like he's ready to win the entire tournament. Or just kick the shit out of someone else on the ice like he always did.
"Boy, these pictures are randomly laid out here, eh, Gramps? You don't wanna put them in order by year or something?"
"You're lucky I got this. It shows you're clearly my favourite grandchild."
"You're the favourite?" Claire puts on a bewildered expression.
"Yeah, right. I'm the only grandchild." He scoffs, then pauses. "My mother took that picture, too," he says quietly.
"She was always the one taking 'em."
"Wish we had more with her." He smiles slowly. "That's my Chris Chelios jersey. He was my favourite player, and when she told me he was Greek, too, I got so excited."
"What's with all the Blackhawks paraphernalia?" Claire asks.
"They're my favourite team, and the best team in the goddamn league."
"I'd argue that the Bruins are."
"Yeah, you would say something stupid like that."
Claire chooses to disregard his biased snarky-ness. "I didn't even know you played sports," she says.
He's answering, but still refuses to address her. "I used to play hockey. I was damn good, too."
"At least you're humble," says Saibara.
"Well, I was. Right wing position and the best enforcer on the team."
"You mean the person who fights everyone? Is that even allowed in minor league hockey?" Claire's eyes go big.
"Nope."
"Well, why am I not surprised."
Saibara flips the page again. "Here's Gray's parents on their wedding day."
"… That's your mom?" Claire stares like she's trying to make sense of a math equation in front of her.
There's his father, his brown hair cropped short for once, the bandana that he always wore ditched, yet peeking out of his handkerchief pocket. And then his daughter-in-law, Tina, Joe's beautiful wife, chestnut hair shimmering beneath a crown of flowers that Kurt's girlfriend, Dia, made her. She always wore her hair up, but on that day, she kept it to one long braid instead. Saibara remembers their wedding as if it were yesterday. It was so groundbreakingly special, that it reminded him of the reason as to why he got married in the first place.
"Yep," mutters Gray, peering at the picture for a moment before looking away. He reaches into the cupboard for a glass, not bothering to fill it up with anything.
"She's beautiful," Claire whispers. Even though the photograph is faded, Saibara recounts Tina's warm, friendly eyes, tall, willowy figure, and infectious personality that meshed so well with Joe's. Even Kurt liked her, and he hated… most people. The whole family moved out of Leaf Valley, and over to Mineral Town shortly after the wedding, but Gray's parents decided that there was more opportunity for them in the city. Kurt went back to Leaf Valley, vowing to never get married while staying true to Dia regardless, and Saibara... well, Saibara just wanted to remain where he was, visiting each son whenever he was given the chance to.
"It's two years today that she passed away," he tells Claire, even though his grandson is listening as well. "It's not… the best of days."
She slowly shifts her eyes to Gray, rising from the chair. "You didn't tell me that," she mumbles guiltily, her hand hovering over her heart as though she's found herself in a complete state of shock.
"You didn't ask," he says, in a voice that doesn't sound like his grandson.
Gradually, she trails over to Gray, so small in comparison to his tall frame. She looks up at him sadly before scrunching her face together and wrapping her arms around his strong waist, voice muffled by his t-shirt.
"I'm sorry. I-I really didn't know."
He sighs. "I know you didn't, Blondie."
"No." Tears form in her eyes, like a faucet that's been left on for too long, spilling down her cheeks in wet strokes. "I feel awful. I'm so sorry. If I knew, I would have… I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you, today and in general. I didn't-"
"I'm sorry, too," he mumbles, wrapping his muscled arms around her as well. "I didn't mean anything I said… today's just a hard day for me."
Last year, Gray was practically inconsolable on this day. It was the only time that Saibara had ever seen him cry, besides at the funeral.
"I wish I knew," Claire sobs, shaking her head against his chest. "I would have… I wouldn't have been such a-"
"You're fine. You're not… you're not whatever you were gonna say. You just… it's just that I needed you this week… needed you today." His arms are wound around her body, thumb brushing against her shoulder blade. "That's all."
Saibara wonders when he's gonna get on with it and kiss her tears away, kiss the sadness outta his own heart. But his grandson stays respectful, holds her tight… hugs her without an ounce of selfishness.
Tina was something special to Joey. And Claire's the same way with Gray.
A/N: Read if you wanna know where I've been haha. Don't if you... don't, I guess? I tend to ramble ugh my bad :u
Hey everyone, thank you for being so patient ❤ I know my last update was well over a month ago. I have been stressing and feeling awful about that. I'm really sorry. I had the chapters almost completed, but then got some pretty disheartening news a few days later, and just needed to take time off from writing. To sum it up, I found out my dog has a very late stage of two forms of cancer. He's pretty old, and I should have seen this coming, but honestly, the diagnosis was such a shock to me, given that he's been perfectly healthy otherwise.
Now, if you read my story, I reckon you can tell that my characters do not handle grief well. And this is because... I also do not handle grief well lolz. Every time I tried to open my computer to finish up the chapters, I either hated how they were ending up, couldn't stand the way that I was writing, or just found myself crying. I've already had someone in my life pull the whole, "well, it's just a pet, can't you get another one?" card, and I was like :))))) "plz excuse me for a moment as I go and relentlessly sob lmao." I know that this comes from a place of not understanding, but pets are family. My dog is so much so my family. A lot of my time during this break was spent figuring out what to do, listening to the recommendations from my vet, and learning how to say goodbye when the time comes. The vet said that he's very good right now and isn't suffering, given that he's still behaving 100% normally, but when his time is up, we'll know. For now, he said that I should just keep him comfortable, and he's actually been great. The week after I found out, I was honestly preparing for it to be the end, but he's honestly as happy as can be, as though nothing's changed at all. Just taking and appreciating every single day with him :)
Anyway, since I didn't like the way that the chapters were turning out, and since I didn't want to force myself to write if the flow just wasn't working, I went back and edited my previous chapters to keep productive. This also meant combining short ones together, so if you saw that I went from 31 to 26, that is why haha. BTW! I'm not saying that you have to, but if you want to re-read any chapter, I'd recommend re-reading chapter 12. You obviously don't have to, like it isn't required, but there's things in it that I wish I highlighted more in my first draft. So yeah, if you want to, go for it. The previous grammar just... was a lot of things, but it is not one of them LMAO. I corrected that and then finished up these last two chapters this morning (I wanted to post them both at the same time because I felt like reading them one after the other would be good idk aha.)
Okie dokes, thanks again for being patient. Hopefully some of you still stuck around ❤ I'm setting a goal for myself to update the chapters every Thursday, given that I feel like I have everything sorta under control now... I'd love to stick to a schedule like that to keep things organized. Speaking it into existence!
Surprise! Joe is Gray's dad. A few people guessed Kurt, that'd make sense, wouldn't it? Given that he's more similar to Gray than Joe is. But, I've always seen Joe as Gray's dad (I very much love that character haha). Can't wait to explain the family tree even further, this was my favoruite part of the chapter to write c:
Btw, jagoff is a Chicago/ Pittsburgh word for an idiot, basically lmao. PEACE OUT! :D
