forthsofar | so sing while you have time, let the sun shine down from above

Neil's been out of the apartment a little more often recently, and Caleb's been even worse than usual at responding when she texts him, and Rosie's clever enough to put both of those facts together into one delightful conclusion. Maybe not the most delightful, not yet, but at least they're both spending time together. She's tried her best not to pry ever since her talk with Neil the other week--she had promised, after all--but it's not exactly prying to notice something. Or be terribly happy about it.

Given that her talk with Neil had gone so well, Rosie's been looking for an opportunity to do the same with Caleb, to find out if things on his side are similar enough that something might come of it after all. The end of the year is busy enough that it's hard, all the prep for finals and agonizing over projects, but at last there comes a day when it seems like things might be calm enough.

When the bell rings at the end of French class, Rosie weaves her way through the rows of desks to where Caleb's sitting, still packing up his bag. "Ready for lunch?"

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"You weren't always when it came to Clint, were you?" she says without thinking, caught up in the pull of her own sudden irritation and the injured defensiveness she can now hear in his voice, which feels like too little and far too late. It registers a moment later, and her eyes go wide. "Sorry, I didn't...I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean to."

Rosie sighs, looking away from him and down at the weathered carvings on the table they're sitting at. "Neil was upset for so long after Harry and Guy disappeared," she says, more quietly. "And he's been lonely, no matter what he says to the contrary, and I don't think it's helped that I've been spending so much time with Nick and everyone else." She smiles, small and faint. "No one's been a very good friend to him, me included, and...he deserves one. I just want you to understand that."

Caleb flinches when she says that. It's not untrue, but it's not fucking fair, either. There's so much about himself that he couldn't share with Clint. There's so much about Clint that didn't fit in Caleb's body. And there's only so much that Rosie knows about any of it, so of course seeing things from her perspective would look that way.

But it's still not fucking fair.

"I know I can be pretty dumb sometimes, but I'm not a fucking idiot, Rosie, and I'm not an asshole." And it hurts that she thinks that about him, even for a heartbeat's time.

"Oh, for god's sake, Caleb, I know you're not an asshole." She glares at him, but she can see the flash of hurt in his eyes, and that only makes her sigh again. "Sometimes you can be clueless, but I know it's not...you don't do it deliberately. I really do know that, alright?"

What it is, really, is the fact she knows that the unintentional things can hurt the most. It's happened to her, it's happened to Neil, and likely even to Caleb. Maybe it'll always happen, no matter how often she tries to prevent it.

He scoffs out a weak laugh, looking down at his sandwich. He shouldn't laugh, not now of all times, but he's never heard her swear before, and it sounds unusual in her voice. He rubs his face.

"Okay, well," he says, a little helplessly. "So, I'm not gonna hurt him."

"Everyone thinks I don't swear because it's not ladylike," she says, catching that weak laugh for what she thinks it is, "but it's actually because it sounds completely ridiculous." As far as olive branches go, it's a flimsy one, but she offers it with a slightly stronger smile once her eyes meet his again.

"Good," she says. "That's all I'm asking."

Caleb nods, and he lets the moment slide through him again, until he no longer feels defensive. He picks up his sandwich and takes a few bites, debating his next move. When he swallows, he says, "He goes to the gym a lot. Does he play any sports?" He steadfastly doesn't mention the low buzz of arousal that Neil gets sometimes when they're at the gym together.

"Not here," she says, relaxing slightly now it seemed their sudden unpleasant moods have passed by once more. "I think he used to row back home, when he was at that school of his, but there's not really a place for that in Darrow. Not that I know of, anyway."

Caleb makes an exaggeratedly uncertain face. "Is rowing a sport, though?" he asks, voice tipping up in playful skepticism. He's mostly joking, of course. He knows that a lot goes into being able to row competitively, even if he's not familiar with the actual... well... sport.

"Maybe that's something you and he can argue about," she says, laughing at the overly dramatic confusion on his face. "You know, since you're already getting to know each other better."

"Oh, don't worry," Caleb says, finishing off his sandwich. "We will definitely be having words. Up to, and including, 'dude, why don't you row anymore?'" He grins and works on his drink next, before pulling a yogurt and a bag of granola out of his lunch box.

"Up to and including, you're really branching out." He grins at her, and it's easy to smile back, their earlier discord almost forgotten. Whatever happens between Caleb and Neil, Rosie will always have the depth of her friendships--with both of them.

"What else are you planning to invite him to? It can't just be shopping for your apartment and going to the gym."

"Why not?" Caleb quips, then holds his hands up innocently. "I know, I know! I dunno, we hang out. Like, we play video games. Well, I play video games; Neil's pretty terrible at them, actually." Well, most of them. He's good at the strategy and puzzle games. He laughs a little, though, thinking about it. "And we watch movies, and stuff. I dunno, we're friends, we do friend things!"

"Because you should have more imagination than that, and it's terribly disappointing that you don't," she says, deadpan for a moment before she breaks into a laugh. "Alright, I guess as friends, you're not doing so bad."

so sing while you have time, let the sun shine down from above

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