right through me -- open

[wesley rupert king]

MUSIC was the only thing that mattered. Or at least, that was how it felt for Wesley sometimes. When he was doing his thing, the notes swirling around him of a really good song; it was just him and the music. He could block everything else out. Shut out all the annoying thoughts that plague his mind. Like work and the stupid customer getting upset at him earlier that day for not having any copy’s of New Moon left. Dammit he never realised how feisty fourteen year old girls could be when it came to Jacob Cullen and Edward Black... Wait that was wrong wasn’t it? Oh well.

PIANO wasn’t something he’d always been good at. He’d learnt the Trumpet as a kid. But lately he was teaching himself to play the piano. Broaden his musical horizons so to speak. Not that his jazz band needed a piano player. They already had one. But it was enjoyable, teaching himself a few old favourites. He didn’t own a piano of his own, but there was one in the room he and his band mates rehearsed in at the community centre which he often stopped into on his way home from work to play a bit, or blow his trumpet. It was a really handy way to de-stress actually.

CLOSING his eyes, the young man stroked the keys in front of him. He had been trying to play a particular song, but now he was in the mood for something a little less of a challenge and a lot more fun. In fact, he felt a lot like singing. Wesley liked singing. His voice wasn’t perfect, but that really suited the casual, easy going sound of jazz music. Hitting his starting note, the young man started to sing a popular song his band liked to play; Mister Cellophane. From the musical Chicago. It was a crowd pleaser, and one Wesley himself enjoyed performing.

THE slow easy notes with the soft under-current of emotion. Really, it was a good song. Right now, he wasn’t putting a lot of effort in. Playing the odd note and cord. Letting his voice lazily linger around the notes. Which added to the song. A good style choice really. That was one thing he loved about jazz music. It was slow and sleek and charming. You didn’t need to be the most talented or really belt it out to make something that sounded good. It was such a mellow genre of music. Most people could stand it, even if they didn’t love it. Which was another plus.

IT was a good thing the centre was empty, or he may have been making more noise then he should. He liked it there after hours. No one to worry about annoying or hearing if he hit an off note. He could just relax and do his thing without being on guard. Without worry of being judged. Without a care in the world really.

[/size]

[kennedy paige york]

There was one thing Kennedy didn’t miss about Lampton Hill. It was one thing that she hadn’t even really realized was true about the place until after she left. There was nothing to do. Well, technically there was, but after anyone spent a significant amount of time (say eighteen years) in Lampton all the places that were deemed worthy of attraction lost their novelty. Besides, most of the places that were even a little bit fun were places no one wanted to go by themselves. Surely she could have watched a movie alone or gone to Whippies to get some ice cream by herself but they just seemed like places one was supposed to go with friends. Here, in Lampton Hill, Kennedy had none of those. Well, none she was willing to reacquaint herself with for an afternoon of childish fun. No, she wasn’t keen on doing that. She was only here for Alyson’s wedding, not to wiggle her way back into the lives of all the people she left behind when she went to university.

It was times like these where Kennedy wished she had some kind of habit that made doing nothing look like doing something. Why couldn’t she have taken up smoking at sixteen like the proper rebellious teenagers? No, instead she was stuck with perfectly healthy lungs, looking like a loon as she walked herself in circles around the town center. She didn’t even know why she was outside, but supposed it was because she didn’t want to invade the space of the person she was staying with too much. Since the day she arrived she had done nothing but stay indoors. She hadn’t even paid a visit to her mother’s house yet, as understandable as that was, though she was thinking it was probably about time that she did.

The thought made her kind of sick. She hadn’t been home in so very long. The closest she came to Lampton Hill was her dad’s house, a few dozen miles out of the way, during holidays. Her mother would drive to his house and they would spend those few times a year together like a disjointed family until they broke up again and went their separate ways. She always wondered what people thought of her mother’s empty driveway in the weeks she was missing from the small town, if they knew she had driven out of her way and out of her comfort zone to her ex-husband’s house just so she could see her daughter at Christmas time. Kennedy’s family had done a lot for her, even in times when they ultimately thought she was being ridiculous.

Making her way down the sidewalk that wound it’s way around the community center and then upwards toward the square, Kennedy was caught off guard by a snippet of a song she was familiar with. Mister Cellophane. A delightful song in sound but really sad when one focused on the actual words. Ken could remember being at her house with Alyson and watching musicals-turned-movies all while singing along. She had never really paid much attention to Chicago because she didn’t like most of the other songs, but she did like this one. Maybe that was why she chose to get closer now.

