Throughout the dinner, something about Scout seems wrong. I know she never shows emotion, but she looks nervous, and her jaw is constantly moving. What's with that? She puts her plate into the dishwasher, and closes her room door. Cade glances at me, and walks out the door, to her gig. Jason even glances at me, then the door. He doesn't see anything wrong, and Seth certainly doesn't. Jordan and Sheila retreat to the living room. But I think there is. I put my plate away, and sit in a chair again, my brow furrowing. I look at the closed door. Is she alright? Jason walks up to me. "There's something bothering you." He claims.
I shake my head. "There seemed to be something up with Scout." I state, looking at her door once again. As he puts on his jacket, he meets my eyes.
"Then see if there is anything wrong. She's probably just tense." He says and jumps out the fire escape. Seth heads to the bathroom, a towel in hand. He's probably wanting to avoid Scout in case something bad happens. I wander over to her door, and stand just outside. I quietly knock on the door.
"Scout? It's Ryker." I start.
She says nothing. "Scout? Is there something wrong? Can I come in?" I ask. Again nothing comes from the other side of the door. I open the door slowly. It's dark, dim, except for a small lamp that's on. Once my eyes adjust, I see she's standing with her back to me, her eyes fixed to her mirror. Her orbs lift to meet mine through the looking glass. She freezes, and closes her mouth I didn't even notice was open. "Scout? Is there something wrong?" I ask again. She whips around, her hair flying around her. She looks like a deer in headlights. Her hair isn't in her braid anymore. I've hardly ever seen that before. It reaches her waist in waves of white gold.
Scout looks at me for a moment, before rushing away, pushing past me. What was she doing? Looking into her mirror like that? I stand there, staring where she just was. Jason glances at me. He hadn't left yet. He faked leaving the first time.
He himself was curious as well. His dark blue eyes meet mine again. "Go see what's up." He says, and actually leaves, and I hear his footsteps, and the smell of cigarettes. My brow furrows again. Scout doesn't talk a lot, but how she pushed past me, her shoulder brushing mine, it was different. And not a good different. I know where she is. She has a spot on the roof. And that's where I head. Jordan and Sheila's eyes follow me through the living room, confusion plain on their faces.
I climb up the fire escape, trying not to make any noise. I succeed as I clamber onto the roof. As I suspected, there's Scout, her long curly hair blowing from her face in the wind. One leg is tucked up into her body, the other out in front, her arm resting on it as her other hand steadies her. She sits right near the edge, not afraid of falling at all.
She's facing to the side of me, but more of her back is showing. Her shoulders are squared and tense. Yet she also looks relaxed and at home. I recognize where she sits. It's where I cut as well. I wonder if she knows that. I don't make any noise as I move closer to her. When I'm a couple feet away, I say her name. She looks at me. Her grey eyes are cold, but at the same time, there's an underlying softness. I sit down next to her. She shifts just a fraction of an inch. As if I wouldn't notice that.
"What's wrong? Why were you looking in the mirror? With only the lamp on?" I ask finally, kindly, as though trying not to disturb a wild animal. She sighs, and looks away from me, out at the city that's bustling with people.
"It was nothing. Just looking at something." She says. She's lying. I know it. Nobody else would know it, but I do.
"You're not telling me the truth." I say simply. Her eyes harden.
"You don't believe me? I was just looking at something on my face." She says again, keeping with it, her tone irritated.
"You think I don't know you're lying to me? What are you not telling me?" I ask, keeping my voice calm, and yet slightly sad. Does she not trust me?
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." She says, as though closing the conversation. She's shut herself away again. She's locked the key away inside herself. And I might be the only person to get it beside herself. She stands up smoothly, and starts to walk away. I scramble up, grab her arm.
"Wait." I say. I spin her around, and she doesn't resist. Not a lot anyway. Her jaw moves again.
"Why are you moving your jaw all the time?" I ask. She's been doing that for a long time. What is with it?
She freezes again. "I'm not." She says, not meeting my eyes. She stares at her bare feet. She's not wearing her boots. That's unusual. She's acting too strange for me not to notice. Hair down, no boots, her actions.
"You are. Stop lying to me. I know there's something wrong and I know you've been moving your jaw like that since I met you!" I almost shout. She starts back. My hands clamp onto her shoulders. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" I ask, my voice soft. She shifts uncomfortably, probably because my hands are on her shoulders.
"You don't need to know." She whispers. "It's not your place to worry." She mutters. I groan, and shake my head.
"Iris. It's not that I need to know. It's that I want to know what's making you do that! And what it is!" Her eyes widen for a moment at me using her name. "Iris Blacknight. Why won't you tell me?" I ask again, using her last name. I've only used it once before. Her eyes widen for a moment, and she casts her eyes down once more.
"I-I can't say."
"You can't say, or you don't want to? Or you can't bring yourself to say it?" I ask. She doesn't answer. I bring her closer, wrap my arms around her waist. Her muscles stiffen more than I thought possible. She smells of lavender and mint. Such a perfect smell for someone so cool and collected. It washes over me, pulling me under almost.
"I can't bring myself to say it." She mumbles, her mouth moving yet again in that unnatural movement. I inch my head closer to her.
