AU: Reiterated

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy never really thought she’d be wandering the college halls as often as she did. Anyone would think she was a student of UVM, but she could gladly say it wasn’t the case. In the time since her graduation, all she’d done was work. Tattoo. She loved it, and she certainly didn’t need a degree to be good at it. She only ever visited for Sawyer.

As she walked, she retrieved her phone from her back pocket to double check the time. She knew she had to meet her best friend after her class, but she was frowning at how early she was going to be. Killing time around these halls was difficult.

Because it was boring.

With her focus down, the ink manipulator hadn’t looked as she turned the corner and literally crashed into someone. The force of it managed to knock her off her feet; she was just glad she’d managed to keep hold of her phone. But the act itself still flared clear cut anger in her dark eyes.

“Watch where you’re going you fucking psycho--” Instantly, her train of thought and impending insults faltered when she looked up.

“--Shit.”

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

The University of Vermont wasn’t quite where Penelope had expected herself to land. Still, the Brit was thriving there. Top grades, as usual, and she was beginning to make her mark in the academic world.

Starting with the paper in her hands.

She was happy, really, but her expression would have never given away the fact that her work was being published. At least, not as she walked down the halls of UMV. Her professor had congratulated her. Told her not to party too hard. The concept of which was amusing. Penelope Blaise was never one to party.

Still, even as she left the office, her expression remained neutral. Her dark eyes only glancing at the paper as she rounded a corner.

…And promptly crashed into another person.

Unlike the person she collided with, Penelope remained on her feet. Her eyes dropped to the floor, searching for the paper that slipped from her grasp.

Until she heard that familiar accent.

Penelope’s gaze shot to the person, her breath catching as she found Lucy Serrano on the floor. Her lips pressed together in a hard line as she stared at the ink manipulator. How long had it been?

After a time – Penelope wasn’t quite sure how long – she finally made the move to pick up her paper, securing it in her hands as she stood up, back straight. “Metrist.” She said calmly, “Psychometrist. As I’m sure you were about to say.” She paused, finally bringing her gaze back to the Australian. "Serrano."

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy’s eyes widened instantly the second she looked at her former counterpart. She couldn’t control the way her gaze shifted from that once familiar face, across that once familiar body slowly before back to her eyes again. Her fingers tightened around her phone on instinct, feeling the overbearing need to move without really moving. For now, it was enough.

She looked different.

When she first spoke, Lucy raised her eyebrows with clear curiosity, like she hadn’t caught on to what it was she was saying. This time however, she made a real point of holding her gaze. She was definitely not going to let her eyes wander down to her mouth as she articulated each and every word she offered. “You guessed it.”

Shoving the device back in her jacket pocket, Lucy raised her hand and ran it through her hair. The impersonal nickname caused her to look away, though she covered the fact by moving to flick her hair back instead. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d heard that come out of her mouth. She could, however, readily recall the last time they spoke. There, she’d stood in the psychometrist’s doorway. She glanced at the painted ceiling of her dorm and handed over the bag she’d left behind. She’d taken it. No contact. Nothing.

And that was it.

The last time Lucy could remember actually seeing her was when she graduated. When she walked, and she herself didn’t. They didn’t talk then, either.

“Yeah, yeah.” She replied instead, opting not to reciprocate the feigned simplicity of a greeting. Instead, she extended her hand out, finally looking up at her again. “Help me up.”

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Standing there, Penelope was in shock. Even if she made an attempt to regain her composure, the UVM student she couldn’t fully do so. Her hold on the paper tightened, thumb brushing across the pages as she took in a breath.

It wasn’t hard to recall the last time they spoke; in fact, it was impossible to forget.

The Penelope had never painted that ceiling. As hard as it was to look at it, the Brit couldn’t bring herself to cover it up. So she left it there. And she left Hammel with it as she graduated.

After that, she thought she was able to leave any memory associated with Lucy Serrano in the stars painted on that ceiling. On the handprint by her old dormitory door.

Apparently this wasn’t the case.

Penelope felt the need to use the impersonal nickname. To distance herself from this girl as much as possible because it felt so jarring to see her there. Now.

The way she looked at Penelope caused the Brit to purse her lips. Those dark eyes had seen so much of the psychometrist. As she felt Lucy’s gaze shift over her form, she shuffled the paper in her hands.

But her attention was brought back to the Australian as she extended her hand out. Penelope didn’t move, but simply stared at it for a few moments. Eventually, however, the Brit took a step and took the ink manipulator’s hand.

It was such simple contact, really. It shouldn’t have sparked the reaction it had. Still, Penny felt her pulse shift from it. As she pulled Lucy up onto her feet, her hand lingered in the Australian’s.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy resisted the significant urge to roll her eyes when she felt the psychometrist simply stare at her. She fought the temptation to argue that since she put her there in the first place, she could at least offer the decency that came with helping her back to her feet. In fact, she dropped her jaw slightly to do so, but stopped the moment she realised she had taken that step forward and taken hold.

Using the momentum, Lucy was drawn back to her feet with ease. It didn't matter how much time had passed; she still recalled the first and last time Penelope Blaise had helped her stand. The way she'd added just too much pressure and forced the Australian forward. The way she herself had breached that distance and kissed her.

