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WHO: Emma & Christian Frost
WHEN: Sunday, August 10th - late evening
WHERE: Emma's bedroom / Christian's apartment, respectively
WHAT: Teenaged Emma gives her older brother a call just to say hi.
WARNINGS: Me self-indulgently writing shit 😔
For a day now, Emma has resisted calling Christian. She'd immediately found his phone number in her adult self's phone, which had been a relief, but she'd hesitated to pull the trigger. This will probably worry him, which she doesn't want to do. But also, she does want to hear a familiar voice.
With a sigh she finally hits his name and presses her phone to her ear, unsure of if she wants him to actually pick up or not. He does, though, and it's immediately reassuring to hear him, sounding just like himself if just a bit older.
"Hey Em. Everything ok?"
"Sort of?"
There is a long pause at the end of the other line before Christian groans.
"Please tell me you don't have to go to Antarctica again. That was way too much, and it really freaked me out, especially with the dinosaur stuff, and—"
"What?" Her voice pitches up considerably in her surprise and confusion.
Another long pause.
"...you know, the Antarctica thing. …Em, you sound…different."
Emma fidgets on her bed, still trying to sort out Antarctica and dinosaurs, but the concern in Christian's voice pulls her back. She can figure that out later.
"Something weird happened, I guess. I'm thirteen. Like, entirely thirteen. I don't remember anything past the dressage competition where I completely destroyed that idiot Shirley Pim."
The silence stretches on before Christian lets out a surprised laugh that is somehow mixed with another groan.
"Are… you're serious? I don't understand how your life can be so insane. It's… thirteen." He sounds a little wistful. Or maybe just thoughtful. At least he doesn't sound upset.
"Do you want me to come get you?" His voice has softened considerably.
"No, I'm fine. It's fine here. I just wanted to talk to somebody I know. It's…"
Lonely isn't the right word. Or, maybe it is, but it's not a kind of loneliness that she imagines most people have ever felt. It's brought on by the fact that she knows she should know these people, knows she should care about them and they should care about her, and instead there isn't really anything there but some vague sense of attachment settled somewhere in her chest, and the knowledge that it should be more. It's uncomfortable to know that she has these close relationships but that they're inaccessible to her right now. Like they've been stolen and are being held just beyond her grasp. She frowns and rubs at her eyes for a moment.
"...hey, Christian?"
"Yeah?"
"Do I like it here?"
There's a quiet sigh on the other end of the line, and Emma isn't sure how to take it.
"Yeah. You're… it's the happiest I've ever seen you, I think."
She considers this, just as she considers the pictures in her room that show her as he says — happy. Genuinely happy. "So I like everyone here? Like, really?"
"You do."
"And you and I are still close?"
She swears she can hear her brother smiling on the other side of the phone.
"We are. Like you'd let us not be."
This brings the smallest smile to her lips. Maybe a little bit of warmth to her chest, too, like she is proud of how formidable she has become that Christian knows she will make things happen as she wants them to. Her adult self seems to have a lot of things figured out.
"Did you know I have a henchman?" she asks, almost excitedly.
Christian laughs outright at this.
"Manuel? God, don't call him that."
"What? He's soooo henchman-y. But like a best friend henchman. I didn't think—"
She stops herself abruptly, her smile fading, her excitement flattening. Maybe she does feel lonely. She curls in on herself, just a bit, feeling exposed. Vulnerable. Biting her lip, she waits a few moments before finishing her sentence a little quietly, for plausible deniability if she needs it.
"I didn't think I could have friends like this."
There's that sigh again. It makes her want to crawl out of her skin.
"...I know. But you do. You're… it's good for you there, Em. I feel like I don't have to worry about you, outside of all the insane stuff like suddenly being a teenager again." She can hear him trying to inject some humor into his voice. "You're going to get that figured out?"
It takes her a moment, but Emma finds her footing again, pushing out those negative feelings as much as she can. Or pushing them down, maybe, but it doesn't matter. Whatever the case, she won't let herself wallow.
"I assume I always get things figured out."
Christian laughs again, more quietly this time. He's always been softer than her, so it's not surprising that even with her reassurances his tender feelings still linger. Even though she is obviously over hers. She is fine. Her eyes do not sting.
"Yeah, you do. You're kind of scary, honestly," he says gently.
Emma takes a moment to pull in a breath.
"Good. I seem pretty cool, too."
"You are."
"Which is why I have a henchman."
"Oh my god, I'm going to laugh next time I see him and it's going to be your fault."
"It's not my fault you think it's funny. That's your fault."
"Yeah, sure, thanks," Christian sounds almost happy again before going quiet for another moment.
"You're sure you don't want me to come get you?"
Emma goes silent, but she isn't considering this offer. She's just thinking (about his offer).
"Yeah, I'm sure. We've got to figure out this age thing. And anyways, it's good for me here, right?"
"Right."
"So I guess I should probably stay. ...anyway, I just wanted to say hi."
"Well, hi teen Emma. Just… let me know if you need me, alright?"
"I will, but stop worrying, ok? I'm fine. If adult-me can handle this, me-me can too. I love you."
"Not sure that's how that works, but I don't really ever want to question you. Love you too, Em. And… be nice to everyone, ok?"
He sounds more worried about this than anything else during their call, which really does bring her out of her almost-funk. Emma laughs, makes a kissing sound into the mic, and hangs up.
