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hi i am dumping shitty valentines day fic here
den of thieves | pg-13 | 1,015 words
He didn’t know what to expect when she started getting high. Well, let’s rephrase that. He didn’t really care what happened when she started getting high. He never really minded her anyway.
She didn’t do it as often as the boys and girls with black eyes (because she cared about how she acted in the classroom, actually), so maybe that was better. But she was never one to care about what everyone thought of her, so maybe he was a bit surprised that she only got high on the days they had no classes. Maybe.
She smacks his shoulder blades like bongos. “C’monnnn. I’mma goin’ outtt,” She drawls.
“Where.” It’s a statement, actually.
“Outtttttttt,” She stands, heading for the door.
He follows suit. “Wear your coat.”
She stumbles over to her black and red one, hanging limply around her shoulders as she throws it on. He takes his beige trench coat (or, as she put it, the “public masturbator” trench coat) and wraps a scarf around his neck. Then, as a second thought, he gropes for another and catches her in it before she’s out the door.
“Scarf,” He says.
“- we wear our scarves just like a noose – “
He groans. “Please don’t sing.”
“- but not because we want eternal sleep – “
He intentionally shoves her down the steps and she hops a few times before gaining her balance.
It’s slowly turning into February and today’s sky is a dull grey. There are slushy patches of snow scattered everywhere and the grass that is showing looks like more snow, but the lack of light is probably to blame for that. He supposes he likes these kinds of days, but maybe not really.
They wander aimlessly for a few blocks and sometimes she breaks out into a fit of giggles or an array of speeches about things like tree branches. He’s not enjoying himself at all, as there is a very large amount of water in his sneakers and he doesn’t like it one bit. She skips after a cardinal, a splotch of red in the colorblind man’s eyes, and he follows her into a parking lot.
She giggles obnoxiously and he wonders if she’s just kidding. “Haiiiil Maryyyy, fulllll of graceee, save mee from this scarryyyy placeeee …” She’s not.
He stops walking behind her. “… What the hell are you on?”
“Everything.” She stops in turn, staying still for a moment to see if he’s staying.
“What do you mean ‘everything’?” His hands burrow themselves deeper into his pockets. He should’ve worn gloves.
She kicks at some snow. “All.”
She spins on her toes, holding one finger up towards the nighttime clouds. “’All is one, one is all,’ said the tiny blonde man and the armored boy,”
He puffs, his breath condensing in his cheeks. “Who the hell are you supposed to be? Tweedle-dee?”
She smiles without her teeth. “Then you’re Tweedle-Dum!”
He practically screams.
The sky is completely dark now yet he doesn’t think of going home. She’s quieted down though, and he begins to think with mild glee that she isn’t high anymore, but the second she opens her mouth that glee dissolves.
They walk along a sidewalk now, occasionally moving aside to allow a biker to pass or coming upon a couple busy with their hands. Other than that it’s quiet aside from the city below and the trees growing along the edges of the cliff provide nice scenery.
She stops at a clear part of the sidewalk where the trees ceased to grow and she climbs awkwardly to sit on the concrete railing. He seats himself next to her. It’s cold and damp and he’s sure he just sat on a salamander or something. She hasn’t said a word in over a half an hour.
“You know,” Well, there goes that revelation. “There’s this guy in my third period. And Seminar. He’s got glasses. Curly black hair. Which is funny, because most curly haired guys are blonde. He’s really funny.”
“Why are you telling me this?” He crosses his legs and rests his chin on his hand. The city lights make him tired.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees her clutch the fabric of her jeans. “He’s really pretty you know. His eyes are super blue. His smile is big and shiny.”
He glances at her face. It’s scrunched up unnaturally. She rubs her eyelid. “A-And he d-doesn’t h-have a girlfriend. B-B-But I h-heard this one g-girl – that one sl-slut – say s-she’s g-gonna a-a-ask him o-out,” The muscles in her face squeeze closer together. “A-And i-i-it’s n-not f-fair, b-because he sh-shouldn’t b-be d-dating brats.”
He raises an eyebrow. Her futile attempt at trying to hold her tears in is sort of sad, in a way. He turns back towards the city, eyeing a car and trying to get his eyes to follow it. He can’t keep them open.
She whimpers a bit more before calming down. She gazes at the lights for just a bit longer. “What time is it,” It’s meaningless conversation.
He blinks his eyes a few times. His watch says 11:37PM. “Eleven forty.”
“Is the Mall still open,”
Her eyes get a longing look. “I wanna go to that one food court. The Asian Takeout one. And get some noodles. And some of those little fortune cookies.”
His head droops. A jolt rushes through him to wake him up. “Mmm.” (Which is short for “’K. We can go. Get all the cookies you want. And let’s eat there, too. Then we can take the bus home. Or the subway. The bus is cleaner though but the seats on the subway are more comfortable. I’ll decide later.”)
After ten minutes, she swings her legs over onto the sidewalk, kicking out the Charlie horses and stretching her sleeping arms out. After five minutes, he does the same.
She walks idly down the sidewalk towards the fork in the road and takes the one curving down. He follows; his eyes staying open just a bit longer as the lights grow brighter and brighter.
Step 1: Post this into your LJ publicly.
Step 2: Others will reply anonymously about what they really think of you.
Step 3: Cry, because this meme is so brutal, and it hurts
Anon is on, IP logging off.