Long Road to Ruin

[Taylor McCarthy]

By no Taylor had very little perception of just exactly how long he'd been out of the United States.  It had been more than the 'few weeks' he'd been told his stay at home would be all the while still being significantly shorter than his dad had intended.  Strange how things like that worked out.  Nonetheless, the first thing Taylor did after dropping his bag off at his own room was to make his way into the South wing where he hoped to find Lucy in her room.  It was late, only a few minutes before curfew, giving him just enough time to seek her out without causing too much of a fuss for being a guy in the girl's dorm.

Getting home hadn't been the easiest task Taylor had ever undertaken but it ended up being a far more pleasurable experience than the actual visit home had been.  The row of stitches that ran nearly the entire width of his forehead and the soft cast that was secured around his left forearm was a testament to that.  He was relieved that the deep purple and greenish hue that had circled his left eye had mostly faded.

Regardless of the hell he'd gone through leading up to his return, Taylor was damn near overjoyed to be back in the States.  It still wasn't home, as far as he was concerned he didn't have one of those anymore, but it was surely a hell of a lot better than where he'd just left.  Of course, even in his own mind he downplayed how influential the blue eyed girl who's door he was lightly knocking on was in fostering those feelings.

"Lucy?"  He called through the door, his voice low.  "You home?"

[Lucy James]

She hadn't even considered opening the door as it had knocked. At least not until she heard the familiar voice. Her brows furrowed slightly. She'd been lounged over the couch most of the night as her roommates had disappeared somewhere - she hadn't really cared to find out where they were and when they'd come back. Why on earth would she?

Pushing herself up, she quickly reached for the remote and turned the TV off. For a moment, she remained perfectly still, blue eyes fixated at the door. The common room was laid in complete darkness. She'd made sure to turn them all off before she'd put the TV on.

With a reluctant sigh, Lucy moved towards the door and opened it, eyes blinking at the sudden light coming from the hallway. Immediately, she took a step back so that the shadows from the inside covered her face - at least until her eyes could properly adjust to the sudden light. "No," she said, her tone cool. "I'm not. I'm just a figment of your imagination," she continued dryly.

[Taylor McCarthy]

It wasn't a feeling of adoration and love that washed over Taylor when the door opened to reveal Lucy in all her subdued, sarcastic glory so much as it was relief. Seeing her again meant he was home. Or, at least, what passed as his home for the time being. From the moment he'd landed in Ireland he'd been beaten mentally and physically and only masterminding a sudden, unplanned return to the States had ceased the relentless attack.

Stepping into the room, Taylor offered a bit of a half smile. "Oh, I don't know about that." He mused, his dark eyes remaining locked on Lucy. "I don't have a very active imagination. If you were in my head you'd be some cliched, boring stereotype." Of which they both knew was as far from the truth as possible.

There wasn't a lingering tension hanging in the air, though it was still a bit awkward as Taylor mulled over how he should have greeted Lucy. Opting on a sarcastic quip and a nod seemed as though it was lacking something even if they weren't much of anything to speak of. "How have you been?" He asked, sighing lightly. Given the absence of any sort of cast, bandage or bruise, Taylor assumed the last few weeks had been much kinder to Lucy than they'd been to him.

[Lucy James]

"I highly doubt that," she replied. "I'm pretty hard to forget." Though, it was less her good traits, and more the fact that she had a tendency to make enemies and piss people off. You didn't easily forget those who managed to get under your skin. Though, she had a feeling that wasn't entirely the case here.

Now, this was by far the last thing Lucy had expected - especially Taylor looking like he did. She heard his question, but her blue eyes and her attention immediately went to the stitches along his forehead and the cast on his arm. Furrowing her brows, a quizzical expression formed against her features. "Better than you it seems," she pointed out. Had it been any other situation, she might have found it amusing. Wasn't she supposed to be the one who usually got hurt? 

Jerking her thumb over her shoulder - despite the darkness, Lucy took a few steps further into her room. "So, what happened to you?"

[Taylor McCarthy]

It was just the response Taylor had expected which, in spite of the tepid way in which Lucy greeted him, was a good thing. Nodding faintly, he smirked. She wasn't wrong in her reply. Taylor doubted he'd ever be able to forget the girl regardless of what would become of their ill-fated and highly suppressed feelings for one another. "That's true. A lot of drinking would go into forgetting someone like you."

Stepping into the room the mood sobered considerably at her inquiry, as casual as it may have sounded. The normally animated and vocal young man offered a faint shrug in response. He didn't have to debate how much Lucy really cared about the disaster that had been his visit 'home', as he figured her question was more than likely for lack of anything better to converse about.

He brought his hand up and scratched lightly at his forehead, frowning a little as he eyed the soft cast that had been strapped tightly to his forearm. "Oh, you know." Taylor said with a dry laugh. "Just some good, old fashioned father-son bonding with a cinder block." The emotions of the incident had already run high and worn out days prior. That, coupled with the trip back to the States had left Taylor exhausted and jet-lagged like he'd never felt before. Still, it felt strangely comforting to be back in the presence of the sharp-tongued, blue eyed girl.