Post Melastan, right before Rabarente.
“Can you drive Ama to the airport from King’s Cross?” Melanie begged. She had clasped her hands together and given him those two bats of the eyelashes that had always made him give in. One flutter, two, then he was gone.
The car was his uncle’s. The cigarettes were his. He flicked his eyes over to see Ama’s lips wrapping around it. The flicker of the fire cast light on his face, making her look… pretty. It was enough to make his chest tighten in that confusing way he was somehow used to by now.
“So…” Ama began, the fire falling back into the lighter.
Jaw clenched, he wasn’t prepared for her to actually attempt conversation. He settled himself in for silence, trying not to dignify her with a response.
“Have you ever driven around London?”
“Jesus Christ! Left!”
“If I miss my flight because of you-“
She was leaning over the dashboard now, her hand on the steering wheel. Her palm bwww.tumblr.comeft hand and suddenly he was sweaty. Clammy palms, heightened breathing, he had to fix something quick.
“Shut the hell up!”
Ama fell back into her seat, looking at him.
“Here it is,” she murmured, turning to look out the window.
Suddenly, he felt terrible.
The drive back home afterwards wasn’t pleasant. The stereo wasn’t playing the right songs, he was driving in circles. Eventually he pulled over and took a breath, looking at the ceiling of the car until he calmed down before leaving London and disappearing into the countryside.