[ A/N: If you haven't noticed, I really love Pascal Campion's illustrations. Please check him out (partly so I don't feel bad for using his awesome artwork) Also, check out these covers that totally didn't take 2 minutes to put together, if you like one of these enough, I may just make it the official one. This chapter starts right after the last one and has a lot of dialogue, so enjoy! ]
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I leave the back room only to find that Jackie is preoccupied with a customer, I catch her eye and she smiles, making a quick gesture with her hand- shooing me back in. I laugh at her adorable expression and oblige, getting back into the room with SP.
I catch him about to sit back down in front of the sewing machine before he stops short and lets out a heavy breath when I come back in. "She's with a customer." I explained sheepishly.
We proceed to stand in awkward silence for a full minute until SP hesitantly suggests to measure me in her place. He didn't seem to want to continue on the sewing machine with me here; after I'd teased him, I could understand why. I bite back a silly smile.
"Really?" I asked, surprised.
"Yeah. I'm here to help Jackie anyway." he said, holding out his hand. I pass him the measuring tape and hesitantly step towards him so we can begin. I watch his arms pull out the tape, either he's tense or he's just muscly- I notice how veiny he is and I suddenly have the weird temptation to run my finger along his arms.
"Okay, but Jackie's measuring my chest." I grinned.
My joke seems to have caught him off guard and he stills for a moment before gripping the face of his mask as if he were blushing. "Right." he uttered.
The measurements don't take very long and we're shortly back to our silence, at least, that is until I suddenly have the urge to overwhelm him with inquiries and can no longer bite back my tongue. I was standing in front of an idol, could you blame me?
"Can I ask you something?" I start calmly, crouching down to sit on the carpet.
I can feel him start to realise the situations he's about to be placed in. He shifts slightly on his feet and slowly begins to nod, "Okay." he said hesitantly.
"Is one half of your face more tan than the other?" I asked, tilting my head at him.
He begins to laugh, shaking his head. "Sorry, I...didn't expect that."
I raised my eyebrows, smiling, "Well?"
"Probably." he said, I could hear the smile in his voice. I could start to feel him lower his guard, it seems like every time we meet they build up again- I'd be sure to truly take them down by the end of today.
"Also, how do you know when there's trouble? Super instincts?"
"I have an earpiece imbedded into the mask." SP explained quietly, pulling the chair out from under the sewing machine table and sitting down opposite me.
I furrowed my eyebrows, "What happens when you don't have the mask on?"
"Oh, right." he said, "I get a text or call."
"From who?" I prodded.
"I have connections I guess." he said tersely.
"That's not vague at all." I drawled.
He shrugged his shoulders, loosening up, "Can't tell all my secrets now can I?"
I smirked, running my fingers along the prickly carpet, "I'm very persistent."
He made a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "I remember." he said.
"Were you born with your powers?" I continued to ask despite feeling myself become more annoying by the second, I just couldn't seem to stop the questions from coming.
SP shook his head, "I don't know."
I still, my fingers stop fidgeting and I snap my head back up to his, to my disappointment I realise he's still wearing the terrifying clown mask. "What do you mean?" I frowned, "How could-"
"I just don't know." he said, his voice a little more passive and his body a little more stiff. I've hit a nerve.
"I'm sorry." I apologised unsurely, recoiling my hands into my sweatshirt pockets.
He sighs, "It's fine. I just...really don't know. I wish I did." He muttered, dropping his head slightly. I wished I could see his face. I wished a million things.
As I'm about to attempt comforting him with useless words, he begins to laugh, a low rumbling that erupted from his chest and out from his clown mask, despite the laughter, it still sounds rather empty- he was not very convincing despite his efforts. "Sorry." he breathes.
"What's so funny?" I asked, surprised at the sudden change of atmosphere. It had gone from sad to very tense in a matter of seconds.
"I made you really uncomfortable just then didn't I?" There was a very sad sounding smile in his voice.
I try to smile too, shaking my head, "That was nothing." I assured him awkwardly, did his personality just do a full 180? I could've sworn he was a lot different the last time we met, too. "I should probably stop asking questions anyway."
SP rubs the inside of his palm, "It's fine." He said quietly. He'd just reverted back.
"Huh?"
"You... can ask. I just... I can't answer some of them though." he said hesitantly.
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, "You'll regret this."
"Probably." he replied, his voice a little lighter.
I rummage through my brain for an easy question, but even asking something simple to a complicated person can get tricky. "Why do you really wear a half mask?" I began slowly, "You once said it was more comfortable than a full face, but I don't believe you- I'm sure you know that wearing a half mask is half pointless, everyone could still detect your face."
"You're sharp." he mused quietly. "And kind of harsh."
"Did you underestimate me?" I accused him hesitantly, mostly joking. I got that a lot.
"It's easier that way...to live that way, I mean." he said. It kind of felt like I was talking to a person who couldn't decide which mood they were in.
"Man that's awfully pessimistic." I said, "You kind of remind me of someone."
"A pessimist? R-Really?" he stuttered awkwardly.
