#c. ian01

[whitneyxrossi]

Even with the sincerity reflected in Ian's eyes and the conviction in his voice Whitney couldn't entirely agree. She was fairly certain that was how their mother saw her.. but of course Ian wouldn't, he was too kind and protective to think of her that way. Despite her tears, she let out a hollow laugh, more like a screech but still. It always amazed her how he managed to be witty in the face of just about anything. Even when it had annoyed her when she was younger, she was still kind of in awe of her brothers strength. Still, her worrying about him was just a given. Men were much less prone to let their emotions out or verbalize their grief, and she feared that between taking care of her and their mom, Ian didn't have anyone he could lean on for that kind of support. If she was stronger, she would have been that support for him.. it washed her with guilt knowing that she had not been able to be there for him the same way that he was here for her.

"You really think so?" she asked with laughter in her voice. Honestly she didn't know if he was just saying so to make her laugh or if he really thought their dad had been funny. He had his moments, but given how serious he used to be around Ian she wouldn't be surprised if her brother saw it all very differently. Wiping a bit at her eyes, Whitney couldn't help the slight eye roll that followed. "As if there was much of that to begin with." she pointed out, though more sarcastic than dismissive. She might be the type to smile and laugh a lot at others antics, but she did not consider herself a person with great humor. "Okay." she echoed with a small nod. The what? Oh right, the food.. Biting her bottom lip she was loath to admit that she wasn't hungry at all. At this point she doubted he'd take a 'no thank you' for an answer. "Better eat it then." she assented, stepping back and retreating to the couch where she wrapped her covers around her. "I've mostly been reading. A few friends kept pestering me about watching the new Gossip girl seasons.. its... really poor."

❛ HEY, NO, DON’T SAY THAT. ❜ Ian leaned back, forcing her to meet his eyes. ❛ You couldn’t be a burden if you tried. ❜ His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, ❛ I’ll let you in on a little-known secret: I can multitask. ❜ He hoped it would be enough to reassure her, to draw her thoughts away from worrying about him so they could help her heal. However, her words did hold some truth. His grief was a strange beast, quietly lurking beneath the surface only to reveal itself in the moments when he was still, with nothing to distract himself from his thoughts. His relationship with his father was complicated, mixed with admiration and misunderstanding, expectations and disappointment. When he got sick, thankfully, the two had already made peace. Ian never dared to ask if his father approved of his career; if he still believed his son had made the right decision leaving for Boston all those years ago. Perhaps that was why he insisted on staying close to his sister and mother now, his grief manifested into caring for them. Being needed and trusted in a way his teenage self would scoff at. If only Whitney knew how much her presence helped him. 

❛ He did. It put other dad jokes to shame, ❜ he chuckled along with her. Who needed puns when you had whatever the hell Neil did? ❛ He’d want you to keep your sense of humor, too. ❜ The last thing he wanted was for her to lose herself to the grief, to forget that the world could also give as much as it took. ❛ We’ll get through this together, okay? ❜ He tightened his grip, giving her shoulders a small squeeze before slowly letting go. ❛ And first thing’s first… the garlic bread is getting cold. ❜ Rule number one of Rossi family meals: a good dinner is a hot dinner. ❛ You can tell me all about what you’ve been getting up to in here. Watch any good movies? ❜

[whitneyxrossi]

Her whole numb calmness was slipping the more they talked. Being with family usually had that effect. Forcing trough the walls she had so carefully tried to keep between her conscious self and her emotions. Now they were rushing up to the surface. "Of c-course I d-do.. I a-am such a b-burden.." she tearfully protested. No, she didn't ask him to be here, but he knew she needed him to keep all the pieces of herself together. Had it not been for Ian being home she would have been fully falling apart. Yet she had not sacrificed anything. He had given up his whole independent life and moved back home. Friends, women of interest, a workplace.. If that wasn't selfless she didn't know what was. "You gave up e-everything to be here. And there's ha-hardly been t-time for you to gr-grieve between taking care of m-me and mom." She sniffled, not sure how to not feel how she was feeling. It seemed so unfair to her how he had been caught between all of this. Was he really this okay with it? Or was he just putting on a brave face so she would feel better? Wiping at her eyes, she somehow managed a half hearted smile at his quick wit. "Right."

Maybe it had simply been a matter of time. She needed to let it all out instead of bottling it up. And if she couldn't be vulnerable and honest with her brother then she might as well throw in the towel. While the tears still came, the flow abated some as she listened to the story. Their father might have seemed like a serious man to the outside world, but Whitney had always thought he had a clever sense of humor. He had always been such a comforting presence in her life. A sounding board for everything she had going on in her life. But she knew he had been much harder on Ian than he ever was with her. The major difference being that she wasn't expected to take over the family business and Ian was. And maybe it just had to do with her being so much younger and the only girl. Her dad truly had treated her like a princess since the day she was born. The absurdity of it forced out a weak and strangled chuckle. "He had an odd sort of humor." She murmured. Proud of what though? And unfinished Uni degree? No job, no boyfriend..

