The Church and Its Orbs - Deserving
More The Church and Its Orbs. This scene is related to a plot development that was *very much* my characters deciding to do something without my telling them to do it. Oh, characters!
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Someone knocks on the door as I’m pacing in Diana and Jocelyn’s guest room. My heart leaps into my throat. Since I leave for Harmony in less than a week, my nerves have frayed to just before the breaking point. I don’t go to open the door. After that incident, I can’t think properly and don’t want to talk to anybody. While I don’t normally pace, I have been doing it a lot lately.
“Gemma?” Diana’s voice filters through the door, muffled.
“What is it?” I call.
“You -- have a visitor.”
“Who is it?”
It can’t be Wren, can it? I don’t want to see anybody else. In fact, I’m not sure I want to see her, only I want nothing more than to see her.
“It’s Brandon -- he says it’s important,” Diana mutters.
Brandon? What could he want? My heart leaps into my throat again -- does he know? After all, I kissed his girlfriend. It was a strange accident, but I wanted it. I still want it.
I know it’s wrong and impossible, but I can’t get my heart to listen to reason. Do hearts ever listen to reason?
Though I want to tell Diana I can’t see him, I don’t. Delaying this meeting won’t do any good. Even so, I don’t know what I’ll say to Brandon. What if he doesn’t know and wants to see me for some other reason? Do I tell him? Part of me thinks it should be Wren who reveals what happened. If he does know, why would he want to visit? Already, the secret weighs on me, more so because I can’t feel as guilty as I should.
“Um, I’ll meet him,” I mutter.
“He’s in the living room.”
“A-alright.” I look at the mirror and force myself to take some deep breaths. My face broadcasts my nervousness, but I can’t do much about that. I’ll just tell Brandon any anxiety is from having to leave for Harmony soon.
When I arrive in the living room, Brandon sits on an armchair, wearing a troubled expression. At first, he doesn’t notice me. He looks down at the floor, his eyes shadowed. My stomach twists, but I manage to walk over to him.
“Hey Brandon,” I murmur.
His eyes meet mine. From closer up, I notice...tearstains? He’s been crying, hasn’t he? My twisting stomach sinks as I think of just what would make him cry.
“Hey,” he says.
I settle into the loveseat that sits across the coffee table from the armchair, not wanting to be too close to him. “What -- what are you doing here?” I say.
Brandon doesn’t answer. His eyes return to staring at the the ground. Silence stretches between us. “You’re leaving soon,” he says.
“Yes, I know.” I get the feeling he wants to say something else, so I wait for him to continue. Another silence between us grows, longer and heavier than the one before. Guilt eats at me as I watch Brandon, though I still can’t regret the kiss. It’s as if I’m feeling guilty for not feeling enough guilt, if such a thing is possible.
“Are you -- sure about this?” he murmurs.
“We don’t have a choice,” I sigh, still thinking he wants to say something else.
He shakes his head. “No, we don’t have a choice.”
I shift in my seat, finding the air too solid and oppressive for proper breathing. Biting my lip, I try to think of what to say next.
“Why are you really here?” I mutter.
Brandon flexes his fingers, bending them one after the other. “It’s -- it’s Wren.”
My stomach drops to my feet, but I try to school my face into an expression of mild curiosity. “What about her?”
“She said...she doesn’t -- doesn’t deserve me,” he sighs, looking down at the ground.
“Excuse me?” I say, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. Wren’s words make a sick kind of sense, as she did cheat on Brandon. That would be a reason to not “deserve” someone.
He shrugs. “That’s just it -- she didn’t say anything else, just ran away. I’m not...even sure if she broke up with me or not. She won’t return my calls.”
“That’s -- odd.”
Saying something like that and running away isn’t that strange for Wren, given what I know of her personality. Brandon doesn’t have the information I do, though.
“Isn’t it?” he murmurs. He doesn’t stop fidgeting with his fingers, and his agitation increases my own. “Do you -- have any idea what’s going on with her? Did I -- did I do something?” Hurt flashes across his face, and I wince.
Brandon’s state is my fault. His pain reflects back to me, but I can’t make myself regret kissing Wren. Since he asked if I know anything, I feel more obligation to tell him what happened. He might well blame himself for Wren’s puzzling behavior, and that isn’t fair to him. Brandon didn’t mess anything up. I stare at the ground, my hands folded in my lap. Now, I remain still, as if any wrong move will cause my secret to come tumbling out.
“I…” I have no idea what to say.
“If you know anything, please tell me,” he says, the pain thickening his voice.
How do I refuse such a plea?
The silence between us lengthens, pressing against my chest. I know I should say something, since he asked me. Speaking of our mistake doesn’t prove easy, though. When I open my mouth, my throat closes up. Brandon gives me a funny look, though he says nothing. Taking a deep breath, I try again. This time, words do come out.
“I -- it was me,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow. “You? What are you talking about, Gemma? Are you saying you caused Wren to act so oddly?”
“I -- I am.”
“How?” His stare burns into me. I try not to flinch.
