Not Done Yet

2

Thump-thump.

Ian's mind drifted back to the memory of Friday asleep in his jumper. It was the first time he had ever seen her sleep, and it had been a strange and slightly creepy sight. Initially, he'd forgotten that sleep was crucial for her, as her behaviour appeared robotic and computer-like. But watching her drift off had made him remember beneath all that was a human.

They were stuck on a cliff face waiting for help. Ian hadn't understood why he cared so much that Friday was alive that he'd be willing to go after her himself. He probably didn't want a death on his conscience. He hadn't gone to sleep himself, despite the cold air making him feel sluggish. That would be stupid. Who would alert passers-by if both of them were asleep? So he'd watched her for a while, deep in slumber. 

As he'd watched her, he noticed that the furrow between her eyebrows, which was always present when she was deep in thought, had disappeared. The pain that had been etched on her face from her ankle injury had faded away. Her whole demeanour had become relaxed.

Friday was only 12 at the time but Ian had known her maturity was beyond her years making her seem almost like a figure of authority. But in that moment she had looked young and vulnerable, like the 12-year-old she was, still a child.

It wasn't until months later that Ian figured out why.

Thump-thump.

"Ian pass the ball!" Pietro's voice broke through Ian's fuzzy haze, as he quickly refocused and passed it to him. He must have been lost in thought for longer than he realised.

It wasn't like Ian to zone out when playing. He clenched and unclenched his fist. He had to get his thoughts straight.

 "Ian, you haven't hesitated in ages," Pietro said, walking over to him, basketball at his side. "What's up, man?"

Since Ian had moved to Italy he had become accustomed to playing basketball. When he was at Highcrest, he had only ever played sports such as lacrosse and golf - sports for the upper class. Sport he was good at.  

He knew the basics of basketball. Bounce the ball as you move, and shoot it into the opposing net. Besides, Ian had been good at most sports he'd ever tried. This would be no different. So when Ian had walked out onto the court in Italy for a game, he had not expected to get so thoroughly thrashed. 

Most of the other kids played competitively and were used to playing quickly and easily. Ian, who had only ever shot hoops with his friends at Highcrest, was not used to having multiple people yelling at him for a slip-up he had caused. He couldn't understand the terms the others were yelling at him especially since most of it was in rushed Italian.

Like, what the hell was a travel?

When everyone had wanted to play a second round and he'd seen his teammates' reluctance to let him play again, he'd slunk off angry and embarrassed, feeling every stare burning into his back. He'd played in the hopes of gaining a few friends.  Fat chance now.

He'd watched from the bench wondering what he'd gotten wrong when someone plopped down next to him.

"Hello," said the boy, who Ian recognised to be his classmate Pietro.

"Hi," said Ian, not really in the mood to talk."

The others on the basketball court called to Pietro, clearly wanting him in on the game.

But he'd shaken his head.

"They beat you pretty hard." Pietro had gestured to the court. "But then again, you don't seem like you know how to play"

Ian had turned his head away. He had never talked to Pietro before but so far first impressions were not going well.

"Why aren't you playing?' Ian had mumbled, his resentment clear in his voice.

"I think my time would be better used to teach you," Pietro smiled.

This'd made Ian feel worse. Pietro wanted to teach him out of pity.

Pity.

He wasn't that beneath himself.

He'd sneered. "Why would you do that?"

Pietro tilted his head, clearly not understanding Ian's bitter mood but went on anyway. "I'd be doing it for a friend,"

Pietro had been Ian's first friend in Italy. He had taught him all he knew about basketball and slowly Ian improved. Pietro was patient and kind and a really good teacher.

A friend, he knew was willing to talk and listen if anything was up.

"Look, I-," Ian started but was cut off by Pietro.

"Is it Tatiana?" he didn't wait for an answer. "I know she can seem a bit shut off sometimes, but just give her time."

That was the exact opposite of what Ian was thinking. "Oh no, she's not-"

"She doesn't trust easy though," he continued, oblivious to Ian. "But if you trust her, she'll trust you."

Ian paused for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"Like if you open up completely she will."

Ian took this in before a sly grin spread across his face.

"You seem very in tune with Tatiana," he teased. It was true; Pietro's usually relaxed posture had seemed to perk up when he mentioned her.

Pietro shrugged. "I've known her for a while, I guess."

"Have you ever been, you know, interested?"

Pietro turned red and looked down, clearly embarrassed. It was the first time Ian had seen his friend so flustered. 

He scratched his neck. "I mean, I was for a while,"

Ian raised an eyebrow. "What about now?"

"Not anymore though," he said quickly and then mumbled. "She didn't exactly return my feelings,"

"You're still friends though, right?"

Pietro sighed. "Look, if this is about her, she's all yours. I got over her pretty quickly."

When Ian shot him a questioning look, Pietro sighed and went on. 

"She's not all kind words and good looks, you know."

Ian didn't know. It must have shown on his face because Pietro continued.

"Just... don't get on her bad side. She's capable of a lot more than you think."

Ian nodded, keeping this in mind. If she would do anything under certain circumstances that may endanger his position.

Pietro grinned at Ian, slapping his shoulder playfully. "But you got lucky man. She seems so different around you."

Ian gave a half-hearted grin in return, unsure whether this was good or bad.

His phone buzzed, his alarm reminding him to be home to help out for dinner going off.

"I've got to go, but if you're ever free, come over for dinner. Mum always makes plenty and she's very fond of you."

Ian had once brought Pietro home for dinner not realising that he could play a very effective charming guest. That or he had a lot of respect for Ian's mum and her cooking. Either way, Helena enjoyed having her effort commended and so Pietro had become one of her favourite guests.

Pietro nodded. "I'll come sometime this week,"

So turning away, Ian's mind went back to the drawing board.