* * *
"What's wrong with your brother?" Frank inquired brusquely, breaking the silence at the kitchen table the next morning.
Bob raised only his eyes from his bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. "He and Angela broke up last night." He mumbled on his way to another spoonful.
"Awww, that's so sad." Sheila commented remorsefully, gently clutching her husband's wrist to express emotion.
Bob merely nodded, glancing at Clint and Dave who sat in their usual chairs at the table. He didn't meet either of their eyes and nothing else was said.
* * *
There was no doubt that as Scott's head pounded, life surged on at the same pace that it had traveled when he was a functioning member of it. He had had brief touches with the outside world, brief interactions with certain and dear members of the human race. He recalled Kelly and Bob sitting beside him on the bed, speaking in tones that were melted together by the time they reached his ears. He was still drunk then, and his clothing felt like a sickeningly wet second skin.
The next time he opened his eyes, it was pale out, either sunrise or sunset, and his head throbbed with excruciating intensity. He vomited immediately and in a blink, the room became day.
Sheila came in some time after that and she must have cleaned his mess on the carpet, because by the time he leaned over that same edge to vomit again, the previous stain was gone. He missed this second time and splattered on the sheets, laying his head in it and falling asleep with the putridity of it's smell stinging his nostrils.
* * *
"I'm worried about him." Frank suddenly mentioned, taking down the barrier of the newspaper to look up at Clint sitting in the recliner, then Bob, sitting on the other end of the sofa.
Bob half shrugged, keeping his attention on the television.
* * *
The next time Scott awoke, the orange-brown paste had been extracted from his beddings and a pink towel lay in its place. He was awake longest during this time, and laid his head on the fluffy terry cloth, inexplicable tears dampening the fabric. This was the moment where everything returned to his memory at once. He winced as the weight of it all pressed at his rigid joints.
He found himself in a deep depression, his trembling, dirty fingers stroking the soft towel as he was comforted by the texture upon his cheek. There was another presence in the room as he began to sob, pondering the existence of the towel and its meaning in the world. He was delirious. The presence faded and his door was softly shut. It was nighttime and the intruder, who Scott knew had been his youngest brother, had left the light on. Frank soon entered the bedroom and rubbed his eldest son's back comfortingly as the boy cried, sad because the towel was lonely without its washcloth counterpart. Frank did not understand the nonsensical ramblings coming from the trembling ball of nerves on the bed, but was thankful when he had successfully lulled his feverish son to sleep.
Sheila reentered in the daylight and accidentally awoke Scott as she attempted to clean the new puddle of vomit all over the towel. Scott held tight to his terry cloth friend, not speaking a word, but refusing to allow her to take it from him. She let him be and he passed out.
* * *
His eyes opened sometime later and the towel was gone. This mere fact gave him reason to bawl inconsolably into his pillows until he passed out again from exertion.
* * *
"He should get out of bed. He's been there for two days straight." Frank commented over a plate of steaming fettuccini.
"Let him be. He'll get up when he's ready." Sheila countered.
* * *
Sheila returned to Scott's bedroom, attempting to force him into having crackers and a sip of water. Scott rolled away from her, his farthest movement during his sabbatical from life. She took his temperature.
"One hundred one." She announced.
He ignored her and went back to sleep.
* * *
It happened quite simply. There was a strangeness to the simplicity in which this landmark event occurred. Consciousness. It seemed to take him for the first time at that moment when his stunning grey eyes flashed open. His brief lapses of dormition paled in comparison to this sudden clarity. They had occurred in a haze of labored activity and lethargy. And suddenly, life. One moment, he had been tossing and turning, bizarre nightmares plaguing him and causing his eyes to twitch fitfully beneath their lids, the next moment, a blueish grey film over his bedroom, but a crisp view of his surroundings. He was awake, and that was not to be disputed.
It was dark, but his eyes soon grew accustomed to the darkness. He lay idle, his legs splayed, a hand rested on his chest, feeling his heart pounding below, the other stretched outward, hanging over the side of the bed. He was perfectly still, trying to allow all emotions time to subside. Reality hung thick in the air, and it was choking him.
