Summer vacation was only two weeks old and already starting to drag. Lawnwork was physically exhausting under any circumstances, but with the weather heating up, Carson was seriously questioning a) his life choices and b) when he’d gone so damn soft. He’d made it through BMT in a heat wave. He’d spent six years out in the desert.

This shouldn’t have been ******** hard.

Except that being a civilian had apparently simultaneously reduced him into a wuss.

He’d given up on the whole Elke thing - similar histories of trauma were not a basis for a relationship. Or, at least, he thought he’d given up - so why did his heart still soar when she texted, asking to talk? Why did he hope that she’d come around on the smoking thing and given it up?

Why was he sitting on a cafe patio nursing a soda and waiting for her in hopes that, against all odds, they were going to get back together?

Shibrogane
Elke wasn’t sure how to talk about this. She wasn’t sure she wanted to. But she’d missed Carson like a gaping hole in her heart, as cliche as it was to say so, so she had to talk about it. Besides, that was what her new therapist said to do.

He was on the patio, and she hovered in the line for the cash register, dawdling in the line as she counted calories on the menu board. By the time she reached the barista, she had completely lost her nerve--why bother ordering some ridiculously flashy drink now? No one cared. Maybe Carson still did, but. Elke ordered an iced Americano and let herself out into the sunshine, dropped unceremoniously into the seat across from Carson.

“I’m sorry,” she said, immediately. “I was being so stupid. You were right about the, the smoking thing. And I’m sorry I snapped at you. That’s what I wanted to say.”


Carson’s breath caught in his throat - Elke certainly wasn’t in the mood to mince words with him, and he wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, he was going to refrain from saying I told you so. “Well,” said Carson, still at a loss for words. “I - I’m glad to see you.”

She looked good, he thought. Or, at least she didn’t look like she’d been sliding backwards. “And, uh, I accept your apology,” he added, still not sure where they stood. She seemed to be coming around, but her rushed way of saying things had him wary.

Carson let his hand drift to the center of the table, half-reaching for hers. “I, uh, I missed you,” he said.

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Elke nodded, firmly, as if that settled that, and she slipped her fingers into his. His palms were as big and as callused as she remembered them. “I missed you, too,” she said, tracing circles on his palm, “I’m sorry I was such an idiot. I didn’t think that you’d want to… that you’d want to see me again?” She tried to smile, but couldn’t really, one corner of her mouth hooking definitively down.

She sipped her americano, avoiding looking at his face. She didn’t know what else to say, and didn’t want to know how he felt about her. His expression would probably be condemning, or pitying, and she couldn’t handle looking at that.


Thank god she’d brought it up first. Carson’s face lit up. “Yes!” he exclaimed, closing his fingers around hers and squeezing. Could they - could they really just pick up where they’d left off and forget their argument had never happened? “I’m sorry, I’ve been worried I was too harsh with you…”

He trailed off - maybe it was better to just let it be and not discuss this further. “I mean - if you don’t want to talk about this, we don’t have to.” Just another thing that had gotten better in therapy, he figured. Lots of things did. “I - I’ve wanted to see you again for ages, I just… I was worried you were mad at me. Like I’d left a bad taste in your mouth. Or something.”

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“I was mad, for a while.” Elke didn’t see the harm in admitting that. It was true, and lying was… not conducive to creating any sort of healthy relationship. She knew that. “But. I mostly missed you.” Everything had been lonelier without Carson. Maybe it was a bad idea, to be so close to just one person and her mother, but Elke was slow to trust these days. It used to come easy, but not anymore. “I didn’t have anyone to taste-test my baking,” she told him, an uncertain and teasing frown coming to her face. “And I’ve been worried about that English final for weeks. It’s not my first language, you know.”


Carson laughed gently. “I’m sure you did fine on it,” he said. He wasn’t even sure how many languages Elke spoke - every time he asked, it seemed like she added another to her repertoire. “And - I missed your baking. And there’s no kitchen in my apartment.” There were only so many things that you could make on a hot plate, and Campbell's Tomato Soup and fake grilled cheese got old surprisingly fast.

“How are your icing roses coming?” he asked. “Better, without me to distract you?”

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Elke blushed, and finally looked up at his face. He was smiling, and her smile brightened in response. “I like it when you distract me,” she said. “But they’re almost perfect, now. You’ll be impressed.” How the hell wasn’t he still mad at her? Maybe he really had been worried. She’d been stupid to doubt, she could’ve spent her time so much more productively…

“Your apartment is more of a bedroom,” she sniffed, having seen it. “Come over for dinner. You shouldn’t be condemned to… to whatever you make with a hot plate.”


“Canned soup, mostly,” Carson admitted sheepishly. He was glad that Aysel wasn’t here - she’d never stand for that. “I’m trying to be fiscally responsible and not eat take-out every night.” Though it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to. Destiny City was cheap if nothing else. “Anyway… yeah. I’d love to come over. Tonight? Or later this week…?” It was certainly a bit of a sudden offer. “Not that I, uh, have any plans. So whenever works for me.”

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She shook her head and squeezed his fingers. “Whenever works for me, too. I still have cooking class on Tuesdays and Fridays, though.” Elke finished off her iced americano and set it aside, half-consciously counting the calories in her head. “And baking on Monday and Saturday. Do you want to meet up tomorrow night? I’m free.”


He’d ask if he could rejoin her for cooking classes later, thought Carson - it wouldn’t do to push his luck too hard and too fast. He didn’t think she’d close him out again, but it seemed prudent to be cautious these next few days and treat the relationship like it was new again. “That sounds great,” he said. “I’ll come by around, say, seven?”

It was good to have plans again. Not that Carson was keen to admit it, but he’d been turning into kind of a hermit.