My stomach ties itself in knots, and, for a moment, I contemplate making something up. Even so, I know I can’t lie to Brandon. I clasp my hands together and take another deep breath. Trembling, I look him in the eye. He deserves that much.
“Wren and I...we kissed.” The words struggle to leave my mouth, each one heavier than the last.
“What?” Brandon stares at me, his face blank.
“We -- kissed,” I repeat. After I speak, I can’t force any more words out.
“Kissed? What?”
He doesn’t want to believe me, does he?
I wait for Brandon to understand, though I fear how he will react. To experience a betrayal like that must be awful. He might get angry, and with good reason. If he does, I’ll withstand it, as painful as it will be.
No anger comes -- instead, his eyes shine with tears. My breath hitches, and my heart hurts -- seeing that is far worse than any anger. Guilt tries to catch up to me, but, still, I can’t feel the right amount of regret. True, I regret making Brandon cry, but I...don’t quite regret kissing Wren. What kind of person am I?
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, as pathetic as that apology is.
“Why?” he says, his voice cracking. “Why would you two do that?”
“I -- I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Do I not make her happy? Am I not...human enough?” he says, the tears starting to fall from his eyes. They spill down his face, following the tearstains from before. I watch him, unable to turn away.
“I really don’t know. You would...have to ask Wren,” I murmur.
“She won’t return my calls, I told you that,” he mutters. The pain in his voice hurts me, but it’s no more than I deserve.
I wonder if I can talk to Wren, somehow. Maybe she would listen if I called her? She ran off, but, to be fair, I haven’t tried to contact her, either.
“I can -- try to talk to her?” I say, my voice quiet and hesitant.
“Why would you do that?” he says, shaking his head.
“Because I want to make things up to you,” I sigh.
“I don’t -- think that’s a good idea.” Brandon looks at me. His eyes shine with tears, but his stare is hard.
My shoulders slump. “Fine, I won’t,” I say. “I’ll let you deal with it.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to deal with it, but...stay away from Wren for now? Please?” he says. His eyes beg me, and I’m in no position to refuse. That doesn’t mean I want to do as he asks.
I nod. “Alright,” I murmur.
“Thank you -- for telling me,” Brandon says.
My eyes widen, to hear him thank me. “You deserved to know,” I say.
“I should go.” He stands up from his seat, while I remain seated.
“Goodbye,” I murmur.
“Goodbye.” With that, Brandon leave the room.
Why do my shoulders shake? Why do my eyes sting? I may love Wren, but that’s no reason to cry over what just happened. Is it guilt? I’m not sure it is. My feelings crash about in my mind. They threaten to overwhelm me, and I let them.
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Someone knocks on the door as I’m pacing in Diana and Jocelyn’s guest room. My heart leaps into my throat. Since I leave for Harmony in less than a week, my nerves have frayed to just before the breaking point. I don’t go to open the door. After that incident, I can’t think properly and don’t want to talk to anybody. While I don’t normally pace, I have been doing it a lot lately.
“Gemma?” Diana’s voice filters through the door, muffled.
“What is it?” I call.
“You -- have a visitor.”
“Who is it?”
It can’t be Wren, can it? I don’t want to see anybody else. In fact, I’m not sure I want to see her, only I want nothing more than to see her.
“It’s Brandon -- he says it’s important,” Diana mutters.
Brandon? What could he want? My heart leaps into my throat again -- does he know? After all, I kissed his girlfriend. It was a strange accident, but I wanted it. I still want it.
I know it’s wrong and impossible, but I can’t get my heart to listen to reason. Do hearts ever listen to reason?
Though I want to tell Diana I can’t see him, I don’t. Delaying this meeting won’t do any good. Even so, I don’t know what I’ll say to Brandon. What if he doesn’t know and wants to see me for some other reason? Do I tell him? Part of me thinks it should be Wren who reveals what happened. If he does know, why would he want to visit? Already, the secret weighs on me, more so because I can’t feel as guilty as I should.
“Um, I’ll meet him,” I mutter.
“He’s in the living room.”
“A-alright.” I look at the mirror and force myself to take some deep breaths. My face broadcasts my nervousness, but I can’t do much about that. I’ll just tell Brandon any anxiety is from having to leave for Harmony soon.
When I arrive in the living room, Brandon sits on an armchair, wearing a troubled expression. At first, he doesn’t notice me. He looks down at the floor, his eyes shadowed. My stomach twists, but I manage to walk over to him.
“Hey Brandon,” I murmur.
His eyes meet mine. From closer up, I notice...tearstains? He’s been crying, hasn’t he? My twisting stomach sinks as I think of just what would make him cry.
“Hey,” he says.
I settle into the loveseat that sits across the coffee table from the armchair, not wanting to be too close to him. “What -- what are you doing here?” I say.
Brandon doesn’t answer. His eyes return to staring at the the ground. Silence stretches between us. “You’re leaving soon,” he says.
“Yes, I know.” I get the feeling he wants to say something else, so I wait for him to continue. Another silence between us grows, longer and heavier than the one before. Guilt eats at me as I watch Brandon, though I still can’t regret the kiss. It’s as if I’m feeling guilty for not feeling enough guilt, if such a thing is possible.
