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[perfectible]

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[hondoyota]

Are you amenable to talking?

text

[perfectible]

Of course I am.

[hondoyota]

Come over?

[perfectible]

I'll be there soon.

[ And unless he says something else, she'll make her way to the Meadows, getting dropped off by a taxi and making her way down the drive. If she'd had more time, she might have brought a pie but maybe that was for the best, considering their fight had stemmed from her cooking. ]

[hondoyota]

[Adam stays in his room instead of going to meet her. He's curled up in the windowseat in his room, gazing out at the rainy window onto some other place or some other world. When the door opens he gets up to greet her, hands in pockets and expression guarded.] Hey.

[perfectible]

[ It's a little stomach clenching when he doesn't come to meet her and she, instead, has to seek him out in his room. Is that a bad sign? Is a good one? Is it neither?

She goes to his room first, assuming that's the safest bet and yeah, there he is. The smile she gives him is tentative and guarded. ]

Hey. [ Her hands are hidden in her sleeves, it's just one of those things she does. A security blanket move.] Are you okay?

[hondoyota]

[He nods, keeping his distance in a way he normally wouldn't. He's not sure she wants him anywhere near her. He thinks it's probably for the best if she doesn't.] Are you?

[perfectible]

I asked you first, [ she says with a more wry expression, taking a cautious step closer to him. She doesn't want to crowd him.] I'm okay. Just confused and hurt. But I wanted to give you space, I didn't know what I did to make you so upset...

[hondoyota]

It wasn't your fault. I nearly picked a fight with Gansey instead.

[Adam nods toward the alcove with the window seat and goes to sit, so that there's space for her to sit near him. There's a little black and gold box sitting on one of the bookshelves nearby, the sort that might hold a piece of jewelry or similar small item, and he picks it up and plays absently with it, turning it over in his hands.]

Your... trappings of perfection bother me.

[Adam keeps his eyes on the box, not on her. He doesn't want to see her reaction yet. It's more important to get the words out.]

All the things that signify what you're supposed to be. What you're expected to be. It irritates me. My instinct is to fight it.

[His jaw clenches and his grip on the little box begins to tighten.]

It took everything in me to fight what I was supposed to be. To survive and excel despite being told a thousand times that I was worthless.

I want to shatter the image of what you're supposed to be and find out what you're really like.

I did not go about that in a very productive way.

[perfectible]

[ She moves to sit, making sure not to hover or anything.] No. You didn't. [ He'll get honesty from her, at least. The way he went about it was, well, shitty. And hurtful. It smarts to hear him say that the way she is, the thing she struggles with is irritating, that something she does bothers him. However, it's the truth and she'd rather hear that.

And she has to be honest with him.] You're not worthless. And you have excelled. I understand that you want to know me but... I don't deserve to be treated that way. [ She keeps looking at him, hoping that he will look at her eventually.] There wasn't some deeper meaning to the way I like my potatoes... [ she shrugs a little.] But that's not to say that there isn't some deeper meaning to the fact that my mom needed perfectly white and fluffy mashed potatoes... [ She reaches out to touch his leg, gently.] But Adam, you know more about the real me than even Archie. You saw a side of me that I didn't want anyone to see.

[hondoyota]

[There's a lot he wants to say. He doesn't know where to start. He makes himself loosen his grip on the little box, cradling it carefully.] I'm quarrelsome. I pick fights with Gansey constantly. And the others.

It'll happen again. Maybe not like that--I want to find more productive ways to... you were homesick, right? [He says it like it's a word from a foreign language that he doesn't really comprehend. Do people really miss the places they came from?] You wanted it to be like being back home. That wasn't the part I meant to fight about, but it was the part I ended up fighting about.

[perfectible]

[ She can't help but glance at the box but she doesn't press about its contents, she lets him speak instead, to get his words out even if they aren't complete thoughts until the end. She nods at his question.] Yes, I was homesick. And I know that some of my friends are too. [ Archie, namely. He missed his dad, he had to. ] I did want it be like home, to have something normal because this place isn't normal. [ She pulls her hand from his leg and looks out the gloomy window.] It's not a bad thing it's just... yes, I miss home.

[ She looks back at him, almost not wanting to ask this question but unable to resist: ] Then what did you want to fight with me about?

