who: @we1rdoswhat: uno reverse where: outside of clem's trailer
More often than not, Mick feared that she knew more about Clementine than she would like to. That had been their whole relationship friendship whatever-it-was, hadn't it been? Clem gave, Mick took; Clem told her about everything, Mick told her about nothing; Clem wanted, Mick feared. Yes, the 'opposites attract' trope always seemed to work until it didn't. Nonetheless, how much 'everything' had truly been shared? That was what Mick believed she knew -- that was what made Mick fear that she knew more about her than she would like. Because she knew a lot, but she also didn't know enough. What she knew was scratch and sniff, but that was still enough to know one thing... Clementine was bound to be showing her unique version of care to everyone who had been deeply affected by the news (Mick wanted to see it, she wanted to see what had remained), which had likely been masking how it had affected her. Because they had been friends, yes? In a past life, in those days of scraped knees? Thus, much to her own chagrin, Mick found herself outside of Clem's trailer (partially regretting not having just texted her, partially regretting initiating contact at all, but fully knowing that it's just the thing to do -- especially if you're looking out for everyone and few are looking out for you). So... one second... two seconds... and she knocked. And masked it by calling in, "Iggy almost killed Fish again."
what had been haunting clementine’s cobwebbed brain these past few days was, oddly, not the thought of amelia’s death — not at first glance, anyway — but the feeling that her loved ones were pulling away. mick had been familiar with this side of her — the more desperate, slightly violent one — as she drew her line on the ground, as she let her know their tale of epic love was nothing but a fantasy. perhaps chasing other people, focusing her energy on the possibility of her childhood friend’s passing being an intriguing mystery instead of a sad occurrence, concealing the permanence of it by repeating mantras such as no one truly leaves us, was her twisted way of coping — her way of escaping.
alas, clementine’s never been one to sit around and analyze her feelings … nor does she care to start ( i doubt she’s even aware that’s what healthy, functioning people do ). instead, she tortures her husband with all the attention others are unwilling to accept. “ door, baby, door! ” francis yells from the small shower, face peeking from behind the beaded curtain. “ openin the door, baby, openin’ the door. ” fool replies — a shameless lie, since she’s still sitting on the edge of the toilet just to remain near, her fingers digging into his hand even though he very much needs it for cleaning purposes.
it’s only when the end of mick’s sentence reaches her pointy ears that her frizzy head snaps up, abandoning her throne to zoom toward the entrance; not before pushing through the multicolored crystals to give his cheek a bite. “ really goin’ now, baby, really goin’. don’t miss me too much. no, actually, do miss me too much. ” door swings open ( after a bit of persistent tugging ), and clementine shuts it right away, with them both outside. “ wanna go for a walk, man? ” an answer isn’t needed; it’s more demand than question. her shoulder smacks against mick’s as she moves past her. into the trailer park's night they go.
