Wait For Me to Come Home

[Rowan Booker]

How did someone define home? He'd heard that your home was where your heart was, which always directed Rowan to Boston. That was where his whole life had been before Vermont. It was where he had Ben, Beatrice and his aunt Maryna. It was where his mother resided. But Vermont had made Rowan who he wanted to be. Or was it even Vermont? No, it wasn't the place that had made him who he had been, it was a person. 

Lucky.

Lucy to him now as he had completely dropped the ball as a friend, he didn't feel like he deserved to use the affectionate nickname for her anymore.

Rowan had been struggling to keep his head above water for months. A year? Graduating had been his biggest accomplishment and even that he almost hadn't done. Going back to Boston was supposed to fix what he was going through. He was supposed to let go of all the anger, all of the resentment that he felt being in the company of his family. But he hadn't done that, instead he got into more trouble, resulting in everyone's disappointment. Boston was not where he needed to be, but he didn't know where he belonged in Vermont. Or what he was going to do with his life now that he was no longer at Hammel. Dancing was all he was good at, but finding a job as a dancer was nearly impossible. 

He needed help. Someone to push him in the right direction. To kick his ass a bit so that he knew what he was doing with his life. There was only one person who had been capable of doing just that when he first met her. An unlikely friendship had blossomed into something that he had all but given up on after he threw a fit over who his best friend decided to fraternize with. And he knew that she wouldn't want to see him, but God did he need her.

It had been months since he last saw Lucy. Months since he'd spoken to her. So looking for her was a long shot. He had no idea what she was doing anymore, completely out of the loop of her life. Rowan started at a place that he was familiar with and hoped would offer him some luck. Her place of work. He walked up to Ink on the Vine and took a deep breath before walking in. He kept his head down as he looked around at the artists, none of them standing out to him...

Until...her. 

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy had had little time to consider what happened to Rowan in the past few months. As the Boston boy she cared for so dearly dissipated into the proverbial unknown, her mind had been turned elsewhere; to other relationships. To the connections she could still reach for and the people she could still speak to.

In the end, moving on from high school hadn't been as difficult as she perceived it to be. She had left her mark on the school itself - both figuratively and literally given the gaping patch of missing wall in the psychometrist's old bedroom - but life outside the confining walls that forced friendships to burn with an unnatural brightness had been good to her. She lived with her love, finding co-existence in a way where she wasn't always sure she could. For the most part, things were perfect. She was happy. The distant future had her set to marry the British girl he had so many unusual problems with; in moments like the one where he found her, she could and did choose to wear the ring that sat naturally on her left hand, second finger from the left.

Settling into domestic life ended up suiting her.

Today was like any other work day, which ran as fluidly as it could given the way scheduling appointments turned in her favour. There was little time to dwindle between them, and with no other individuals to compete with, she worked a lot.

With her own head down, she had her attention completely wrapped in tweaking a design against a light box. There was little she could do until the canvas made it to her, but minor details that just didn't and wouldn't look right were the kind she took the liberty of fixing, just in case. An idle twitch of her head and she glanced up through the line of her hair, glancing down a second later as if nothing had caught her attention. Until she found herself completely stagnant, bright eyes looking so widely at the design in front of her, but it hardly held her attention.

Because when she looked up again, there he was. Clear as day.

And there she was, blatantly staring as her jaw threatened to fall off its hinges.

[Rowan Booker]

The look on her face said it all. Everything that he'd been preparing himself for, yet he knew he wasn't prepared for this. For Lucy to just stare at home like he was a stranger. To most people, this side of him was strange and foreign, but Lucy had known him before the bravado he displayed in his last years at Hammel. She had been the one to bring him out of this before which was why he'd so heavily depended on her.

Rowan felt as though he didn't have any right depending on her for that now, but he felt that if he could just have her in his life again, she could shape him into what he needed to be again. Even if it wasn't what he'd been before. Because although he had been lucky in terms of sexual endeavors, he hadn't had a real relationship with substance. And though he didn't know her circumstances, Rowan knew Lucy and Penelope had, before he left, something of substance despite what Lucy had told him.

Maybe he needed to open himself to that idea. Something had to change, and it was something within himself, he knew.

As she stared at him, he couldn't help but almost fold in on himself like he used to. The situation was heavy and uncomfortable, but he needed this. He needed her in his life, in some way.

Not quite meeting her eyes, he quirked up the side of his mouth in an attempt at smiling, "Hi, Lucy." Her own name felt foreign to him, having spent so long referring to her as his Lucky. This was not the kind is greeting they had been so accustomed to before as the distance seemed miles apart between them rather than feet.

