Separated (Team Fortress 2 + OCs Fanfic)

So I saw Spy the other day. We didn't talk. I don't think either of us want to after a couple weeks ago. I haven't even been journaling all that much since then. 

But yeah. If I find him, I will try to talk to him. I didn't mean everything I said. If I wasn't so mad, I probably shouldn't have been anyway, but if I wasn't so mad I could have asked him why. We could have had a civil conversation. I lost my temper. And I'm sorry. 

Harvey doesn't know what compelled her to write it. She knows Spy won't read it or the scrapped entries before it. He's been giving her space. A lot of space. To the point he's most likely been eating in his smoking room or somewhere else that happens to be even more secluded. Whenever it's his turn to cook, he insists that Harvey shouldn't watch him. Engineer, usually insisting back that Harvey is at the age where she needs to start learning how to cook, typically backs down after Spy begins to argue. 

And guess who's in charge of cooking tonight. 

Now, Harvey is with Demoman. She's listening to him talk about a recent day on the battlefield, where he charged at the BLU Medic and sliced his head clean off with his Eyelander sword. He tells this story in as much detail as he can remember. The Scot made it a point to tell the girl as many stories about his battling as possible. It helps that Demoman is such a good storyteller, inciting pride in his victories and adding comedy to his already funny-sounding deaths. Sometimes, one of the other mercenaries join in and tell their own stories. It's bizarrely entertaining. 

Today, it's just Demoman and Harvey. And that's just fine with her. Though, it is nearing the usual time Spy should be starting to make dinner. 

Needless to say, the anxiety is obvious. 

"What's the matter?" Demoman asks, abruptly stopping in the middle of another story. "Don't go silent on me, lassie, yer actin' like Scout on a beer run." 

Harvey doesn't meet the man's eye. "I want to talk to Spy." 

The statement was clear. Calculated. It hangs in the silence, haunting the room similar to a phantom in the night. 

"He's been waitin' fer ye ta say that, ken," Demoman finally responds, snapping the tension like scissors to a cord. "Spy's not here right now, obviously. He'll be happy to see ye." 

The girl stands up, her hands still shaking. 

"Go on, tell me how it is later," the Scot laughs. His smile warms the child enough for her to walk out the rec room and get halfway to the dining room. She slows to a near crawl, regret pouring into her from the kettle into the teacup. Fear emerges, overflowing her so much she could pass as a wandering ghost. 

Harvey takes a deep breath as she enters the dining room. Her inhales and exhales become as much background noise as a scuba diver's. Her head is swimming, her nerves are receiving spike after spike of hurting adrenaline, her heart is vibrating in her chest. 

She peeks into the kitchen, seeing a lone Spy stirring a pot. Of course he's cooking spaghetti. It's one of the few things he can't burn to a crisp. 

Spy turns his head slightly, still not meeting Harvey's eyes. "Do not hang by the corridor, Harvey." 

Harvey nods and walks closer to Spy. She's a countertop away from him. In her mind, the question of Demoman lying about Spy rises to the front of her mind. She simply watches, unable to get even a word out. 

After a couple minutes, Spy places the stirring spoon on top of the pot and looks over at the girl. 

"Did Engineer tell you to watch me?" Spy asks. Harvey shakes her head. The man nods understandingly and moves closer, so he leans on the counter. "You are stubborn, I commend you for that."