IAN’S BROW FURROWED. ❛ Whitney, you have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t cause any of this to happen, hell, you didn’t even ask me to be here. ❜ And she wouldn’t, he knew that; she would selflessly press on without calling attention to herself. The attention that she needed. ❛ I meant what I said when I came home to help with Dad. I’m here for the family and I’m not going anywhere. ❜ There was little that he wouldn’t sacrifice for his family, even if it meant leaving behind a completely different version of his life, a future with someone who might have one day been considered family too. Then, good-naturedly, his lips quirked up into a smile, ❛ So get used to it.  

Satisfied with her answer, Ian began to divide the garlic bread between them – 60/40, but he was a master conman, how would she tell the difference?— when he heard footsteps approaching. He had little more than a moment to turn before she was crashing into him, arms wrapping around her instinctively. Whitney was affectionate, always had been, to the point where he’d grown accustomed to being greeted with a hug. This felt different, and his hold tightened. Over her head, he noticed the true state of the kitchen. The half-empty takeout containers, the stacks of dirty dishes, the stains marring the countertops. How had it gotten this bad so quickly? He racked his brain for the last time he’d visited, or rather the last time he’d stepped foot in her kitchen. At this point, he was prepared to call a cleaning service, however, the wet patch he could feel growing on his shirt indicated bigger problems at hand.

❛ There was this one time I went down to the shipping yards with Dad, ❜ he started, ❛ I was eight or nine, and I must have tripped over a rope because I fell into the marina. ❜ It was one of the few untainted memories he had of their father — not that he was a bad father, or intentionally difficult. But, there was always a distance between him and the man, an expectation held that Ian could never quite live up to. Still, Whitney needed him now, they all did, and if recounting a story from decades past was the answer, so be it. ❛ He looked down at me, and I thought he would be mad, but he just grabbed my shirt collar, hoisted me back up onto the dock, and said ‘It takes more than that to keep a Rossi down. But, for your diving form, I give you a seven and a half. ❜ He laughed, a genuine one for the first time since entering the apartment. ❛ He’d be proud of you, y’know. I mean, maybe not as proud as he was of that dive, but close runner-up. ❜

[whitneyxrossi]

More.. which meant if she didn't scramble to do something, his worry and concern would reach new levels. For a tiny moment the guilt registered. He too had lost a parent. Yet here she was making it all about her.. And she was powerless to protect him from any of it. "I'm so sorry.." The words were instinctive, heavy and genuine. It was the only response she could think of. Being such a burden, pulling him from his life, from moving on. He'd never leave her to suffer alone, that she knew. Even if that might be what was best for him, he would put her first. It made her miss living together in the same place. Seeing each other every morning and almost every night. Being able to share things from day to day, not week to week. But Ian needed his own life. If they were to share it, he was the one who would loose out, not her.

Relief flooded her system at his words. "Thank you. She just... she wouldn't understand." This would stay between them. Their mother really didn't need this insight.. nor was she probably in the best mindset to. Everyone grieved differently, though Whit still felt like the rest of her family were doing much better with the loss of their dad than she was. Right now, it felt like a wound that had never closed, and as if she had to relive his death as she mourned Diana. "That would be good." She said, grateful that he wasn't insisting she eat. Most days she could only stomach a few bites of something. She'd tried to force herself to eat more, but that had ended up with everything coming back up. Emerging with her cover from her bedroom, she had to blink a few times to catch what he was asking. "Sure." Having put the cover on the couch, she realized she hadn't even given him a hug hello. Instinctively wanting that closeness, she padded over to the kitchen and abruptly flung herself into his chest, arms pressing her small body to his broader, taller one. Silent tears running down her cheeks as she couldn't find her voice.

❛ NOT ‘UP’, BUT I’M GOING TO CHECK IN MORE. You aren’t going through this alone. ❜ He would find the time to be there, each time he took Douglas on a walk if that was what it took to get her back on track. ❛ Not with dad, and not now. ❜ Ian nodded for the dog to head into the apartment behind Whitney, following with the food. The room was even colder than he’d anticipated, and he had to resist the urge to seek out the thermostat. No, this was about focusing on Whitney, not overstepping his welcome. Part of him had been prepared to leave the food outside her door and try again the next day; baby steps.

❛ I won’t. ❜ His heart clenched at the sound of her voice, the desperation that colored it as she begged for him not to involve their mother. How had this happened to his kid sister? She was too kind for this, too good of a person to be dealt with the magnitude of losses she was facing. And, much as he loved their mother, there was a very real possibility that she would advocate for institutionalization. She wasn’t there yet, he was somehow certain that he would know when she was, but he refused to allow her to be sent away and risk worsening her condition. They would work through it together, as a family. With any luck, the two women might even reconcile over their mutual grief — but he was getting ahead of himself. That was the best-case scenario. For now, he was just relieved to watch her pet his dog, the interaction almost resembling some form of normalcy. ❛ I’ll put the pasta in the fridge, ❜ Ian offered, starting towards the kitchen. He moved about the space with some familiarity, the unit similar to his own, and more than enough visits making him comfortable with where to find things. ❛ But the garlic bread won’t reheat well, ❜ already reaching into the cabinet for two side dishes, he called over his shoulder, ❛ Split it? ❜