One of the larger windows that decorated the community center peeked right into what Kennedy could only remember being called the music room, assumingly because it had a piano. It was only a few feet around the corner of the building from where she was standing so she took the opportunity to see who (because when you lived in Lampton Hill, even five years away couldn’t really separate you from knowing almost everyone who lived there) was spending their afternoon in a music induced coma.

Looking like both a fool and a stalker in her zipped up jacket, hood over her head despite the weather, Kennedy found herself outside the window (but not too close), hands stuffed in her pockets, looking in. She hadn’t expected to see Wesley King inside, and now that she was staring right at him she felt like kicking herself for not recognizing the voice coming out of the window. A bit like a deer in the headlights, she found that she couldn’t look away. What was the harm, really? He was inside and she was out. As long as she left in a few moments he would probably never even notice that she was there. Having known all the time that Wesley could at least play the trumpet she had never known he could play the piano, or sing for that matter. It was a sight, and a sound, she hadn’t expected.

_______________________________________

[/b][/color] - 800
TAG - Tupper Wezzz.
LISTENING TO - “Mister Cellophane” - John C. Reilly, Chicago (movie version)
NOTES - SUCK IT SICKNESS.[/ul]
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

[wesley rupert king]

If Wesley wanted some privacy he should; not live in Lampton Hill, but more to the point, he should learn to shut the blinds and the window. So really, he had no right to be upset at anyone for perving on him. Kennedy though, well she was the last person he really expected to spy him from the street outside. As far as he knew, she wasn’t in town. So in his mind it was a completely impossibility that she’d hear or see him. Least of all stop and listen for a while. Anyone else, he may not have minded at all, but Kennedy? It was just... With all their history. It was awkward.

It wasn’t a particularly intimate song he was singing. He didn’t have a personal affiliation with the song or anything. It was more like singing was a new past of his life. Life post Kennedy. It was almost as though he felt she did not belong in this new life he was trying to make for himself. She left him, didn’t she? So wasn’t it only fair that he built up a life for himself. One that she wasn’t apart of, or even knew about. It was self preservation wasn’t it? Like he was filling the gaps she left in his life with music and he didn’t have room for the both of them.

It would have been fine had she gone her merry way. It would have been her little secret and Wesley would never have to know a thing. However before Kennedy had had the good decency to just walk away, Wesley had looked up. It was in that instant he had seen her standing there. Even then, after all those years, it was as though his Kennedy-Radar was still turned on, and hadn’t dimmed an inch. Put her within sight and even in the most crowded room he’d find her. It had always been that way for them. Or, for him, at least.

His hands stoped, and so did his voice. He sat there, still, gaping at her. What. The hell. Since when? Why? Perhaps the wedding, but then as far as he knew she and Alyson weren’t even friends anymore. It just didn’t make sense to the young man. Instead of making sense of it all though he just sat there like a cod-fish. Mouth open, staring at her through the glass. Cheeks flushing as bright red. As though she’d caught him naked. Which, mind you, she’d seen before. Still though, highly embarrassing. Especially for someone not exactly comfortable in his own skin.

While he stared, his heart took on a life of it’s own. Flip-flopping and twisting itself around. Swelling and filling with hope; all the hope that had regretfully and reluctantly left his heart all those years ago. It pounded against his chest. Desperate to break free, to reach hers. Just one touch and he’d know... Know if there was anything left between them. Know if his hope was founded or stupid school boy dreamings.

[/size]

[kennedy paige york]

Kennedy could have easily moved away, slipped out of view of the window and been left innocent and unwilling to admit she had ever seen Wesley sitting at the piano in the community center. She could lie, couldn’t she? There was always an opportunity to say it wasn’t her if she came face to face with him again during her time in Lampton. Deny, deny, deny, wasn’t it? No, surely that only worked with people who were unfamiliar with you. Ken was certain that Wesley knew her well enough to recognize her even five years after the fact.

She didn’t look much different, maybe gained a few pounds and stopped banging up her knees on everything, but still familiar to those who knew her well enough. University had changed her, yes, but only in the way that it changed everyone else. She found her footing, she lived on her own, but there was still something about her that was misaligned. It was as if the Kennedy she had been five years ago had cracked across the middle and the one standing outside the window now was just lopsided enough to tell that she had never bothered to properly fix it.

Kennedy was walking around like some broken version of a Russian nesting doll where the edges were cracked so the top half and the bottom half never fit together correctly and it became obvious that there was something more inside. She didn’t even know it. And if she did she hid it well. As broken as she was, however, there was no way to peel off her top layer and parade around with the unbroken inner layer, the second doll. As any normal human, she just couldn’t do that. Instead she had to deal with what was presented to her as it was presented.