“Are you -- sure about this?” he murmurs.
“We don’t have a choice,” I sigh, still thinking he wants to say something else.
He shakes his head. “No, we don’t have a choice.”
I shift in my seat, finding the air too solid and oppressive for proper breathing. Biting my lip, I try to think of what to say next.
“Why are you really here?” I mutter.
Brandon flexes his fingers, bending them one after the other. “It’s -- it’s Wren.”
My stomach drops to my feet, but I try to school my face into an expression of mild curiosity. “What about her?”
“She said...she doesn’t -- doesn’t deserve me,” he sighs, looking down at the ground.
“Excuse me?” I say, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. Wren’s words make a sick kind of sense, as she did cheat on Brandon. That would be a reason to not “deserve” someone.
He shrugs. “That’s just it -- she didn’t say anything else, just ran away. I’m not...even sure if she broke up with me or not. She won’t return my calls.”
“That’s -- odd.”
Saying something like that and running away isn’t that strange for Wren, given what I know of her personality. Brandon doesn’t have the information I do, though.
“Isn’t it?” he murmurs. He doesn’t stop fidgeting with his fingers, and his agitation increases my own. “Do you -- have any idea what’s going on with her? Did I -- did I do something?” Hurt flashes across his face, and I wince.
Brandon’s state is my fault. His pain reflects back to me, but I can’t make myself regret kissing Wren. Since he asked if I know anything, I feel more obligation to tell him what happened. He might well blame himself for Wren’s puzzling behavior, and that isn’t fair to him. Brandon didn’t mess anything up. I stare at the ground, my hands folded in my lap. Now, I remain still, as if any wrong move will cause my secret to come tumbling out.
“I…” I have no idea what to say.
“If you know anything, please tell me,” he says, the pain thickening his voice.
How do I refuse such a plea?
The silence between us lengthens, pressing against my chest. I know I should say something, since he asked me. Speaking of our mistake doesn’t prove easy, though. When I open my mouth, my throat closes up. Brandon gives me a funny look, though he says nothing. Taking a deep breath, I try again. This time, words do come out.
“I -- it was me,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow. “You? What are you talking about, Gemma? Are you saying you caused Wren to act so oddly?”
“I -- I am.”
“How?” His stare burns into me. I try not to flinch.
My stomach ties itself in knots, and, for a moment, I contemplate making something up. Even so, I know I can’t lie to Brandon. I clasp my hands together and take another deep breath. Trembling, I look him in the eye. He deserves that much.
“Wren and I...we kissed.” The words struggle to leave my mouth, each one heavier than the last.
“What?” Brandon stares at me, his face blank.
“We -- kissed,” I repeat. After I speak, I can’t force any more words out.
“Kissed? What?”
He doesn’t want to believe me, does he?
I wait for Brandon to understand, though I fear how he will react. To experience a betrayal like that must be awful. He might get angry, and with good reason. If he does, I’ll withstand it, as painful as it will be.
No anger comes -- instead, his eyes shine with tears. My breath hitches, and my heart hurts -- seeing that is far worse than any anger. Guilt tries to catch up to me, but, still, I can’t feel the right amount of regret. True, I regret making Brandon cry, but I...don’t quite regret kissing Wren. What kind of person am I?
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, as pathetic as that apology is.
“Why?” he says, his voice cracking. “Why would you two do that?”
“I -- I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Do I not make her happy? Am I not...human enough?” he says, the tears starting to fall from his eyes. They spill down his face, following the tearstains from before. I watch him, unable to turn away.
“I really don’t know. You would...have to ask Wren,” I murmur.
“She won’t return my calls, I told you that,” he mutters. The pain in his voice hurts me, but it’s no more than I deserve.
I wonder if I can talk to Wren, somehow. Maybe she would listen if I called her? She ran off, but, to be fair, I haven’t tried to contact her, either.
“I can -- try to talk to her?” I say, my voice quiet and hesitant.
“Why would you do that?” he says, shaking his head.
“Because I want to make things up to you,” I sigh.
“I don’t -- think that’s a good idea.” Brandon looks at me. His eyes shine with tears, but his stare is hard.
My shoulders slump. “Fine, I won’t,” I say. “I’ll let you deal with it.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to deal with it, but...stay away from Wren for now? Please?” he says. His eyes beg me, and I’m in no position to refuse. That doesn’t mean I want to do as he asks.
I nod. “Alright,” I murmur.
“Thank you -- for telling me,” Brandon says.
My eyes widen, to hear him thank me. “You deserved to know,” I say.
“I should go.” He stands up from his seat, while I remain seated.
“Goodbye,” I murmur.
“Goodbye.” With that, Brandon leave the room.
Why do my shoulders shake? Why do my eyes sting? I may love Wren, but that’s no reason to cry over what just happened. Is it guilt? I’m not sure it is. My feelings crash about in my mind. They threaten to overwhelm me, and I let them.