john/rose ??? ???%

Roxy Lalonde may have spent most of her days working from home in a drunken
haze, but she was not blind. So, when her daughter came home from her first year
of university virtually unchanged, save for a few more inches and a few more
pounds, she was worried.

She looked at Rose typing away at her computer for hours at a time when she
wasn't lying on her fainting couch with a stack of language tapes and muttering
French phrases under her breath, and that worry turned to anger. As a result,
she turned to the best weapon in the parent's arsenal of Getting Kids To Do
Things When They Absolutely, Desperately Do Not Want To Do Anything. She locked
Rose out of the house and told her to not come back until the street lights were
on.

This is how Rose ended up in John's unfinished basement, watching a shitty
movie. While this was a common occurrence during their high school days, John
was home for the summer from Washington State, and Rose was back from Colombia.
They talked a few times during the school year over Pesterchum, but the amount
of things they talked about evaporated; their last session was five minutes long
and full of awkward silences.

"Does Dane Cook even know how people act in real life?" John asked, to no one in
particular. "I mean, the guy from American Pie is sad that the chick from Bride
Wars doesn't want to date him anymore, so Dane Cook gives him porn? First off,
who the hell buys porn these days? Secondly, the reason why they broke up was
because the guy from American Pie didn't want to have sex with her yet, how is
porn going to help here?"

John looked over at Rose, who was watching the movie intently, her face lit by
the old, small, TV. "Hey, what's going on?" He asked.

"Mmm?"

"You're not here," he said, gesturing to the cracked concrete walls. "What's
going on?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just bored."

"Mmm."

They sat in silence once more,