And right now, in the present, she was faced with staring down Wesley King. Suddenly, as if she had just realized she was still standing there, an overwhelming sense of panic flooded through her. Shit! What was she supposed to do now? Running away sounded good, but also a little bit pathetic. Stupidly, instead of just waving and moving on like it was no big deal, she pointed her index finger toward her chest in a gesture that meant she was indicating herself, and then pointed into the room before holding that finger up to notify him that it would take a second. Why hadn’t she just said hello? The window was open and it would have been easier, but no, she stupidly had to say she would come inside.

Within a few seconds of all the pointing and instruction, Kennedy found herself walking around the building, kicking at the grass with the tip of her shoe. She felt like an idiot but couldn’t necessarily go back and change it now. Really, she had to get over her fear of coming face to face with Wesley. They used to be so very close! And even before they got extra close, they were friends! Why couldn’t Ken allow herself to step outside of the box she had drawn around herself and be friendly with someone who had meant so much to her?

She assumed most of it was fear. The same kind of fear you felt when you thought someone was going to forget about you after making super big plans that would fill up your entire weekend, or the kind of fear you felt right before a job interview. It was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that wouldn’t go away, even if she just thought about him for a split second. What she had done was wrong, an immature way to go about what happened. But he could understand, couldn’t he? Hopefully.

In no time Kennedy was nudging open the door the room Wes was in, her cheeks tinged pink from her embarrassment over being caught looking into the window. She stopped just as she got in the room, as if there were some sort of invisible barrier keeping her from coming any closer. A hand shot up, but stayed close to her body, and she gave an awkward wave before letting it drop. Her hands soon disappeared into her pockets and she was left rocking back and forth, from her heel to her toe, as she stood, again looking at Wesley.

“… Hey.”

_______________________________________

[/b][/color] - 732
TAG - Tupper Wezzz.
LISTENING TO - “Two Beds And A Coffee Machine” - Savage Garden
NOTES - One down, one to go. You know you love owing me posts.[/ul]
[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

[wesley rupert king]

The boy watched as Kennedy gestured that she was coming in. He frowned slightly. The window was open. Why hadn’t she just said hey? Or even just said she was coming in instead of the gestures? Who knew. Though he couldn’t be to judgemental of the girl. He himself was known to do rather silly things under pressure. Plus, it was kind of cute and all. In fact, rather cute indeed. She was coming in. That thought was filling him with a strange mix of joy and fear. He had been dreaming of seeing her. Literally. He’d go to sleep and dream of how he might see her again.

He was scared though. Completely addled with nerves. What was he supposed to say to her? What did anyone say in this situation? There was so much Wesley felt he should say, the so much he wanted to say. It was impossible to know where to start, and what was appropriate. Then there was the even more complicated matter of trying to work out what Kennedy was going to do and say. Had she come back wanting to see him? Wanting to work things out? What would she do when she found out he was with someone else? One of their high school friends!

He stood for a moment, watching the empty window. It was almost way too surreal. One thing was for sure; things wouldn’t go the way they did in his mind. They never did. Something so built up in your mind never went the way you expected it. It was either completely under-whelming or over-whelming. Wesley was hoping for Over, but he knew that more often than not, it was under-whelming. Things couldn’t be that perfect story you had in your head. The other person wasn’t going to follow your script and do the things you have mapped out for them. The best thing to do was to just not have expectations of situations. Easier said than done though right?

Shaking his head, the boy tried to collect his thoughts and get his head together. He needed his wits about him for this confrontation that was for sure. Shame he was feeling pretty witless. Kennedy did that to him. She always had a way to make all his words come out fairy stupid, and his brain stop working. Curse her and all her womanly wiles. Making a fairly smart guy turn into a vegetable. She must have done it on purpose. She loved making him, all men really, feel silly. She fed off it. He was sure of it..

Moving away from the piano, he glanced around the room. Not really sure what he was doing. He wanted to look casual when she came in. That though, wasn’t too easy. Looking rather awkward, he leant himself against the piano while he waited. Eyes on the door. When Kennedy appeared, he couldn’t contain his grin. Try as he might, there it was. Stretched across his lips. “...Well Hi..”

[/size]

[kennedy paige york]

Being scared of the way Wes might react to seeing her, or trying to avoid him in the first place, was stupid. He had been there with her after she had lost the baby more than anyone else had and surely he understood what it was like to go through that. He had done the same, really. Maybe not so much in a physical sense, as Wes’ body was that of a man and he could not be in the same shape Kennedy was in pre and post miscarriage. But he understood what it was like to lose something that was already a part of his family, something that he loved. And while Kennedy’s reaction to the situation was to shut down, turn off, and push everyone and everything away, he could surely relate.

