gooseberryhigh | (no subject)

Who: Ramon Delgado & Jonathan Wilde
When: Sunday, 26 Nov, after their return to campus
Where: Quidditch pitch
What: Important discussions about a certain Delgado sister.
Warnings: A bit of language.

Going home had been good for Ramon - a bit of time to relax, to spend time with his mother, to not really think about the problems at school… but he’s back, now, and any respite that Chicago had given him is gone. He’s tromped out to the Quidditch pitch Sunday evening, just to fly around some and go through a few speed and agility drills on his own, but he spends less time than he intends because he feels frustrated and listless. He catches sight of someone as he makes another round of the pitch, and figures they’re coming to practice as well. Whatever. He might as well leave it to them. Ramon lands without much ceremony, intent on making a quick exit without speaking to the approaching figure. Especially when he realizes it’s Wilde.

Wilde hasn't so much as touched his broom for more than a week, which is frankly unacceptable. His appearance at the pitch is charged with restless energy -- that impatience to hit the air, yes, but the general edginess of a mind caught between so many responsibilities, lines of thought. He's everywhere, lately. Paris had been a nice break, of course -- he'd described it to Saira as a "liminal space," and that held true -- but Gooseberry was Gooseberry, and there was nowhere to move but forward.

Of course, spotting Ramon -- he knows it's Ramon from the way he stands, almost, and how Sofia immediately comes to mind -- everything else goes out the window. They have things to discuss.

Wilde leaps onto his broom and toward the standing boy with somewhat reckless speed. He crosses the space between them in seconds, landing haphazardly in his path.

"Hey."

The idea that he’s going to avoid anything but a momentary encounter with the other boy feels very, very unlikely as the Ebonhide speeds towards him on his broom. Ramon accepts his fate - he falls still, watching Wilde as he dismounts, his own broom held tightly in his hand. He could flee, he suddenly thinks, though he quickly dismisses the idea. It would be childish, and he likes Wilde enough to hear him out, even if he can guess why the other boy clearly wants to talk. He fights against rolling his eyes in anticipation of the conversation to come, instead simply inclining his head. Whatever is about to happen, it’s nothing he can’t handle, even in his agitated state.

“Wilde. Afraid I was going to run?” Ramon’s tone, though tinted with its usual hint of arrogance, is otherwise even and unbothered.

"Do you have a reason to?" Wilde's tone is an echo of Ramon's, vaguely mocking.

He smiles slightly, a little crooked and not without some familiarity, and shrugs. "I think you know why I'm here right now."

Here as in blocking the way. Probably willing to follow, if he walks. At least for a little bit. Maybe Wilde should have talked to someone about all of this, honestly. It could have been a real discussion.

“I’ve run away from less annoying conversations than this one, but I like you enough to stick around,” Ramon responds, words mirroring his actions as he doesn’t budge from his spot.

Even if he’s not running, though, the Junior appears more agitated by the moment. His lips tighten. “I wonder if she gets the irony of whining to you about me but not about her actual problems. Regardless… get it out. Why am I such a terrible brother? Don’t I have feelings? Why can’t I just be more nice? Don’t I care about her? I’ve heard all of it before, to varying degrees.”

"Cool."

Wilde shrugs, agreeing tersely as Ramon speaks. "Yeah. Sure. Exactly."

And then he finds -- once silence falls between them -- that he's not sure what to say. He hesitates, takes a breath, stops, starts. This kind of thing is not his strong suit whatsoever; he's always had the energy to start things, and rarely the follow-through, especially now that he's more into talking than shoving or throwing a fist.

"Dude, if you've heard it all before, why the fuck aren't you trying harder?"

"She's... starting to talk," he adds, trying to level his voice. "But you know what doesn't fucking help? What you said to her that night. At the Grotto. She tried to avoid me to keep from talking about it."

Not normal.

"Why the fuck would you corner her like that, and then when she tries to open up to you, tell her to fucking get over it and leave Gooseberry? Fucking cold, dude."

Ramon waits, apparently patiently, as Wilde speaks, as he takes a moment to gather his thoughts, as he speaks again. While he can appreciate that the other boy is relatively composed, this is still not his favorite thing in the world. Thoughtlessly, he scoffs, glancing off towards Azurcrest. Why do things always have to be so difficult with other people?

“God, she’s so dramatic. I am trying. This is me, trying. Me not trying? I wouldn’t bother. Wouldn’t call her out on her bullshit to try to get her the help she desperately needs.” It takes a few moments, but Ramon does refocus on Wilde with a scowl, passing his broom idly between his hands as he tries to decompress.

“She won’t go to the counselor, so what am I supposed to do? I don’t have the patience or emotional capacity to talk about all of her feelings, and she won’t do anything about it. So her options are to get over it or to get away from the cause of all this - Gooseberry.”

