Nothing Gives Easy, Easy Gives Nothing

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

"I know."

The idea that Evony had actually gone so far as to hit the slightly younger Chevalier twin had ripped through the ink manipulator's consciousness too. In its own way, in its own time. It might've been the perfect moment to diverge into the confrontation she'd shared with the blue haired broad over the subject. But she wasn't the subject at question here. The stories intertwined and at lengths ingrained against each other so much it was difficult to keep track. Difficult to remember.

"We never talked about it. Not really, anyway. Because after it happened we just... We hadn't even really talked since we'd kissed. And then we talked less after I stayed with him. To the point where we... Didn't talk." And why that was, she still hadn't known. Not at that point. It was an irrefutably frustrating topic within itself, and so the ink manipulator ran her fingers along the length of her heavily inhabited arm. Soothing the lion's mane as it was second nature; a move without a thought, but a therapeutic one at that. "So he disappeared. And she didn't. I didn't forgive her for it, but I just... Let it slide."

There, she cringed. The very idea Lucy Serrano would let something so pressing go was a definite myth. But the admittance was clear. The decision made. "We got into it wicked bad, though. Me and Evony, I mean. September. That school retreat I'm guessing you smartly avoided." The month on its own was so very definite. Away from the school, but still stuck between two very prominent issues regardless of where she was. "She said a lot of dicey shit about who I am. I had a go at her about hitting Dom. She told me she hooked up with her ex. I kicked her out; I mean I grabbed all her shit from that room and I literally threw it out. Then I left." She pressed her lips into a line, locking the tacked statement away before it could escape her. She wasn't sure if she was genuinely ready.

Yet.

A breath. A slow exhale for the air she carried, and an equally slow inhale.

"Literally ran into Dom again like, right after. Got into this huge bloody blow out about why he was always... He left."

Immediately, the ink manipulator's eyes widened. Her hand stopped in its slow movement, clasping around the tattoo at her forearm. She lowered her eyebrows amidst what appeared to be her own confusion. Lucy took a step back; short, but prominent, and turned away. It wasn't her room, where she stood. But she still found it comforting. Remnants of herself spotted idle things and moments. But she remembered was it was to look into this room - to look at her - and accuse her of the very same.

"He wanted to start something. More than a thing. Or an almost thing. But I couldn't. It's hard to think someone so bloody wrapped in his own world is ever gonna see anyone as more than a game to them." Thankful for the lack of eye contact, Lucy allowed the familiar statement to pass by like a shot through her physical being. She forced herself to take a breath. "And I said that, too. And no matter what he said I was so sure it was bullshit, so I told him to stop. Cause I mean, we aren't those people. The people who get into shit like that with each other." Another pause. Slow. Hardly precise. "We're the people who break each other."

Hollowed as the words were, she felt them on her tongue like she'd only just offered them to him. As if it managed to burn brighter than anything else she'd managed to say. "So I told him to leave. Because one of us had to, and I didn't think it was gonna be me. All I was gonna do was fuck his life up over someone I wasn't even sure I liked," Raising her free hand, she pressed it to her forehead. The small, shaking bitter breath she offered faltered on a laugh, "But at least I knew she liked me." She rolled her shoulders back, straightening through the sound and the admission and the story as she stepped to the side, half willing to face the psychometrist, though completely unsure if she could withstand the level of her gaze.

"And then it was my birthday."

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Penny tried – and again – failed to keep her expression neutral; to hear Lucy state that she had let the subject slide felt jarring. She knew that Lucy held onto things. Moments. Details. Something so imperative wasn’t dropped for no reason, and the Brit immediately found herself wondering why it had been in this case.

Clearly she felt uneasy over the fact as well.

And just as jarring was hearing the blue-haired girl’s name wrapped in her counterpart’s accent. It wasn’t like Lucy to avoid saying something, so when she had, it seemed obvious to the psychometrist. However, she didn’t take any ill feelings with hearing it, other than those that naturally came up on the subject of Evony; if anything, it felt like a huge step. What kind of step, Penny still wasn’t sure.