In the serene emptiness of the world around him, sleep silencing the home and giving him space to allow his deafening thoughts to roam, he was finally given time to think things over.
Tonight I'm tangled in my blanket of clouds... dreaming aloud...
He had met her and in all honesty he was instantly enmeshed in her. It was not quite her appearance, he had seen others who were far prettier, but there was just something about her... It was almost as if he knew from the start that she would be the one. She would be the first one he would ever love. She would be the first one he would ever allow himself to love. She would be the first one he would ever express that love with.
Things just won't do without you... matter of fact I'm on your back
And she would be the first one to ever break his heart.
If you walk out on me... I'm walking after you...
He had passed over a year with her, far longer than he had imagined, trying his hardest to be the best boyfriend he could. He doubted himself for so long and so many times, just trying to be what she wanted. He knew he couldn't live without her, and he still felt a sickening feeling that he was doomed now that she was gone. He had let go of his former self and become a brand new person. At first, this brand new person was a wonderful entity to have around, but thinking back at that very moment, he realized that that new person was not him at all. He had let go of himself.
If you'd accept surrender... give up some more... weren't you adored... I cannot be without you... matter of fact... I'm on your back...
In that pivotal moment, when he first said those three words to her, the three words that had burdened him for such a long time... in that pivotal moment he began to slip away in order to make room for a new, emotional, feeling Scott who allowed himself to get hurt. He allowed himself to give a damn and that was his problem. The old Scott never got hurt because he didn't let his stony heart feel a thing. Perhaps, in that pivotal moment, things began to go wrong.
If you walk out on me... I'm walking after you...
At rock bottom, all he could do was struggle back to the top.
Another heart is cracked in two... I'm on your back...
And that was precisely what he planned to do.
* * *
On the third day, he rose again.
Dawn brought about a new attitude, replenishing all with it's sunny outlook on life. Reality happened once more, and Scott's eyes opened slowly. A smile took over his features and he sat up straight in bed, feeling his tensed muscles suddenly stretch and overtake him in an enormous yawn. He struggled over the tangled, dirty sheets, catching his fist on them and tearing the fabric from his blue mattress. Wadding his sheets in a pile he dropped them in the corner and strutted out of his musty bedroom in search of a place where he could alleviate a distended bladder.
The hallway was much cooler and he was thankful for the gust of fresh air; he had been wallowing in the stench of his own filth for far too long. He felt he needed to shed his skin, and perhaps a scalding shower would take care of that.
* * *
Bob sat cross-legged on his bed, still in tattered grey sweatpants and a white tee shirt. Clicking on an icon in the corner of his screen, he typed in a message.
mrSilliness: hiyah timbo, long time no speak. i miss you kid.
He sat back, waiting for her response and hoping she was present. He was frantic after not speaking to her for so long. After Kelly had left the Moore house, Clint and Bob felt that they should attempt damage control on the home front and left as well, not knowing it would be the last time they would see their friends for some time. The next three days were spent in an uncertain silence, and Bob knew for a fact that he needed some form of comic relief. Besides that, he didn't know what to do with himself after not having contact with her for so long.
ForrestMoore: you don't call, you don't write... should I be offended?
mrSilliness: your mom should be offended.
ForrestMoore: oh, you had to go there.
mrSilliness: i believe i did, son.
ForrestMoore: your mom's so stupid she got stabbed in a drive-by shooting.
mrSilliness: your mom's so ugly, your dad takes her to work just so he doesn't have to kiss her goodbye
ForrestMoore: your mom's so stupid, she entered a "dumbass" competition and they said: "Sorry, no professionals."
mrSilliness: your mom's so ugly... oh who am I kidding, your mom's hot. talk about a MILF.
ForrestMoore: ughhh... bye Bob.
mrSilliness: okay, i won't say it anymore, but that doesn't make her any less hot.
