fandomhighdorms | Second Floor Common Room; Thursday Lunchtime.

There was revenge on the horizon for Turtle Wexler, and the market had made record gains this week. Typically, as she sat curled up on the couch, watching them report on the gains on CNN, Turtle would be very pleased with herself and the world, and in a generally good mood. But her eyes on the television set were distinctly dull and down, and, above all, worried. For, alas, not even record gains in the stock market could make Turtle's mood better in light of the conclusion she had reached this morning as she thought about it over the Wall Street Journal after her workshop.

Yesterday, Jeff had said that he wanted to talk, and there hadn't been a straight answer as to whether or not it was a good talk or a bad talk. It depended on her, he said, and then wouldn't talk about it, because soc-- football was on. Needless to say, this made Turtle rather nervous.

But then she had to go and think about it, and it only got worse from there. Of course it was bad. If it was good, he would have just said it was good. But he was trying to cover that it was bad. And, in the recent weeks, there was the whole thing with the closet, and then, oh, God, that night the squirrels slipped her rum and she got drunk and tried to...and then...

Green arrows flashed across the marquee at the bottom of the screen, but they held none of their usual consolation. Not under the realization that it was crystal clear and quite obvious.

He was going to break up with her.

He. Was going to break up. With her!

You didn't dump Turtle Wexler! You couldn't!

...

...She'd be really, really ticked off about the whole thing if she wasn't so devistated.

But, hey. At least stocks were up, right?

[[ this = what happens when someone leaves the TV in the workout room on CNBC while I'm working out. Open, open, open, of course! ]]

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"W-Why bother trying t-then?"

Turtle shrugged again. "Dunno. Why not?"

"B-Because it's not like y-you," she said simply.

Turtle sighed, hesitating a little before she tilted her head a little against her shoulder, her eyes sliding toward Hinata. "No," she said, "it's not. In fact, usually, with stocks up like this, I'd be so freaking stoked that I'd probably break the couch from jumping on it so much. But today I figured out something really awful and terrible and not even record gains can make me feel better right now, Hinata..."

That got another long glance and then a moment to tuck her hands into her sleeves.

"D-Did you want to t-talk about it?"

"...I don't know," Turtle said quietly after a long moment to think about it. "I've never had to deal with anything like this before."

"Do y-you think it would d-do you good to talk about i-it?" Hinata asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Do me any good?" Turtle snorted derisively. "Not likely. He's probably already made up his mind; it's just a matter of time until he gets to talking to me, and then that's it. The end. All I can do at this point is just hope that the...bloody EuroCup never ends, because then he can keep getting distracted by soccer too much to tell me."

There was a lot of anger tinging Turtle's voice, but it was all dulled by the overpowering sense of defeat lingering beneath it all.

Her eyebrows drew together. Nevermind that she had no idea at all of what the EuroCup even was...

"H-He?" she asked cautiously.

"Jeff," Turtle clarified. She had to choke down a lump in her throat before she could elaborate. "My boyfriend. Currently, anyway."

"Y-You don't think f-for much longer?" Hinata said, tucking her feet up under her. "B-But soccer p-prevents him f-from..."

"He said he wants to talk," Turtle commiserated, with almost a moan. "And after everything that's been...but, well, he won't talk when the games are on, so if the games are on, then he won't, you know....talk about..." She swallowed hard; she couldn't say it.

"...h-how do you know w-what he wants to t-talk about?"

It was a good question, she felt.

"What else could it be?" Turtle asked worriedly. "I mean, he wouldn't talk to me while the game was on, he wouldn't tell me that it was a good talk and he always distinguishes if it's good when it's good. And then there's been...stuff. We...um. I...stuff."

That was all Hinata needed to know, thank you very much.

"B-Boys do take t-their games s-seriously though," she offered. "S-So m-maybe it was merely the t-timing?"

"But as soon as the games are over, Hinata," Turtle had to take a moment to cover her face with her hands, muffling her next statements, "we're over, too. He's going to dump me. It's going to be awful. I can't be dumped!"

Hinata wasn't entirely sure how a talk translated to being dumped but then, she supposed, she wasn't one to talk since she hadn't ever had a boyfriend...

What to do?

She reached out nervously and tried to rest a comforting hand on Turtle-san's shoulder.

Turtle just sighed, her head hanging slightly. "I hate failing, Hinata," she lamented. "And so part of me is telling me that, hey, you don't have to fail, you could break up with him first, and then he's the one being dumped, but...I...can't do that..."

"Y-You can't work it o-out?"

"If he doesn't want to be with me, we can't," Turtle said. "I know I'm all about standing my case and I know I could convince him if I had to stay, but...it wouldn't be what he wanted. He'd be unhappy, and I couldn't be happy with that..."

"S-So what will y-you do?" she wondered. "W-Would he be h-happy to see you like t-this?"

"...Probably not," Turtle admitted. "That's probably another reason why he hasn't done it yet."

"D-Does that make it easier or harder, j-just putting it off?"

Turtle shrugged. "Yeah. Probably. People still do it, though."

That got a long puzzled glance as that hadn't answered her question at all.

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