Rowan couldn't close that distance.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

There was a sizable enough gap between them. Now that the light of recognition had coloured Lucy's eyes, she wasn't entirely sure how to look away. The idea that her mind was just playing tricks on her was gone with a second of detail, too. Rowan had been so incredibly good at disappearing without a word; creating a breach in the name of some kind of warped sense of protection. She just watched - like a deer in headlights - and waiting for him to do something.

Her own name sounded foreign with his turn of an accent. She couldn't really remember a time where he'd ever used it. Once he'd heard the nickname coined by her parents, he clung to it like it was his own right.

She squeezed the pen in her hand, taking a breath and hoping to hell that her own nerves wouldn't cause the thing to skyrocket and spout ink. Any kind of work was achievable now, so she left it to rest. She settled a pen against the flat surface, palms pressing to the counter seconds later as she eased herself out of her chair. He mightn't have been able to cross a lick of distance, but she could certainly find the drive to round a counter. To feel teeth baring from the blue tiger on her upper arm.

"Well, fuck." She swore, like she couldn't a find better word for her own disbelief.

[Rowan Booker]

Every moment that passed seemed to just weigh down on him more. The pressure of how much he'd been screwing up pressed down on him by the way she stared at him. Did she expect some kind of ruse? A sick joke her mind was playing on her? He had plenty of those by way of his dreams. He'd thought of her when he was unconscious, constantly dreaming about this reunion. They had all been bittersweet.

This wasn't a dream though,the crushing guilt he felt was much too real. He couldn't imagine what she was thinking. If she wanted him to turn around and walk in front of a moving car or if she wanted him to disappear again and pretend like it had never happened. He couldn't believe that anything she thought was positively directed at him. He had made too much of a mess to think she still wanted him in her life. She was doing fine without him, better if he wanted to torture himself.

Maybe he should have let her be happy without him dragging her down with him. Rowan wanted to turn back around, wanted to take back his greeting and leave. If he was selfless, he would have maybe. But Rowan Booker only thought of himself.

He cringed at her response and nearly took a step back when she walked around the desk, closing just inches of the distance between them. He still didn't trust himself to get close to her. Not only because he didn't want to risk getting slapped, but also he didn't want to risk exposing himself. He felt plenty vulnerable without her getting a good close look at the emptiness within him.

Where did he begin? What did he say to that? "I'm sorry..." was all he could force out.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

There was a definite itch to one of her hands; Lucy immediately thought to close the distance between them and collide her palm to his cheek with as much force as she could muster. In her mind, following the instinct wasn't a bad thing. He absolutely deserved to be hit for all the anguish his sudden disappearances had caused. Instead, she curled her fingers into a brief fist before letting the tension fall to the wayside. If anyone knew how variously paining it was to be slapped on a whim, it was Lucy.

"Don't be sorry." Lucy replied immediately, raising a hand with her palm facing outward, as if to literally advice him not to continue on. She knew apologies were difficult for him; after all, she was relatively useless at them herself, and so she wasn't quite sure how to take the sound.

"Sorry's what you say when you're keen to fix it." She added, although in his case, that hardly seemed true. Rather, it seemed more like sorry was an excuse to get away with what he could. Her arms crossed in front of her chest, a hidden hand curling into the fabric of her own clothes instinctively; "I don't reckon you've thought about that."

[Rowan Booker]

Her response left him stuck. He was sorry, didn't she know that? He was so inexplicably sorry about what had happened. Rowan didn't even understand half of what his absence had done to her though. In his mind he had it down played as him being the only one affected by his absence. Looking at her, he could barely see any trace of his absence. She seemed to be doing so well, perhaps thriving in his absence to teach him a lesson. To show him that she was capable of living without him, but he had failed so miserably living without her. That being said, she had every right to be mad at him, he had expected mad, not hurt.

"But Luck...Lucy I am sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, I don't know what else to say. I don't know how to explain myself. I just fucked up." He let it all out in a stream, barely pausing because he needed her to know that he didn't want to make her mad at him. He took a step closer, his hands out reaching towards her, but he didn't dare come close enough to touching her. He ached to throw his arms around her and have her hold him. It wasn't them though. They didn't do that. And he couldn't even if they did.