ForrestMoore: i'm going to do that rewind thing where I pretend I didn't hear the last thing you just said.
mrSilliness: yeah, but I know she wants some of this.
ForrestMoore: Hey! What's that falling through the sky?! Oh my God! It's a bomb... no... it's... it's... oh yeah. It's this subject, and it's being dropped.
mrSilliness: Haahaa... hey, come over.
ForrestMoore: You come over here.
mrSilliness: Y?
ForrestMoore: I dunno... I just felt like being disagreeable.
mrSilliness: Get your ass over here Dorkas Ignoramus.
ForrestMoore: Alright Loserus Imbicilus.
mrSilliness: Haahaa
ForrestMoore: See, you're a whole new breed of stupid.
mrSilliness: So is your mom. I'd better see you in two seconds.
ForrestMoore: I don't feel like going out yet. I'll come over in like an hour.
mrSilliness: What do I do until then?!?!
ForrestMoore: get an IQ
mrSilliness: or I could go play with my dog.
ForrestMoore: You have a dog?
mrSilliness: Yeah, your mom's chained up out back.
ForrestMoore: Ooooh.... that was set up and executed quite nicely Bob. You deserve a cookie.
mrSilliness: I have my moments.
ForrestMoore: yeah... fleeting moments...
mrSilliness: fleeting like your mom.
mrSilliness: I'm coming over man.
ForrestMoore: hey, some other peeps are on.
MrSilliness: other peeps? like the gang?
ForrestMoore: yeah, most of us. Let's do a buddy chat. Hold a tick.
Bob sat back for a moment, waiting patiently for Timber to send him an invitation to a chat. A moment passed. He rubbed his eyes, then reached behind him on the night table for his glass of orange juice. He took a few sips, his dark eyes keeping close vigil on the computer screen.
Ding!
Bob smiled, hastily setting his glass back on the table, nearly causing it to tip, and leaning forward again, clicking the icon.
"Welcome to 'the fuck you mother fuckers chat.'" The screen read as he clicked into the chat.
"Nice Timber..." Bob chuckled.
ForrestMoore: Did everyone get this shit?
mrSilliness: if someone didn't get it, they wouldn't be able to answer that.
ForrestMoore: a tree falls in the woods and no one can hear it shut up Bob. I hate it when you use logic against me.
ForrestMoore: Whoa... I have one fucking foul-ass mouth.
mrSilliness: but we love you for it.
ForrestMoore: Awwwww. Reach out and touch somebody.
mrSilliness: i'll reach out and touch somebody like your mom.
ForrestMoore: I'm not trying to hear that.
ForrestMoore: where the fuck is everyone? Damn. You send a buddy chat, no one feels the need to answer it. Talk about not very neighborly.
mrSilliness: I know. They probably all know we're the coolest ones.
ForrestMoore: Fuck yeah man.
mrSilliness: They're such player haters.
ForrestMoore: Yeah! But you know, don't hate, congratulate!
mrSilliness: Don't hate the player, hate the game!
SEXBOMBcmm: don't hate me cause you ain't me.
ForrestMoore: see, Carmen is our only faithful disciple.
mrSilliness: I know, really.
KATdiva14: nice title Timber.
ForrestMoore: nice tits Kelly.
mrSilliness: see, now everyone wants to come into our chat! It's the coolest, isn't it.
ForrestMoore: I got one, I got one:::
ForrestMoore: Dumbicilus Assus
mrSilliness: Stupidius Idiocus
KATdiva14: okay, stop that.
ForrestMoore: shut up Kelly! It's not like YOU have anything to say.
KATdiva14: your chat, you provide the entertainment
BIGbass69: hey you guys! Bob, Dad says get your shit off the living room couch
Twinkles004: yeah Bob. Your shit is EVERYWHERE.
"SHUT UP!!!" Bob called out, hoping his brothers were in the proximity.
