Disclaimer: I don't own the Powerpuff Girls.
HLL: I've been debating about coming back to fanfic for a while, but after coming across some old stories...I just had to. Hope you enjoy the slow burn of Chemical X with teenage hormones.
Blossom was a Georgia peach.
Well, according to the old man with a bent back on the edge of town. When she went for long walks in the countryside, he was usually out at the same pond with a stick fishing pole. Always the same slow wave, always with her uncertain polite smile in return.
He tipped his hat when she passed. She thought about being compared to a fruit, a fruit from a state she'd never been to. Maybe she'd ask her dad to take her one day. Her and her sisters, so they could pluck peaches from the trees. She could figure out if he was right. When she sank her teeth into the vulnerable flesh and tasted a flavor that she hoped maybe, just maybe, was her.
Her sisters noted her new found love for peaches after a few weeks.
"Why are you always bringing a peach for lunch lately?"
She shrugged, mentioned that it had vitamins and was in season. Her sisters rolled their eyes because Blossom wore her knowledge. A mature veneer she couldn't scrub off. Not that she hadn't tried desperately. When older boys offered her cigarettes and her heart did a flip at their handsome smiles. But, it was always no.
Once, she tried to be cool. Real cool. Tried to close her eyes and feel the responsibility drift away. Ethereal standards nobody asked her to uphold, but she did all the same.
Cool wasn't her. It wasn't who she was at all. Plans sprung up in her brain. New ideas, innovative measures, tactical maneuvers. It wouldn't turn off.
She bit into a peach, tasting the sweet juice as it trickled down her hand in a syrupy stream.
It was good, but she wondered what it would've been like if it'd been from Georgia.
There was nothing good a girl could get into at night. Every media facet had drilled that into their XX chromosome skulls since birth.
It was cruel, she thought. Cruel and unfortunately common to tell girls to alter their behaviors. She negated that with her abilities, but still.
The muggy air swallowed her up as she strolled through the park. A fat moon hung above her. She wanted to take a bit out of it. See if it compared to the taste of a peach.
She walked to the foundation towards the center, a monstrously large display of pearly white stone now streaked with dirt and green stains from the chemical water spewing out of it. The water had been turned off. Once the sun sank, the entire town powered down with a pitiful sound.
Only the streetlights were on. The one nearest to her flickered with an unsteady hum. She eyed it warily, considering flying up to twist the bulb tighter into place. As if sensing her intent, the light stopped flickering. It held steady with a bright glow.
She perched herself on the edge of the fountain, stretching her legs in front of her on the cobblestone ground. The path was constructed from round mahogany stones and rocks the color of purple battle bruises.
Wounds weren't her style. They were the result of impatience, a lack of planning. Buttercup got bruises and relished them. Bubbles tended them with teary eyes. If she ever got them, Blossom hid them. Concealed them underneath pretty silk blouses so nobody could see that she'd made a mistake.
How did she get this way? It was in her genetic code, it had to be. Her sisters held themselves to strange personal standards...just as not as high as her own. Nothing was good enough for her. She felt it deep within her bones, greatness weeped when she missed it.
That man told her she was a Georgia peach. Her heart rebelled against it, but she was a tough core beneath sweet flesh. Maybe that's why she kept sinking her teeth into them. She ate three yesterday, two in hiding. The juices tasted foul on her tongue by the third, but she couldn't stop herself. It felt right.
It felt like her.
Her legs shimmered, two well-toned pieces of carved ivory, underneath the light. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes as frogs began to croak out lullabies. Her mouth watered for a sweetness that couldn't exist.