It did little stop the ill filled thoughts that entered her mind over the Russian, though. It only grew worse as she heard what she did to her. Biased as she was – she felt no pity upon hearing that the Australian physically threw out her things.

She had in fact avoided the school retreat like the STD plague she was sure it had been. Instead, the Brit was able to go home to New York for the time; she was fortunate that the distance between Pilot Ridge and New York made her capable of visiting her parents easily.

Even if rumors had gone around Hammel – and Penny wasn’t sure if they had at all – the Brit was unaware of what had happened on the trip. It wasn’t like her to catch up on the latest happenings at school, and so she had been oblivious to it all around.

Just as she was oblivious to the way Lucy stopped herself from continuing on the particular track she was on.

Her eyebrows pulled together briefly as the subject shifted back to Dom. It truly amazed her how tied together the stories were. For months, she imagined them to be separate entities completely. The confusion Lucy suddenly wore caught Penny’s attention more than anything, and before she could think further on the way Lucy rerouted her sentence, she slipped from Penny’s light grasp. Physically turned away.

It was heartbreaking. It was so much more than Lucy physically stepping away. It was the expression she wore before doing so. Confused. Possible pain.

Penny didn’t move to breach the distance Lucy implemented for the second time.

It had always seemed evident that there was more to Lucy and Dominque than the strange not-quite friendship they held; Penny knew it from the moment she accidently brushed her fingers across the still half wrapped book. So it hadn’t been particularly surprising to hear that he wanted something.

Yet it was frustrating to hear that he wanted something that seemed like a half attempt at anything. To think that Lucy Serrano was something of a game brought tension to the Brit’s jaw, and her chest tightened as she held her breath.

To hear that Lucy believed she would ruin his life felt like another physical blow – especially when it seemed that he did such to her. He ruined everything, along with the help of Evony. She stated that herself. There was no way she’d feel sorry for the blonde, just as she refused to for the blue-haired girl. If given the opportunity, she’d feel the urge to punch him, too, but it hardly had to do with the fact that they kissed.

As Lucy half turned to her, Penny kept her gaze steady on the Australian. Her fingers twitched as she resisted the urge to reach out to her again. “And he left a book on your doorstep.”

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy nodded once. A book covered amidst a sea of blue and gold; even the wrapping had been so very like him. "I went to ask him about it. First time I'd seen him in months. Because if we weren't friends, why were we going through the kind of motions friends go through?" Birthdays. Lucy wasn't the Serrano who put all the weight in the world on them. But such a thing was still immersed in her system regardless. "He said he didn't want to be friends. He just wanted me. So I said..."

She let the sentence trail off, her hand aiding as such. She was sure that even her psychometric counterpart could recall the memory she'd seen. "He said he needed space, so I gave it to him. I guess. And I'd run into Evony not long before that. We got into this endless argument where she kept asking me to try or to understand where she was coming from and what she did. I told her she was a liar, and a user, and a manipulative right little fuck. So that was fucked, too." Raising a hand, she brushed it through her hair a few times. Anything to draw the strays from her sight line.

"Then... There you were." Timing. The corner of her mouth dragged into a smile, "Not even a week later. Reading a book about elves and magic and shit on your own like the most perfectly placed distraction in the world." She offered a quick, sharp exhale in the form of a laugh. But all it did was spark her further, "But then I was talking to you about-" Breaking down everything built up, "And you asked me if I put up walls and I-" Stopped. Stared. "Stalled. You made me stall. You made me want to tell you, even if in the end I didn't."

And it was rare - so rare that the interlocking connections she'd never been willing to verbalise were burning bright enough to pass her lips before her mind could catch them.

"You had me." Lucy admitted, because she couldn't imagine why else she'd have bothered trying to chase another person ever again.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Penny gave a nod as Lucy trailed off; she hadn’t needed to continue. The psychometrist knew exactly what had happened after that moment; felt the Australian accented words against her lips, and heard her own when she repeated part of it back to her.