BIGbass69: that was really unnecessary Bob
mrSilliness: so was your birth
ForrestMoore: OOOOOOOOOH! Game, set, match: Bob
mrSilliness: damn skippy. You just can't touch this
SEXBOMBcmm: oh I can...
mrSilliness: heh heh, hell yeah
pasDEbourree: hey guys
ForrestMoore: I sent this chat like an hour ago!
pasDEbourree: try a few minutes ago, I was getting breakfast
Twinkles004: Hi
pasDEbourree: hi
mrSilliness: Let's get drunk and screw
KATdiva14: Let's not
ForrestMoore: Okay, this is a PMS-free chat
mrSilliness: thank you Timber
ForrestMoore: you know I've got your back man
KATdiva14: my middle finger is up right now.
ForrestMoore: So is mine
agentkok: this better be good. I'm in the middle of looking at porn. What the fuck do you want Timber?
ForrestMoore: well that wasn't very nice
agentkok: I'm leaving
ForrestMoore: NO! WAIT!!!
agentkok: triple penetrations... Timber's one-liners
agentkok: hot babes... talking to you losers about nothing
mrSilliness: count my money... party with bitches. Hundreds and fifties... big ass titties. Count my green... get in between... those titties. Let's party man!
ForrestMoore: HAHAHA! You have me rollin Bob!
BigBass69: yeah, I gotta watch that movie again sometime... that was pretty... ghettolicious
KATdiva14: I don't think the film was a Jewish slum in Germany circa WWII
mrSilliness: ghettofabulous Clint. Is this in your plan to be more ghetto than Justin Timberlake?
ForrestMoore: Whoa Kels. That was really... politically correct.
BigBass69: I like adding 'licious'... it makes it seem like... better. And DON'T mention that name!
agentkok: yeah, I'm going to look at porn now. Bye.
ForrestMoore: oh please, you look at porn ALL the time.
agentkok: get to the point, I'm about to click the X
BIGbass69: blow your load then come back
Twinkles004: it's going to fall off one day Ben
agentkok: well as long as that one day isn't today, i'm beating my meat
ForrestMoore: you know, every time you masturbate, God kills a kitten. Please you guys... think of the kittens.
agentkok: well I'm taking it by the nape of the neck and getting the jugular right about now. Go away.
ForrestMoore: how poetic. where the hell is Carmen?
KATdiva14: okay Gestapo, people have lives outside this chat
pasDEbourree: yeah, really
ForrestMoore: sheeeeeeeeut uuuuuuup
mrSilliness: I miss you guys. L
BIGbass69: come to my room then, it's just next door
Twinkles004: yeah, come on over man, lemme get dressed
mrSilliness: I didn't mean YOU guys. I see your asses too much as it is.
SEXBOMBcmm: wait... who the fuck is in this chat?
ForrestMoore: nice of you to show up
SEXBOMBcmm: wait... I know forrest is Timber... mrsilliness is Bob... obviously... Kat= Kelly... bigbass... Clint?
BIGbass69: obviously
ForrestMoore: twinkles is Dave, agentkok is obviously Ben... judging by the pornography obsession
SEXBOMBcmm: who the hell is pass de burr??
pasDEbourree: Jeanine, and it's PAS DE BOURREE.
ForrestMoore: Yeah Carmen, can you READ?
pasDEbourree: it's a dance move
SEXBOMBcmm: because I dance
ForrestMoore: I KNOW that was sarcastic.
mrSilliness: Chic fight!
KATdiva14: why do guys LOVE chic fights so much???
pasDEbourree: it's not so much about who wins, I think they just like to see girls touch each other
BIGbass69: hell yeah
Twinkles004: hell yeah
mrSilliness: that's a double hell yeah for me
KATdiva14: I'm rolling my eyes right now
ForrestMoore: thanks for the narration.
mrSilliness: let's all hang out. I'm sick of typing.
ForrestMoore: at least you're being careful this time. Usually it's barely readable with all the typos
ForrestMoore: like a right handed dyslexic who only has use of their left hand
BIGbass69: HAHAHAHAHA!! Nice analogy Tim
Twinkles004: very creative... haahaa
ForrestMoore: well, Bob's such a retard...
mrSilliness: I'm not a retard, I'm a very special boy!
agentkok: Okay, hey guys.
mrSilliness: to fill you in, we're thinking of hanging out
BIGbass69: you rub one out man?
