sempiternal
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[the scars on your heart are yours to its own]
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Serena always preferred the night. She'd stay up all night at the cinema, sometimes, watching movies on her lonesome. Other nights she'd be in the arms of another person; woman or man, she didn't care. And sometimes, on her better nights, Serena would doze on the soft dewy grass in fields that stretched two football fields.
She'd count the stars.
As a pink and orange morning crept above the skyline she'd yawn, stretch and watch. Her long strands of blond framing her face like a halo. It was beautiful to watch, just as she was beautiful to stare at.
But while they were both beautiful, they were also both empty. As the light expanded overhead, one by one the stars faded out and the sky was as empty as Serena van der Woodsen's life.
Because Serena was an actor and the world was her stage and audience, she learnt to paste easy going smiles onto those bright red lips and she mastered the fakery of twinkling eyes. She told herself she wasn't hurt if she didn't look it. And she looked perfect.
Nate had Blair and Blair had Nate. Chuck had the world and Vanessa had Dan. And she was Serena van der Woodsen and she had herself.
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[you can run but you'll never escape]
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Serena always preferred Indian summers. She liked the hazy heat and crazy storms and the fact everything seemed to be in slow motion. She liked to watch the clouds hang suspended above the Earth. She'd carve her name into the dry sand over and over again and picture herself floating above the world, too.
Instead of the usual brand outfits and tea-party get ups she took to wearing circle framed sunglasses and long dresses that stirred the dust when she moved. She coated her lips with the red juice of fresh raspberries.
And one day she decided she didn't want anything anymore. She gave away her closet, saving the long dresses and leather jackets and open toe sandals. And then she packed the rest of her belongings with her and when night finally settled around her shoulders, she hopped on the first train there was and found a seat.
Hurtling across desert plains in the middle of an Indian summer, breathing in crusty air from outside… It was a heaven Serena didn't know existed. And as they crossed state-lines and cross roads she thought back to the name carved in dirt, still back in New York. Her name carved in the dirt. She was leaving history behind.
Her history.
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[i don't wanna live like a broken record]
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Serena gets off the train, not bothering to read any signs of where she is. The fact is: she doesn't want to know. She's ready to start over and forget her past. She's ready to drink in the rest of her life the way she wants to live it.
She doesn't care about Yale or Brown. Serena just wants to feel something.
The stick-thin girl ends up miles away from home. She finds an apartment and pays it all in cash. She spends her days chain smoking and staring at the ceiling. On a good day she'll find herself out of the house and buy something that will make her feel.
And the nights are worst.
The nights are spent dancing with shadowed strangers under strobe lights that flash across her face every second, flickering on and off. Her eyes are closed and her body moves with the beat and everyone notices her all the time. Sweat drips off her body and her eyes flicker and when they open she's in the same spot, in a different club, in a different city.
Serena's going nowhere and you can tell by the look of her eyes.
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[my soul can't be saved if I sell you my sins]
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Serena's done with this town and she gets gone. Her bags are packed and she's out the door without telling anyone. She's been to ostentatious for this town and it shows. People whisper and point at her. Besides, the club's weren't that great, either.
So she runs away, she disappears, yet again. She leaves no trace for anyone.
And the next town she comes to? She does the same thing. The days are wasted getting wasted and high, staring at nothing and wondering about nothing and thinking of everything. The nights are her relievers of the day. They wash her troubles and worries off her. Strobe lights and disco balls and the loud obnoxious laughs of other party goers have become her second home.
One day she doesn't dance. She gets in, for free (she flashes her cleavage), and disappears to the back of the club. She sits at the bar, not ordering anything. Instead Serena's dead eyes scan the room looking for something alive. It's like second nature to her: destroy everything, apologize for nothing.
The telltale innocence of a fellow partyer is gold shimmering dust that protects every part of their body. Serena smirks, staring at their naivetés. Didn't they know, she muses; they would leave a little less gold?
Standing up from her spot she tips over a few glasses. A few men shout, but she ignores them. She heads to the exit, but not before sending an alluring look at a young boy, barely 21, who shudders. Already gold dust is peeling off his body and she smiles.
He was tainted by her.
As Serena disappears into the night, she decides she's done with clubs.
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[no death can touch the crooked young]
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She staggers to a nearby park. It's late at night but moonlight glints off of metal equipment casting an ethereal look upon the park. She kicks off those ridiculous heels and digs a flask out of the inner pocket of her leather jacket.
Taking a swig she strides towards the swing set.
And then she's high and it's the best rush she's ever had. And as soon as the swing hits its peak she screams out loud and she's out of breath and her eyes are the most alive they've ever been. A smile stretches across a thin face and blond hair that hasn't been cut in ages stream out behind her like a million golden ribbons.
For a second she believes she can touch the sky and she reaches out pale, slender arms and reaches above her head and she touches the sky. Serena touches the sky and it's all cold and wet and it's finally a feeling. Her fingers dig and separate the sky and create a gap small enough for her lithe body and she slips through the crack.
And life is injected into her veins, tingling icy cold skin and when she stops kicking she's brought down to Earth. She's gasping and she's smiling and she holds out her arms in front of her that shine like diamonds in the night.
She's Serena van der Woodsen and she is sempiternal.
title - sempiternal (unchanging, everlasting, eternal)
breaks - lyrics from the album sempiternal by bring me the horizon
aka this fic was inspired by sempiternal which is a great album woo
please review? i worked hard on this buddy. (jk like four hours)