Had Lucy referred to Evony in such a way in any other context, the Brit was sure she would have had to suppress a grin. This was different, however. It felt too serious to take anything light from the way Lucy explained what had happened.

When the subject shifted to Penny herself, the Brit’s eyebrows furrowed together with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. She had never expected to make her way as part of this hectic part of Lucy’s life. She had sat in the student lounge, oblivious to everything going on in Lucy’s life. Completely ignorant to the distraction she provided by simply reading her now favorite book.

Penny’s gaze dropped to the particular curve of Lucy’s lip, and she found herself more relieved than expected to see her smile again.

That smile that suited her so perfectly.

And Penny felt it was contagious, as her own lip began to pull upward. Between the smile she gave and the admission that followed, it was impossible not to. More than ever, she wished to breach the distance between them.

“Is that what you meant?” She asked slowly, “When you said I had perfect timing?” It was something she never had the chance to figure out. A pressing question that lingered in the back of Penny’s mind since she was first denied a proper answer to it. Then, Lucy had been drunk, and after it felt impossible to bring up.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

It was still difficult to find any genuine relief in expressing everything she had. Lucy was sure there would be some kind of comfort in the series of admissions eventually. At least, she hoped it'd be so. But it was never easy to talk about, and even less so with the person she was so intently devoted to. She doubted hearing about her prior attempts at any kind of a humane connection was particularly comfortable, especially given how she felt about the two in question.

But it was important - both for Lucy to express it all as best she could, and for her to be able to hear it.

Regardless of it all, Lucy couldn't help the way her threat of a smile grew when she realised the expression Penny was offering. It was hardly a bad thing to bring her, or their initial encounter up in such a way. It suddenly felt like the whole point of the story.

"Yeah." She admitted without fault. Lucy could easily recall the way she'd expressed such a thing, and how she didn't have the means to explain it further in her inebriated state. It'd been impossible to follow a thought for long, let alone attempt to be coherent throughout the inevitable tangents. Perfect timing. It was perfect. She'd made it perfect without an ounce of effort.

Stepping forward, Lucy breached the unbearable distance she'd created. She reached forward, pressing her palms to either side of her face. It seemed familiar, to stand in such a way. But without the pressure of aggression and the uncontrollable shake of her hands, it felt so different. And it was almost jarring to imagine it any other way.

"Everything's different with you." She said lightly, though the brighter connotations of the phrase hardly made it any less meaningful.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Hearing stories of Lucy’s previous connections – or the attempts at them – was, in all honestly, a bit hard to hear. Having already a distaste for both people involved with her counterpart, it only grew as Lucy explained what had happened. But the Brit pushed past her own issues, the weight of the Australian’s admissions taking a much higher priority.

Her eyes remained widened even as Lucy clarified that it was indeed what she had meant that night. If anything, it only added to the surprise. The immediate thoughts of where they would have been now had Penny not been sitting there that day started to cross the psychometrist’s mind, but she forced them out. It was pointless dwelling on outcomes that might have happened, especially when the best one did.

Penny’s features softened as Lucy stepped closer, even more so when she felt hands press to either side of her face in almost a delicate manner. She tilted her head on instinct, leaning into one point of contact as her own hand made its way to press against Lucy’s. Her eyes threatened to close, but the Brit couldn’t find the means to look away from her.

It hadn’t mattered how lightly Lucy’s statement was, Penny still recognized the weight of it, and as she inhaled she was sure she could feel the admission burn in her own lungs. Her hands moved to wrap around Lucy’s waist, thankful to get back the proximity she had previously lost. “I’m won’t put you through anything like that.” Although the Brit felt that Lucy already knew such a fact, she felt the desire to reiterate it.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Unlike her counterpart, Lucy had a more difficult time trying to omit the idea of the potential outcome of her current situation had she not been in that exact room at that exact time. She had to wonder who she'd be, or where she'd have gone. Or who she might have gone back to. A taste of companionship - however bitter it might have been - was still a taste. It only ever left a person wanting more.