Everything it led to and everything it started.

Just as she lingered in the memory, so did her hand in the Brit's. She registered the imperative way it forced a tighter feeling in her chest. Like she couldn't breathe. But through her parted lips, she exhaled slowly.

"I don't go here." She pointed out, and the moment she did, she furrowed her eyebrows. Why that felt important to say, Lucy didn't know. Maybe it was to put her at ease; to inform her that she likely wouldn't see her around again.

As if the statement itself had snapped her out of the daze, she finally made the move to slowly pull away, allowing her fingertips to lightly track across her palm as she did so.

And instantly, her hands were thrown into her jacket pockets. Anything to keep them out of reach. To keep them hidden so she wouldn't try to occupy them in the way she used to.

"I'm waiting for Sawyer." Lucy added. Again, she didn't know why, but she felt as if at least one of them needed a reason for her being there.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

“I didn’t think you did.” She replied quickly, an eyebrow rising at the Australian. It wasn’t offensive, simply Lucy barely seemed to have made it out of Hammel. Penelope doubted she’d be interested in extending her academic career.

Penny didn’t need her psychometry to recall that once familiar touch. She only made the move to draw her hand away when she felt her do so. Once freed from the hold, she brought it back to her paper. Anything to keep her hands busy.

This was absurd. How could she still have such a hold over the psychometrist?

Penelope slowly inhaled, her gaze shifting to the paper in her hands. Her jaw clenched as she stared at it, yet she couldn’t hold her focus on it as she inevitably looked back at the Australian.

This time it was Penny’s gaze that dipped downward.

She still looked good.

Her eyes snapped up, forcing her gaze to remain on Lucy’s eyes when she spoke. Of Sawyer. “Ah.” That explained it. Why she was there. Penelope remained silent. Lucy could piece together why she was there – no explanation was needed.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy instinctively felt her jaw tense when she replied. It took everything she had not to say something; to pick up on the minute differences in her features when she spoke like that. It was such a simple phrase, but it still deserved to be shredded to pieces. All for the way it made the Australian feel.

But she didn’t. Rather, she raised a hand momentarily, running her fingernails across the non-existent itch that suddenly plagued her jawline.

It wasn’t lost on Lucy, the way she was glanced over by the psychometrist. The way her eyes filtered down the ink manipulator’s form. Her hands tightened in her pockets, balling into fists before releasing again. It would have been just as easy to pull her in.

The small, almost insignificant seeming sound Penny gave seemed to confuse Lucy at first. She didn’t speak onwards; didn’t take the conversation anywhere. Her dark eyes widened slightly.

“Not like-” Lucy started instinctively, feeling her voice suddenly stammering. It was rare, but it happened. “We’re not-” She breathed a short, sharp laugh. Because the idea of physically being with Sawyer was too absurd a notion to even entertain. Not between them.

Definitely not now. “Fuck.”

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Even after the time passed, the Australian still had certain tendencies. Penelope felt very aware of the way Lucy ran her nails across the line of her jaw. What it meant. How she wanted to reach out and run her fingertips along the line.

But she didn’t. Couldn’t.

Still wearing skinny jeans, too. Her lips pressed into a hard line, eyes lingering on the material of her jeans momentarily. Even as she glanced upwards, her mind remained on them. On the annoying urge to reach out and pull her in.

Yet the stammer Lucy let out brought her mind back to the moment, eyebrows raising. “I never thought you were.” She lied, holding back the relieved breath she wanted to let out. It surprised her how thankful she was that she felt the need to explain.

“Still swearing.” She changed the subject quickly, her tone remaining unamused as she stared back at Lucy. She shifted on her heels. “I should go.”

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy felt the minimal twitch in her own eyebrows; the way they threatened to lower when she finally did reply. She took the answer for everything it was. Took it as fact, even if she felt he overbearing desire to question it as so. It felt as if, on some level, she was hesitating. Still controlling. Still wound up tighter than anyone else she'd ever met.

But the Australian looked almost visibly crossed by the comment about her swearing. She felt her hand threaten to move, but she faltered the act as quickly as she could. "Yeah." She replied, though she did suppress the overbearing urge to make a reference to the fact that it was, as always, an Australian thing.

Any and all thoughts of alleviating this pressure came to a halt when she expressed that she should go. Yet Lucy supposed that yes, in theory, she really should.

"Right."

Her jaw clenched once the singular word had passed. It wasn't the response she ever gave to such a statement, but there it was. She rocked back on a step, waiting to see her move to actually go.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Penelope began to feel the tension in her back. Her shoulders were squared, the stress she felt carried in the way she held herself. Just seeing her was stressful. The minimal contact, painful. She was frustrating. Penny took in a breath. She hated Lucy Serrano.

It wasn’t lost on the Brit how irritated Lucy looked. If anything, Penelope was surprised she hadn’t sworn more just because she pointed it out. Maybe she had grown up.

But that was unlikely.

She felt even more shocked at the agreement the ink manipulator expressed, although it hardly looked or sounded that way, just as the strain in her own singular answer sounded;

“Yes.”

