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Post by Benson Thomas on Nov 13, 2009 21:37:04 GMT -5
No one in particular was he looking for, nothing in particular was he looking at. He hadn't called anybody, somebody had called him. He wasn't waiting for anybody, somebody was supposedly waiting for him. He wasn't going to believe that--he had no reason to.
He was just surprised the caller held no shame in shipping him out in the first place. And now he was summoning him back?--and why; because his brother wasn't fit for the job like he had been? even though he had said that he didn't belong in the family? Benson was having trouble swallowing the ellusive logic. Standing at the edge of the bridge, holding onto a wire for reassurance that there was stability around him; that he wasn't just floating above his problem or that his problem wasn't hovering over him and raining on his head, he he looked over onto the murky water, the sunset behind him, wind blowing over his face soothingly, like fingertips brushing against him, as if the breeze was the real thing that was calling him home.
Not the person on the other end of the telephone.
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Post by Andrua Thomas on Nov 13, 2009 21:47:09 GMT -5
It wasn't exactly a panic when she woke up and Benson wasn't there. It was just that...well, he never left her alone in bed. He always woke her up, told her where he was going or what was going on. So she was... Worried. Just a little worried. Curious even. But not panicked. So when she ran up to Colette and asked her breathlessly if she knew where Benson was, she wasn't panicking.
Colette had chuckled softly at her intense eyes and patted her shoulder reassuringly. Then she pointed her to the Manhattan Bridge, as she had heard Benson muttering something about it as he had left Biella.
So now she was traipsing across the bridge, certain she was going to get run over or fall to her death or something. All because she loved her fucking boyfriend and know something had to be up. She saw his silhouette and knew it was him. Because, honestly, who the hell else would be out here? Normally, seeing one at the edge of the bridge would bring thoughts of attempted suicide and all that. But Andrua didn't worry about that, not at all. She knew her Benson, he wouldn't think anything like that.
"hey," she called softly, drawing closer. A few feet from him, she stopped, leaning her back against the rail and taking up a nonchalant pose. "So, the bed was empty when I woke up." Looking to him, though, her eyes with real concern. "Everything all right?"
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Post by Benson Thomas on Nov 13, 2009 21:52:06 GMT -5
Petite footsteps interrupted his mesmorizing stare out onto the water, but he didn't flinch, or take an extra blink, or even look to see if it really was who he thought. The softness of the voice told him, anyway. Releasing the wire, he gripped the bar in front of him nonchalantly instead, narrowed, concentrated eyes evading her presence. "Hey," he returned inside a sigh. There was no reason to be closed-off, though he did want to get some legitimate thoughtfulness into tonight.
Benson didn't answer to her attempt at wit, or her question, because, frankly, he didn't know how. He didn't like showing these signs of weakness around her--around anybody. He was even scared to tell himself this was happening to him. Picking up his eyes, he met hers, knowing that he trusted her. He wanted to share this with her; he knew she would make his burden hers and help him through it.
Right?
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Post by Andrua Thomas on Nov 13, 2009 22:02:42 GMT -5
She dropped her head to the side gently, eyes caring. She stepped from the railing, moving toward him. She stopped before making contact, though, not sure if that's what he wanted. Swallowing, she licked her lips and let out a soft breath. Something was very wrong. So wrong that he couldn't find it in him to tell her. She knew he had a problem admitting vulnerability at times. But... She wanted to help him. And she couldn't help him if he didn't tell her what was wrong.
"What is it, babe?" she asked, voice soft enough to get carried by the wind. "Please, you've got me worried now."
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Post by Benson Thomas on Nov 13, 2009 22:09:13 GMT -5
A low, dry chuckle came out of him then, and he reached to touch her hand, shaking his head. She was warm, and soft, and he suddenly found it hard to keep himself from indulging in an embrace. Restraining, he sighed once more, looking out onto the darkening sky. "My dad called," he choked, his voice dropping off halfway through the phrase, picking back up at an unstable pitch and consistency. Though he was focused on his breaths, what he was staring at, and the quickness of his mind, his fingers entwined with hers, as if his body was crying out for some sort of comfort.
It was just a simple phone call, but somehow everything seemed to be turned upside down. He'd been cast away for so long, this had him frightened. Benson didn't want to face the newness of what had become of his family and their lives. He had formed his own way, and wasn't sure if he ever wanted to face what he had left, or what had become of what he had left.
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Post by Andrua Thomas on Nov 13, 2009 22:16:13 GMT -5
He really was frightening her now, the way he was acting. This was not her happy-go-lucky Benson. His fingers wrapped in hers and she moved to him immediately. Something in her knew instinctively that this was what he needed. She slipped between him and the rail, putting her arms around his waist. Holding him close, she laid her head on his chest and just reveled in his closeness a moment.
"What'd he have to say?" she asked gently. She knew about things with him and his family, especially his father. It was strained, to say the least. So a phone call from the man.... Well, it wouldn't be easy on Benson, of course.