"Why can't you?" I ask, moving my head closer ever so slightly.
"I-I just can't." She says, staying still. She licks her lips nervously. My forehead rests against hers.
"Please." I whisper, looking into her fearful grey eyes. Her eyes remind me of a majestic animal. A white wolf. Her eyes seem to hold the story of a broken, fallen angel, cursed by a world full of demons. I slowly raise my right hand and gently caress her cheek. Her skin is soft and my eyes can't help but drift towards her lips. Before I can think, my head leans forward.
My lips touch hers. She tastes like ginger, and cinnamon and beauty. The ginger is a welcome tang, mixed with the sweet cinnamon. And even in the small amount of time my lips are on her rough chapped ones, my world stops. She gasps against my mouth. I've never kissed anyone. And something tells me neither has she. I close my eyes, pulling her closer, and her arms slide around my neck nervously. When I kissed her cheek, I lied. I felt something. I don't know what. But it felt similar to this. But I feel so much more now than I had that day. Something off snaps me from my reverie in an almost panic. I pause for a moment. And a strange taste catches me, under the ginger and cinnamon. I'd know it anywhere. Even if it isn't mine.
Blood.
I pull back, and look at her. Her eyes show fear. For the first time ever. "Scout. Why does your mouth taste like blood?" I say, despite how weird the question sounds. I know I didn't bite her, and I know it's not mine. Her shoulders deflate, and she no longer meets my eyes. A deafening silence engulfs us. She looks so small now, her shoulders scrunched. It is like she's trying to shrink into herself. Her eyes contemplate telling me. Finally, she speaks.
"Ryker. If I tell you, don't push me away." Is all she says. I tilt her chin up, so she has to look at me.
"I won't." I say simply. She pulls her head away, and shakes her head, her hair falling into her eyes. She takes a deep breath, gathering courage for the first time ever.
"I bite my cheek to pieces practically. I self harm. I make my cheek bleed, and I watch the blood run down between my teeth, and over my tongue. I like the taste, bitter and metallic. I like watching it. I like watching it cover my teeth, or how I can feel that pain. Since it's my fault the three people I ever cared about bled out from being shot, this is how I compensate. I deserve it. And I love it." My mouth drops open. That's what she'd been doing. All this time and I didn't know. I take a breath, open my mouth farther, to say something, and she cuts me off again.
"Don't say you don't know how it feels. I know you do. I've seen you use your knife. Up here. Where I sit. I saw it. So don't say you don't know how it feels to hurt yourself to feel something. Anything." She hisses at me. I didn't imagine it. The eyes I felt were one me, were hers. I stand there. She self harms because she thinks it's her fault. God.
I pull her to me, a hand on her lower back, and one in her soft hair. "Iris. Oh Iris. It's not your fault." I mutter. Her head shakes, and she shoves away from me, ripping herself from my grasp. I forget how strong she is from time to time.
"It is! My parents died because the Imperium wanted me. Livvy died protecting me because I didn't break! Every death that's caused around me has been my goddamn fault!" She's practically screaming at me. Hysterical almost. Then her voice drops to barely a whisper. "I do it because I couldn't, still can't, kill myself. Livvy wouldn't want that. So I have to do something." My eyes soften, sadness creeping in. I pull her closer again, wanting to feel her close. She doesn't try and pull away, but just stands there, seemingly lost.
I lean closer and kiss her again. Again, I taste the blood on her lips. It almost physically hurts to know that she makes herself bleed to make up for those who have bled around her. But she's right. I know what it feels like to hurt myself to feel something. Anything. And since I met Scout, I've felt something. I've stopped cutting because I want to feel something. And even though I have and will still cut, it's just a habit, something to comfort me. The demons in my brain will never shut up. They will always be there, calling me to the blade. Just like how her demons will call her to bite.
Her hands slip into my hair and I cup the back of her neck and cheek. The blood doesn't bother me. It's tastes right. And almost good. Like it's supposed to be there. As though it's natural, as twisted as it seems. She slowly relaxes into my touch, and she steps closer. She's just as tall as me, and somehow, we fit together like two puzzle pieces. Perfectly. Different pieces, but we come together with a connecting side. Our way of coping with hurt. It feels right to have to here, in my arms. I finally pull away, running out of breath.
"Is that proof I won't push you away? We're one in the same. But please. Don't do it anymore." I plead. I glance down at the scar on her collarbone. Her visible souvenir from her time in the Imperium. I run my thumb over it absentmindedly. Her head shakes, her hair brushing against my hand.
"Ryker. I can't do that. I tried not to. I lasted two days. I can't stop. But I can try and do it less. If you promise to try and not cut as much." She states. For her. I'll do it. "I'll try." I say.
She pulls back. "I'm just gonna head back to my room." She says, leaving my arms, and climbing down the fire escape. I stand there, the wind blowing my hair into my eyes. I can't believe I kissed her. I clamber down, and see Scout's door cracked open. She's there, reading a book. And her jaw isn't moving. I smile, and head into my room, collapsing onto my bed. The taste of her blood is still on my tongue as I fall asleep.