stay. [blane rekner]

synopsis / prompt: wait [realizing the receiver is about to leave the room, the sender hastily reaches out and catches their wrist]

It's annoying that The Rankings are right there. Right at the center of the department, at the core of the hustle and bustle of the hunters that are either starting, continuing or ending their days.

It's an insult that Blane has to pass the board every day—but not for the reason everyone else believes. They don't care for their name below yours, not nearly as much as everyone claims they do. No. What's grating is how much the board has become associated with them.

Bring up The Rankings and the first thing that pops into mind is Blane. Blane and their bitterness. Blane and their distaste for a system that is blatantly unfair. Blane and their petty made-up feud with you.

What started as something easy to blame their attitude for has become Blane's biggest pet peeve. If it didn't do its job, Blane would've squashed the rumours ages ago. Their grumpy personality, every core trait of theirs that they've created and chosen to display, can all be boiled down to The Rankings.

No one but N knows the truth.

All this runs through Blane's head as they ride up the elevator. They don't acknowledge anyone as they make their way into the department, hoping to head straight to the media room and into solitude until their partner arrives.

Their wish isn't granted.

Because there you are, standing in front of The Rankings. The fucking Rankings.

They don't necessarily plan to go up and talk to you, but their feet are moving before their brain can turn them away. Blane stops a couple of meters away from you, staring more at the light on your face rather than the screen itself.

"Why do you bother looking at it? You know you'll always be first."

You don't look at them. "Unlike you, I'm not concerned about placement."

"Inflating your ego before starting the day then?" Blane's chest tightens. The words are too rehearsed. Memorized lines. "I'm sure Caine would be more than happy to do that for you. Wouldn't be surprised if he created a board in memorium of you when you leave."

"Too bad that version of me won't argue back with you."

"I already like that version better," Blane replies.

A nerve twitches in your jaw. "Is there something you want, Rekner? Or are you just here to annoy me like usual?"

Blane doesn't have an answer to that. They stand there, shuffling their feet while trying to come up with something to say. Part of them came here to annoy you, there's no doubt about that, but why they do so they can't figure out.

If they truly hated you, why do they come up to you so often? Why does Blane go out of their way to speak with you, to pick fights and make snarky comments, when they aren't obligated to have to deal with you at all?

They wonder if you've picked up on this at all. Despite their words and expressions and attitude, is it obvious that Blane actually… enjoys talking to you? To some degree? It becomes clearer each day, and it's all they can do to hope that you don't realize.

When it's clear they're not going to reply, you scoff.

"Of course. I shouldn't have expected anything more from you." You turn and meet their eyes, jaw set and expression determined. "Good luck with your case."

A more courteous farewell than they deserve.

You walk forward, brushing past Blane as you leave. Too soon. Too quick. The conversation was over in a blink.

They have half a mind to turn around and grab your wrist and tell you to… to what? Stay? You'd laugh in their face.

In an alternate universe, maybe they would have. Maybe they would have interlaced their fingers with yours, sucking in a breath at how much they like it. Maybe they would have found the words they've been wanting to say or conveyed them through their eyes.

Maybe you would have stopped, lips slightly parted and brow furrowed. Maybe you would have whispered their name.

Maybe you wouldn't have been rivals at all.

But none of it happens, because Blane doesn't reach for you. Their fingers twitch at their side, aching for some sort of release that they don't provide. They don't bother turning around to watch you go, opting to leave instead.

One out of three. You were one out of the three people they'll talk to today. The other will be Devereux, as it happens every day without fail, and the other will be N. That's it.

If Blane weren't so concerned with image and protecting themself then their list would be longer. Sometimes they wonder if they'd like that. But when they pop in their headphones and find their usual corner in the media room, they realize they wouldn't.

They're just not built for it.