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Post by Benson Thomas on Nov 13, 2009 22:24:41 GMT -5
Clearing his throat, he was uneasy about going on after that, not necessarily regretting saying something in the first place, but certainly being uncomfortable with revealing so much in such a short period of time. He'd only had a few hours to go over this in his head, and that wasn't nearly enough for this man. Benson didn't know this kind of weakness, this kind of openness that was done to him against his will. It was like the call alone had torn him open and exposed him to all of these things he didn't know, didn't want to know, and wasn't ready for. And now he had to face them.
Thank God he didn't have to face them alone. He put his arms around Andrua and pulled her close, resting his lips on her head and pursing a few kisses there.
He sighed, looking away, face strained, distressed. "Hi, how've y'been," he went over, trying to keep his voice from slipping away again. "Pip and Ma miss ya. What's it like bein' a freak. They treatin' y'good. Y'gotta come home 'cause your brother sucks at your job. Don't tell me y'gonna bring a girlfriend, 'cause I know y'would, anyway. Stop makin' fun of my Brooklyn accent, y'jackass. Yer Ma wants t'see ya, so get y'ass home, okay? Thanks. Bye."
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Post by Andrua Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 0:47:29 GMT -5
She turned her face into him, snuggling into his broad chest. One of her hands slipped lower than his waist, tucking into the back pocket of his jeans. She listened then as he described the conversation. It was hard not to get mad, not to say anything, when he mentioned the "freak" part. He was not a freak. She couldn't believe his father was so casual with his prejudice; against his own son no less. So, his family wanted him home because they needed something from him. Figured. No, that was wrong. She shouldn't be so quick to go against his family. "Sucks at your job?" she asked, not quite understanding. Then she bit her lip a little and backed up, meeting his eyes. "This mean we're going to your home, or...?" She was down with whatever he wanted to do. This one was up to him.
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Post by Benson Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 0:56:27 GMT -5
His chest seized with anger at his father's ignorance and guilt at what he was in the first place. Benson's arms coiled a little tighter around her, though making sure he wasn't about to smother her or something in his chest. Giving a one-shouldered shrug, he sighed before responding. "Alex is the first born, so he was supposed to take over Pa's job and whatnot," he threw away his words one by one. "But since I can speak every language, they were gonna give it to me. Then they shipped me out."
Benson snorted loudly to her question and shook his head, trying not to laugh. "Pssh, you can. To fuck if I am. Gotta light me on fire before you get me to go there."
He frowned deeply now. "Somethin's probably up with Alex, too, y'know? I mean, Pop wouldn't call out of thin air, or because Xander 'sucks at my job' when it wasn't even my job to begin with."
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Post by Andrua Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 1:06:38 GMT -5
She nodded then, understanding the situation now. She didn't have to be a telepath to sense his ire toward his family. It was a hinderance because she wanted so much to help him but she wasn't sure how. How did she approach it? Would he be mad if she mentioned it? Would he close up? shake it off as nothing? A soft sigh escaped her lips.
Her lips quirked into an uncomfortable smile. The ease with which he dismissed his family worried her. "Would it really be that bad?" It was her way of attempting to approach the subject. Half-joking, half-serious. She wasn't going to push this one on him but... She just wanted him to be sure of his decision, think it through properly.
"Maybe he's thinking like you now?" she offered. "Maybe he doesn't want the family business in his life any more. Did he have anything he really enjoyed? Like you with footballing?"
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Post by Benson Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 1:10:59 GMT -5
Anything he enjoyed? Benson couldn't really say. He and his brother were never that close. Scratching the back of his head, he shrugged again, letting go of her and leaning over the banister to take a deep breath of the poluted air. "Couldn't tell you, really, how bad it would be," he replied. "Could've changed, could've gotten worse, could've stayed the same." Putting his face in his hands, he wiped it down, as if to remove all signs of emotion from it. "Fuck me," he groaned despicably. Erecting himself, he looked over at her with a silly smirk on his face. "This is so dumb of me, isn't it. I'm making a huge thing out of a phone call. It's just my family, right? What've I got to be worried about?" Tossing his hands up, he looked to the cars passing by and shouted, "What the hell have I got to be worried about!?" Jesus, that felt good.
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Post by Andrua Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 1:27:25 GMT -5
"Maybe you should call him," she suggested. "Get the whole story?" Sure, he wasn't close to his brother but... Well, it had to be better than talking to his dad, right? At his distressed posture and noises, she moved closer to him, hugging him from behind. Standing on her tiptoes, she laid a few gentle kisses on the skin just above his collar. She hated to see him, feel him so upset over this. She just wanted to make it better for him.
At his question, she pulled her lower lip under her teeth, her fingers immediately going to play with the chain around her neck. She was about to tell him that it wasn't dumbat all. If that's how he felt, then that's how he felt. No shame in anything. But he was yelling out at the cars before she got the chance.
Giggling, she shook her head at his antics. She caught one of his hands and pulled herself into him, still chuckling. "You're insane," she murmured against his neck.
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Post by Benson Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 1:31:15 GMT -5
And complicate things, and actually have to face his brother, his father, too? What rock had she been living under and who did she think she was, dishing out these options? Heaving a sigh, Benson touched her head with his, leaning on her a little, not so much where it would be unbearable for her. He pointed to his apathetic face. "You realize who you're dealing with here, right?" he chuckled, breaking his straight expression.
