![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Illyana and Pyro | Backdated to 9/3
A week after their break-up, Yana and Pyro talk. Or not.
It wasn't there.
Yana glared at the pile of clothing she'd thrown into a heap on her bed while searching for the red and black top she'd gotten the time she'd gone shopping with Pietro in Soho. It wasn't there. Given that she remembered having worn it since washing it last, it wasn't in the laundry room, and she didn't have to worry that Mort had taken off with it for whatever creepy purpose he might want to put it to. Which, to be fair, she didn't know that he did anyway, but it seemed like adefinite possibility. Just not this time.
Which left the room that was now Pyro's, not theirs. And which meant that if she didn't want to write the top off (and she didn't) she was going to have to go there and get it.
With a hmmph, she called up a stepping disk. If she was lucky, he wouldn't be there.
Of course, she wasn't that lucky, she realized as she appeared in the room and caught sight of him. "I'm just looking for one of my shirts," she said irritably as she headed for the dresser. "Don't worry, I'll be out of your way in just a minute."
Pyro had been fucking around on his phone, and he sat up in a start when Mage suddenly appeared in his room. "Knocking is a thing, you know," he replied, but he sounded a distinct lack of hostile, all in all. Fuck, she was here for that shirt he didn't at all have stashed under his pillow. He shifted on the bed, so his ass was against said pillow. Just in case some of the shirt was peeking out.
"No one around here knocks, I'm not going to be the first," she disputed as she started rummaging through the drawers. "Have you seen it?"
Pyro wasn't going to point out her first statement was bullshit, because whatever. If she wanted to teleport in whenever, she'd have to deal with any possibly awkward consequences. "I don't know which one you're looking for," he only replied, watching her go through their - his - his drawers. Maybe it wasn't even the one under his pillow she wanted. Maybe she'd misplaced another one.
"The red and black one I got when I went shopping with Pietro." Forehead furrowing, she tried the next drawer. It had to be here. Didn't it? "You didn't burn it, did you?"
"I didn't burn any of your stuff," he answered, quietly, trying to make up his mind. Oh, fuck everything. While her back was turned, he pulled it out from under the pillow and stood, holding it out to her. "Here it is." Definitely wrinkled from its quality spot in his bed, but otherwise unharmed. And unwashed. It didn't smell much like her anymore, but he liked to pretend that it did.
Illyana frowned and stepped towards him, reaching out to take her top back. "Thanks," she said quietly, then let her eyes drop. "I think I've maybe got one of your t-shirts. I'll drop it off later."
Pyro shrugged. "You can keep it, if you like." It was just a fucking shirt, and he didn't really care. He wasn't sure she'd want to keep it, though. She'd broken up; why would she care?
"Yeah, maybe." She stood there for a few long moments, silent, then looked back up at him, her puzzled, hurt expression making her look much younger than she was. "I don't get it. I keep trying, and I can't figure it out. What did I do?"
Pyro frowned, not sure what she meant. "What do you mean, what did you do? You broke up with me."
Illyana frowned. "You told me to. I just can't figure out why. And why you didn't just break up with me yourself, if that was what you wanted."
"It wasn't what I - look, you were off all summer," Pyro retorted. "It was about time you got it over with."
"I was off - I asked you if you wanted to stay with me. Most of the time," she admitted, because there'd been times she hadn't, when she was working on something. But more often than not, she had. "You didn't. You wanted to be here. So I did the stuff I needed to do, and came back to when I left. How does that have anything to do with breaking up with you?"
"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd signed up to spend weeks in Limbo if I wanted to see you at all," Pyro retorted. "It's not like you spent that much time with me here, either." Better people to text, better people to hang out with. "So stop pretending I wanted this, you broke up with me! Or, I mean, whatever. Pretend it's my fault, if that's what you need. I don't fucking care." Well, okay, the tears threatening to well up in his eyes proved that he did care, but he was doing his best to swallow them back.
"OK, so, let me get this straight." Illyana stared at him, less confused now than annoyed. You wanted me to take over Limbo. Which I was then supposed to...what? Blow off because you didn't feel like being there that week? And then spend every minute with you?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "I lost more than half my friends joining your team to be with you. I didn't realize I was promising not to spend any time with the ones I had left."
"Yeah, clearly, that was exactly it," Pyro replied, because he couldn't even explain half of what he was feeling, never mind what he had been. Fuck his tears, and fuck her. "Can you get the fuck out of my room, now you've figured it all out?" Fuck, he didn't want to cry in front of her.
"Fine, if that's what you want. Because it's always about what you want, isn't it?" Illyana glared. "Just remember? This wasn't my idea. No matter how much you want to put words in my mouth, it really, really wasn't." She debated calling a stepping disk, decided it was just as easy to go cry on Pietro without one, and instead headed for the door.
Putting words in her - was she for real? "You broke up with me!" Pyro called out to her back as she walked out of his room. He didn't know why he bothered, though; she would twist things around as much as she wanted, anyway.
"You told me to!" she retorted, then swiped her hand across her eyes. And slammed the door behind her.
