Until We Stop Hearts

[James Lawrence]

Despite the period of separation, James was sure the familiar and out of tune sounds of his heart still rang loud. Still created a tightness in his chest that could not be ignored. If he could feel it, then he knew Ella could as well; the way it beat into a frenzy. Only around her. Exposed.

A connection would bridge the distance. Connecting the gap in between. A hand clenched at his side, unfolding a few seconds later. Nothing. Empty.

James exhaled, letting out a long breath as he let her finish. Questioning why he thought he was at fault and to blame. He thought the reasoning was clear. Until she spoke, again. Instantly, a frown crossed his features. Because he hadn't been thinking from her perspective, concentrating solely on it from his point of view. He had been on the outside of the locked door; selfish.

But she was Ella and ultimately would find a way to blame herself.

"You can't seriously just blame yourself for this." James answered, incredulously. If it was about what had happened in New York; what had happened when two bodies collided in the elevator, then if anything, he was to blame for initiating the action. At the very least, split the blame. But to claim it all?

"And even if you do, it.. it just doesn't make any sense, Ella. Because these past months I was under the impression you didn't want to see me anymore. And you're here now, trying to shift all the blame on you? For what had happened?"

"That wasn't your fault." James still failed to understand how someone could be as self depreciative as Ella. A feat, really. His pulse ignited with the heightened emotions.

[Ella Robbinson]

Ella couldn't tear her eyes from the frown James wore. It felt like just another small thing she'd be responsible for. To believe she remotely let him down was another additive to keep in mind.

For all James offered her, he couldn't give her anything she could hold onto. Nothing about his response held weight for the hemokinetic; he could wish for the shift in blame to land on his shoulders - or even in equal parts to the both of them - but there were some things that she simply couldn't wrap her head around. How he deserved to wear that was completely jarring.

"I can blame myself," Ella finally offered back, her tone a little sharp by the implication that she deserved any less, "I absolutely can, and it shouldn't be so hard for you to figure out why."

[James Lawrence]

"You can but it doesn't mean that it makes sense." James clarified, his own voice replying with a snap to it. Frustrated notes. Clearly, he was missing something. And now she pointed that out. "Apparently it is, because I'm honestly so confused."

Confused was the best way to describe this; all of this. The chaos. The mess. Them.

"I don't understand why or what happened the past few months. I don't understand." James repeated, his chest heaving with each breath. Punctuated with a rise and a fall. "Because when you've been avoiding me, it sort of leaves the impression that I'm the one who should be at fault here." It was her decision to severe contact. And without any sort of explanation, he was left with guesses at best to try and figure out why she blamed herself. Why he was missing something seemingly so obvious.

[Ella Robbinson]

Perhaps Ella was wrong in her assumption; days to weeks to months behind a door and the hemokinetic was positive James could connect the proverbial dots without needing her to explain herself. But she'd never honestly taken his perspective into the entirety of the situation. It was hard enough factoring in the person whose hear she apparently broke.

Her hands twitched when he mentioned how confused he was. Leaving him in the dark wasn't exactly easy; none of this was. Desensitising herself from his presence was exhausting. And impossible. He was always there.

"Well I'm telling you that's not what this is." She replied. Actions always spoke louder than words, and she knew that, but she hoped the conviction in her voice would be enough. Not that she rightly deserved to be trusted. That kind of connection was something she'd severed with a locked door; getting that back was a complete gamble. Reaching up finally, she brought a hand between them, a slight shake to her fingers as she felt the need to press it against his chest. But within the space she hovered instead. Making that kind of contact was a ridiculous thought.

Because even without a physical connection, she felt his heart race, "Can we not talk about this here?"

[James Lawrence]

James too failed to look at the situation from another perspective, from her point of view. He had been so absorbed by his own thoughts that he never even thought to put himself in Ella's place. Never even crossed his mind to look at it from the other side of a locked door.

Admitting confusion was a bit of a stretch for James, who was so use to putting on a certain image. But he figured with his erratic pulse, he already was vulnerable. Exposed. There was no point lying to Ella. He was sure his confusion over the distance put between them was obvious, written all over his features and voice.

She told him that's not what it is. Doubtful, but unable to deny the conviction in her voice. She sounded genuine, but James had to wonder if that was real or just what she believed. Part of him felt bad for feeling apprehensive, but if she just explained what had happened and why she drove a wedge between them, then James wouldn't be as hesitant as he was now. 

