[Nova]
»Steve, calm down. I've never seen you so stiffened, not even in all your anger.« I try, sitting down on the edge of my bed, where, seconds ago, four of my friends had found a seat.
With a fast motion, I wipe away my tears completely, the liquor goldenly colouring the tips of my fingers. Soon enough, I find a handkerchief to clean them. Steve, for his part, is now the one leaning to my opposite on my dark desk, arms crossed and biceps flexing. With his jawline tensed to a point sharper than a blade, nostrils flattering, he is the figure of stress coming alive. »I just spoke to him. No sign of him knowing. But I can't not tell him. I can't. You were right; it was wrong. We cannot keep such a secret from him.«
Narrowing my eyebrows, I tilt my head, the ends of the raven hair of mine tickling the skin of my collarbone. If only Steve knew. »What makes you think he doesn't know already?«
»You told him?« he muffles, shock written all over his face, arms hanging lose from the sudden new thought in his mind. His pink lips form an 'O', while eyes travelling all over my small frame in order to figure out whether I was serious, and this a possibility.
»No, I didn't. I've been evasive the past hours, if this didn't come to your attention. But James always knows. He reads me like a book without me giving a syllable. I don't know what I thought could be, that we stood a chance at him not knowing, but now that we're here, it's like a curtain falling down. In no version of reality we could keep it from him.« And I need to confess this to myself. The thought came with Steve bursting into the room, and did not dissolve ever since. How come I did not think about that strange connection James has regarding to me beforehand?
In fact, we keep it for two days from him. At least, I think so. Steve did not say a single word about it, and with me avoiding my ex-boyfriend best I can, always busying myself with Peter's training and studying the last pages of neuroscience available to me, there was no chance for me to find out what was going on inside James's head; what he was aware of, and what he was not.
Not that this would be any good. If I want to succeed in curing James the fast I can, I need to start as fast I can. Being everywhere he is not is not really the key to the solution.
I probably never have been as strained as the last days. The guilt became worse, completely without any sense, the cask filling drop by drop; I mean, I could do whatever I want to, and I still can. Nonetheless, instead of reaching the goal of reducing the James's sized hole in my heart, the guilt only let it swell. Barely having time for properly thanking my friends, I did not even eat the cake, giving it to all the others for their sake because I had no appetite in the least.
And now that Steve, Natasha, Tony and basically everyone but James and I are gone, I have no choice but to face him. Especially with my plan still in mind, there is no chance to keep on avoiding him.
By now, I am standing in the kitchen, leaning on the bar with half of a sandwich in between my fingers. Hair in a bun, my glance is fixed to the panorama window, the stars blinking from above in all their might to fight back the darkness of the night. Thoughts roaming in my head about the absence of Jonas.
When I was small, a child, really, my parents use to say that every time someone dies, he turns into a star to brighten the night for me. To be there for me, make the darkness vanish for me to see beyond. I know it is a fairytale, and I do not think of the two of them being up there, but I like the thought of a Jonas-star somewhere in between the chaos of the universe.
I did it a lot, while I have been on the way to Japan, back, in here, with Steve on the mission. Whenever I had the chance to, I would star-gaze as much as I could, until I finally found a light dot in the sky that seemed fitting to me. That seemed to live up to the kind of Jonas I liked to remember; the older brother that always has been there for me, took pain and torture for me, still making me laugh every single day, probably raising me more than my parents.
And for him giving me direction, I declared the tip of the Sagittarius's arrow as his personal privilege.
I wear nothing but a black legging and one of my light blue oversized hoodies when I hear his steps from afar, body immediately reacting as if I just discovered a trap right in my front. And instead of running, I stay stock-still, paused in every motion when James enters.
Not daring to look him in the eye just yet, he silently walks pass me without evoking a glance, opening the fridge right in my back. With his tsunami of pheromones, the new aftershave and the never vanishing scent of Forzen River and Vanilla, I breath in deeply to push my body back into progress. It is luring as always, only the smell seducing me into putting all my attention onto him, and only him.
With the closing of the refrigerator behind me, I stop chewing the second he hesitates as well. A sigh, then, and in the next second, he leans on his right, muscular arm on the counter right in front of me.
I turn, eyes raking over his royal blue shirt perfectly emphasizing his sixpack, up to his face over these way too familiar silky lips, his perfectly shaped jawline with still the three days growth of beard, to finally, after crossing his flawless skin, rest on his eyes.
And I am taken aback. I have never seen a storm as furious yet powerless. A mix in between heat and ice, in between fire and water, yin and yang, good and bad, forceful and weak. Enough to make me submissive with only a glance, I involuntarily order myself beneath him without James needing as much as a glare to make me.