It wasn't there.
Yana glared at the pile of clothing she'd thrown into a heap on her bed while searching for the red and black top she'd gotten the time she'd gone shopping with Pietro in Soho. It wasn't there. Given that she remembered having worn it since washing it last, it wasn't in the laundry room, and she didn't have to worry that Mort had taken off with it for whatever creepy purpose he might want to put it to. Which, to be fair, she didn't know that he did anyway, but it seemed like adefinite possibility. Just not this time.
Which left the room that was now Pyro's, not theirs. And which meant that if she didn't want to write the top off (and she didn't) she was going to have to go there and get it.
With a hmmph, she called up a stepping disk. If she was lucky, he wouldn't be there.
Of course, she wasn't that lucky, she realized as she appeared in the room and caught sight of him. "I'm just looking for one of my shirts," she said irritably as she headed for the dresser. "Don't worry, I'll be out of your way in just a minute."
Pyro had been fucking around on his phone, and he sat up in a start when Mage suddenly appeared in his room. "Knocking is a thing, you know," he replied, but he sounded a distinct lack of hostile, all in all. Fuck, she was here for that shirt he didn't at all have stashed under his pillow. He shifted on the bed, so his ass was against said pillow. Just in case some of the shirt was peeking out.
"No one around here knocks, I'm not going to be the first," she disputed as she started rummaging through the drawers. "Have you seen it?"
Pyro wasn't going to point out her first statement was bullshit, because whatever. If she wanted to teleport in whenever, she'd have to deal with any possibly awkward consequences. "I don't know which one you're looking for," he only replied, watching her go through their - his - his drawers. Maybe it wasn't even the one under his pillow she wanted. Maybe she'd misplaced another one.
"The red and black one I got when I went shopping with Pietro." Forehead furrowing, she tried the next drawer. It had to be here. Didn't it? "You didn't burn it, did you?"
"I didn't burn any of your stuff," he answered, quietly, trying to make up his mind. Oh, fuck everything. While her back was turned, he pulled it out from under the pillow and stood, holding it out to her. "Here it is." Definitely wrinkled from its quality spot in his bed, but otherwise unharmed. And unwashed. It didn't smell much like her anymore, but he liked to pretend that it did.
Illyana frowned and stepped towards him, reaching out to take her top back. "Thanks," she said quietly, then let her eyes drop. "I think I've maybe got one of your t-shirts. I'll drop it off later."
Pyro shrugged. "You can keep it, if you like." It was just a fucking shirt, and he didn't really care. He wasn't sure she'd want to keep it, though. She'd broken up; why would she care?
"Yeah, maybe." She stood there for a few long moments, silent, then looked back up at him, her puzzled, hurt expression making her look much younger than she was. "I don't get it. I keep trying, and I can't figure it out. What did I do?"
Pyro frowned, not sure what she meant. "What do you mean, what did you do? You broke up with me."
Illyana frowned. "You told me to. I just can't figure out why. And why you didn't just break up with me yourself, if that was what you wanted."
"It wasn't what I - look, you were off all summer," Pyro retorted. "It was about time you got it over with."
"I was off - I asked you if you wanted to stay with me. Most of the time," she admitted, because there'd been times she hadn't, when she was working on something. But more often than not, she had. "You didn't. You wanted to be here. So I did the stuff I needed to do, and came back to when I left. How does that have anything to do with breaking up with you?"
"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd signed up to spend weeks in Limbo if I wanted to see you at all," Pyro retorted. "It's not like you spent that much time with me here, either." Better people to text, better people to hang out with. "So stop pretending I wanted this, you broke up with me! Or, I mean, whatever. Pretend it's my fault, if that's what you need. I don't fucking care." Well, okay, the tears threatening to well up in his eyes proved that he did care, but he was doing his best to swallow them back.
"OK, so, let me get this straight." Illyana stared at him, less confused now than annoyed. You wanted me to take over Limbo. Which I was then supposed to...what? Blow off because you didn't feel like being there that week? And then spend every minute with you?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "I lost more than half my friends joining your team to be with you. I didn't realize I was promising not to spend any time with the ones I had left."
"Yeah, clearly, that was exactly it," Pyro replied, because he couldn't even explain half of what he was feeling, never mind what he had been. Fuck his tears, and fuck her. "Can you get the fuck out of my room, now you've figured it all out?" Fuck, he didn't want to cry in front of her.
"Fine, if that's what you want. Because it's always about what you want, isn't it?" Illyana glared. "Just remember? This wasn't my idea. No matter how much you want to put words in my mouth, it really, really wasn't." She debated calling a stepping disk, decided it was just as easy to go cry on Pietro without one, and instead headed for the door.
Putting words in her - was she for real? "You broke up with me!" Pyro called out to her back as she walked out of his room. He didn't know why he bothered, though; she would twist things around as much as she wanted, anyway.
"You told me to!" she retorted, then swiped her hand across her eyes. And slammed the door behind her.
no subject
Expect the electrical system to be iffy for the next few minutes. >.>
no subject