His gaze fell to where she lifted her hand, closing the space in between them. A shaky hand that stopped halfway in the air. Before he could think twice, James lifted his own hand, catching hers and offering a light squeeze. There was something less daunting about the connection between their hands, instead of his chest. "Yeah, sure. Where do you want to go?"

[Ella Robbinson]

Ella thought to retract her hand. Really, it was easier that way. Keep the moment devoid of any and all distractions, and she could explain herself to him properly. He could express that perhaps she made sense, or that he still didn't understand, and there was little else she could give him beyond what she had. The way it would play out would work in tandem with every other assumption she'd pressed onto them.

But he took hold of her hand, like he could so easily steal the stability of the assumed path away from her. Like he could deter her steps with a single move.

A light squeeze. Something he always did. That and breathing. He was as wonderful at teaching a person to breathe as he was at being the thing that stole the necessary air from her lungs.

"I don't know," She admitted, her mind drawing a blank. She hardly expected him to say yes as much as he could have forced her to continue where she was. She was used to being pushed in such a way, but never by him; "Anywhere that's not so obvious." Anywhere on campus that wasn't to blank in an available hallway.

[James Lawrence]

His hand lingered in her own a moment after, the tangibility of their hands too much to handle. Impossible to ignore. To pull away from the connection was an idea, but not one James particularly wanted to enact. It provided a distraction, his gaze steady on their hands, a steady yet irregular tune from his heartbeat.

Dark eyes looked up once Ella started to speak. His hold on hers loosened, offering a way out if she wanted. But he wasn't making the motion to completely let go.

If she wasn't comfortable talking about what had happened in the middle of the hall, then the least James could do was to move elsewhere so they could continue the conversation. The necessary conversation. He was determined to hear an explanation, her side of what went wrong. Who had done wrong. He thought to offer her room, but that felt forward and obvious. Anywhere on campus was open; anyone could wander around the corner and see them.

"We could go to my office." James offered. It was closeby, and offered some privacy.

[Ella Robbinson]

To promise that she would continue the conversation - in the round about way she had - proved to be more straining that Ella initially expected. She felt the slow breath she exhaled draw the air from her lungs until there was absolutely nothing left. A hand that held her own worked wonders to keep her grounded in a moment where she'd honestly thought she could run away. To take a moment to dissipate from his life as best she could once again.

But now that she was there, she couldn't imagine ever trying. She couldn't understand how she'd managed for as long as she had; how she'd stood vigil with a presence on the other side of her door. How she could use her abilities on him like it might be so easy to trick him into leaving.

"Fine. Yes." She replied eventually, nodding her head once, "Sounds perfect."

Or at the very least, it sounded a lot better than an open hallway. And given that she knew the way, she twisted her hand better in his grasp as she stepped past him to lead.

[James Lawrence]

A steady exhale from her lips, and his thoughts were brought to the telephone call they shared only a few months ago. To properly breathing and working her down from a state of panic. James' gaze didn't leave her face, his thumb working up and down in natural movements across the skin of her hand. Silent reassurance.

Privacy was hard to come by in the open hallway. Any room was better; he wasn't expecting anyone else to come by his office today.

She agreed to the idea, a step closer to finding out what she truly believed instead of vague statements. Actually knowing what Ella was thinking was important; because without it, James didn't know what to believe himself. The entire situation had him confused.

In a rare moment, she took the lead, stepping forward with his hand still in her own. His hold on hers tightened, fingertips interlocking as he followed behind.

[Ella Robbinson]

Leading was rare for Ella, timid as she must have seemed in her every day life. It was always easier to let someone else take the reigns if they were so interested in doing so. She was always built to be a follower; to move a beat behind the curve of the crowd instead of being graced by fluidity.

Trainers offices weren't exactly difficult to find. Piecing who belonged to which was another story entirely, but she'd been there before so at least she knew the way.

Silence seemed to track the moment entirely, and Ella wasn't about to be the one to break it. Just holding onto his hand by any means felt like both a blessing and a curse. It forced people to look, that was, if they even knew who she was. For someone who rarely ventured past the boundaries of the building she worked in in the last few months, she highly doubted her presence would be recorded.

Finding the correct door, she twisted around and finally let his hand go. Eyebrows rose to indicate towards the door with a tilt of her head. After all, it was his to open.

