Full summary: Rebecca has always had trouble holding onto a sense of who she is. She mimics movie characters, tries on personalities like outfits, changes like the weather of a much less temperate zone than West Covina. And the hardest part is that these identities aren't as simple as lying — Rebecca commits to the role, shapes her life around it.

It's her pattern. Find what others want, and become that. Be loved at any cost.

She's been practicing for this all her life.

But when Josh Chan leaves her, Rebecca is forced to reevaluate her entire way of seeing relationships — and herself. And what about these feelings she's developing towards Valencia? As the two get to know each other on a deeper level, slowly their relationship takes shape in ways that are both more complex and more meaningful than Rebecca had ever thought possible. This isn't going to be simple. But that doesn't mean it won't be worth it.

Notes: Thank you to notbang on Tumblr for the beautiful cover art. I love it so much! The scene depicted takes place in chapter 3.

This fic will be either 8 or 9 chapters long, and I'll try to have it all up by the end of April. This fic is close to my heart, featuring information about BPD drawn from my own experiences. Any feedback is highly appreciated, and positive comments and constructive criticism are both great motivation to write and improve. Thanks for reading!

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'cause anyone who has ever sat in lotus for more than a few seconds
knows it take a hell of a lot more muscle to stay than to go

-andrea gibson

x

Rebecca Bunch sits crumpled on the manicured lawn, knees to her chest and face hidden in her folded arms. The afternoon wind whispers as it sways through the palm leaves and tall, decorative grass. Rebecca shakes with tears or breathing. Her wedding dress, grass-stained where it pools around her, gleams with painful brightness, stinging Valencia's eyes in the late afternoon sun. Sharp, rhinestone glitter draws her mind back to the flash of the waves, the jagged rocks Rebecca had stood over so shortly before, and Valencia's heart catches in her throat.

She knows she isn't good at this. This... feelings, talking thing. She's a problem solver, not a problem... talker. But Valencia's eyes grow blurry and her skin hums with anxiety, unable to fully let go of that fear that gripped her when she thought she might lose Rebecca. Maybe Valencia doesn't know what to say, but she also knows she won't forgive herself if she doesn't try to say something.

"You didn't do anything wrong, you know."

At first, Valencia isn't sure Rebecca has heard her. As she sits down beside the other woman, Rebecca doesn't look up, continues to vibrate with sobs into her knees. The too-quiet air prickles Valencia's skin; breathe out stress, she tells herself. Clear your energy channels. But attempts to clear her mind are interrupted by the distant sounds of Rebecca's mom berating her ex-husband — "She wanted you in her life and this is what you do, scheming shikker, why she even expected you to behave like a human being I have no idea—" Valencia tries without much success to tune it out, guilt tugging at her insides because she knows, another day, she might have been drawn to eavesdrop on the conflict. But now, knowing Rebecca like she's come to, seeing what her friend has been through, is going through... she can't find this entertaining. It breaks her heart.

"If you're going to abandon someone at least have the consistency to LEAVE THEM ALONE!" Naomi screams. Valencia expects Rebecca to flinch at the sound; instead, she doesn't react at all. She seems used to it.

The more Valencia learns, the less "crazy" Rebecca's behaviour seems. Yes, she's intense, and her judgement isn't the best — okay, that's putting it mildly — but she is, in her own weird, confusing way, a good person. And she's hurting terribly.

Paula would know what to say, but she's taken on the unpleasant task of sending the guests home. Maybe Valencia could get her attention somehow, find some casual way to summon her over here — but before she can think of one, Rebecca finally speaks.

"He left me. On our wedding day." Rebecca's voice is muffled by her knees, and Valencia has to lean in to hear. "I just... I knew it was too good to be true. I knew something would ruin it."

A pang of emotion Valencia can't identify moves through her — isn't she supposed to want this? Her rival in tears, now that neither of them can have Josh? But the twist in her stomach kills the possibility of any satisfactions, and it's more than just her meticulously-planned wedding being ruined by a guy who still wears board shorts. As she sits beside Rebecca, watching her shoulders shake, Valencia's chest aches as though she herself is the one struggling to breathe. What she wants, she realizes, isn't spite or revenge or a fabulous ceremony or grandiose one-up. All she wants is to take away some of the pain her friend is going through.

"The only 'something' that ruined your wedding is named Joshua Felix Chan," says Valencia, voice hardening. "And I would know. Like, he puts all these expectations on women to take care of him, to give his life some direction, and when things aren't perfect he jumps ship." Valencia slips off the headset she'd been wearing, sets it down on the nearby picnic table. Gentler, she says, "Believe me. You're in good company."

Rebecca raises her head, though she remains curled in a tight ball, clutching her legs like she's afraid she'll fly apart if she doesn't hold onto herself. In her reddened eyes, the irises shine jarringly blue, like they're piercing through Valencia. "Thanks," she says evenly. Then her voice splinters, "I can't believe I was such an idiot."

Behind her, the lowering sun crests into oranges and blues, outlining the trees and grass seeds in deep gold. The scenery would be calming in any other circumstances, but Valencia's heart, normally a steady 40 beats per minute, hammers against her chest.

