Mental

Date/Timing: 19 December 2005
Setting: Edinburgh airport; Edinburgh, Scotland
.
Fen-fen takes two steps into the arrivals area and falls to her knees, presses her forehead to the floor, mumbles, "Praise the sweet baby Jesus we made it."
Edan gazes heavenward. "It wasn't that bad," he sighs.
She sits back on her heels. "Yes, yes it was." Hauls herself to her feet, dusts off her trousers. "It was really, /really bad."
Edan slouches, squeaks off toward the nearest empty bench.
Fen-fen pursues. "Seriously bad. Where the /fuck was your head that entire while?"
"On my shoulders."
"If it was empty of your brain, maybe." Grabs his arm, spins him around. "You're a piss-poor driver, but /that was the worst trip yet."
Edan shakes her off, grumps, "The weather's crap. What d'ye expect?"
Hands braced on hips, head cocked. "You not to nearly kill us? That was almost, like, three head-on crashes, two hedges, a sideswipe, a wall, and either a sheep or a small man in a sheepskin coat in less than an /hour."
He shifts his feet, ruffles melted snow from his hair. "Fine. You drive back."
Fen-fen holds out a hand—
Edan rolls his eyes, digs the key to the hire car from his pocket—
—tucks it into her bra.
—huffs. "It wasn't that bad."
"Edan, you're lucky you didn't kill us."
He deflates onto a bench.
Fen-fen plunks down beside him.
He sighs mightily.
"What's got you so lost inside that thick skull of yours?"
Edan lets his head fall back, his eyes flutter shut. "He's not answering calls or texts."
"Ye ever think he could just be busy with family things?"
"Too busy to text?"
"Travel?"
Edan scoffs.
"So what do you figure it is?" she sighs.
"He's thought about it and's decided he wants /nothin' to do with me," he mumbles.
"Despite your driving, you're not a bad a catch."
"Big praise coming from my /sister."
"As a person who's dated a lot of losers, I assure you you're not one."
"Maybe, but he's /amazing. I'm /nothing—hey!" Rubs the back of his head.
"Maybe it has /everything to do with the fact he's a sixteen-year-old /kid and they don't know what's going on for the hormones and /nothing to do with you."
"He acts more mature than I do."
"Yea, so did I at sixteen and ye know where that got me."
Edan sags. "He's not like us. He's a better class of person."
Impact to the back of his head.
"Oi! What was—"
"I'm gonna beat that attitude outta you if I hafta kill you."
"Fen-fen ...."
"Posh people're only posh 'coz families like ours do the /real work."
"I can't name anyone in my year at uni with a family record like ours."
"Because they grew up in a fucking money-bubble and rode the escalator to uni." Pokes Edan's temple. "You /dragged yourself there with that big brain of yours."
He runs his fingers through his hair.
"You should knock off fakin' your accent, too. Be proud of your roots."
"It barely counts as 'faking' anymore," mumbles Edan.
"But it's right there when you drop the act."
"It was bad enough in those honours classes; I don't need the shit that comes with being a working class Scot at an English university."
"A working class Scot near the top of your damn class."
"They laughed at my 'fake' accent every first session, Fen-fen."
"Maybe 'coz it's—"
"'coz it's /Scottish." Opens his eyes, stares at the ceiling. "Hermann's the only other one I heard get snickers. They even left the guy from Yorkshire alone." Sides-eyes Fen-fen. "Hermann sounds all BBC now, though."
Fen-fen grunts.
"Folks still peg me as a Weegie."
"At least there's that."
"Yea—" Lifts his head. "—I tried for Estuary, but I couldn't get all the Glasgow out."
"'course not," she sniffs. "'s like a bad smell, 'pparently."
Edan sighs.
Fen-fen huffs, crosses her arms.
"When's Dad's plane get in again?"
"Seventeen hundred, if the weather cooperates."
"Which it's not."
"Nope."
Edan heaves himself to his feet.
"Where're you going?"
"To find a quiet corner and try calling again."
Fen-fen rolls her eyes.
Edan hunches his shoulders, plods off, finds a phone cubby without much trouble, tucks himself inside. He takes a deep breath, digs out his mobile, makes the connection.
Five rings and the default voicemail message plays.
Again.
"H-hey, Hermann. It's Edan, again." Swallows. "Whatever I did to scare you, I'm sorry. I-I don't—" Deep shaky breath. "If you don't want to be my boyfriend, it's alright. Just ... just call me, text me, let me know. /Please. I'm going absolutely /mental worrying something's happened to you. So, yea, please ring me back. Any time. Thanks, Hermann. L-love you."
He disconnects, sets the mobile on the little shelf, folds his arms, and drops his head on them.
Category:Ficlet
Category:Edinburgh (setting)
Category:Edan
Category:Edan's POV
Category:Edan (ficlet)
Category:Fenella
Category:Fenella (ficlet)
Category:Hermann (mention)
Category:Torquil (mention)
Category:Ficlets with images