“Mr. Seamus, I don’t take cha-“
“Charity,” A voice finished for me in the doorway. I turned to see Fitz leaning there, smirking devilishly. “We know, we know. God, you’re like a broken record. An irritatingly stubborn one. Are those pajama pants you’re wearing?”
I made a mock-curtsey. “Designer.”
“Horrific,” Seamus added his opinion of them off-handedly as he packed up his sewing gear.
“Not that I’m not grateful, but I would’ve be fine with Target,” I said, ignoring Seamus’ gasp of offense. “But Wolf just brought me straight here.”
Fitz patted Seamus on the back and laughed. “Yeah, no. Wolf doesn’t exactly….like doing things like normal people. He just does whatever he’s used to. And Seamus tailors all our stuff, so, to him this is basically where we get clothes from.”
I massaged my forehead. “What a bizarre way to live.”
“You should’ve seen him when we took him to a drive-thru for the first time. The food came and his eyes bugged out and he went ‘already’?”
I laughed. “He might not know the merits of basic shopping outlets, but he definitely helped me this morning. So there’s that.”
“Oh?” Fitz quirked a brow. “Do tell.”
“No,” I scowled. “I get your whole thing, now, Fitzwilliam. You’re just going to taunt him with it if I tell you.”
“Rats,” he snapped, and put on an accent. “She’s figured me out, Seamus. Whatever shall I do?”
“Might I suggest retiring? It worked out very well for me,” Seamus offered.
“How did you guys know we were here?” I asked Fitz. He shrugged.
“We didn’t. Had to pick up a new set of uniforms – Burn’s been outgrowing his pretty much every week for the past four years.”
I changed into the casual black pants Seamus whipped up and followed Fitz back out to the living room, still half-shy about the whole dress thing. Seamus gave Burn his uniform and the Blackthorn brothers left, but I lingered.
"I owe you, Mr. Seamus."
The old man winked. "Not very much, though."
I made to leave, but Seamus called me back in the doorway.
"Miss Bee?" I turned. Seamus beamed. "Please take care of those boys. Wolf, especially. I've never seen him look at someone quite the way he looks at you."
It felt like a thousand degrees in the room all of a sudden. I cleared my throat and hurried out the door, Seamus waving from his porch. I jogged up behind Fitz and Burn, the two of them leaning against Burn's red convertible. Wolf was putting his helmet on. None of them could see me, yet.
" - even know what a date is?" Fitz laughed. "I know you and he-who-must-not-be-named never went on one.”
"I just said it to get her dad out of his room," Wolf scoffed. "It was never going to be a real date."
"Because you definitely don't like her," Fitz drawled. "Even though you can't stop talking about her all the time, and the second you see her frumpy ass in something remotely girly you start gaping like an idiot."
I froze in place. Wolf's eyes flashed at Fitz. Burn heaved a sigh.
"You are seriously acting weird, lately, Wolf."
Wolf pulled his helmet off, dark hair askew and sparks all but flying from his gaze.
"It has nothing to do with her," He snarled.
"Oh, I'm sorry – but I'm pretty sure the moment you asked me to hack Dad's computer for that essay and read it was the moment you got all obsessed with her." Fitz argued.
His words rung like a five-times struck bell in my head. Wolf Blackthorn? Obsessed? With me? Wolf closed the distance between Fitz and him, Burn shifting as if he was getting ready to put himself in the way if the situation escalated.
"I'm not...obsessed," Wolf pointed in Fitz's face. "I pity her. That's all it is - pity. I was her, alright? You know that. You saw me back then. I was just like her, and every time I see her face I'm reminded of how pathetic I was."
Pity. Pathetic. All the good feelings I'd amassed towards him or what he did this morning went cold, inert. I heard Fitz chuckle.
"Just because she has a sick dad -"
"You don't know what it's like," Wolf hissed, with so much venom I felt poisoned just listening. "You don't know what it's like to wait around for someone to kill themselves. You have no idea what it's like to hear someone you care about say they'll do it, knowing there's nothing you can do to stop them."
Fitz knitted his mouth shut. Wolf didn't.
"You wait, and the fear infects you like a maggot, eats you from the inside. Every waking moment you're apart from them, you imagine all the different ways they could be dying. Dead. And all you can do is stand there and say 'I'm here for you'."
"And that’s enough -" Fitz started.
"But what if that’s not enough?" Wolf pressed. "What if your best isn't enough to save them? Then what? What if you try desperately, every day, to give them a reason to stay alive, even if it means you cut off parts of yourself like a sacrificial offering?"
Burn stepped up. "Wolf –”
"I'm done." Wolf ignored him, turning furiously on his heel and putting his helmet on. "You guys can never understand, and I'm done taking your shit about her. She's nothing to me, and she never will be."
It felt like a frigid iron stake had been shot through my heart as I watched Wolf get on his bike and drive away. But why the hell did it hurt so bad to hear him say that stuff? I knew he didn't care about me - I never expected him to. We hated each other, at school, out of school. Today was just some freak experience, like a blue moon or an aurora in the sky. The quiet moments between us meant nothing. I meant nothing.
And he meant nothing to me.
I squared my shoulders and repeated it to myself. He meant nothing to me. He tried to take my scholarship. He was confrontational and nasty. Nothing about him was appealing.
If I said it enough times, that would make it true.
"Hey guys!" I bounced up to Fitz and Burn, looking around. "Oh, did Wolf leave?"
Burn quirked a brow. He and Wolf shared a love of that motion.
"That's one way of putting it."