From Beacon Hills, CA. I've tried a lot of things and lived in a lot of places. Archery, history and gymnastics are some of my hobbies, but I'm always ready to try something new.
[ this is an unfortunate conversation to have via text. Ben feels the disattached state of it all — how easily the words flow when there isn't eye contact to maintain. it's also liberating. still, it doesn't satisfy his yearning to see her. ]
[ she can't deny how much he may or may not like how that sounds. not necessary that he can't deny her anything, but how roundabout he's trying to do this. it's kind of cute. ]
[ it's probably just as well that she can't see him because when he says too good, he means his thoughts about her and where they've strayed. it's a risky line he's crossing here. ]
I have a vivid imagination. You can thank years of hiding behind books for that.
What makes you doubt it?
[ that anything can be too good, his words, whatever. ]
[ it doesn't take her long to get there. she's already basically out the door when she gets the response, not really thinking about it as she makes her way to his house. part of her feels a little nervous, but in a more excited way. another part recognizes that it's been a long time since she's been able to feel this way - uncomplicated, easy, happy.
allison doesn't want to think too much about it, considering the circumstances. where she is. instead, she just keeps walking, making it up to his door about ten minutes later and knocking. ]
[ when he was younger, he thought his neighborhood's houses couldn't be closer together. there were fences and doors, but ultimately, everything was clustered. he'd wanted more privacy as any teenager would. now he finds himself grateful that it only takes fifteen minutes maximum to get nearly anywhere in Eudio. there's always noise. someone is always awake to have a conversation with. it amazes him, sometimes, that he grew out of burying his face in a book and rolling his eyes and grew into participating in his life. he's doing it right now and trying to remain normal. it doesn't have to be weird because they both checked yes, doesn't have to mean anything more than that's what they're here for.
Ben's trying not to read into it, into anything while he circles a building on his map from city hall. he's drawn over places, marked others. he has a corresponding journal that he takes notes in to document his memories and to provide commentary for his brothers, should they arrive.
the knock at the door has him snapping the journal shut in his hand and staring with baited breath. should he have changed? he can't remember the last time today that he glanced in the mirror to check his hair or to make sure there's nothing on his face. too late now. at least he doesn't have coffee breath. he wipes his palms on his jeans and hopes that she doesn't mind that he's more or less in lazy clothes. he's wearing a sleeveless hoody, which he obviously cut the arms off of himself. it's a lack of layers he never would have dared to wear back home. ]
It's open, [ he calls, but he still crosses the living room to greet her and/or get the door for her if she's too shy to barge in. ]
[ allison never really spent enough time in one place to get used to any kind of living. some urban, some rural, some neighbors, some trees. she was always used to the change of it - if she didn't like the girl who lived next door, she'd be in a new city in a few months, maybe a new town. some stretches she was homeschooled, others she wasn't, and it was her own adaptability that kept her going.
beacon hills was the first time she really felt at home. like she had people, like she had friends, who wouldn't actually move with her when she left the next time.
eudio felt a little bit like that. like it was only temporary, only a place for her to be for now, before moving on. but that's not quite right, is it? because she's found more than that. because she has more people than that - not that she's sure she's ready to think about it.
allison hears ben call out to her, and opens the door without issue, looking around once she gets the door open. when she looks up at sees him walking towards the door, she smiles - bright and easy. because this is easy. easier than anything from home, than anything else she's done here. ]
Hey. [ smiling is natural with her. seeing her warms him from the inside out. he doesn't know why. yes, she's beautiful and yes, she's been kind to him but it's more than that. or it could be, if they keep spending time together like this. he dips his head and gestures with his hands, once he recognizes that he's staring at her. don't be such a freak, he chides himself. ]
Um—please, come in. Make yourself at home. Can I grab you anything to drink or eat?
