[center][h2]Matthew Detmer[/h2]
[hider=Greyson Chance- Seasons][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEeI6_lXfzc[/youtube][/hider][/center]
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There was a muffled 'mmph!' sound when Amanda's lips crashed into his own. A combination of uncertainty and surprise creating the abrupt sound in response to the equally abrupt action. He catches her wrist firmly as it came up to caress his cheek, and when Matthew looks up at her from his seated position his heart nearly stops, the water slipping out of his hand and hitting the carpet floor- pooling around his feet before sinking into the carpet. Amanda doesn't let go, just removes her lips and gently pries his hand from hers, [i]But, we can always make up for lost time, I promise[/i], she says softly, and after all these years she really hasn't changed much, not with those same eyes and smile and hair and oh. [i]Oh.[/i]

He's abruptly dizzy and his world tilts dangerously, the sounds of his ceiling fan and the empty glass hitting the floor blurring into a whirling ambiance and it's like tunnel vision, he can't see anything but her, can't feel anything but her hand still wrapped around his wrist, anchoring him and uprooting him all at once, and suddenly everything is comets and supernovas again, dazzling and breathtaking and terrible, [i]it's you, it's you, it's—[/i]

That's just the way it's always been though, what did he expect; he builds, and Amanda swings and knocks it all down. Her face contorts in some sort of self doubt, and Matthew doesn't know how to feel about that. The he is suddenly rushed back to reality. He doesn't know how, but somehow, miraculously even, he pulls himself together, every trembling and shaken piece included, and rushes to clean up the mess she- he had made.

He stands up abruptly, almost knocking into her as he does so, only to stumble as he knelt down to pick up the now empty glass. As he grabs the empty container, he realized that he had taken a while to reply to her. "No, no, yeah I-" He breathes, trying to grasp the air for words that are barely forming in his throat before being regurgitated in an attempt to redeem this failure of a conversation. She was so much more put together than him right now. All melodrama and class that was characteristic of a Blackmore. Retrieving the glass, he dared to take a look up at her, and sighed in relief upon seeing that she was turned away from him. He scampered to his feet and into the kitchen, eager to put some distance between himself and her right now. Matthew unceremoniously deposits the glass in the sink, and tries to busy himself by finishing what he started with the carrots, only to cut himself again. He cant concentrate.

What was she thinking, that foolish, stupid, beautiful, outdated, [i]brilliant[/i]... he stops, takes a breath —who was she to unceremoniously drop into his life from god knows where and expect them to start where they left off? Here she is many years older, perfect and successful and everything everyone has ever expected her to be, but then she comes along all smiles and earnestness and [i]fuck[/i]—suddenly he's back where he started.

He's angry and agitated and frustrated because he's angry and agitated—it's irrational in theory, but Matthew has long learned that his life doesn't follow any book, any rule. Eventually however, he finishes his task and no more words had been exchanged between the two of them- the silence that follows after becomes overbearing, pressing down upon them. Matt knows that Amanda is thinking the same thing; neither of them want to open the floodgate, in fear of re-opening wounds and creating new ones. What had caused their fall-out? Where had those last few years disappeared to? How had they severed their connection without even knowing it?

Deciding that the process was much like ripping off a Band-aid, Matt slams his blade down onto the table and faces Amanda directly; it's hurting him to not have answers. It's hurting him that she no longer seems to care.

"You disappeared for years Amanda," he says, his voice low. "In fact, you and I stopped talking after I left for Florida. Here." He searches her face, so different from what he remembers, and yet so familiar. He wishes he could just have it all back. "I mean, we did talk to each other now and again I guess, which was nice because I got to hear from you again, and for a while I thought we were okay..." A lump is starting to form in his throat. He pushes it down forcefully. "But then we just stopped talking! No phone calls, no visits, nothing! I mean, granted, I was busy, and you were busy and, I know... I just- I thought." He waivers slightly. "I thought we had something real." Matt looks out the window, suddenly losing his nerve and averting his gaze, choosing to look at the clouds building in the distance through the window pane. "Don't you... don't you remember those nights we'd spend together of your roof? The papers you'd help me with? Science class? Together?"




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