perfectible | (no subject)

[ 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.

[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.

[ 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?

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.

[ 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.

Edited 2017-12-08 05:40 (UTC)

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.

[ 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.

[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.]

[ 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...

Edited 2017-12-08 15:49 (UTC)

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?

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.

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.]

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.]

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.

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.]

[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?

It might be my mom's favorite recipe but I like it too. It's what I grew up on but I don't need it to be perfect. [ They just usually turn out that way.] I'm not sure that pie or cooking is a good example of how my mom demanded perfection of me.

[Adam frowns and massages idly at her fingers, considering this.] It may just be that it's the most evident to me. When we eat or cook together, it seems like... whenever you choose a recipe, it's something inoffensive and all-American and perfect. It's not just an apple pie, it's the awareness that you didn't make a berry hodgepodge pie. Why? Because this was what you were taught and what was expected of you. And that makes my skin crawl.

Can you give me an example of what you mean, instead?

[ She looks at him, frowning when he says something she does makes his skin crawl.] That isn't fair. [ To say that or feel that way.] I just make the things I learned to make, that I know tastes good. I wanted to show off. [ She pulls her hand gently from his.] I'm sorry if that makes your skin crawl.

[Adam scoots back, putting an inch of space between them and moving his legs off hers. He doesn't want her to feel trapped if she wants to pull away from him.] That's not what I meant.

Don't you want to try new things and different ways of doing things? And I don't just mean in terms of cooking.

[ She doesn't feel trapped but she does feel a little offended.] Of course I do. I'm a journalist or I try to be. I'm always seeking out new things and new truths.

Okay. [Adam doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t get it, and he doesn’t know how to figure it out without upsetting her worse.] Maybe you could give some examples to help me understand. [Of all these new things she’s trying and doing.]

Dating two boys at once. [ She looks at him pointedly.] Modeling. My mom wouldn't be okay with that. [ She thinks further.] Try to become an actual journalist instead of just doing the school newspaper where it's safe.

[Adam wants to point out that she's not dating two boys at once, because Jughead's not here and he doesn't know about her dating Adam, but he at least knows better than to be pedantic on that topic right at this exact moment.]

I'm proud of you for those things. [Adam tentatively rests his hand alongside hers, pinkies touching.] The modeling and the journalism. And the foray into light polyamory.

For me, it's a constant, everyday thing. I've excised everything from my life that reminds me of that place. So much as hearing a song that my father liked makes me feel disoriented and... scared. I can't eat anything that my parents would have fed me. I went to a party where everything was southern and country because the others were going and it would have been impolite to decline, and I spent the entire thing wandering around like a trauma victim.

[He hooks his pinky over hers.] So it's possible that I'm projecting.

[ She doesn't pull away from his touch even if she totally caught that slight jab about the polyamory thing. She isn't a fan of what he's projecting onto her right now.]

My parents... My childhood wasn't anywhere close to yours, Adam. I don't blame you for doing those things, for feeling the way you do but I don't want to forget my life back home, I'm lucky enough to have good memories and yeah, maybe it wasn't perfect and my mom has her issues but... [ Her hand moves to cover his.]

I have no idea what it was like for you, I've only seen glimpses but nothing like that ever happened to me. [ It's not bragging or trying to show she's better off than him, not at all. It's her trying to reassure him that her reaction to her own childhood would not be anything close to his, it didn't need to be.

He was abused, abhorrently abused.] So you don't need to worry about me or push me to be different than I am. I like who I am for the most part.