Agentkok: good, my wrist hurts too much to type
BIGbass69: that's a yes to be taken
agentkok: I was holding that one for a while too man. I feel like I just lost thirty pounds.
Twinkles004: yeah, in your balls
KATdiva14: ladies present!
ForrestMoore: No, I wanna hear this...
SEXBOMBcmm: me too man
KATdiva14: LADY present
agentkok: man, that was a good load. I got it all over my hands. Like some fuckin geyser
SEXBOMBcmm: okay. That'll do
ForrestMoore: yeah, you know... I'm set with the whole masturbation thing
BIGbass69: yeah, I had a good morning jerk too
SEXBOMBcmm: what's Scott's screen name?
ForrestMoore: I can't remember... it's like... acid rain or something.
mrSilliness: acidSPY and yeah, morning jerks are the best. I usually have a BIG boner then. They're quick and efficient.
ForrestMoore: Why are they quick?
pasDEbourree: okay, this is gross. Shut up you guys, seriously
mrSilliness: so you guys come over.
BIGbass69: pick up your shit Bob, I'm not kidding. your laundry is all over the living room.
mrSilliness: quit your bellyachin', i'll get my shit. everyone over here in like, ten minutes.
pasDEbourree: I dunno.
Twinkles004: come on Jeanine. You have to. PLEASE!!! I wanna talk to you.
pasDEbourree: I can't. I have a lot of stuff to do.
Twinkles004: come on Jeanie
pasDEbourree: Dave. I can't.
Twinkles004: L Then call me at least.
pasDEbourree: if I remember.
pasDEbourree: I gotta go. See you guys later.
mrSilliness: yeah, let's all get off now so we can come over!!! YEAH!
ForrestMoore: Moronicus Foolis.
* * *
Angela gathered her breath and courage in a steady inhale, poising her fist and rapping her knuckles on the front door of the house she had somehow come to know as her own. Not moments after she knocked did the door swing open and Bob appear, the preset smile on his face dimming somewhat at the sight of her.
"Hey Angie..." he said slowly, confused by her presence.
Angela plastered on a smile of her own, knowing it was crooked, but not able to help it. Infact, she was quite aware of her ragged appearance, from her worn in jeans, to the plain white tank top, to her unkempt curls that had become tangles somehow, even to her red-rimmed eyes, evidence of her endless stream of tears. Her voice was nearly a whisper when she greeted him, her fingers sweeping over her flushed cheeks and attempting to push a lack-luster curl off her skin.
"Is Dave in?" she asked.
Bob was taken aback and it was quite obvious in the way his eyebrows flittered upwards involuntarily. "Dave?" he asked, his voice cracking. "You're... you're looking for... Dave?" he asked.
Angela nodded rapidly, trying not to back down, even with his penetrating gaze.
Bob fiddled with the door lock. "He's... um.. up in his room." He responded quietly, steeping aside and waving her inside.
She brushed past him, catching a brief whiff of his fresh-from-the-shower scent. Reaching the foyer as he shut the door, Angela turned around and faced him. "Is it alright if I go up?" she asked.
Bob studied her quizzically for a moment, as if he hadn't heard her. His hair was still damp, hanging limply against his cheeks, the damp strands growing wispy as pieces air-dried. She observed that he was barefoot, the legs of his loose jeans hanging over his feet to the floor. His tee shirt was white and read, "PEACE" in heavy black block letters.
"Go ahead." He finally managed.
She nodded, his pause nearly evoking more tears as she realized whose side Bob had taken.
"Angela..." the middle triplet spoke up as she placed her foot on the first step.
She turned back, her glance to him fleeting and unsure.
"I... Look... um..." he shook his head, seeing that his words were refusing to escape his lips. "How are you?" he asked, smiling shortly when he caught her eye for another moment.
Angela exhaled silently. "I'm... okay." She said softly, turning and continuing upstairs.