She had tried to keep it together for him and wasn’t cut much slack for her ultimate decision to break it off. How dare she even consider trying to have a relationship with Wesley when she was not herself and didn’t think that she could ever be again? And how dare everyone else turn their noses up at her for that. It was just another reason she wished she hadn’t come back, another reason why she wished she never had to face Wesley again. Did he make the same assumptions that everyone else in Lampton Hill seemed to make about her? Did he think she selfish and pathetic? Did he recognize her pain and how, despite the fact that her cheeks were dry and her voice clear (unlike it was so many nights after her loss), it would never fully leave her?

Kennedy was a changed person. Five years, especially at the age they were when she left, was a long time. A vital time, of growth and change and mourning. Kennedy had stripped herself of who she was, who her friends were, and put on a new suit of armor impenetrable by those new people with whom she chose to surround herself. Really, the only people who could probably break through it were the people she left behind in Lampton.

Had she dreamed of meeting with Wesley this way? Of coming face to face with the person she had the hardest time leaving behind only to see him in a new light, living a new life. He had probably moved on a long time ago, well before she had, and continued living as though she had never existed. Did he go to college, finish school, become something great? Was he married, did he have children? Kennedy didn’t know because she hadn’t asked, she’d also asked her mother (one of the only people in Lampton Hill who, up until now, had known she was even alive) not to mention him or to mention anything he was up to and to avoid including him in conversations about her day to day life. Something that was hard when you lived in a small town and the person in question was one of your closest neighbors. But her mother had done so, ghosting over Wesley’s existence as Kennedy had requested and he had become not much more than a blur from her past. A stain, if she was cruel enough to call him that, in her favorite shirt. A stain that she would remember fondly, but a shirt she could no longer wear.

But now that blur was coming into focus and Kennedy was bracing herself for impact, as if as soon as she opened up her mouth any wider to say anything other than a quick hello that he would explode into a million fragile pieces of memories and photographs she had packed away a long time ago. But such an illusion could not exist. This was real life and she really had to say more than hello, especially after going through all the trouble of entering the room after she was caught looking through the window at him, stealing a sneak peek of his private performance. Oddly she felt as though she belonged outside that window, ever present but not quite involved. Did Wesley remember her the way she did him? As a ghost of the past?

In and odd change of events, Kennedy felt a bubble of sadness rise up from her stomach and lodge itself deep in her chest, pressing up against her heart, telling her to stop protecting herself from things and people she had once cherished. Wesley had been her friend well before they had ever become involved. They played in the dirt together in primary school and picked worms out of her mothers garden to leave on Alyson Kent’s doorstep as a joke. They went to the drive in and ate marshmallows and peanut butter even though it was disgusting and no one else in their right mind would venture to try it. They through birthday parties for each other and played wingman to each others drinking when Aly or Max Heaton dared throw a party when parents were out of town. They were friends before they were lovers and Kennedy didn’t know why they couldn’t go back to that.

That bubble of sadness exploded as Kennedy took long, quick strides across the room and threw her arms around Wesley’s neck, face buried deep in it. If she was not welcomed there he would let her know, but for now she just needed to break through the barrier cemented in the sand between them. If she didn’t, would he have? Being unsure of that was something Kennedy wasn’t ready for. Enough tip toeing around each other. If she was going to be back in town for awhile she couldn’t dodge him forever and if she couldn’t dodge him than she would rather be his friend than the sad ex-girlfriend that everyone believed did him wrong. They would never understand, but Wesley would. He had to.

“I’m so sorry,”

[/b] she mumbled through tears that had somehow found their way out. She couldn’t tell if she was crying because she was happy or because she was sad and she wasn’t sure exactly what she was apologizing for. It had just come out, in a wave of emotion that even someone with a wall as thick as Kennedy’s couldn’t hold back. She was quick to remove herself though, deciding now that she didn’t want to be rejected from a hug and instead took a few steps back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I didn’t know you could sing… or play the piano.”[/b]

_______________________________________

[/b][/color] - 1092
TAG - Tupper Wezzz.
LISTENING TO - My sisters television and fuggin' alarm clock.
NOTES - Holy shiz, longness.[/ul][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify]

[wesley rupert king]

Wesley got it; of course he did. Everything Kennedy had felt, so had he. A thousand times over. He had to watch her feel everything, feel it himself, but not be able to do anything about it to help her. He had hated feeling so helpless. Watching everything he had slip right through his fingers so he had nothing left. Absolutely nothing. No love, no family. Nothing to live for. He got it. He really did. In a way, he couldn’t exactly blame her for everything she had done. Even leaving him. How was life supposed to just go on like nothing happened? Like nothing had been lost.