Penelope pressed her lips together, catching sight of the tension Lucy clearly expressed. Her jaw. It gave her away.

“It was…nice. Seeing you.” She hesitated another moment before finally taking the first step away, brushing past the Australian as swiftly as she could without making another sound. Because if she spoke again, she wasn’t sure what she’d say.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Her parting words breezed the Australian’s mind as freely as she moved past her. Lucy dropped her gaze in instinct, glancing at the space where she’d been standing. A few more moments, and this would pass. Everything she felt the overbearing need to express would dissolve. Just as it had the first time; when the psychometrist had let her leave.

Always. Never chasing. Never equal.

“No the fuck it wasn’t.” She muttered, feeling the tension in her jaw refuse to shift.

And so, she turned around. “I could too bloody well go here if I wanted.” The Australian called out after her. Purposefully, she didn’t falter in any of her strides as she followed. Momentarily, she allowed her gaze to tear away from her and focus on the surroundings themselves. “If I wanted to piss time away in another fucking classroom.”

Settling a hand around the psychometrist’s arm, she felt the usually aggressive connotations of such a hold were lacking. Lost. For a moment, she added idle pressure to try and get her to stop. Or to turn back. To look at her. Anything.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know my name, or that you don’t know how to fucking use it.”

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Honestly, Penelope had agreed. It wasn’t nice to see her again. Over two years had passed, yet she still had some hold over the psychometrist. It was frustrating, and thus why the Brit made a quick escape.

Or rather, attempted to.

When she heard the Australian call out, Penelope’s steps faltered slightly. She raised her eyebrows, continuing to look forward. Just to move forward. She couldn’t look back and she couldn’t reply, but when she felt the once familiar hand grab her arm.

Then she stopped. She had to. Taking in a breath, the Penny turned, finally opting to look at the ink manipulator. She raised her eyebrows, searching Lucy’s expression for an explanation for her anger. Anything to explain why she was acting like this. Why she was holding her.

“I never said you couldn’t go here.” Penny started slowly, feeling her fingers twitch as she held onto her paper. “I assumed – correctly – that you wouldn’t want to.” Her eyebrows twitched upward, “Lucy.”

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

When she felt Penny stop, Lucy immediately halted in her steps. She watched the way this girl turned back to look at her. To search and even scrutinise her expression. The anger in the ink manipulator's eyes was evident, just as it was in her words.

Each and every word Penny gave her in response did nothing to settle the way her blood began to boil. The way she always did. Every argument. Every ridiculous notion.

The way she used the Australian's name felt like a physical hit. Like for her, it'd lost all weight. At this point, it wouldn't surprise Lucy to know it had. She took it as such, her hold on the Brit's arm loosening. "Don't assume you know-" She started, her tone sharp. Her voice, direct. But she stopped herself, feeling the need to let her go. To sever that physical interaction then and there.

But once started, these things were difficult to halt. It was hard to stop.

Her gaze briefly flicked down to her mouth on instinct. Reaching forward, Lucy curled her fingers around the edge of the paper she held, and she moved to ease it out of her hands.

"You have no idea what I want." She practically snapped, finding the means to at least try to catch her eyes again.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

As the grip on her arm loosened, Penelope felt herself wishing to feel such contact again. Her chest tightened, already anxious to lose what little the Australian offered. And that bothered the psychometrist greatly.

“I was right.” Penny snapped back quickly. Because she was. If Lucy had wanted to go to this school, she would have. Even with staying back for the two years she had, the Australian could have chosen to go to school.

Still, Lucy’s argument nature was starting to get under Penny’s skin. As it always had. The ink manipulator had a way to drive Penelope completely mad. She gripped the paper as she felt it slide from between her fingers; it was useless, for Lucy had snatched it away.

"Shut up." Without the physical object to keep her hands busy, Penelope felt her jaw tense. She reached out, continuing with the action the paper in her hand had stopped her from doing. Her fingers curled into the material of Lucy’s shirt at her waist, pulling her closer.

“I know what you want.” She remarked harshly before closing the distance between them and kissing Lucy.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

It irritated Lucy more than anything to hear her project the idea that she was right. Regardless of the reason given, Lucy knew otherwise. Believed otherwise. She had no reason to believe this girl wouldn't and wasn't judging her.

Despite the resistance, Lucy managed to take the paper from her grasp without fail. But she made no move to look at it. Her gaze was attuned to her former counterpart.

"No." The ink manipulator tried her; she was hardly about to let Penelope Blaise dictate when she could and could not speak.

But she felt the familiar pull; hands coiling around the fabric she wore, drawing her in.

She didn't expect it. Nor did she expect to be kissed, much less that intensely. Instantly Lucy felt herself tense at the sudden contact, as if she thought to push her away and regain the distance. Because this felt dangerous; a toxic relapse with an inevitable end.

Instead, Lucy reached out towards her, grazing her hands across the psychometrist's form as she moved to wrap her arms around her. To ensure that the minimal distance was definitely nothing. She ran her tongue across her lower lip on instinct, intent on recalling ansolutely every notion she could before this girl left her in the dark again.