Upstairs, room 1001

[2goodarms]

It's late. Maybe. Late enough for Curtis to dim the lights in his and Edgar's room, anyway; he's been trying to follow the cues of the rest of the building, switching off the lights if he notices they're dimmer downstairs, or turning them on if bright light from the hallway starts to seep under their door.

It feels like controlling the movement of the sun. Controlling some small chunk of the world.

He doesn't know if he likes it.

But if he doesn't do it, it makes the time distortions feel even worse, so he'll just have to suck it the hell up.

The ambient noise on either side of them is all well and good, but hearing another person breathing an arm's length away calms Curtis way more than he expected. While he's not asleep yet, he's blinking drowsily at the ceiling, not much longer for the waking world.

Comments

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar, meanwhile, blinks at Curtis and then at Dejah, still with that fuzzy bemusement that hasn't yet cohered into an actual question.

[dejah_thoris]

She looks to Curtis and back to Edgar. Her gaze lights on the younger man, and for a moment, for a very brief moment, it looks like she's been stabbed in the gut.

"I should go," she breathes, and before the words are out, she whirls and sets off down the corridor at almost a run. One hand reaches out to touch the wall as she goes, as if to steady herself.

[2goodarms]

"Dejah -- "

It's too late: she's already halfway down the hall.

"Son of a bitch," Curtis swears. He shoulders past Edgar and dashes to his hammock, shoving the letter underneath his rumpled blankets before running back to the door.

What the hell. What the hell just happened.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Curtis, what --" Edgar's definitely more awake, and alarmed.

When Curtis moves back to the door, Edgar pushes it wider to follow him.

[2goodarms]

Yeah, considering Dejah's reaction when she caught side of Edgar --

"No. Stay here," Curtis orders. "I'll be back in a second."

Without waiting for a response, he takes off after her.

[dejah_thoris]

She reaches down and grasps a handful of her skirts, flips them around her wrist and picks up the pace. She can hear feet moving down the corridor. Heading for the stairwell, she feels like her throat is closing.

She hisses under her breath. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Without looking back, she bypasses the lift and heads straight for the door at the end of the corridor.

[2goodarms]

As the last of the sleep-fog clears, Curtis' brain whirs to life and clatters along its tracks. Dejah shows up; Dejah's fine until she sees Curtis isn't alone; Dejah freaks the fuck out and runs away.

...Dejah mentioned the last time they spoke that Curtis reminded her of her dead husband.

Oh, for fuck's sake, please say this is a joke.

He follows through the door three seconds after her. Score one for gym workouts and proper nutrition: he's not winded to hell and back yet.

[dejah_thoris]

She's half a flight of stairs above him and he can hear her feet, can hear her breath, high and tight. "What were you thinking, hmm? What in the seven hells were you thinking?" Her voice is thready with anger, and something else. Pain.

[2goodarms]

If that's directed at him, he can save it for later. If that's directed at herself -- well, he might have to save that for later, too, because seriously, for fuck's sake.

"Dejah!"

[dejah_thoris]

He can hear her steps falter, slow.

"I didn't know. I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

She doesn't stop, but if he hurries he might catch up with her.

[2goodarms]

He puts on a final burst of speed, taking the stairs two at a time. When he reaches Dejah, Curtis has to stop, plant his hand on the wall, and heave in a few extra breaths before he can speak.

Fuck big spaces, man. Fuck endurance running.

"Dejah," he finally manages after a couple seconds. "What the hell."

He still hopes he's got this wrong.

[dejah_thoris]

He's managed to plant himself between her and the next flight of stairs, halting her ascent. She's breathing hard, too, and her cheeks are wet.

"I didn't know. I had no idea. I'm so sorry, Curtis. You should go back."

She makes as if to dart passed him up the stairs.

[2goodarms]

...This is worse than he thought. Jesus.

Curtis shifts to try and intercept her. He keeps his hand up, palm out, as he eyes Dejah. "Edgar's from the train," he says. "He's not used to sleeping alone. That's it."

She's not the first person to wonder if there's more going on between Curtis and Edgar, but for God's sake, the kid's half his age and Curtis changed his diapers a couple decades back.

[dejah_thoris]

She takes a step back, her gaze directed anywhere but at him until he speaks. She looks up at him, wide-eyed, her heart and head churning as she tries to put together what he's telling her.

"He's.. from the..?"

[2goodarms]

"Yeah." Despite himself, his gaze darkens. "You think that's the only reason two people gotta share a room?"

Fucking front-sectioners. Christ.

[dejah_thoris]

He should know by now that Dejah's fire is equal to his own. He growls at her and she bares her teeth.

"No, I think that's why you didn't open the door all the way when I knocked."

[2goodarms]

"I didn't -- "

He breaks off in a frustrated sigh, dragging his hand over his head as he looks away.

"I had to get the room changed," he says, low. "Because I couldn't sleep. And I knew you'd probably give me shit about it if you saw it."

[dejah_thoris]

"Why ever would I do that, Curtis?" She feels the ache in her chest trying to burst into flames, and she draws in a breath, lets it out slowly, shakily. One hand swipes across her eyes.

"Forgive me. I clearly -- misread the situation. And now..." She let slip a quiet, bitter laugh. "I've gone and put my foot in it."

As John would have said. Dejah's eyes clench shut and she presses the back of her hand to her mouth.

[2goodarms]

Curtis shakes his head. Still quiet: "Yeah, me too."

In the tail, an invitation back to your bunk didn't leave any room for misinterpretation. There wasn't enough space to do anything else with two people. Now that he's got a whole room -- he thought of it like Gilliam's tent. A place to go take a breather if you needed to think. Somewhere with multiple options to complement the huge space.

And clearly, that wasn't what Dejah wanted.

A memory strikes him so hard behind the eyes that his vision swims: a girl, blonde and laughing, a car gliding to a stop outside a row of dimly-lit houses. Well, this is me. Curtis' breath catches; carefully, he eases himself down onto one of the steps.

[dejah_thoris]

She takes a few moments to catch her breath properly, wiping her eyes dry and finding her center. She sees him sink down to sit on the stairs and she still doesn't know what to do.

"Curtis..."

[2goodarms]

Another shake of his head. The memory dissipates, lingering at the edges of his thoughts like smoke. He looks up at Dejah.

"I'm sorry."

[dejah_thoris]

He has such beautiful eyes. The thought lances through her chest, stealing her breath.

"No," she's quick to respond. "You did nothing wrong."

She settles next to him on the step, her hand touching his sleeve.

[2goodarms]

Curtis shifts his arm away -- but only for a second, so he can catch Dejah's hand in his own.

"Look. It's not..." He flounders, has to take a moment to clear his throat. "I think you're gorgeous, it's not that, it's just -- that wasn't what I meant when I said you could come visit."

[dejah_thoris]

For the barest moment, her heart stops. And then he catches his hand in hers, and she laces her fingers through his, holding tight.

"Of course you didn't. We barely know each other. But I never expected..." The words crowd up behind her teeth and she shakes her head. "I just thought you had invited me in. That's all. I hadn't even realized that -- was something I wanted until I saw -- your friend."

[2goodarms]

His shoulders sag half an inch in relief.

"Okay," he murmurs. "So we're good?"