I supposed the difference was how they had dealt with it. He guessed he should give her some credit. He wasn’t the one that had actually been carrying the child. He’d bonded with the thing though. Even before Kennedy had. He had to keep reminding himself though that it was normal for people to deal with things in different ways. It just wasn’t fair if he expected Kennedy to deal in the exact same way. He had wanted to pull together and she had wanted to push apart. Two disputing wills that were bound to de-combust. One had to win out in the end, and with all the destruction of the battle, it was inevitable that Wesley lost out.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about her now thought, it was all a bit complicated. He actually, in all honesty, couldn’t let himself think about her much at all. When he did it was all too intense for him to deal with. Since loosing his un-born child, Wesley had worked really hard at keeping his life happy and up-beat. Not letting anything too serious penetrate his sense of zen... Or whatever it was he had these days. He wasn’t too sure. What he did know though, was when he did let thoughts of her penetrate his sub-conscience, they were fond. Very fond...

The man, that’s right he’s a man now folks, was completely taken aback by the hug. He wasn’t expecting that at all. He wasn’t hating it. Oh no, on the contrary. He just hadn’t been expecting any sort of hug. He hadn’t been planning on hugging her himself actually. Not because he didn’t want to- oh no. He would always want to hug her, Wesley always wanted to hug Kennedy. It was more that he wasn’t sure what sort of inter-personal boundaries she would want to set up. They had never really set in place post break-up rules the way most couples did. Like what sort of touching was okay and what not. She’d gone away, so they’d never had the chance. So now, years later, it was just... odd.

He wasn’t going to complain with the hug though. At first his hands weren’t sure where to go, but he soon got over that issue and allowed his hands to run smoothly down her back. The way he used to when soothing her. For he could now feel wet tears against his neck. A frown tugged on his lips. He didn’t want her to cry. That was.. well troubling. “Shh.” Came his soft cooing in her ear. Large hands still rubbing her back. “It’s fine darlin’. You don’t need to be sorry. Shit happens.” So, there was a lot more to say then just ‘shit happens’ but Wesley knew now was probably not the best time to get all deep and emotional on the poor girl.

Grinning as he let her go, the boy shrugged. “I picked up a few new skills while you were gone” he said, impish grin and wink accompanying the words.

[/size]

[kennedy paige york]

Wesley was a sweet, sweet man just as he had been a sweet, sweet boy. Had she expected any different from him? No. Not really. Despite all the change both parties had undoubtedly gone through she knew that deep down he was always going to be the kind hearted boy next door who knew the way to make everything better. The way he responded to her hug showed just that. It wasn’t as though Kennedy had planned on seeing him or planned on launching herself at him. It was just an emotional moment. She had spent five years dodging even conversations about him and now she found herself face to face with him by pure accident? One couldn’t calculate every tiny move when so overwhelmed.

She was, however, grateful, that he didn’t freak out like she might have if the situation were reversed. It was hypocritical, yes. She recognized that. But she also blamed it on defense mechanisms. She’d done so much pushing away it was easy to revert to that. She was the bad guy. That was her place. Continuing to be the bad guy would just be oh so easy to do. Why she found herself in the position of the villain she wasn’t quite sure. What had she done wrong? She’d left, gone to school, as many people do. And just because she hadn’t attempted to contact her old friends she was suddenly public enemy number one? A lot of people went to university and never spoke to the people they attended high school with again. Unfortunately, a lot of people didn’t live in Lampton Hill and a lot of people hadn’t had the same kind of experience that Kennedy had.

Perhaps Wesley didn’t think of her the same way Alyson seemed to. Perhaps he didn’t think of her at all. Something she was actually quite okay with. Maybe they could get along and not have to go through the same sort of confrontation she had to go through with Aly. He understood, after all, didn’t he? At least more than anyone else. “I’m sorry about before, I just… got kind of emotional.” A cheap laugh escaped her but her amusement was soon replaced by a little bit of a frown. What an excuse. She’d been using it for long it seemed like the only one she had anymore. “Listen, I didn’t come back to butt in to your life and make shit hard. I don’t even know if I’ll be around for long. So if we could just… not be weird, even if it’s just for five minutes, I’d be appreciative.” There, she’d said something at least. Maybe he would understand that her being here wasn’t to fuck everyone else’s lives up like it seemed that everyone else assumed. Maybe Wesley would just get it and understand and not push her.