"Yeah, but you've probably seen a lot of shit. So I suppose it makes sense." I reasoned, "But it's no fun being a pessimist, I think you'll find everything a little more pleasant if you try to assume the best, like oh, that random guy you accidentally bumped into? He once saved a cat." I paused and smiled, reminiscing a little, "It was something my Grandma would tell me to do, turns out it's pretty common- creating stories of strangers."
"Do you do it a lot?" he asked, his voice curiously gentle now.
I nodded, "Yeah. I've spent a lot of my childhood attending my father's work parties. Adults don't ever want to talk kids so I'd just sit alone and make up a bunch of stories about the people- most of them were really snobby so I'd give them horrible ones, but it turns out half the fun is trying to make them seem more likeable." I explained. "It's just a suggestion though, I personally think it'll make you a little less of a pessimist every time you do it."
"That...sounds interesting."
I stare at him expectantly, "So what's your answer?"
"Answer?"
"Yeah, why do you wear a half mask?"
He paused, I watch as his hands clench together in his lap. "A full faced mask blocks off your peripheral vision." Anticlimactic, but it makes sense. But he's not telling the whole truth- a strange accusation when I didn't know him well, but I felt the lie in my bones (not literally, but you get the point). I decide to go along with it anyway.
"I guess that makes a lot of sense." I said, nodding. If the explanation was this simple, why hadn't he said so in the beginning? He'd lied about it being more comfortable instead. I hate how much I remembered about him, maybe because there wasn't much to remember.
"Any more questions?" he asked.
I purse my lips, "Does it ever get to you?" I say, "All the criticism on the news and such?" There's been so much lately, he must've seen them.
"I try to stay away from the news- it's not a great place to get information." he answered instead.
"You're really good at dodging questions." I grinned.
He breathed a short laugh, "And you're really good at catching me. Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
I scoffed, "Let's try to keep the catching to a minimum." I said, "So?"
"It use to, a lot. I lived off the praise and comments, it was what kept me going back then." He has a very sad sounding kind of voice, soothing yet both painful to hear. I'd started wondering whether he was using a fake voice to mask his identity a while ago, but it seemed too real to be fake at this point.
"Back then? What keeps you going now then?" I asked.
If I'd gotten even a quarter amount of his hate, I'd have given up a very long time ago. For Super Psych, there had always been haters, but lately a lot of people had begun criticising him for being a lousy Super and not making much of an influence as a Super like Stacity would. Not to mention people were beginning to get bored with the mystery of the mask. His critics bothered me more than I'd like. I'm as much of an idiot as they are.
"I don't know. I...don't really care anymore." he said.
This doesn't settle well with me. "I don't know if you ever picked it up, but I kind of idolise Supers, a lot of people do. You included." I could hear the pitch of my voice drop and rise painfully, gosh, did I really sound like this?
"Idolise, huh?" he mused.
"Yeah. Envy, also."
"Envy the powers?" he doesn't miss a beat, his tone almost cold.
I shrugged, ignoring the rising tension, "Of course, wouldn't anyone? You have the coolest set of abilities ever. But yeah, for the most part it was the powers, but I also just loved the idea of having two identities. I lived off reading comics and articles about Supers, especially about you."
"Having two identities isn't as cool as it sounds." He says instead, completely ignoring my praise and clear fondness for him. Do all guys just pick one sentence in a rant to reply to?
I narrowed my eyes at both him and the clown mask. "Are you really living in any of them then?" My voice breaks, but I keep going, "Or have you forgotten how?"
"Liv." He says quietly, his voice low and infuriatingly calm- like he's trying to soothe a crying baby. "When you have two identities it's hard to have a life."
"What are you talking about, you have a million lives, you're invincible- you're Super Psych." I say, hearing the despair in my voice. I refuse to believe that my idol thinks he's a loser.
He flinched at his name, his identity. "Please don't start that, Liv."
"For someone who can teleport, you sure run a lot." I hear myself say. Why can't I stop? Stop talking Liv you idiot. Stop.
He laughs, a short, sharp laugh that brings me chills but also gives me anger. "I told you to stop." he said, sounding almost pained now.
I don't realise I've stood up until I feel my knees buckle. "Why do you laugh when you're clearly hurt? Why don't you talk back? You're supposed to stand up for yourself. How can you help people if you can't even help yourself?"
He doesn't respond, respond, make me stop, I don't know how to stop. "What happened? You were fine the last time we're were together- you took me home, I even thought we'd become friends." I said exasperatedly.
There's an agonisingly long pause and I'm about to begin again until he finally says something. "We're not." His words are like a cold slap. If my dominant hand weren't in a sling I'd have truly punched him.
I turn onto my heels instead. My Grandma always said you can't work with someone who doesn't want to be worked with. I should've given up before it came to this, why do I keep insisting on being persistent? "I'll stop." I said.
I leave the room.
"SP has my measurements." I tell Jackie, "Sorry to leave so suddenly, I've got to go home. I'll be back tomorrow to help out with the store." I flash a quick, promising smile, but before she has the chance to reply, I've already left.
Home, I repeat in my head. I don't even believe myself.