[ Kate repeats the question and then muffles another yawn. She's been trying to sleep for so long, this respite between headaches and nosebleeds has her almost immediately dozy (and consequently a little disjointed). ]
[She snorts, quietly--not loud enough to disturb herself, or even to really disturb Kate. It's much less vicious than she usually is, but in her defense, she's pretty damn tired, too.]
Is this normal for you? Does no one think this is weird in New York?
[ Kate would roll her eyes but it might hurt and Johanna can't see them anyway. She doesn't really sound mad, maybe exasperated but there's barely enough energy in it even for that. ]
Once. I hugged you once. Did you already forget, it like, just happened.
[She lets her eyes slip shut again, despite the tilt of argument in her voice.]
And I'm a huge bitch to everyone. Don't act like it's special. In fact, I think the only thing special about it is that you said I only do it half the time. That's a pretty good record.
Yeah, well. In case you haven't guessed? I'm not good at friends.
[She tips her chin back and slits her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. It's a familiar sight to her now, which is sort of a strange thought. All of the ceilings look the same, but she's looked at this one pretty often.]
[ Generally she's had Kate distracting her from the dullness of the ceiling in far more interesting ways than tonight, a loose coil around Johanna, head propped close, but hands and mouth unused. ]
[yeah too bad thin membranes aren't conducive to sex]
When was I going to try that?
[But rather than be asked to launch into an explanation for what she means by that--though Kate knows enough about her to probably have a guess or two at least--Johanna goes on:]
[ Kate knows enough about her to not really expect it recently but also to have the impression that she had years before that where she probably still sucked at friendship. Oh well. Her persistence is waning. ]
Kate thinks about it for a long moment or two and finally shrugs against her, words coming on an exhale, a little exasperated, a little considering giving up. ]
Just-- I don't know, just occasionally think about what I would do if our positions were reversed and do that instead.
[She tucks her chin against the top of Kate's head all the same, keeping her in close. The loose weight of her arm around her tightens, just a little.]
This is kind of fucked up. Don't pretend it isn't.
[ Kate's response is a grumble that concedes the point even as what she's grumbling is something like 'more than you'. But Johanna curling closer makes it hard to argue and she presses a yawn to her chest. ]
What is? This? [ super descriptive Kate good job ] Or us?
[She twists a strand of Kate's hair around her index finger and loosens it. It's an idle enough gesture that it might be a mistake--like she thinks she has her own hair. Or maybe not.]
So why are we even talking about it? If it's all fucked up, and it's not normal--and it isn't--then we don't have to talk about it.
[ Kate is silent for a moment, a little stung by the ease of her brush off. (And a little baffled by the idea of not thinking about everything all the time ad nauseum.) ]
I guess when it's not working you have other options to distract you.
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[ Kate repeats the question and then muffles another yawn. She's been trying to sleep for so long, this respite between headaches and nosebleeds has her almost immediately dozy (and consequently a little disjointed). ]
Or are we just benefits, no friends with.
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Is this normal for you? Does no one think this is weird in New York?
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[ Kate would roll her eyes but it might hurt and Johanna can't see them anyway. She doesn't really sound mad, maybe exasperated but there's barely enough energy in it even for that. ]
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Seriously. Why do you even have to ask?
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[ Duh. ]
But then sometimes you come hug me randomly. It's weird.
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[She lets her eyes slip shut again, despite the tilt of argument in her voice.]
And I'm a huge bitch to everyone. Don't act like it's special. In fact, I think the only thing special about it is that you said I only do it half the time. That's a pretty good record.
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Yeah, but that's not the same as friends. Friends is being nice sometimes, not just less mean.
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Yeah, well. In case you haven't guessed? I'm not good at friends.
[She tips her chin back and slits her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. It's a familiar sight to her now, which is sort of a strange thought. All of the ceilings look the same, but she's looked at this one pretty often.]
Does it really matter?
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Have you ever tried to be good at it?
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When was I going to try that?
[But rather than be asked to launch into an explanation for what she means by that--though Kate knows enough about her to probably have a guess or two at least--Johanna goes on:]
Are you going to give me instructions?
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Before?
[ Kate knows enough about her to not really expect it recently but also to have the impression that she had years before that where she probably still sucked at friendship. Oh well. Her persistence is waning. ]
I was hoping you didn't need them.
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Give me a suggestion.
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Kate thinks about it for a long moment or two and finally shrugs against her, words coming on an exhale, a little exasperated, a little considering giving up. ]
Just-- I don't know, just occasionally think about what I would do if our positions were reversed and do that instead.
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[She tucks her chin against the top of Kate's head all the same, keeping her in close. The loose weight of her arm around her tightens, just a little.]
This is kind of fucked up. Don't pretend it isn't.
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What is? This? [ super descriptive Kate good job ] Or us?
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[She shrugs, sort of, a lift of her shoulders with one still pressed to the mattress.]
I mean, whatever. I don't care. Do you?
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[ It takes Kate a moment to admit it, a hesitant pause as she chews over the question and her answer. ]
But isn't everything? Kind of fucked up? Trying to make things normal hasn't really ever worked out for me.
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[She twists a strand of Kate's hair around her index finger and loosens it. It's an idle enough gesture that it might be a mistake--like she thinks she has her own hair. Or maybe not.]
So why are we even talking about it? If it's all fucked up, and it's not normal--and it isn't--then we don't have to talk about it.
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Sometimes it's fucked up but good, and sometimes it's just fucked up. It'd be nice if it was more of the but good.
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If you want more but good, I don't know what to tell you. You know what this is. [What we are goes unsaid.] So you know it doesn't work that way.
Unless this is all a big lead-up to you asking me to change. Know what I'd say then? No.
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But isn't it more fun that way? Aren't you happier when it's good?
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Honestly? I don't think too much about it.
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[ Kate is silent for a moment, a little stung by the ease of her brush off. (And a little baffled by the idea of not thinking about everything all the time ad nauseum.) ]
I guess when it's not working you have other options to distract you.
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Like what? Is this a jealousy thing, or are you trying to get into my treehouse?
[wink wink]
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[ It's maybe a little bit of a jealousy thing. ]
I'm not telling you any more stories if you start letting just anybody in there.
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