* * *
Dave hummed to himself, methodically tying the waistband of his drawstring pajama pants, then turning in search for a shirt. "Everybody wants to be... clo-ser to freeeee..." he sang quietly, pulling the sheets up over his bed in an attempt to make tidy his bedroom. He ran his fingers through his shower-wet hair, spiking up the shiny pieces and wiping his damp hands on his pants, staining the navy-blue fabric.
Someone knocked softly at his bedroom door. "Come on in and join the fun!" Dave called out, knowing exactly who it was.
He turned away from the door, sorting through his pile of clean laundry for something to wear. He finally discovered that the coveted "Beatles: Yellow Submarine" tee-shirt, equipped with the album illustration, he and his brothers inadvertently shared had made it's way into his bedroom. Bob usually managed to sift it out of the laundry and keep it for himself.
"Score." He mumbled. "I got the---" he started to turn around but stopped short when he saw that one of this fellow womb-mates was not at his door, but Angela was.
She flushed a rose color and focused her attention on the hockey stick leaning against the wall by the closet.
"Oh... hi." Dave murmured, turning a hue to match hers.
"Hey." She responded, passing him a quick glance to see if he had taken the hint to put his shirt on and end the embarrassing situation for the both of them.
Dave apparently had not taken this clue and still stared out at her, the tee shirt clutched in his fist, his shiny and developed chest fully uncovered.
"What's... up?" he asked, for lack of better things to say.
Angela looked back to him, turning away once more when she saw that he was still half disrobed. "Dave, I wanted to talk to you." She managed, clearly, firmly.
Dave's eyes shifted. "Okay..." he paused, studying her objectively. It felt like some sort of magic; he felt nothing except a small twinge of anger when he looked at her.
Her brown eyes finally met his as she mustered confidence from deep inside. She looked weather beaten and worn out. Her face was blotchy with patches of exhausted pink, her eyes were bloodshot, as if permanently crimson. It was hurtfully apparent that she had been crying, and under previous circumstances, he would have rushed to her aid, feeling his own heart tear into pieces as he spied such sadness and vulnerability. But this time he kept his distance. He was no longer filled with those urges. The thought was intriguing to him, even perplexing. In one moment, everything was changed. Perhaps he hadn't loved her as he thought he had. Perhaps it was just the prospect of her company that kept him shackled to her side for so long. At that moment, he honestly was not affected by her presence. From the moment she had said the words that had cleared everything up for him, he began to walk away, never to turn back.
The tears pooled at the bottom rim of her eyes. She took in a ragged breath, trying to make sense, and perhaps manage a coherent thought without breaking down. The events of the past few days had left her riddled. She could not perceive a solution, but she would have to find a way to smooth things over or else recovery would not be possible.
"I'm..." she started, feeling the thickness rising in her throat. "I'm..." she fought to be strong, closing her eyes in vain and turning her face upwards towards the ceiling as if the inclined plane would cause her tears to slide back down her throat easily.
Dave watched her from afar as she struggled with her emotions. He felt his heart breaking, but not for Angela, love of his life. His heart broke for Angela, one of his best friends in the world.
She flinched as his arms encircled her, the rich scent of his chest filling her nostrils and lulling her to silence. Her tangled curls brushed Dave's chin, exuding the sweet scent of strawberries and roses, and a light scent of soft skin. Dave sighed gently, rubbing little circles against her back.
"I'm sorry... for all of this... Dave..." she gasped, starting to cry while her voice was muffled by his skin. "I don't know what to do... I just knew... I knew I had to tell you... that I'm sorry... I'm so so sorry... I'm sorry I hurt you... I wasn't thinking... I... God, Dave... I'm so sorry."
His eyes focused on the wall behind her head, his fingers twirling passionately in her hair as he stroked her back into the calmness that her body had initially maintained when his arms first engulfed her. "Shhhh... it's going to be alright... I promise. It will be alright. Just time... that's all we need; time. And everything will work out."
