Robin x Nancy // maybe we aren't that different

Chapter 37: acknowledgment

Her mind was made up, heart set in stone, she walked through a door that had locked behind her, no going back. She didn't realised it before, you could say she had been in denial, but when she stepped back, put things into perspective, it was all very clear. The shades of grey had turned more defined into lighter, darker, and all of a sudden it was quite clear to see.

She feels guilty letting it end like this. But she can't in good conscience keep leading her on.

At this point in time the movie was coming to a dwindling end, the problem was solved, the climax reached and all there was left to do was to tie up the lose ends.

Strangely enough, even though she had an ok time, she was dreading the conversation.
It wasn't Vickie's fault, she was fine, just oh— so mediocre. A mediocre smile, compared to Nancy's bright one, a mediocre laugh, an octave too high for Robin's liking, mediocre eyes, blue still, but too musty examined next to Nancy's crystal clear.

"Did you like the movie?"

Robin jumped, feeling slightly caught, she didn't quite know how to answer, in all honesty, she wasn't particularly paying attention and sort of missed the ending caught up in her own thoughts. Think. Im pretty sure there were kids? And um,—aliens? When nothing came to her she smiled awkwardly and made a noise much like strangulation, "I don't know, what did you think?"

She mentally face palmed. A dumb dodge, but a dodge all the same.

Vickie's looking at her, smiling. She shouldn't be.
"Well I liked it, other than that plot twist if you can even call it that".

How does one end a date without being rude?
It used to all come so naturally thus the effect of actual romantic feelings, but now any knowledge she had before seemed to have flown out the window. She didn't want to be rude, she wanted to be very polite. She wanted to leave, try to let her down easy or, if all else failed, she could leave a message on the phone or try again another day. It was in fact, cowardly, very, she knew this, she just hadn't seen another way in her dilemma to go.

"You didn't have a good time." Vickie says.

Robin stiffens. She's been caught. In this moment she was feeling a lot like a mouse in a trap or perhaps a deer in headlights, neither of which were good. "I did!" She says too hastily even for her own liking, "it's not that. I just—"

"But your not attracted to me." Vickie is saying now, she wears a somber expression but her head is still tilted with a childlike curiosity. She knew, Robin is thinking, well of course she knew! It's obvious!
It's obvious.
She opens her mouth in protest but no words come to her.

Vickie presses a finger to her lips, "it's ok" she seems sad even as she's smiling. "You have someone else on your mind, not much I can do about that"

Robin doesn't know what to say, she doesn't think her words could quite express just how sorry she is for wasting Vickie's time.

"I-I'm sorry"

sometimes things just can't work. But even then she feel the unwilling guilt.

Vickie sighs, "you shouldn't be".

Maybe Robin should explain, tell her all the details of who, why, and how, maybe she should describe the narrative down to the last freckle, prove that she did not do this to hurt. But, as much as she wants to justify her feelings she doesn't quite owe Vickie that much, and maybe she wouldn't even want to hear it, after all it was too much information for a first date.

"I am really sorry though" she could feel the word vomit on the top of her tongue, the tendency to ramble almost spilling out, but now was certainly not the time, and besides, she had to save it, for later.
****

Nancy, perhaps, was not in her most graceful moment. Draped over her frightfully firm tucked bed, she lay, bottle of vodka in hand. She had found it in the back of the cupboard, — actually she had known it's whereabouts for a while but never dared to venture on the thoughts. It was foul tasting, precisely the most vile thing she had ever drunk but she was numb to the bitter-burn at the back of her throat, only paying attention to the warm fuzzy feeling filling her chest and quickly her head too. She had downed at least four shots worth— far too much for the light weight we all knew she was, and, far to much taking in consideration that she was still taking swigs.

Her parents, thankfully, where out and so was Mike. The whole house empty, to wallow in her sadness.
Her room was clean in contrast to herself. Messy hair much like a birds nest, the remnants of her make up smeared under her half-lidded eyes and clothes from her outing that she hadn't bothered to change, scruffed and wrinkled. She was having a perfectly fine evening she would recollect, when someone begins knocking rapidly at her door. This, she thinks, was the last thing she wants to deal with tonight.

Maybe she could pretend nobody was home, after all it was mostly true. She kept quite for a minute and everything seemed to still before the knocks came again, spoke too soon I suppose.
Mostly all of the lights where on in the house, easily visible to the outside, and whoever it is did not seem to want to give up.

"I'm busy, go away!" Not her finest excuse, perhaps, but Nancy is drunk, exhausted, and trying to get over the revelation of how badly she's fallen for a girl, just in time to watch her leave.

A pause, only for the fist to resume its violent assault on the door.

"Please go awa--"

"Nancy!" A too-familiar voice calls.

It can't be, but she would recognise that voice anywhere.
Maybe she is dreaming, it does all feel a little fuzzy.

She pulls the door open, practically heaving the thing off the screws. Grabbing the frame for balance and ease. Robin— in the carefully crafted outfit Nancy herself had choose, her makeup not one bit smudged and her expression absolutely impossible to read.