To Live Forever || p.maximoff

Creithiog (Scarred)

                                It was three in the afternoon when they arrived at the airport. Declaring the journey too dangerous, Enid and Peter were left with the keys to the car and a plea to "take it slow." While Peter was busy toying with the keys, Erik decided to confront the girl. 

                                A breeze swung its icy mitts at Enid, who was doing a half-assed job of disguising her shivering. Staring out at the open tarmac brought back memories of a time when she imagined herself traveling the world. Paris, maybe? Or to visit grandmother in Germany? Those dreams were squashed early, so all that remained was a whisper of regret. There was no point being angry at things that couldn't be changed.

                               "Enid, right?" Erik appeared by her side, his shadow looming tall over her own. She nodded. "Can we talk?" 

                              "I don't know, can we?" Enid shot him a wry smile. "Alright, hit me."

                              He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. Second attempt, he tried, "I saw your arm earlier, in the car."

                               "Yes, sir, I have two of them. Your point?" She knew what the point was. It wasn't like her to dance around subjects like this, but she knew who she was talking to. She'd heard of their "Patient 0", a poor boy stripped of his family and forced into experimental torture. Looking into his eyes, the pain was palpable. 

                            "Don't play dumb," he replied, placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her to face him. "I saw the marks. You're like me."

                            Enid went silent. She couldn't look at him anymore. The pain in his eyes, the marks she knew were there. For her, it wasn't worth opening the old scars again. There wasn't enough time in the world to cover them up, but she would do her damnedest to try. It took all her strength to pull away. "Erik. Please."

                            "Is everything okay over there?" It was Logan, his tinted glasses glinting in the mid-afternoon sun. 

                            "Peachy," Erik said, shooting Enid a look before stalking off toward the plane. Enid watched him go, knowing the conversation wasn't over. There was too much left unsaid. Seeing Peter waving at her like a psychotic monkey, she tried to put those dark thoughts aside in exchange for a promised ping-pong rematch that she was destined to lose. 

                           Before she could go, Logan cleared his throat. "Pete's a good kid. Take care of him, will you?"

                           Enid smiled, genuinely this time. "As best I can," she said, saluting him before taking off toward the car and sliding into the passenger seat. 

                         'Take it slow, my ass,' Enid thought. Slow wasn't something Peter did. Ever. It was mere moments before the car was squealing down the tarmac and onto the road. An audible groan from Charles faded into the horizon as the two teenagers made their way back home. Already the tension lifted. Just being with Peter made everything else seem so far away. His energy was chaotic and contagious in all the best ways.

                           It didn't take long for them to reach the Maximoff residence. Against Enid's better judgement, she decided it would be best to put off going home as long as she could. It was immature, but she didn't want to face the trouble she'd caused. Anyway, she'd already promised Peter a game of ping-pong and winner got a face-full of twinkies. 

                        "Pietro Django Maximoff, where the hell have you been?!"

                        Well, that certainly put a hitch in their plans.