He swayed gently, rocking from one heel to the other, lulling her with his serene disposition. His methods proved effective as her sobs tapered off, her fingers still clutching the bare skin of his back. A moment passed and she pulled back from him, staring up into his eyes intensely.
"I'm so sorry Dave." She whispered sincerely.
He smiled, patting her forearm. After a moment, he managed a, "I should probably thank you." blushing and looking away.
She blinked rapidly, shocked by his comment, and clearly not understanding a word he had just uttered. He raised his eyes to her. "Things may seemed fucked up now Angela... but sometimes, in the most fucked up situations, everything becomes clearer."
"What do you mean?" she whispered almost immediately after the punctuation left his lips.
"I suppose that statement has a different meaning for everyone." He shrugged easy-goingly.
Angela squinted, looking past him towards the open blinds of the window, taking in the perforated view of the maple tree just outside and pondering the truth in his insight. It only took her a moment to see that he was right, and for the first time in just over seventy-two hours, she smiled. This smile was not forced, but very instinctive, spreading across her face too quickly for her to try and hide it. Dave mimicked her.
"See?" he provided, brushing her chin with his knuckled. "We've been through worse shit than this. We'll recover."
Angela nodded, pacified by his words. She smiled at him again. "Thank you." She managed softly, addled padded as to how he could have possibly made her feel so hopeful in just a matter of moments since despondency.
Dave shrugged. "I've got ideas today." He provided.
Angela glanced back at him, seeming utterly transfixed by the tree, as if it held the secret to her sudden shift in mood. She nodded carefully, not seeming to have heard him. Turning towards the door slowly, her eyes not moving from the tree until her neck was forced to turn by the positioning of her spine, she exited, not knowing what she was going to do, or where she was going to go, but knowing she now possessed the drive to do something.
"See ya." Dave spoke out.
She turned back to him, remembering the most important detail. "Dave?"
He perked his eyebrows to show that he was paying attention to her.
"We didn't." she stated, standing still and watching him for a moment.
His facial expression lightened. She turned to leave.
"Angela..." he spoke up, causing her to turn back. He cleared his throat, pausing before posing the revealing query of, "Why? I mean... you had the chance to really get him back..."
She shook her head slightly, her eyes lowering to the ground. Seconds passed, as if she were searching for an answer, before she looked up.
"Because I couldn't do that to you. You deserve something more... amazing."
* * *
Scott, towel wrapped around his waist and hair dripping cool droplets of water down the back of his neck in tiny cataracts, smeared his hand through the steam bedaubing the bathroom mirror. He smiled at his reflection, beginning to recognize himself below the layers of sap that seemed to float off his body in the shower along with the second-skin of accumulated filth. It was going to be a good day, he decided right then and there. No matter what, he was going to let The Real Scott Moffatt run wild. He was going to be himself again... whatever that meant. The bottom line was that he had to be strong in order to find out.
Scott opened the door and strolled out into the hall, tiny bumps arising in the cool air that hit his skin all at once in a chilling breeze.
At that moment, the door to Dave's bedroom opened and Angela stepped out, an odd smile on her face.
Their eyes met simultaneously. The smile dropped off her face, and his façade nearly crumbled.
Scott sucked in a breath, feeling the sting of her presence and wondering if the wounds she opened just by being there, just by standing a few feet away, would be bleeding if he decided to look down and check.
Time was no object as their eyes matched up. It was like the time they had first met; that pivotal moment before they had first kissed, the source of their connection when they had first made love... and it was all happening to both of them at once.
By instinct, her eyes faltered and she glanced down at his exposed body, wanting to know his beauty again, wanting to refamiliarize herself with the map of his skin. He closed his eyes, turning his face sharply away as if he had just been slapped. The kryptonite was slowly killing him. He had to get away. He left her standing in the hallway, the sound of his slamming door echoing in her ears.
Scott leaned heavily on the inside of the door, gasping for the breath that wasn't coming fast enough. He took a short series of steps into the bedroom before hunching halfway over and spewing vomit onto his bed.
* * *