Rowan's throat was dry and he could feel all of the moisture rushing to his eyes. "I want to fix this, I'll do anything. Just tell me how to fix it and I'll do it, Lucky please," His voice cracked and he let his eyes fall to the ground, his arms returning to his sides. What would he do if she said no? It was all he'd been thinking since he'd decided to go looking for her. She could say no, that she didn't want anything to do with him, that he had his chance and he blew it. She was better off without him.

What would he do then?

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Tension shot through Lucy's form, forcing her back to straighten instinctively at the threat of a nickname that he no longer seemed in control of. Part of her was glad it disappeared to the use of her actual name instead, and the other part found the decision jarring. Rowan rarely adhered to formalities, even when he really should have. Perhaps it was a point within itself.

She was sure she'd heard all this before. Every little statement felt familiar. When hands that weren't so familiar any more reached out to her, she dropped her gaze to look at them briefly. Her own shot to her jaw, tracing along the curve to stop the sudden itch that plagued it. By the time she looked up, his eyes were gone, downturned to the ground to avoid hers completely. If he was on the verge of crying, she missed the signs completely.

"How do you reckon you're gonna do that?" She asked, shrugging her shoulders, "Cause you've got shit all traction with me. I dunno what I'm meant to think when it comes to you. It doesn't take much to get that you'd rather be back in Boston."

[Rowan Booker]

Rowan would admit, he'd screwed up plenty of times before. He had insulted Penelope, disappeared countless times. Who could blame Lucy for not thinking he could change? Rowan wanted to believe that he could though. He was trying to change because he knew that no one really liked who he had become. At least before he'd been a better friend, whatever this guy he'd turned into was, was not what he needed to be. He was a mess, didn't have his license, barely had a place to stay, and no family or friends currently fond of his existence.

Her words weren't said in a harsh tone, she just seemed tired. Tired of everything he was capable of being. But her words weren't true. He didn't want to be back in Boston. He didn't belong there anymore. His record clearly showed that. Rowan just shook his head back and forth. Not disagreeing with everything, but not accepting it either. He was going to do it. He was going to fix it and he was going to fix his life here. There wasn't anywhere else he could go.

"I don't know how I'm going to fix it, Lucy. I just know that I have to because you're wrong. I don't want to be in Boston anymore. I don't belong there anymore," He shrugged and chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I wouldn't have come back if I didn't believe that this was where my life should be."

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

As Rowan shook his head, Lucy could only take it as it appeared; like he felt her assumption was wrong. And really, it very well could have been. How was she to know what progressed over the course of his disappearance? It was one thing to ask, but she didn't know if she wanted to.

It was easy to sympathise with feeling a shift in where a person belonged. After all, she herself had spent years determined to leave the very country they were both standing in, and now such an idea was the worst outcome she could consider for her own future. It wasn't difficult to bridge the belief between belonging somewhere new and getting there. But the very problem on his side of things had consistently stared her in the face from the first time he ever left.

"Okay, sure, but every time you go, that's it." She replied in time, "If someone's important to you, you don't do that. You can't."

Because months ago she stood in an airport and told the psychometrist to go. It might have only been two weeks, but it was coated in a defined enough lie that she could and did feel bad about it. In the end, she couldn't. It wasn't easy.

[Rowan Booker]

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. If someone's important to you, you don't do that. You can't. And he hadn't. Although it had appeared as such, he hadn't just up and left, leaving her behind. He knew he'd be back. One way or another, just like he always did. Rowan had always been a flight risk. There were times that he wanted to be home with his family and other times he wanted to be as far from them as possible. He learned from his father that it was easier to just leave when things got bad.

But he never meant for anyone to take it personally, as if to say he didn't care about them. It had taken him a while to realize that he came off that way most of the time. He was selfish, he only cared how other people treated him, and then he forgot how he was treating the people he cared about. It was why Beatrice didn't speak to him, why his aunt Maryna was short and reserved when he tried. He had hurt everyone over the course of his entire life, over and over again.

He was trying to make up for almost twenty years of screwing up. "That's not true, I always come back. And we always reconnect. I'm not saying I deserve it, Lucy, but I know I messed up big this time. I know that it happens a lot, that I'm a flight risk. I'm trying to make up for so much, I don't know how. But it can't be too late to fix this."

There was always the possibility that it was too late, though. Rowan just hoped she loved him enough not to let things end so bitterly between them. She was his best friend, the only person he felt completely himself with. She had to know that, but he couldn't form the words.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

The second he replied, Lucy felt the urge to laugh in evident disbelief. It was a knee-jerk reaction, and she couldn't help the way it passed her lips, but so many aspects of this argument were positively laughable. A hand rushed its way through her hair, brushing the bulk to one side before her thumb crossed the line of it seconds later. Because were eyes were then quick to scan the room. The space behind her. The attentive eyes on her from the one other person who worked their. The owner.