“You’re actually pretty good. I used to listen to this CD in the attic at my mom’s house, it was piano music. Only when I was by myself and having a bad day. So, it’s kind of cool that you can play. Even though my relation to piano music has nothing to do with you being able to play. And now I’m just running my mouth so please, dear god, stop me and instead tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Yeah, this would be easy.
Right.

[/justify][/size]

[wesley rupert king]

It sort of broke Wesley’s heart, standing there listening to Kennedy apologise for hugging him. There was a time when it was perfectly okay for her to reach out and offer whatever affection she pleased. It seemed so foreign now that even a simple hug wasn’t allowed; that it needed to be rationalised. Somewhere he knew in his mind that it was the natural progression of an ended relationship to turn out like that, but it just didn’t seem to fit. He didn’t like this idea of her body being off-limits to him. It was an easy enough to deal with such a notion while they didn’t live in the same town, while he couldn’t actually touch her. Now though, with her in front of him, it seemed pretty stupid.

All things considered, it was probably a good thing they’d had some physical distance. Those first few months after Kennedy had left had been hell just with all the constant reminders. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would have been like if he’d had to see her every day. Knowing Wesley and his self control, he’d probably have ended up looking like he was smuggling fresh produce around in his pants each time he saw her. That’s what happened when you were a guy faced with a girl you wanted so very badly but could not have; produce pants. Which really wasn’t a flattering thing. No guy looked great with a banana sticking up in his pants, let me tell you. Not to mention how completely embarrassing that shit was.

It was all too much. She was babbling on cutely about silly things and she looked so nervous and adorable and it was all just too much. Screw the rules, screw everything. Taking one long stride to close the gap between them, Wesley shook his head. “That wasn’t something to be sorry for Ken, hugging me..” He spoke softly, as he took her face in his hands gently. Palms against each of her cheeks. “But dear Jesus, this is..” He almost smirked as he whispered those last words. Drawing her in closer, and removing the remaining space between them. Warm, strong lips pressing against the girl’s own mouth in what could only really be described as a rather needy kiss. After all, he had been missing her lips for a good five years, the boy was allowed to be needy.

Forgetting how much this complicated things, or that really what he was doing right now was called cheating, Wesley let the kiss deepen. Moving his hands from their delicate hold on her cheeks to something probably a little more inappropriate. One hand trailed from her cheek, down her arm and to her hip. Where it gripped and pulled her body closer to his. The other stayed close, merely moving to her neck. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, it felt nice not having to be so guarded with his actions. He was so used to always taking things so slow and careful with Gwen, that he was about ready just to let loose with the sort of reckless abandonment that you only heard about in songs.

[/size]

[kennedy paige york]

It was strange that Kennedy and Wesley were no longer close. Not that it was strange as to why but rather in how it felt. If their parting had gone any differently right now they would be rejoicing at their chance reunion instead of tiptoeing around each other awkwardly. Or they would have been doing exactly what Wes had just pulled her into. A typical reaction to a long lost lover was a passionate kiss, stretched far beyond what was appropriate for display. But long lost lovers was not technically the term used to describe Ken and Wes.

He got needy and handsy very fast and in the few moments it took Kennedy to realize what was happening she found herself responding positively. That was, of course, until she fully comprehended the situation. Hands raised to push outward against his shoulders, forcing him away. It was too easy to fall back into and she wouldn’t allow herself to do it. Wesley had to have a life now and she was going to let him ruin it for an old love. “Wes, no. I’m sorry. I understand, trust me, I do. But we can’t do that. Not now, not here. Probably not ever.” Even just saying it kind of stung. But this was reality and not some sort of fictional land they had both dreamed up. One couldn’t just go around kissing ex-girlfriends because it felt right.

As far as Wesley knew, Kennedy could have been in some committed relationship, or even married. Perhaps she’d had a kid with someone else? She’d been gone long enough for any of these things to be possible. The same could have been true for Wesley and no hello was good enough to break whatever they had built up for themselves. Taking a few big steps away from him, Ken shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and shook her head. “I shouldn’t have come in here. We can chalk this one up as my fault, if you need to. It’s just easier that way. But, you know, I’ve stormed out enough this week that I kind of just don’t want to right now. So, friends?” She offered out a hand as some sort of consolation prize. A handshake instead of making out. Yeah, that was a good trade.

Damn him, though. Damn him to hell. How easy it was to wish she was at home in her room, watching television on the little tv in the corner of her room, sitting on Wesley’s lap and not having a care in the world. The desire to be seventeen again, for life to be easy, for all the bad things to just go away, was overwhelming.