WHEN: Sunday, August 10th - late evening
WHERE: Emma's bedroom / Christian's apartment, respectively
WHAT: Teenaged Emma gives her older brother a call just to say hi.
WARNINGS: Me self-indulgently writing shit 😔
For a day now, Emma has resisted calling Christian. She'd immediately found his phone number in her adult self's phone, which had been a relief, but she'd hesitated to pull the trigger. This will probably worry him, which she doesn't want to do. But also, she does want to hear a familiar voice.
With a sigh she finally hits his name and presses her phone to her ear, unsure of if she wants him to actually pick up or not. He does, though, and it's immediately reassuring to hear him, sounding just like himself if just a bit older.
"Hey Em. Everything ok?"
"Sort of?"
There is a long pause at the end of the other line before Christian groans.
"Please tell me you don't have to go to Antarctica again. That was way too much, and it really freaked me out, especially with the dinosaur stuff, and—"
"What?" Her voice pitches up considerably in her surprise and confusion.
Another long pause.
"...you know, the Antarctica thing. …Em, you sound…different."
Emma fidgets on her bed, still trying to sort out Antarctica and dinosaurs, but the concern in Christian's voice pulls her back. She can figure that out later.
"Something weird happened, I guess. I'm thirteen. Like, entirely thirteen. I don't remember anything past the dressage competition where I completely destroyed that idiot Shirley Pim."
The silence stretches on before Christian lets out a surprised laugh that is somehow mixed with another groan.
"Are… you're serious? I don't understand how your life can be so insane. It's… thirteen." He sounds a little wistful. Or maybe just thoughtful. At least he doesn't sound upset.
"Do you want me to come get you?" His voice has softened considerably.
"No, I'm fine. It's fine here. I just wanted to talk to somebody I know. It's…"
Lonely isn't the right word. Or, maybe it is, but it's not a kind of loneliness that she imagines most people have ever felt. It's brought on by the fact that she knows she should know these people, knows she should care about them and they should care about her, and instead there isn't really anything there but some vague sense of attachment settled somewhere in her chest, and the knowledge that it should be more. It's uncomfortable to know that she has these close relationships but that they're inaccessible to her right now. Like they've been stolen and are being held just beyond her grasp. She frowns and rubs at her eyes for a moment.
"...hey, Christian?"
"Yeah?"
"Do I like it here?"
There's a quiet sigh on the other end of the line, and Emma isn't sure how to take it.
"Yeah. You're… it's the happiest I've ever seen you, I think."
She considers this, just as she considers the pictures in her room that show her as he says — happy. Genuinely happy. "So I like everyone here? Like, really?"
"You do."
"And you and I are still close?"
She swears she can hear her brother smiling on the other side of the phone.
"We are. Like you'd let us not be."
This brings the smallest smile to her lips. Maybe a little bit of warmth to her chest, too, like she is proud of how formidable she has become that Christian knows she will make things happen as she wants them to. Her adult self seems to have a lot of things figured out.
"Did you know I have a henchman?" she asks, almost excitedly.
Christian laughs outright at this.
"Manuel? God, don't call him that."
"What? He's soooo henchman-y. But like a best friend henchman. I didn't think—"
She stops herself abruptly, her smile fading, her excitement flattening. Maybe she does feel lonely. She curls in on herself, just a bit, feeling exposed. Vulnerable. Biting her lip, she waits a few moments before finishing her sentence a little quietly, for plausible deniability if she needs it.
"I didn't think I could have friends like this."
There's that sigh again. It makes her want to crawl out of her skin.
"...I know. But you do. You're… it's good for you there, Em. I feel like I don't have to worry about you, outside of all the insane stuff like suddenly being a teenager again." She can hear him trying to inject some humor into his voice. "You're going to get that figured out?"
It takes her a moment, but Emma finds her footing again, pushing out those negative feelings as much as she can. Or pushing them down, maybe, but it doesn't matter. Whatever the case, she won't let herself wallow.
"I assume I always get things figured out."
Christian laughs again, more quietly this time. He's always been softer than her, so it's not surprising that even with her reassurances his tender feelings still linger. Even though she is obviously over hers. She is fine. Her eyes do not sting.
"Yeah, you do. You're kind of scary, honestly," he says gently.
Emma takes a moment to pull in a breath.
"Good. I seem pretty cool, too."
"You are."
"Which is why I have a henchman."
"Oh my god, I'm going to laugh next time I see him and it's going to be your fault."
"It's not my fault you think it's funny. That's your fault."
"Yeah, sure, thanks," Christian sounds almost happy again before going quiet for another moment.
"You're sure you don't want me to come get you?"
Emma goes silent, but she isn't considering this offer. She's just thinking (about his offer).
"Yeah, I'm sure. We've got to figure out this age thing. And anyways, it's good for me here, right?"
"Right."
"So I guess I should probably stay. ...anyway, I just wanted to say hi."
"Well, hi teen Emma. Just… let me know if you need me, alright?"
"I will, but stop worrying, ok? I'm fine. If adult-me can handle this, me-me can too. I love you."
"Not sure that's how that works, but I don't really ever want to question you. Love you too, Em. And… be nice to everyone, ok?"
He sounds more worried about this than anything else during their call, which really does bring her out of her almost-funk. Emma laughs, makes a kissing sound into the mic, and hangs up.
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And Manuel absolutely deserves this call out. Henchman-coded.