So she stepped forward, offering a definite nod of her head to draw him to follow her out of the small building entirely. The last thing she wanted was a further scene in the place she worked, but it wasn't as if she knew where to take it. There was no privacy on the street, yet the second she walked out that door, she turned to look at him again. "I'm sick of reconnecting." She finally offered, a thoughtful statement as she forced herself to take another breath, counting the marks and times in which she had to try to calm herself by way of a slower intake of air.

"What; you get a hundred chances and everyone else only gets one?"

[Rowan Booker]

Rowan almost wished she'd slapped him because her words hurt more. She was sick of reconnecting. She was sick of what they had. Their friendship. The only relationship he'd had that was worth something to him outside of his family. Hell, she was his family in a sense. And she didn't want it anymore. His eyes glazed over and the flight risk was back. He could have left right then and there without a single glance back. And go where? Hell if he knew, but if she didn't want to reconnect, he had no reason for being in this state. Just like he had no reason to be in Boston.

"I never said that, Lucy. But it doesn't matter, does it? I've already dug myself a hole too big to get out of with you," He said in a strained tone. It took all he had not to just crumble to the ground because he'd successfully lost everything because of his own selfishness. He was so self involved that he hadn't seen what he was doing to her each time he left and now that he did, it was too late.

Rowan was trembling in an attempt not to make it worse for him by letting any tears escape. His chest was aching though, more than he expected it to. All he could do was stare ahead. Not at her, he couldn't. Row didn't even know what it was that he was looking at, but it was enough to keep him from losing it. "I wish I'm sorry was enough, I know it's not, but I am. I'm sorry for coming and going as I pleased and I'm sorry that I came back this time when I should have stayed gone."

This was it, wasn't it?

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

There was an immediate part of Lucy that wanted to argue that yes, he had forced himself too far away for her to pull him back inward again. A flight risk? Maybe. But she had known that from the first time she met him, and she let him linger anyway. He had always matched her so perfectly like that.

Though there was nothing private about an argument on the street, she was much more willing to have it than the former option. Crossed arms allowed her hands to squeeze tightly into her own body, as if the feeling would subside any other negativity in the space between them. But they were still there, and he was still doing his usual thing. He wasn't looking but she could tell he was doing his best to pour his heart out across the sidewalk so that it might properly reach her.

"What'm I meant to do with that? Hang out with you till you decide shit's way better everywhere else? Waiting around while you leave everything so cut and dry for months? That's not fair, Rowan. It shouldn't be so easy for you that you keep doing it." Because if nothing else, his time away had given her the opportunity to learn she wasn't so irreplaceable.

[Rowan Booker]

"It's not easy, Lucy. Have you thought about why I'd leave? Have you noticed that I only ever go back and forth between two places?" He was trying not to sound angry, but he was frustrated. He'd gotten himself into plenty of messes in his teenage years, yet somehow he had always managed to talk himself out of them. Teachers, exes, flings and even sometimes his own family, he could bullshit his way right out of trouble. He'd never tried it on Lucy because he knew she'd see right through him. She knew when he was full of it.

This was a time where he wasn't trying to bullshit his way out of the mess he'd created. He was trying to own up to it, trying to figure out how he was going to fix it. Rowan knew it wouldn't be easy, but he also hadn't been expecting this much resistance from her because he never had before. It was always him apologizing, giving her a smile and a playful show of affection and things leveled themselves out. This time, he could see the hole he'd dug himself was much deeper than he realized before.

"You're going to take everything I say as an excuse, but Lucy, Boston was my home before I came here. My cousin, my best friend before you and before I relied so heavily on Beat, is still there. I've never been good at letting go," He rubbed the back of his neck and wondered why he was even bothering to say this. "Maybe that's why I can't make up my fucking mind. But I always come back because of you. You're the only thing I have here anymore, Luck. And yet it's enough. Enough to make me hope that this is where I should be."

He was rambling at this point, expressing feelings that he tried not to touch. He just wanted her to understand. It was Rowcy always, even when he left. "I keep messing up and I know I always come back expecting things to be the same, but I know that this time it won't work like that. I know I have to show you that I'm trying, that I'm not going anywhere. And I'll do it. I just want to know that you won't give up on me."