She allowed herself to be drawn in further by the movement of her hands. It was a relief not to be denied in any way after she'd forced such distance. But distance made it easier to talk. It hardly made her any less a distraction, but it eliminated the threat of contact. At least for a time.

It was, in truth, a difficult statement to believe. She felt the interjected response rise in the back of her head; that the psychometrist had forced the ink manipulator to go after her a number of times. But as Lucy forced herself to look, she wondered if she ever noticed the pattern she'd created.

"It doesn't matter if you do." Lucy replied, honestly. Pausing lightly, the Australian brushed her thumb along her cheekbone slowly. Different. There wasn't a better word to describe any comparison. Lucy doubted she'd ever want to be this close to anyone else she'd ever had remote contact with. But with her, there she was. As everything no one believed she could be.

Struck by every realisation at once, she felt how surprised she looked. Because it didn't matter if she did. If she had, or if she ever would in the future. "I'm in love with you."

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Penny exhaled at the contact to her skin, it felt surprisingly warm against her cheeks. “It matters to me.” She replied quietly. She never wanted to put Lucy in such a situation, to make her feel the distress she had explained in her story.

And she was completely unaware that she already had. It was different; a different story, or a continuation of this one, but regardless, Penny was oblivious to her own patterns. “I don’t want to.”

The surprise her counterpart wore drew confusion to Penny’s features, eyebrows raising to silently ask just what had seemingly thrown the Australian off, and before she could verbalize the question, she spoke, and it was Penny’s turn to take on surprise.

Without thought, her hold tightened in the smallest of ways as her dark eyes stared back at Lucy’s. Her own lips parted, as if she were trying to give some sort of response, but the Brit’s mind was completely blank on the matter. To be told that she was loved was intoxicating, but to be told that she was in love was completely different.

And Penny had honestly thought that Lucy would run out of ways to overwhelm her.

When her lungs ached with the request of oxygen, Penny took in a short breath with still parted lips that began to form the most genuine smile before she leaned forward and kissed Lucy.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Proximity was definite. It offered definition to the way in which she moved. How her hands tightened on instinct. How she breathed. Lucy felt the small, steady movement of air stop moments after she spoke. No longer did it breeze across her cheeks so lightly each time she exhaled. No longer did it shift in a cooler way as she took a breath in. It was gone. She was holding her breath.

And so Lucy stared, because she had nothing left, and the idea of forcing distance simply wasn't an option. Not as she felt the small shake form in her hands. This was bigger than a usual declaration dusted with a few extra words for a difference.

She was in love with her. Of course she was. It might have been a reverb of a prior statement, but it felt that much more weighted. Because there was love - and there were people in her life who were important enough to be loved by her - but this was entirely different. She was different. And a different category captured her completely.

Like clockwork, Lucy fell into the rhythm that came with reciprocating the way this girl chose to kiss her. She was so very sure she felt the curve of her lips against her own, some form of a smile in each movement.

But as much as she wanted to let it go, or at least look past it for now, the ink manipulator felt the sting of the words only just offered to her before she felt the need to so intently declare her still-understated feelings for her psychometric counterpart. "I meant-" She tried, immediately failing over what she was supposed to say, "People do shit they can't help all the time." Her nose crinkled in the minuscule break at her own need to swear. It would've been so much better if she hadn't; "It doesn't matter what you do." Each fault and failure and stumble would be forgiven in her own way, she was sure. But the recognition of that surety wavered in her tone.

"I'll probably fuck it up first, anyway." A disclaimer, as if it made the idea any better and less judgemental, "You gotta let me."

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Penny felt the undeniable shake in her counterpart’s hands as they pressed to each side of her face. It was subtle, but felt so evident against the psychometrist’s skin. And even as Penny held her own breath, she could feel the slight shift in air from her breathing. It felt like the lifeline she desperately held onto, but she still couldn’t manage to release the breath captured in her lungs.

Kissing the ink manipulator felt like the only response that she could offer – the only one that could possibly convey the reply she wished words existed for. A matched rhythm within the reciprocation she felt, but she was sure their pulses shifted in contrasting, erratic beats.

