Last Days of Summer

Romi

Romi

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Jude was prepared. Probably overprepared, if he was being honest with himself. He was talking to Broen, not sitting down to write his SATs, but he felt like the latter.

It was Friday. The last Friday of summer. Come Monday, he'd be in class, and who knew if Broen would still be hanging around the house by then.

He didn't know if Broen was better enough. But he wasn't sure if he was ever going to be better enough. It had started with good intentions, but ended up feeling like an excuse, an elaborate reason to put off talking about all the hard things that had stacked up on Jude's plate.

So he knocked on Broen's bedroom door carefully, steeling his nerves for something that probably wasn't even going to happen.
 
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Broen was trying. Going out, interacting with people, eating. He wasn't depressed. He knew what depression felt like, and this wasn't it. This was more. Waves and sudden snaps of emotion, trying to keep everything level. And beyond and behind it all, he had this nagging sense of fear.

So anytime he was feeling overwhelmed, he had taken to retreating back to the guest room he was currently using. And just lying in his bed and listening to music. It was a lull in the music that he heard the knock at his bedroom door and Broen's stomach turned a bit.

He got up and shuffled over to the door, wearing a baggy shirt and shorts. "Jude... oh..." Broen wasn't sure if he should be relieved or not. He rolled his neck and sighed. He kind of knew this was coming.

"How's uh... I mean, what's up?"
 
Romi

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Broen had obviously known it was coming. They'd all known. He was pretty sure every single person in the house had been expecting them to talk eventually--officer Genovese certainly had.

Jude shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot as he stood in teh doorway. Having Broen in the house was... weird. Not bad, but weird.

"I figured, uh, we could talk. I've got Cutthroat Kitchen on downstairs, if you want to watch that." Did Broen even know Cutthroat Kitchen? "I guess I mostly just don't want to... keep avoiding you."

Because it felt like that, even if he felt guilty for admitting it.
 
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Jude wanted to talk... great. Broen had noticed a significant difference in how his conversations with people had gone since Tuesday and if the pattern was going to hold he didn't want to be somewhere semi-public like a living room.

"Sure, we can talk. I'm not feeling TV though."

He pushed the door all the way open and went to sit on the edge of the bed. Hands on his knees, he looked over at Jude and pursed his lips. "So talk, I guess."
 
Romi

Romi

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This was, being realistic, exactly what he'd wanted to avoid. He didn't want it to be a thing. It felt like a thing though. He supposed it was inevitable, like it was going to be a thing no matter what.

How could it not be, considering the headmaster was dead? Considering that Broen was... what, almost a different person entirely?

Jude scooted inside, but he didn't sit. The tension was too much there.

"How's your side?" It felt like a cop-out to ask, because his real question was how's your brain, only his side felt like a much safer subject to ask about.
 
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"Healing, I guess. I think the actual hole is almost closed up at least. So I won't be ripping it open..."

Broen stared at Jude, his eyes flicking impassively from his face to his feet. Gauging him. Sizing him up. Broen sighed. "You don't give a shit about the fuckin bullet wound. Well. You do, but that's not why you're here."

"No," he said after a pause. "I'm not okay. But I'm fuckin' dealing." Because what the fuck else was he supposed to do?
 
Romi

Romi

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Right in one. Jude wasn't exactly good at hiding what he was thinking. He was a bit of a wear his heart on his sleeve kind of person. Plus it wasn't exactly a hard guess. Everyone wanted to know.

"Sorry," Jude said. "I know this is awkward. It's awkward for... for everyone, probably. I don't know how to say it, or even what I'm supposed to really say, but I guess I didn't really thank you for what you did back there. So... thanks."

Because no matter the consequences, or what had happened? Broen had saved them. Even if he hadn't known the consequences, he'd still snapped the belt buckle, giving up a power he'd used all the goddamn time, and part of that had been to keep everyone safe. Not just Zora. Everyone--Including Jude.

And if he hadn't, he'd probably be dead.
 
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"I was just doing my job. Killing motherfuckers because they came steppin. But... yeah, I get it."

Broen stopped and.flexed his fingers a bit, the motion he made when he was testing out a new power set to see what it did. He stopped and looked at Jude again.

"Tell me straight. They're really gone, aren't they?"
 
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He wasn't going to lie. Not to Broen. He wasn't going to say yes there's a spark, so he nodded.

"I wasn't in range when the Headmaster died. I just know that the next time you were in range, there wasn't anything."

There was no way to soften the blow. No way to be nice about it. Not even a shred.

"I'm sorry. I know they meant a lot to you."

In a lot of ways, Jude felt like Broen had defined himself by his powers. You but better, after all.
 
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Broen snorted and looked at the ceiling. That was what he figured. But for some reason, hearing it out loud didn't make him feel infinitely worse than he already did. "Yeah. Figures. Fuck me, right?"

"Jude, I don't know what I'm gonna fuckin do. Everything's fallen apart over three days, just when I was starting to get into a good rhythm. I've got... nothing. Fuck all. No powers. Probably no job. Definitely no job if fuckin Zora ends up behind bars..."
 
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