[whitneyxrossi]

It took a lot of effort, just to keep her facial expression as neutral as possible solely for his benefit. It was like a two edged blade. Wanting to rely on him in her time of need, to allow her older brother to be there for her. And the need to protect him from seeing her completely come apart. The first time during the months after their fathers death had been absolutely devastating. Was she really going to put him trough another round? Shouldn't she be able to suck it up and not drag her whole family down in the pit of darkness with her? Last week. Well that went to show that he knew her far better than their mother.. Nodding a bit she sighed softly. "Guess my time is up." The double meaning of the phrase giving her a flash of relief thinking about it. How nice it would be to just... not be anymore.

Food. The concept didn't entice her at all. Nor had it for a long while. What did catch her attention was the notion that Doug had missed her. A bit of a sly one but then she'd always adored Ian's dog. Since the moment he first introduced them she had been in love. Taking a shaky breath, she stepped back and let the door swing in with her. "Please don't tell mom.." she pleaded in a small voice, scared that Elizabeth would push for her to go away for treatment like she had in the past. The idea of being shipped off to some treatment center, away from all the people left in this world that she loved.. it terrified her. Swallowing hard, pushing the fear down, she automatically crouched down to pet Doug. "I missed you too Dougie." SHe murmured, before getting back up and trailing into the living room. "I'm not all that hungry but I'll save it for later." When was the last time she'd eaten? She couldn't recall.

THE FIRST THING HE NOTICED was how small she looked. To be fair, there was nearly a foot of height separating them, but somehow it felt larger. As if the weight of her grief had shrunken her somehow, forced a retreat within an almost too-frail frame. 

Then, beyond her, he noted just how cold the apartment was. Summer was well underway, and the heat of the day often stretched late into the night. It was normal to have the air conditioning blasting, hell his stayed on nearly 24/7. Still, the temperature shift between the hall and the cracked door was noticeable. Perhaps he should have come sooner. ❛ Yes and no. She sent me last week,I figured you could use some space. ❜

And yet there he was, prepared to put an end to it. For her own good, but who was he to decide that? To enforce it? There was no use accusing her of taking too much time, of lying about how she was doing, not if he didn't want a door slammed in his face. ❛ I brought you your favorite, ❜ he started instead, gaze falling to the bags and then back to her. ❛ And Doug was starting to miss you. ❜ An unfair tactic to be sure, but in laying eyes on her, he was already more concerned than he had been when he'd fielded their mother's call that morning. ❛ You've gotta eat. ❜ 

[whitneyxrossi]

She was dimly aware that the AC should be adjusted, and that the place looked a mess, yet Whitney had stopped caring over a week ago. It was supposed to be one of the perks of living alone. That you could live in your own mess until you decided to clean it up. Though anyone knowing what her life was like these days could see the signs of depression clear as day. The signs that she was not taking care of herself, nor had left her space in quite some time. And given all the unanswered phone calls and texts from her mother, it was only a matter of time before she would no longer be allowed her space or peace. Hearing the knock on the door, Whitney rolled over where she lay in her bed, tangled in covers and blankets to protect from the icy cold temperature in the apartment. It was almost like a nest of comfort. Her own cocoon shield where she could live hidden from the world outside. She was not surprised to hear the deep tenor of her brothers voice trough the door. Their mother had probably pushed him here leaving either sibling with much choice of whether or not to interact. Part of her did want to see him, knew that it would probably help, but another just wanted to be left alone. With a heavy sigh, she crawled out of bed and slowly moved into the entry hall. Reluctant fingers undid the locks on her door and pushed it slightly open so she could peek out. Food and Doug. The cutest dog there was. "Let me guess.. mom sent you." she said, unable to do so without a slight accusatory tone. "I'm fine Ian.." She said, half heartedly, knowing they were a lie. But maybe just saying them would convince him to not push further. Besides, if she let him in, he would really see how not fine she was..

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑: @whitneyxrossi 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: brick + mortar

ONE TOO MANY CALLS FROM ONE ELIZABETH ROSSI had driven Ian, and his overgrown lapdog, from their spot on the couch. It was a little after seven, and the man had just returned home from a long day at the clinic, but he collected his keys and trudged out the door all the same. 

He knew Whitney, understood her, and barging into her space unannounced without giving her time to grieve would do more harm than good. Their mother was a well-intentioned woman and had always supported him without question, but he was well aware of the tension that existed between her and his sister. Where she had been his rock, their father had been Whitney’s. Without him, she was hurting, and she needed that space to grieve. 

But, when one week stretched into two, he knew it was time to do something. So, hands weighed down by heaping bags of takeaway, Marino's emblazoned on the side, he knocked on the door. Douglas sat at his feet, patiently waiting for it to open – which, given the woman who lived behind it, would be a miracle in and of itself. 

❛ Whit, it’s me. And Doug. ❜