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[wesley rupert king]

Shit. And the stuffing everything up award goes to? Just shit. That was all Wesley could think as he felt Kennedy push him away. Shit up the shitter. Why had he been such a bloody tool? He’d kissed Kennedy; without asking or a thought as to if she was available to kiss. Without even considering the fact he himself wasn’t available. What sort of a person did that? I’ll tell you what sort of person- a terrible dick-head of a person. He himself took a large step away from the girl. Mentally hitting himself. How could he be just so thoughtless? He was a grown man for god-sakes. Not some prepubescent boy who had no control over his natural urges.

It would be really easy for him to just blame Kennedy- like she was suggesting. He was in charge of his own actions though. He had initiated it all. So really, it wasn’t her fault at all and he wasn’t going to use Kennedy as a scape-goat. Though if he was going to, he’d have to say it was because she was just so god-damned alluring. She could probably wear a sack and look absolutely gorgeous to Wesley. She’d never stop being beautiful to him. That was probably just the way it went though; she was his first true love. He didn’t think you ever fully got over your first love. They’d forever give you butterflies.

He shook his head. “No..” his words came out a lot more harsher then he had meant. “I’m not going to blame you. It was my fault. I kissed you. And I really shouldn’t have.” He smashed his palm against his forehead in frustration. He was stuffing up any chance they’d have as catching up as friends at all, and rather possibly ruining his relationship in the process. There was no way in hell Gwen would forgive him for this if she found out. Oh god, if? How could he cover up something like this? He wasn’t one to lie, and this- it was so big. How could he keep it covered up?

Sighing, he straightened up. “I don’t want you to go storming out either Ken. Let me buy you a coffee... To apologise for kissing you? We can catch up like civilised, non hormone controlled adults?” His tone was a lot calmer now, and he smiled at the woman. His patterned puppy-eyed smile. He knew she found that hard to resist, and that was really the point. He wanted to do something to repay her for his ghastly behaviour. Besides, he was actually curious about her life now.

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[kennedy paige york]

“How about we skip the coffee and just talk? I had a… thing with Alyson, and we kind of blew up at each other. And if there’s even a slight chance of that happening with you and I, I’d rather not do it in a public place, again.” She couldn’t admit how much the fight with Alyson had hurt. She’d thought countless times since about going back to the apartment she was renting but knew her roommate was enjoying her absence and would probably try to get her to make it permanent. Such a volatile living situation wasn’t very good at happy making. Kennedy knew she needed to move out but the least her roommate could do was wait until she found a new place to start moving her boyfriend in.

That, however, was a matter left to Kennedy’s other life. Right now she was dealing with the one she left behind, trying to mend the giant holes she had punctured through the hearts of her once very close friends. It wasn’t as though she purposely intended to hurt everyone. She just needed to cope and it got a little excessive after awhile and she became better at hiding than she did with dealing. It was a way of life and Kennedy fell into it easily. She wished now that she had at least tried to keep in touch with her old friends. Maybe then coming back wouldn’t be such a shock and she wouldn’t feel like she was barging in on everyone’s lives and reminding them of the stain she had left in their pasts.

“So, what have you been up to lately?” She asked, making her way toward the piano where she then seated her self and began playing the first part of ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb.’ She’d known the tune for forever and probably wasn’t playing it with the proper keys. She just had a bunch of numbers memorized and knew she was supposed to hit only the black keys to make it sound proper. She could do the beginning of the Addam’s Family theme song too, and Jaws. Silly things, really, nothing like what Wesley was playing before she interrupted.

What if he was like some insanely successful guy who owned half of Lampton Hill now? Maybe it was an exaggeration, but whatever Wesley had become, she hoped he was happy. Her current place of employment wasn’t getting her very far. She’d always wanted to be an author, not a journalist who spent most of her time writing police blabber or ‘how-to-get-the-look: celeb edition’ for the shotty newspaper that employed her. Maybe she should just come back home. Surely her mom would enjoy having her long enough for her to get enough cash together to get a place of her own and she could apply to work for the local newspaper. She knew Lampton Hill like the back her her hand. Maybe she could start over and work on fixing all the things she had ruined. But did anyone want her back?

“Been controlling your hormones around other women?”

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[wesley rupert king]

Ah. Wesley wasn’t exactly sure he liked the idea of that; talking. If they talked... Well then certain things may come up that he didn’t exactly want to come up. Like that fact he was supposed to be in a committed relationship. He couldn’t exactly explain why he didn’t want it to come up. He just felt as though it would be better off for everyone’s sake if he didn’t tell Kennedy about Gwen. She may end up feeling even worse about what had just happened between them and he really didn’t want that. The last thing he wanted was for Kennedy to be upset. He’d made the dick move, not her. So she shouldn’t have to feel shit about it.

