fandomtownies | The Perk, Monday Afternoon

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celia bowen

The Perk, Monday Afternoon

Mother's Day had come and gone and Will had managed to push most of his melancholy down and back behind the door where he kept everything that threatened to make him a hollow husk. Repression was a mighty powerful thing.

The first thing Will had done when he'd woken up that morning was go on a very, very long run. He'd run until his legs ached and his lungs burned and only when he thought he couldn't go any further had he stopped. Stopping had put him right in front of the Perk so Will had decided to go inside to cool down and enjoy the air conditioner in there.

After ordering something cool, he found a spot near the window and stretched out, slowly cooling down and relaxing. His legs felt a little like jelly and he thought there might be a mild sunburn on his face and arms but otherwise, he felt pretty decent, pretty good.

As long as he didn't think too much or too deeply, he'd be fine.

[Open post, open place]

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"I mean, I think the solution here is for you to make fewer faces," Celia said, not at all serious as she leaned across the table to lightly touch his cheek. It had been a long time since she'd done something like this, so she closed her eyes to concentrate, and within a moment, his skin should have been feeling cool and lightly tingly.

"I like making faces though," he murmured, reaching up to cover her hand with his. His face did feel cool and tingly but her hand felt pretty nice too.

"I like when you make faces, too, but not if it hurts," Celia said softly, smiling and gently stroking a finger along his cheek. You know, while her hand was there, anyway. (She wasn't planning on moving it, excuses aside.)

"It doesn't hurt that bad," Will told her, shaking his head and taking his hand away but only after he'd slid a few fingers down her wrist. "I'm tough. I can manage a little pain if it means I get to make great faces."

"Sacrifice in the name of face-making," Celia mused, trailing her finger along his jaw before pulling her hand back. "I do have to admire dedication to a cause. You must've been out running for awhile, though."

She left the question of why unspoken, since she knew sometimes with him it was just to run and sometimes it was a head-clearing exercise.

"Several hours," Will said, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand. "One of my longer runs since I got here. Pretty sure I saw the same sights maybe four or five times."

"Doesn't it get boring?" Celia wondered, sipping her tea thoughtfully. "I get bored looking at the same things while not exerting myself."

Will shook his head. "Hasn't yet. I use that time to think about things or to not think about things. I can clear my head a lot easier when I'm running then when I'm not."

And that was what she was looking for, there. "Anything in particular on your mind -- or not on your mind, as the case may be?" she asked with a slight note of concern.

"It was Mother's Day yesterday," he explained, shrugging. "I was trying to get that out of my head."

"I didn't know there's a special day for mothers," Celia noted, eyebrows lifting in surprise. "...it's probably best I didn't, all things considered." She shook her head, then looked at him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he said, nodding. "I was a little sad yesterday and spent the day on my own but I'm good now."

That was mostly true.

"A good, long run helps."

"That makes sense," Celia said quietly. "I mean, not really -- I think I'd probably actually faint for the first time in my life if I tried to run for longer than a few minutes -- but doing something familiar that doesn't require much concentration. I used to change my dresses into different colors when I was upset. Or...build sandcastles, but that's more of a recent thing. It's soothing, to just let go for awhile."

"Did you ever run out of colors for your dresses?" Will wondered. "It seems like there'd be a finite number of colors to go with."

"That's where it gets fun," she said with a small smile. "I can turn something from gray to blue, but there's thousands upon thousands of different blues to choose from, and I can make every thread just slightly different from the last, if I put my mind to it." She waved a hand. "That's not what I normally do, though, when I change things. I keep it simpler in the day-to-day. But when I was angry at my father, or sad about my mother...it's something to concentrate on, that I can control. Do you know what I mean?"

Will nodded. "I do. That's why I tend to run. I can control how far I go, how fast I go, where I go, and how exhausted I get. It's a lot easier than pretending I can control how I feel because I've given up on doing that. Sometimes, I'm just gonna feel bad."

Celia was already nodding before he'd finished. "And as much as I try to control most things, I can't do anything about other people, and sometimes, they're going to hurt me. I think having an outlet like that is important. In my case, it keeps me from breaking the china by accident...plus it just feels better to do something."

"No one's hurt you recently, have they?" Will asked, focusing on that part of her statement because he could.

"I sprained my ankle at work last week and had to fix it, but no, nothing intentional or not brought on by my being clumsy," she said, looking down at her cup. "Not since I've been here at all, really. I'm starting to get the impression that my childhood wasn't really normal, that way."

And really, she'd always known that. But now she could at least admit it.

Will smiled slightly at her.

"I think we're alike there," he told her quietly. "You were hurt a lot intentionally when you were younger?"

He said it easily so he wouldn't get too upset and upset her.

Celia smiled, a little bitterly. "You remember what I told you about my hand and the paperweight?" she asked softly, raising her brows. "That's just the beginning. My father believed in very practical lessons."

But something he'd said worried her. "But...not you, too?" She couldn't stand the idea that somewhere out there, someone had hurt Will as badly as Hector had repeatedly hurt her.

"No, no nothing like that," Will said, shaking his head. "I more meant that my childhood wasn't normal, that's all. I wasn't hurt. My parents weren't like that."

He smiled reassuringly. "How much of a beginning do you mean? Did it get worse?"

Celia shrugged a little, feeling a bit shy about it, and held out her hands, palms up. "I've healed each of these," she wiggled her fingertips, "at least a hundred times each. He cuts them open, and I have to heal them quickly so as not to lose too much blood."

She said it softly, but casually, as though it didn't bother her and was just a fact.

Edited 2014-05-13 00:19 (UTC)

"That's...savage," Will said since it was the first word that popped into his head. "There are better ways to teach control or whatever that lesson might be. That's terrible."

Celia sighed, looking down at her hands before closing them and hiding them back under the table, a little ashamed. "It wasn't just me. He killed a bird, once, to make me feel bad for not being able to heal it. I...still can't heal people or animals other than myself. I'm not sure that one worked. The others all did. I can fix my skin and bones perfect, with my eyes shut."

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