[hondoyota]

Thought I said. [Adam relaxes a little, since him being inclined to pick fights isn't an automatic deal-breaker. He reaches out and takes her hand, holding it gently for a moment before he turns it over to be palm-up.] This. I wanted to fight this.

You trying to be perfect causes this when your nature comes into conflict with your external persona. I want you to be okay with things around you not being perfect. I want you to be okay with you not being perfect. I want you to put curry in your mashed potatoes. I want you to burn a pie and laugh about it.

[perfectible]

[ She shakes her head at his words, waiting for him to finish before she goes on, leaving her hand (palm up) in his. Her throat tightens and her voice wobbles a little.] That isn't about being perfect. That is about not being able to cope with my anxiety. It's about not being able to keep myself from bursting. About needing to keep my emotions in check, keeping the darkness at bay. It's... it's self harm, when I feel too much. [ She knows that now.] I don't want to be perfect. [ And Betty is in full teenage rebellion mode, at least, for her.] That's what my mother wants from me and that isn't who I am.

[hondoyota]

Okay. [Adam shifts a little closer, hooking his legs over hers and resting their hands in his lap. He sets down the little box on the far edge of the windowseat.] Can you help me understand the difference? For things like the potatoes. How do I tell whether you're doing something because it's the way your mother thought it should be done or because you've considered the options and you decided that it really is the way *you *want it done, even if it's the same thing.

[perfectible]

[ She considers that for a moment, trying to think of an answer.] I won't look really happy doing it, I guess? Or I'll seem stressed out about whatever it is I'm doing. [ She shrugs, eying the box again.] I'm not sure.

[hondoyota]

[Adam follows her gaze and only then realizes that his fidgeting has been drawing attention to it the whole time.] Oh. Sorry. [He reaches for it and puts it into her hands. Inside is a pair of diamond droplet earrings set in white gold, elegant and expensive.]

[perfectible]

[ She takes the box and opens it, her eyes widening at the sight of them.] Are these for... me? [ She looks up at him with a slight smile.] These are too much, Adam. You don't need to do this...

[hondoyota]

Well, they're not really Ronan's style... [He grins a little, teasing.] Of course they're for you. I wasn't going to give them to you until you forgave me because I didn't want them to be a bribe.

Put them on after we're done talking? I want to ask about things like... seriously, put curry in your mashed potatoes. Or a little cayenne in an apple pie. Trying things that are different from how they're supposed to be. Is that something you want to try doing or does that make you too uncomfortable?

[perfectible]

You don't need to get me a gift to apologize, Adam. [ She reassures him but she accepts his gesture, keeping the box in her lap.]

Well, cayenne in apple pie sounds kind of gross. [ She laughs quietly, wrinkling her nose at the thought.] But curry in mashed potatoes might be really good.

[hondoyota]

I don't want the gift to be the apology. I want it to be incidental. That I want you to be happy and to know that you're valuable to me.

You just want to use a little bit of cayenne. Not enough to make it spicy. Just enough that people can't pick it out, but it enhances the cinnamon and makes everything taste warmer. Works really well in hot chocolate, too.

[Adam prefers cookbooks on theory, chemistry, and technique, of course.]

[perfectible]

You don't need to give me expensive gifts to tell me that. [ Still, she leans forward to press a kiss to his jaw.] But thank you all the same. They're beautiful.

If you say so, [ she looks both skeptical and amused, thinking that he must have tried it once but she can't imagine a hot-spicy apple pie.] I always thought the recipe I used was pretty great. [ Why mess with perfection? Granted, that's exactly what he wanted to do.]

[hondoyota]

It is. You make an amazing apple pie. [He shrugs, earnestly appreciative of the 'perfect' things she does but also worried over them.] But I think it bothers me because I know that it's your mother's favorite recipe, and I want you to fight all the things that that were her choices, or things you chose because you knew she'd approve.

[perfectible]

Why? [ She looks at him, confused but not accusatory. He's never met her mother. He doesn't know her or the relationship between Betty and Alice Cooper.]

[hondoyota]

[Adam looks deeply confused in return. Maybe he's misunderstood something much worse than he thought.] Because it's tied in with all that expectation of being perfect. So that you feel you have to hide the side of yourself that doesn't fit that persona, and that gives you anxiety whenever you feel you aren't succeeding. Is that not it?