Swallowing hard, I break the eye contact, resting mine onto my sandwich which suddenly smells and tastes all decayed and foul. Laying it down onto my plate, it is then that I realize James not having grabbed anything yet to eat or drink from the fridge, his cybernetic arm reaching out for my food and eating it himself without asking. I have nothing against it, not even able to think about where my inner feminist has been wandering to. Although, I would not have eaten it anyways, and wasting food is not exactly what I would be proud of. Enough people hunger in this world.
Another moment passes, James taking a bite and getting it down into his stomach, glance always resting on me and putting on a pressure I cannot blame him for. The tension in between us in this moment threatens to choke me, and I know him well enough to be the one staring at me until his food his gone, leaving this room without a word but me pushing guilt upon myself, me knowing he knows with only his appearance and that danger in the air, that electricity, me wanting to disappear in a sudden hole.
There is no chance but talking first. James would stare me to death. He is way too good in this game. »I guess... he told you?« I whisper, crossing both my arms in front of me, resting on my elbows. I know it is only James's mercy that he does not make me look into his eyes, reading me like an open novel.
»Didn't need to.« He takes another bite, his voice so rumbling I shake all over, shivers sending down my spine. I wronged him. I can feel it.
A silent moment passes, with me trying to comprehend the way I am to treat James now, the way my emotions do vertiginous spins. »When will you start believing in me always feeling it, too, when major things happen in your life?«
Not answering, I fix on anything but him, the far wall to our opposite suddenly much more interesting than it has been seconds ago. The concrete has small holes inside, like the tiniest worms eating it out, and I start to count them.
Unnecessarily. The question is out of my mouth before I want it, know it, could change it. »You felt..?«
»Holy cow, have mercy, no.«James responds almost chuckling sadly. »Thank God I didn't. But I can feel your guilt, and what other reasonable explanation is there with you being gone with Steve?«
I let out a heavy breath I did not know I was holding, eyes still focussing straight ahead. My heart stopped pounding in a steady rhythm the moment James got in here, and it is not exactly getting better. »You know he's been a virgin before, right?«
At this, I lower my head, balancing my weight onto my legs. Back stretching, facing the ground, I cannot hold my body up for much longer. »He told me afterwards.«
»Bastard.« rolls over his lips under his breath before he can possibly think about it, a curse I never thought I would hear from him, especially not regarding his best friend.
A puzzled look of mine follows, eyes raking over to my brunette, tousled haired ex-lover. »Guess it is not like I would have any more secrets in front of you, right?« he continues, finishing my sandwich before putting the plate into the dishwasher, closing it and walking over to the other side of the bar, right in my front.
He leans over just as I do, and my breath hitches at the sudden closeness. I feel like a child being caught doing something naughty, very naughty, like stealing money from their parents, and I cannot help the small, whispered apology rushing huskily over my own lips, yet so loud it ricochets of the walls. Ridiculously and pathetically.
James shakes his head, glance lowering just to come up again. »I'm not mad at you. I'm upset, yes, very upset, but it doesn't concern you. You can do whatever you want, basically. You're a free woman. And I know your needs. I know I can't satisfy them at the moment, although I wish to. But this shouldn't burden you and I am glad it didn't. Yet, I'd wished it to be anyone, hell, even Tony, but Steve.«
I shriek back at the sudden images popping up inside my mind, trying to shake them out of my head. Not a good time for inner cinema, not a good time. »Honestly, dar- Nova, I mean it. It maybe hurts as much as it would hurt you knowing I was with someone else, but I am blaming him, not you. I know you. And I can feel the guilt, like I said. You took the fault long enough, took the blame and what comes with it, and it's time to stop torturing yourself.« He then stands straight, coming around the other side of the bar, a tall shadow falling upon the white wall to my left from him. »I think it's time we start your project.«
Mustering him, the spark in his eyes, I can read him the same way he reads me. Almost, because I need his presence, I need to see him, hear him, inhale him, but eventually, I get him. Easily, without a lack of vocabulary, synonyms, syllables, without missing the smallest detail. Squinting my eyes slightly, I fix on his light blue-grey ones one more time. I cannot believe him in the slightest to be as fine with me as - I know, by heart - he tries. There will come something back at me at some point, but it will take a while until the glassy bottle will burst and shatter.
Then, this only counts for me. »You already punched him for it, didn't you?«
James turns on his heel, knowing I would follow. »I beat the living shit out of him right before he entered the plane.«