lady_mab | Meliora - Extricate

Lysander Stavros

Before heading back to her place, we had to stop by Catoir's so Ayn could grab her things. Her cellphone and her keys, her sweater, her wallet. I don't ask, and she doesn't offer an explanation. I'm not going to be that ex who pries into her personal affairs. I know better than that when it comes to the two of them.

Our trips are made in silence. She doesn't look like she has any more words left in her. Her hands are folded demurely in her lap as we sit on the train -- empty but for a few people going in for late shifts or university classes. It's the middle of the day. I never called in to work. A part of me wonders if I should even bother.

After this, I'll be gone. On to a new city, a new country. I won't look back at Eminence.

We approach Ayn's building, and she lifts her chin the moment we step through the doors. Putting on a facade so that if anyone saw her, they wouldn't know something was wrong.

Up the stairs. Down the hall, around a corner and there he is. Jonas leans against the doorframe of her apartment, trying to appear as casual as she is. He has his arms folded over his chest and looks for all the world that we have kept him waiting too long.

"Fuck off, Jonas," Ayn says the moment she's standing beside him. She doesn't hesitate as she reaches out to insert her keys into the lock.

He looks worse than usual, his hair a mess and clothes frumpled. But the glare that he shoots both of us has his usual level of spite, so I'm not too worried. "Took your time getting back here."

"You should have headed to the Temple. Could have had a drink with us to celebrate." Ayn shoulders open the door with a bit more force than necessary. "Henrik stopped by, too. We have a lovely chat."

Something sours his expression, and he swallows it down to maintain his normal level of disinterest. "What a charming reunion. Did you give him the files?"

Ayn is halfway through her door when she stops and turns to look at him in disbelief. "You honestly think I would have done that?"

"Just had to make sure."

"Jonas, after everything you've done for me," she says, pressing her hand to her chest to increase the level of sarcasm, "I would never think of giving away this final gift."

His lips thin. His eyes, normally a vibrant color due to contacts, are an odd, ghostly grey. The hair and the sass are enough indicators to who he is, but everything else is off. "You know why we did it, Ayn."

"No, I don't, and at this point, I couldn't be damned to care." She levels him with one final look, no more fight left in her. "Goodbye, Jonas Quinn. When I come out of this apartment, I want you to be gone."

He holds up his hands in deference to her command and she steps away.

I move to follow her, not wanting to say anything more to him. I don't know what their fight is. It doesn't involve me.

Jonas speaks up before I get the chance to move more than a pace. "She spent the night with him, you know."

I figured, but I don't bother acknowledging his jab. "So what?"

"I was just wondering how you felt knowing that she valued him more than she does you." Jonas inspects his nails as he speaks. This is his normal level of vitriol, delivered evenly and sometimes even with a smile. It's completely unnecessary.

I pull the door closed so that Ayn can't hear our conversation. "What the actual fuck is your problem?"

This catches him off guard, and he looks up at me with thinly veiled surprise.

"Ever since we first met, you have been out to get me for no reason. You've belittled people and things that I hold dear, and for the life of me, I can't figure out what kind of chip you have on your shoulder that leads you to this." I shake my head, running a hand back through my hair, wanting for all the world to just catch a break in this situation.

There's too many things being piled up in front of me that I just don't have a stake in. Yet there they go, throwing themselves at my feet.

Jonas' eyes are wide, and he does a very poor job of recovering before trying to shrug it off. "I don't like most people."

"No, but you don't have to be such a fucking asshole about it all the time." At my wit's end, I pull back the sleeves of my shirt so he can see the lingering scars. "I want you to know something. And this isn't because I have to explain myself to you, but it's so you can know just what kind of choices you're making when you talk to people like that.

Despite himself, Jonas stares at the marks, face twisting into some kind of disgust. "I told you I already knew you were an addict. You don't have to rub my victory in my face."

"It's not about that. It's about the fact that you discredited my success to reach this point. You didn't give a shit about how much I had to go through to stop using, and you wrote it off with your usual flippant shrug." My hands are shaking, and I hate myself for getting so worked up over this. I know where I stand with my own personal record, but the last thing I needed was for someone who knew nothing to try and shrug it off. "This is a very serious matter. Yes, I ruined years of my life and relationships because of it. I never got to give her a proper chance because of it." I point at the door, thinking back to how we met because Ayn’s mother thought it would be a good idea to help the teenagers living in the streets of New Oxford, where I just happened to be passing through for a time.

"You talk and talk about stuff you don't know anything about, and it makes you look like an idiot. You would not stop insulting Ayn just because she was close to someone you cared about, and you would not stop insulting me just because of my association with her. But even before that, when you had to make a choice between myself and Kaito."

"I--" he starts, but I don't give him the chance to try and explain himself.

"You hate and you hate, and you make people hate you back. And you think that's fine, that you don't care, because you have those that you care about to keep you company." I step forward and, not even bothering to fix my sleeve, jab my finger into his chest.

Jonas stumbles back a few steps from the force. I'm bigger than he is. I have the strength of anger behind me, and he's clearly been caught off guard.

"Catoir is dead, and we're going to leave. And all that you're going to have left is your sad, stupid anger and nowhere to put it." And with that, I push Ayn's door open and step into her apartment.

I slam the door shut on Jonas' startled face.

Ayn isn't in her room, but I can hear the shower running. I don't bother her.

Shaking, I drop down onto the edge of her bed and run a hand back through my hair. I shouldn't have let myself get so worked up over that. Everything I had been holding on to for these past few months just came spilling out.

I don't even notice that the shower has cut off or that Ayn has returned until her hand lands on my forearm. Her pale fingers hide the scars. I look up to watch her face.

Her expression is quiet, thoughtful, but she doesn't say anything. Just presses her hand a bit harder, so that when she pulls away, there's an imprint of her fingers that quickly fades back to my skin tone. "I hope you punched him," she says as she ties back her hair. She's wearing jeans and a sweater.

"Only with my words. I didn't want to make a scene in the hall."

I help her pack two suitcases, which had been stored into the back of her closet since her move out here a few years ago. She doesn't spend too much time worrying about what to bring. Most of it is clothes, anyway, and she figures she can donate what she doesn't bring.

"What about the studio?" I ask as she packs away her ballet slippers. "I thought you came all the way out here to dance."

She looks up from where she's crouched alongside the suitcase. "There's plenty of places to dance. I just... So much has happened here. It's not worth it. It's not worth all the grief to stay here just because I like their studio." She zips up the bag with a bit more force. "Luckily our season just ended so they don't have to worry about me leaving. Plenty of others who can take my spot."

In the end, she has two suitcases and her gym bag packed full with whatever she thinks necessary enough. When we step out of the hall, Jonas is gone.

My place is easier. I'm used to packing less. I have one bag to sling over my shoulder and a duffle filled with enough clothes to get me to wherever I'm going next. I'll worry about whatever else when I figure out where that stop is.

"You'll be coming to New Ox, won't you?" Ayn asks as we catch the train to the City Center. "You'll stay?"

"For as long as I can," I say, though neither of us look at each other as we speak.

Perhaps it's easier to keep the illusion that everything is okay if we don't look.

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