"She's not being fucking dramatic. These are her fucking real fucking feelings."

Wilde pauses. "I know -- I get ... This is like, beyond our pay grade or whatever. But she deserves ... better. She said the only reason she came here in the first place was to--"

He cuts himself off, trying to decide if this is his to say, but it's too late to go back anyway. Wilde rolls his shoulders back, shifting his eyes from Ramon's face. He almost looks a little embarrassed; maybe it's because if these were his feelings to express, he'd probably never say them out loud.

"Sofia said," he repeats, a little softer, "the only reason she came back anyway was to look out for you. Keep people safe. And after some of the shit I saw last year, it… Whatever." Wilde shakes his head. "I get that you're trying. But I don't think she needs to be called on her fucking bullshit right now. She needs her brother to fucking care about her and have her back, because she's got yours."

Forgetting to try to look thoughtful or composed or smart or intimidating, Wilde props himself tiredly up against his broom. "I mean, who knows what the fuck she'll do? Maybe she will actually leave. So maybe just … be there.”

Though he wants to argue that yes, his sister is being dramatic, Ramon holds his tongue because he knows it won’t do any good. Wilde isn’t about to take his side.

“I appreciate that she came back with some intention of taking care of me, but she made that decision for herself and nobody has any right to try to guilt me about it.” This comes out sharp, a jab at the other boy. The Ribbonfin’s tone evens out again almost immediately, though. “Literally the only thing that I want is for her to take care of herself, which she is refusing to do. She has two options to keep herself from having a breakdown: get help or leave. But she just thinks she can go with a third option of ignoring everything, so fine. I’ll play the bad guy. I’ll tell her all the hard shit that no one else will.”

Ramon shakes his head sharply, and the action is so jarring that it actually causes him to flinch. He hates getting this worked up. It feels unnatural, uncomfortable. “I refuse to ‘just be there’ because that means watching her run herself into the ground because she’s stubborn. I won’t do that.”

Wilde doesn't know what to say -- big surprise -- but he sort of stands there, nodding, almost laughing at the sudden sharpness of Ramon's tone and how it fades just as quickly.

"Can't you just... tell her the hard shit... nicely?"

He actually laughs then, though it's mostly joyless, and runs a hand through his hair. "It's a mess. I don't know. But honestly, is it really any better to not be there? It's all shit, and it all fucking sucks, so why not just... I don't know. Either way she's hurting."

Wilde shifts back onto his feet, standing up straight. "And I get you. I'm not going to change your mind about ... why or how things are or whatever. But you should talk to her again, as a human person you care about, before it's too late."

Ramon scowls a little at the laugh, pressing the thumb of his free hand to his temple in an attempt to ease some of the tension there. Despite the fact that Wilde had sped towards him and started off seeming far more aggressive than the Junior likes to deal with… this is going rather well. He still hates it, though.

“I said it nicely.” A beat. “Nicely for me, anyway. And it’s better to not be there if it means she’ll focus on taking care of herself instead of worrying about me.” Once again Ramon glances off in the direction of Azurcrest, scowl softening into a frown.

“I know she’s hurting, but I’m likely going to make it worse. I was trying to help when I spoke with her at the Grotto party, and look what happened.”

"I don't know if that's what's happening," says Wilde. It's true that he's given Sofia space to deal on her own, too, but he's been thinking about the way she looked that afternoon, when he cornered her before Cotillion. "She's good at seeming like she's fine if you don't look too closely. But."

He shrugs again. "I don't know, man. I don't think you could make it worse. I just feel like it's worth the effort. Especially if you tried again when no one’s been drinking."

Frown softening further, Ramon is slowly deflating - being so worked up is exhausting for him, especially when it’s hard to remove himself from the situation. He exhales all in one go, the sound sharp.

“I don’t understand her. And I don’t know what the right thing to do is. But, I’ll… try. One more time. I’m not as optimistic about this as you, but maybe she’ll be better when she’s sober. In the end, though, I have to protect myself, so if this goes south...”

He looks once more to Wilde. “...we’re not having this conversation again.”

Wilde only shrugs.

He’d say something about there being no guarantee of that -- he can’t make any promises that he wouldn’t come back and be meaner about it if things did get worse, though to be fair he’s been a much softer person lately. It’s hard to say why.

“Thanks,” he mutters at last, turning his gaze upward. The weather still looks fine up there.

Ramon nods to the thanks, even though he thinks it’s silly of the other boy to thank him for this. He’s doing his duty as a brother. Though his eyes remain on Azurcrest for a few more moments, he finally feels released; the Ribbonfin stretches his arms, looking as though he’s quite ready to take his leave of Wilde.

“The pitch is yours, then. Have fun.”