Trying to smile, he nodded. “Yeah, talk. Cool.” That was probably a give-away that Wesley wasn’t too thrilled. He wasn’t exactly the sort of guy to use ‘cool’ all that often. Still though, he smiled softly at the girl. His smile faded though, as she mentioned Alyson. To be honest it didn’t surprise him their blonde friend had reacted less then graciously at the news Kennedy was back. As far as he could tell, Kennedy was still a sore spot for Aly. Shrugging, he tried to appear soothing. “I wouldn’t get too upset, from what I hear Alyson’s gone completely Bride-zilla on everyone. Finn made a joke about wearing the wrong colour socks and it nearly came to blows. You know our Al- she likes perfection and is just a bit stressed..”

Watching her sit at the piano and start to play, Wesley could not help smile despite himself. He watched for a few moments before he slowly started to close the distance between the two. Sitting himself on the chair beside her- careful to keep some room between them, Wesley placed his own hands on they keys. Adding harmonies to the melody she was playing. It wasn’t exactly a complicated song but the act of sharing music together was actually kind of a special moment. Perhaps one he shouldn’t have initiated- all things considered, but one they were having all the same.

Ah. There it was. The reason he really didn’t want to have a heart to heart with Kennedy. He knew it was bound to come up, but so quickly? Dayam the girl had game. Sighing slightly, he let his fingers fall away from the keys for a moment. How was he supposed to answer this? It looked even worse now that he hadn’t mentioned his relationship status before now. Kennedy was sure to think he had less then savoury motives for not wanting to tell her. Which wasn’t the case at all, but sometimes the situation just looked bad for you, mo matter what your intentions. Hopefully Kennedy wouldn’t just jump to conclusions though and hear him out.

“Well see, that’s an interesting question.” He mused slightly, pressing his finger to a key softly. The note tinkling out. “The fact is Kennedy..” He dared not look at her. He really didn’t want to see the look on her face when he learned the truth; what scum he was. “See, the fact is my hormones really should be under control because well. I’m in a relationship. And until a few moments ago it was a fully committed one.” He fell silent. Eyes staring at the keys. He wasn’t sure what to say now. If he went into a huge spin on how he didn’t mean any of it and blah blah blah he could make Kennedy feel even worse; and honestly he wasn’t sure that would be the truth. Part of him sort of did mean the kiss.

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[kennedy paige york]

“Honestly, Wes,” Kennedy took a moment to turn to him and wrinkled up her nose before relaxing it and allowing herself to smile. “I kind of figured.” What good would it do to get mad at him now? It wasn’t as though he wasn’t allowed to have a life. They’d dated for a short while in comparison to some of the other relationships their friends had and yet it seemed like that was the one relationship neither of them could get away from. Yes, they’d nearly had a baby, yes they probably would have ended up together had it not been for Kennedy flaking on the entire situation. But the way she saw it now, at least now that she was face to face with him, gave her hope that they could be friends again. Things happened for a reason, she discovered, and things didn’t work out between them because it was the wrong time for it all to happen.

“So who is it, do I know her?” Would she be upset if she did? To know that it was Gwen who Wesley was not committed to? Probably a little bit. But it wasn’t something she came unprepared for. Wesley was a good guy, any girl would be lucky to have him. Kennedy had learned that the hard way, having not seen it until he had to show her himself. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want, I know I’m prying. I just miss you and wish I wasn’t such an asshole. I could’ve kept in touch.” It wasn’t like Kennedy hadn’t dated other guys after Wes. Five years was a long time to hold out, especially when hell bent on not returning to Lampton Hill and the people she left behind.

“As far as Alyson goes, she’s gone far passed Bridezilla. Didn’t even give me a chance to explain anything. And then she mentioned you and the…” She absently reached for her stomach, something she found herself doing a lot versus talking about the baby she never got a chance to have. “And I lost it. I think I even told her to shut her ’whore mouth.’” Shaking her head, Kennedy couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to get so mad. Well, she could. But at the same time she recognized that Alyson didn’t understand it the way she did. She probably wouldn’t until she had her own children and recognized the undying love for them, even before they are born. Kennedy felt that, and lost it, and couldn’t deal with that sort of loss. So she escaped it.

“Oh man, are you a gay man now? Please tell me you’re a gay man now. I’ve always wanted you to be a drag queen. We could name you Monica and you could do shows!” Enthusiastic, but teasing, Kennedy’s hands tapped a few more keys. There was no song, just a quick ‘dun, dun, dun’ of the keys, sliding up the scale. “Monica or Monique.”

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