"That I am," he agreed, lightening his mood, for her. No sense in getting her all tied up in knots because of his mood. He strung his arm around her waist, the other resting over her shoulder and fiddling with the hairs on the back of her head. "They should at least throw something for my trouble."
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Post by Andrua Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 1:42:32 GMT -5
She sighed through her nose and raised an eyebrow. Oh hell yeah, she knew who she was dealing with. Benson Thomas: most stubborn fuck around. She pulled a funny face in response to his apathetic one and tapped his head with hers gently. "You are one stubborn mother-fucker, you know that?" she joked.
She reveled in him holding her, letting the muscles throughout her body relax. "Yeah, because that's what I need: to be pelted with garbage. Thanks so much; who ever said romance is dead?" She could help falling into giggles though and cuddled closer to him. After letting the silence (between them, at least; the cacophony that was New York City still thrived around them) linger a moment, Andrua exhaled and slipped her eyes shut. "Are you all right?" she confirmed.
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Post by Benson Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 1:49:59 GMT -5
"As far as I know, my fuck is not a mother, thank you very much," he retorted, and all right, it was a shitty counter, but he wasn't in the mood to come up with something totally original and witty, and how in the world did she expect him to be thinking of humor when she was so goddamn close to him...? "Unless of course there's something you haven't told me," he further the bad joke, shrugging it away afterwards. "And yes, I do know."
Slouching to show his displeasure in her sarcastic acceptance of his idea, he sighed. "You make me feel bad about myself," he laughed inwardly, shaking his head and bringing her nearer to him. To her question he let out a sharp exhale, looking in some far-off direction. "Nope," he replied, popping the "p" at the end, tone lighthearted and airy, not wanting to linger on it.
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Post by Andrua Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 1:56:14 GMT -5
She rolled her eyes at the lame comeback and shook her head. She wouldn't even respond to that. Any of that. She needed a new boyfriend. One who didn't make bad jokes. Too bad she was irrevocably in love with this one. No getting rid of him; she wouldn't be able to tolerate it.
"I make you feel wonderful about yourself," she challenged. At his neative response to her question, though, her levity dropped. Groaning, she burrowed her face into his neck and held him tight. Stubborn mother-fucker. "Bennie," she drawled against his skin, frustrated. Her hands slipped under his shirt, fingers trailing over his bare spine.
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Post by Benson Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 2:00:50 GMT -5
"Well; what? You want me to get better instantly? Sorry, try plugging me into a different outgoing electric circuit, maybe this robot will work better," he burbled, throwing his arms up, though his tone wasn't irate. Laughing--the giddy, confused, stressed, even, laugh--he put his hands underneath her arms and picked her up for a moment. "Sorry I don't work at the snap of your magical fingers, Abigail Williams. I'm not under your power yet," he chuckled, setting her back down on her feet after a brief twirl.
((Haha! Riley made a Winona Ryder joke!! Shut up, you love me.))
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Post by Andrua Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 2:12:40 GMT -5
[]
"No, Bennie," she countered, pulling away from him. "I want you to talk to me, tell me why you're not all right!" she scoffed, turned away from him to gaze out at the water and New York skyline. As his odd behavior persisted, though, she crossed her arms over her chest, perking a brow at him.
"All right, what the fuck are you on?" she asked gently. She stepped close to him, holding his face steady in her hands. "Talk, Ben. Tell me what about that phone call has got you so riled up and acting...like this?" Because her frustration and ire had given way to just concern now. This was not her Benson. Something was wrong.
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Post by Benson Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 2:18:07 GMT -5
"Hey," he snapped, his tone lowering a little in seriousness, "I'm under some emotional fucking distress, okay?" He cleared his throat after his voice cracked. "Inferring I'm on drugs is not..." Unable to surmise the right words, he sighed, shaking it off and leaning on the rail alongside her. The pressure to tell what was wrong made him anxious. Bringing his elbows in, he started to peel the paint off of the bridge and flick it into the water.
"Ever think maybe I don't wanna talk?" he replied hotly, voice sharpened with the edge of a blade. With women, it always seemed to be about openness and being able to talk out problems. Couldn't fucking stand it sometimes.
Maybe he was acting puerile, and pitiful, even. Ben would admit he was rusty at this whole organization of emotionals deal.
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Post by Andrua Thomas on Nov 14, 2009 2:26:27 GMT -5
This had turned into an argument, fast. That's not what Andrua had meant but...she had a temper so it was hard for her to stop even though she really didn't want to be fighting him. She crossed her arms over her chest again, with more vigor than earlier, and shook her head. "Well, then, what the fuck, Benson? What d'you want from me, then? Please just tell me; what do you need me to do, in this situation, to make you feel better?"
A trucked blasted past going far, far above the speed limit. It left a siren wail effect in its wake and blew Andrua's short hair up, making the hood on her hoodie dance. She didn't react to the movement though, keeping her eyes deadset on his. Sure, her tone had been angry, but the words were sincere enough. She was willing to do whatever it took to help him out here.
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