Smash!

•T H I R T Y O N E•

Jamie's POV

"It's December." I mutter.

"What?" Riley slowly looks away from the rainy diner window. We've been sitting across each other in this booth for three hours now. A cheap cup of coffee, and a weak mug of tea taking up the space between us.

For three straight hours, Riley has been glaring out the window with hunched shoulders, with his forehead pressed against the window, and his brow so tightly knotted together, I might get frown lines. The bag of ice to nurse his possibly broken hand is long forgotten at the edge of the table, sitting in a pathetic melted puddle.

So, here we are (at my suggestion) sitting in a near empty diner, staring out a rainy window, rather than pacing my apartment, while Riley restlessly searches the dark streets of the entire town. Like the bag of ice, he's ignoring his possibly broken hand and the pain that comes with it, despite it swelling up twice its original size. Nothing matters to him right now, besides knowing that Robin is intact and whole.

Riley offered to drive me home, but planned to drive aimlessly around for Robin till god knows how long, because he has to do something- he restlessly keeps insisting.

"It's midnight." I gently tap my grandmother's old watch. "November is over. It's officially December."

"Really? Feels like I've known you for years, not a month." Riley sips on his coffee despite it have gone cold long ago, and takes a quick glance out the window.

Riley's right. Since that one A.M. encounter in the alley, I feel like Riley has always been part of my life, not a new roommate for the past month. Even, the last twenty four hours with Robin have felt like a hundred and one days, but I'm not sure if it's exactly a bad or good thing.

"Are we going to buy a Christmas tree?" At first, I thought he was attempting a joke, but I nearly spill my tea when I catch the sincere look on his face. Christmas tree shopping seems long term, like a commitment. It's not, yet I can't deny how permanent it feels.

"Is Christmas your favorite holiday?" I ask, still not knowing enough about him.

"No, I'm not really a fan of holidays. I never really celebrated properly." He shrugs.

"Can I ask why's that?" I attempt, steeling myself up for backlash.

"Do I have to?" He grumbles, glaring down into his cup of coffee so intensely it would magically start boiling. Though Riley still can't open up, compared to a few weeks ago where he'd just defensively burst, politely declining is an improvement. Perhaps one day he'll tell me when I ask. Maybe he'll even want to share. Baby steps.

"No," I shake my head. "You never have to." I just want to get to know you, Riley, but I don't bother saying it out loud.

Falling silent, we watch out the condensation covered window for a while.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Riley lets out a heavy sigh.

"My family never really bothered." He admits, then hastily gulps down big mouthfuls of coffee. "No turkeys. No Christmas trees. No Easter egg hunts. No Fourth of July barques. No birthday parties. No presents." Riley's shoulders hunch to his ears, a glare and mask of fury taking place of the furrowed brow, and worrisome gaze aimed at the window a moment ago.

"Not because they were some abusive assholes or anything," he slams the coffee mug back down too hard with a smack that echoes through the empty diner. Half his cup of coffee goes everywhere, but I'm too busy noticing the ache in Riley's brown eyes to clean it up.

"They just didn't bother." He shrugs, looking like he tastes something bitter like blood. I have dozens of questions, but I choke them down because I know he doesn't need to be prodded. Sure, he needs to talk about it, one day I'll listen if he lets me. But right now he needs not ready to voice out how disappointed he is. Instead, he just needs somebody to understand, and let him feel without thinking less of him for not being whole or intact.