[James Lawrence]

As he followed her down the halls, James didn't speak a word. For starters, he didn't know what to say; what could be said that hadn't already been started before. Speaking to her back didn't feel right either. Their hands, still holding onto each other, was enough for that moment.

The only audible sound in the otherwise silent air was the sound of his heart; beating away as always in her presence.

If anyone had been looking, James didn't notice.

Air filled the space between his fingers again. He looked up from where their hands had once been, landing on her expression. Her motion towards the locked door. He nodded, reaching into his pockets to dig out a set of keys. A few seconds later and that door was unlocked, revealing the interior of James' office. He walked inside first, flicking on the lights. "You can close that once you're inside." He spoke.

[Ella Robbinson]

Silence dragged on, save for the sound of a shuffle and a jingle of keys. The unlocking of a door to gather her attention completely, until his words pierced the myriad of backgrounds provided. It felt like it'd been forever since he spoke, yet only minutes had passed.

Moments after he'd said it, she followed suit, feet dragging her into the room before she turned her back to him to close the door. Now that they were closed into a space together, Ella suddenly felt incredibly nervous again. After all, she'd practically promised answers if the simple demand was met, and now that it had been what choice did she actually have?

Ella took a breath as she turned around again, allowing her eyes to take him in now that she didn't have to worry about being seen or being judged. Weeks hidden away in her home had only added to that difficulty.

"Sorry," She said quickly, her mind drawing a painful blank, "What did you want me to say?"

[James Lawrence]

Pocketing the keys, James turned to face the door once he was inside the room. It was a small space, with the bare essentials for an office. He watched as she made the move to close the door behind her, to close themselves off from the rest of the school.

His gaze was quick to search for her own, to really take in Ella Robbinson. The girl who had been hiding for months. Until now.

The urge to reach out and touch her once more was undeniable. But he needed answers. James didn't hesitate before saying "Answers. An explaination for what happened. Why.." He trailed off. Why she closed herself off, placing a locked door between them. He figured she didn't need the rest of his sentence to piece together what was hinted at.

"But, what do you want to say?" More importantly. She had to have something, after all the nothing between them. His gaze held steady on hers, not knowing if he could handle her response.

[Ella Robbinson]

The moment she saw him, Ella knew he was staring. Those eyes were practically piercing when they wanted to be, and this instance was no exception. The way he looked felt so surreal; it reminded her of just how small she was when she was younger. How small she made herself become. How big he made her feel by proxy, both then and now. He was really, truly looking.

Not just a search for answers, surely.

"I thought you'd understand." Ella admitted, not quite willing to point out that she barely factored him into the last few months. He deserved more than that, and she gave him nothing. "Don't you know what it's like?"

Silly question. She dropped her gaze to the floor as she shook her head. Of course he didn't know; didn't he? On the surface he might have seemed perfect and flawless, but her hands had run the length with scrutiny, and within that facade she found the most pressing breaks; threats to an inevitable fragmentation. "You tell me why you think I deserve anything like this." She challenged, eyes catching his again as she indicated between them. After what she'd broken, why would anyone assume she deserved even the slightest chance at a future she never believed possible?

[James Lawrence]

His eyes refused to leave; refused to waver from her. Being so close after the distance between them over the past few months was dizzying. James' heart still raced, by her presence alone. But everything about Ella made his pulse shift like no other.

When she spoke, he was brought back to the situation at hand. To the reality of what had been and what had happened. Eyebrows narrowing, James found himself asking "Do I know what what is like?" Vague questions without specifics were hard to answer.

And James wasn't sure if, or even when, that would happen. Dark eyes watched as her gaze shot to the floor, exhaling as he tried to calm the racing, irregular beat that filled the room. Before he could say anything else, another question was fired his way. She was asking why she deserved anything like this. Them. His eyes caught hers again, as the rhythm faltered.

"Well..." James started, taking a step forward without breaking eye contact. "For starters, I don't think that should even be a question in the first place. This isn't something that you should or shouldn't be worthy of."

A pause, as he thought out what to say. "It's just something that is. And I don't think we should deny that any longer. Or try to fight it. What we can be." The possibility was there. Hands reached out, to touch her arms. "Because surely, if this is a question of who deserves what, you deserve better than me." Someone who tried so hard to project the perfect image, who failed at actually maintaining that perfect interior. Someone better and less like him. "But I don't want that." For her to find that someone else. For someone so use to hiding it all away, James sure felt like he was opening up to a vulnerable, emotional side that so few got to see. His chest ached with each passing beat.