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damien shaw:
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The world was feeling viciously topsy turvy in more ways than one, but Damien still maintained in the way he did—by compartmentalizing and focusing on something that was more imperative. Work was always a good alternative whenever he was inconvenienced or overwhelmed simply because it felt less like a job, and more than a calming hobby. Mia used to argue that he was a workaholic whenever he walked out during an argument, an aggressive notion made—”You care about your job more than our actual relationship!”—when in reality it had always been his personal therapy to keep him from saying things that could’ve come off as unkind. Overtly sensitive as he was (and as desperate as he was to not show it), he was blessed to have found something that consistently kept him out of his head. Behind the lens, there was much else to think about.
Tracing the pad of his pointer finger along the shutter-release of his camera, he passed an automated glance up when a figure walked in line of his view before openly double taking at the sight gathered. Caught off guard, a dumbfounded jolt of air dispelled from his lungs, paving the way for an incredulous breathy groan. He held a hand to his diaphragm to command himself into stillness, ears perking up at her voice. “Nora?” He called back, a bright sunbeam smiles making an encore on his features, peeking out between his teeth. What was it about Mystic specifically that made him run into either old ghosts or close friends? He wondered if maybe he’d underestimated how much he’d had to drink in between takes and if he was hallucinating. After a beat, whatever short circuit his best friend’s appearance had induced corrected itself and a familiar warmth returned to him, though he hadn’t taken a drink in what felt like a while. It was probably better that way. “Get the fuck outta here—I can’t believe it's you! What are the fuckin’ chances?” Handing his camera to his assistant, he rushed over to wrap his arms around her petite frame, happily engulfing her in his broad arms. Her’s was the first face he had seen that hadn’t induced some sort of apprehensiveness. He let her go a moment later, taking a good look at her as he always did before stepping back somewhat; “When you said you were leaving L.A. for someplace else you meant here?”
More or less, Damien already knew the answer—though he was looking for confirmation.
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In truth, Nora had gotten quite good at retreating. when wounded. Hiding, really. Maybe it wasn’t her best coping mechanism, but it worked. Protected her from further offense, always being on defense, that way. Always hanging back to see everyone and everything else going on. The ending of her marriage felt like a prime time to trot out this very same coping mechanism and try it on again for size. The glamorous, gregarious, social risk-taking Angeleno felt as much of a costume as any of the fancy LA socialite clothing she’d carted with her back across the country to her hometown. It wasn’t that the person she was in her marriage was gone, it was more like they were never really there. Not really, anyway. Always a costume, always playing-pretend.
So, maybe that was why she’d let herself drift from nearly all her west coast friends, lest she have to keep up an appearance she no longer had the energy for. Even Damien, her best friend, she had let slip through her life, by way of a wayward stream of ‘we have to catch up!’ text messages that sometimes went unanswered. If he was unhappy or displeased with her now, he had every right to be. But, instead, as was his way, he enveloped her in his arms, and the brunette breathed a sigh of relief. At least before she released a chuckle as his words began to sink in.
“Yeah, I... I’m from here. Now that you’re here, you understand why I wasn’t exactly broadcasting that at every given opportunity.” A rueful sort of laugh followed as the pair released one another, while her brown eyes were sort of raking over her friend to see that he was well, physically, before continuing. “You know, I... I just needed to get away from all that... west coast shit. And you know what they always say, you can always find your way back home.”
She raised a shoulder in a loose shrug, then extended a hand out to rest on her friend’s arm, hoping to capture his attention fully. She knew he was going to ask. “But I’m okay, D, really. How are you? And what on earth are you doing here, hot shot?”