[ his apartment isn't messy. it's semi-organized even if one half of the coffee table has a small stack of library books and the kitchen table has turned into a project station. when he strides towards the couch to grab a throw blanket and fold it up, it's only to make room for her to sit. Ben glances back over at her, curiosity clear on his face. he doesn't have much, but what he does have he's more than willing to share. he's used to rationing and living simplistically—he hasn't been able to shake that off just yet. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
I meant what I sent
no subject
But I'm enjoying the other stuff. Sparring, shooting, the occasional jog.
no subject
then I guess we don't have anything to worry about
you're saying but like you can only have one or the other.
no subject
[ in his experience, there is no having both. ]
no subject
what if I want both?
[ are you going to tell her no? ]
no subject
[ because what if and i do have different meanings. ]
no subject
[ because she had a good feeling that ben needs it spelled out for him. ]
no subject
[ this is an unfortunate conversation to have via text. Ben feels the disattached state of it all — how easily the words flow when there isn't eye contact to maintain. it's also liberating. still, it doesn't satisfy his yearning to see her. ]
I can't say I haven't thought about it.
no subject
I'm hoping in a good way
no subject
Arguably, too good.
no subject
no subject
I have a vivid imagination. You can thank years of hiding behind books for that.
What makes you doubt it?
[ that anything can be too good, his words, whatever. ]
no subject
don't underestimate my imagination either
[ she doesn't exactly know how she wants to answer his question, though. so instead she gives a question of her own. ]
what are you doing right now?
no subject
[ dream of underestimating her, that is. he's totally going to dream about Allison thinking about him, whether or not it has grounds in reality. ]
Watching the history channel, finishing some touches on a project, and wondering how people sit in their apartments this long. Why?
no subject
because I don't want to be in my house anymore
what special are you watching?
no subject
Jurassic Fight Club. I wish I could make this stuff up. It's background noise until something better comes on.
no subject
I don't want to interfere with your tv watching
[ it's a joke. she's already getting ready. ]
no subject
[ clearly, the most serious history channel viewer right here. ]
If we're still speaking honestly, I'd rather watch you.
no subject
I'll be over in 10 minutes?
no subject
I'll be here.
action spaaaammmmmm
allison doesn't want to think too much about it, considering the circumstances. where she is. instead, she just keeps walking, making it up to his door about ten minutes later and knocking. ]
no subject
Ben's trying not to read into it, into anything while he circles a building on his map from city hall. he's drawn over places, marked others. he has a corresponding journal that he takes notes in to document his memories and to provide commentary for his brothers, should they arrive.
the knock at the door has him snapping the journal shut in his hand and staring with baited breath. should he have changed? he can't remember the last time today that he glanced in the mirror to check his hair or to make sure there's nothing on his face. too late now. at least he doesn't have coffee breath. he wipes his palms on his jeans and hopes that she doesn't mind that he's more or less in lazy clothes. he's wearing a sleeveless hoody, which he obviously cut the arms off of himself. it's a lack of layers he never would have dared to wear back home. ]
It's open, [ he calls, but he still crosses the living room to greet her and/or get the door for her if she's too shy to barge in. ]
no subject
beacon hills was the first time she really felt at home. like she had people, like she had friends, who wouldn't actually move with her when she left the next time.
eudio felt a little bit like that. like it was only temporary, only a place for her to be for now, before moving on. but that's not quite right, is it? because she's found more than that. because she has more people than that - not that she's sure she's ready to think about it.
allison hears ben call out to her, and opens the door without issue, looking around once she gets the door open. when she looks up at sees him walking towards the door, she smiles - bright and easy. because this is easy. easier than anything from home, than anything else she's done here. ]
Hi.
no subject
Um—please, come in. Make yourself at home. Can I grab you anything to drink or eat?
[ his apartment isn't messy. it's semi-organized even if one half of the coffee table has a small stack of library books and the kitchen table has turned into a project station. when he strides towards the couch to grab a throw blanket and fold it up, it's only to make room for her to sit. Ben glances back over at her, curiosity clear on his face. he doesn't have much, but what he does have he's more than willing to share. he's used to rationing and living simplistically—he hasn't been able to shake that off just yet. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)