It was only when she felt the pressure against her own lips lessen did Penny even think of pulling away, but she took in a sharp breath, only then realizing just how desperately she was in need of it. But that hardly seemed to matter when Lucy continued. How she rambled. Faltered in the most perfect of ways.

The curses Lucy accidently offered seemed to phase the Australian more than Penny, which was surprising in itself, but the psychometrist felt far more caught up in what she was trying to say that the improper language barely passed her mentality.

She reached up, fingers gently running the line of her counterpart’s jaw. Penny made no effort to suppress the smile she wore, it would have been useless to try, anyway. “I’m still going to love you, even if you do.”

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Suddenly, there felt like a myriad of things Lucy could have said. There were so many ways to fix what she'd already said. The whole situation - the story, the admissions intertwined and the obvious one it drove her to - was as exhausting as it enough to shake her nerves in the most visible way.

More than anything, she simply wished she didn't have a story to begin with.

Lucy exhaled on a laugh, the reiteration in her own voice having struck her so much later than it should have. Offering a disclaimer. Asking for an excusable way out whenever she did make the inevitable mistake, or say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing. It reminded her of a watered down request given to her only months ago. A fail safe, of sorts. It was impossible not to laugh at the thought.

"I believe that." She replied. After all, it was only fair.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

The disclaimer hadn’t gone unnoticed. It wasn’t hard to recall the way her counterpart informed her not to give one herself, and then here she was doing the same thing.

But, somehow, it felt different. She wasn’t threatening to leave, as the Brit had. She was asking room for human error, something the Brit was not so forgiving with had she still been the same person she was a year ago.

Penny leaned forward, pressing her lips lightly to the Australian’s cheek. “I’m glad.” She said slowly, lips lingering against the Australian’s skin as she closed her eyes. “That you think I’m different.”

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

As Penny leaned in, Lucy finally found the means to shift her hands from her face, tracking down to her shoulders. Holding in and catching her breath as she moved just that little bit closer.

It was impossible not to smile into the small point of contact her counterpart was offering. Enthralling as it was, it was just that; small. There was nothing settling about the proximity. Nor were there comforting connotations to the choice of phrasing she'd used. Still, focusing on anything but the way the Brit's lips brushed across her skin with each word was a challenge within itself.

"It's not even about what I think. It's about who you are." Lucy managed, but that was hard enough to say on its own. Her hands loosened, shifting down her arms before leaving her form completely. She curled her hands around her belt instead, "Don't think I'd be so-" She paused, searching for the right word. This time, saying she was absolutely crazy about this girl sounded simple. Weak. Within the break, she unbuckled the belt she held, hands shifting to draw it out and find the button next, "You just are. It's in how you do... Everything you do."

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Penny was always one to consider what she had said, and this was no exception. Because it was what she thought. Different. Of course, the psychometrist knew she was different, but the way Lucy said such took away any possible negative connotations of the word.

And that was what mattered. Despite what Lucy said, the psychometrist believed it very much was what she thought. That she believed Penny was special enough to be called different – especially when compared with the two that ruined so much within her counterpart’s life.

Different or not, Penny knew she’d never want to do anything like that to Lucy.

Penny let out a short breath at Lucy’s response. Disjointed as it was, she still managed to pull what she could from it, and it made her mouth twitch against the ink manipulator’s cheek. Tilting her head, she brushed her lips against Lucy's, just unsure how to respond to such affection.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Without a verbal response, Lucy had to wonder if she even made sense anymore. There wasn't much she could say passed the admission that rocked her senses entirely. She was in love with her. It was as enthralling to admit as it was terrifying.

But she kissed her back willingly, because already she missed the taste of her counterpart's lips against her own. And it made the whole ordeal less daunting to find that comfort. It provided such an undeniable shock to her system that she couldn't help the way her hands faltered over her own clothes. Nor could she help how she was magnetically drawn in the moment the kiss was broken.

Lucy followed. She often did. And despite the way she dipped her fingers into the band of her own jeans to start pulling them off, this was no exception. It was always hard to stop.