"No," says Valencia. "Seriously, you're the smartest person I know. Josh is the idiot. He's a… big, stupid idiot-head." Despite herself, the corner of Valencia's mouth quirks upward with the slightest smile. "I learned that one from you, remember?"

Rebecca's mouth trembles, but she nods.

"Josh has no idea what he wants. And, whatever, that would be fine if he didn't try to use everyone around him to fix his directionlessness. But you deserve better than being used."

Hesitantly, she puts a hand on Rebecca's shoulder, prepared to pull away if it's the wrong thing to do. Instead, Rebecca leans into her, opens her arms to hold onto her. Valencia is startled, but embraces her back, Rebecca's hair soft against her neck. It's unfamiliar, being this close to someone she isn't dating, but... it doesn't feel bad. It feels... close. Valencia holds her, feels Rebecca's breathing slowly steady.

"God," says Rebecca when the two separate. "It feels like I'm vibrating, or collapsing or something." She chokes out a laugh like broken glass. "I'm so angry. I just wanna scream."

"So go for it," Valencia says.

Rebecca blinks. "Like, now?"

"Why not? It's not like a more scream-worthy moment's going to come along any time soon."

"I dunno." Rebecca sniffs. "It seems pretty crazy."

Now you're worried about that? Valencia thinks. But she says, "Would you honestly expect anyone in your situation to feel sane right now? Come on. I'll start."

And before Rebecca has a chance to stop her — before Valencia has a chance to stop herself — she's on her feet, climbing up onto the picnic table and looking out over the tranquil waves, taking a deep breath, opening her mouth, and splitting the air with a shriek. Seagulls scatter in a flurry of wings, disappearing into the inconsiderately picturesque sky. When Valencia's lungs are empty, her ears ringing with the aftermath of decibels, she smirks, steps down, and calmly pronounces, "Your turn."

Rebecca stares at her, so stunned she even forgets to cry. "What am I supposed to yell?"

Valencia flicks her wrist dismissively. "I'm sure you can think of something." In demonstration, she reascends the table, cups her hands over her mouth, and hollers, "Screw you, ocean!" Smiling, she says, "See? Easy."

Rebecca walks up beside her and chimes (well, bellows) in, her voice growing in confidence and volume, "Yeah, you're not even close to two hours out of town you DECEPTIVE BASTARD!"

Their voices ring back off the rough rocks, wash over the whispers of the waves.

"Frat boys surf on you in stupid shorts!" calls Valencia.

"Fish pee in you!"

Valencia makes a face. "Ew."

"Sorry."

"No, no, keep going, yell something."

The tightness in Valencia's chest and shoulders eases a bit. Gross imagery or not, it's a relief to hear Rebecca say something so Rebecca-like.

"Screw you, you majestic shithead!" Rebecca shouts out at the indifferent waves.

"Don't ignore us when we're talking to you!" Valencia adds.

"Yeah! We're not the ones being dramatic! You think you can give us the silent treatment!?"

"That you can ignore all your problems and we'll just pick up after you!"

"And what can God do for you that I can't, anyway?"

"You'll talk to telemarketers but don't have time for us?"

"Did Jesus help you with your job application? Did he mail you soup?"

"You'd still be living with your mom if I hadn't been there!"

"Did Jesus make you breakfast ramen?"

"You cheating ass!"

"What kind of grown man eats ramen with chocolate sauce?"

"AAAAAAAAAAA!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Together they yell until their lungs are empty, voices combining in one great sound of accumulated frustration at their combination-ocean-slash-ex. They pour out all the noise they can gather inside themselves, the indifferent water waving on, hushing with gentle wind. Their shouts reverberate off the cliffs, bouncing out, fractured and carried on the currents stretching on beyond perception. Somewhere in the distance, an unseen dog responds with a frenzy of yapping.

As she inhales for another "AAAAA" Valencia hears a faraway siren echoing over the hills. "That wouldn't be for—"

"No, yeah, that's for us" says Rebecca, scrambling down off the table, "disturbing the peace, that's a thing, let's book it."

Valencia follows her lead, breaking into a sprint towards the parking lot, through the gold-edged grass, past the vacant guest-chairs.

Valencia, the faster runner, leads them to her car, climbing into the front seat and unlocking the passenger side for the other woman. A second later, Rebecca sits down beside her, face flushed and struggling to catch her breath. Valencia tries to give an encouraging smile, but Rebecca's breathing continues to quicken, until she's almost hyperventilating, and it's clear this is more than just struggling with cardio.

"It's okay," says Valencia. "We're safe, just two friends, totally unsuspiciously in a car, doing... driving things. Come on, breathe with me — in — out."

Rebecca nods, follows along. Gradually she mostly catches her breath, though her eyes remain nervous, wild.

For a moment, the two sit in silence. Looking at their reflections in the windshield, Valencia sees how exhausted the other woman is. Her hair is tangled with wind, mascara smudged smoky. A corner of her mouth trembles, like she's consciously controlling every facial muscle to remain moderately composed. Valencia thinks of her, going home to that house still littered with wedding supplies, mementos of Josh Chan.

"Hey," she says quietly, after a few moments have passed. "Why don't you stay with me tonight? Or I can drive you to Paula's —"

Rebecca looks down. "Paula's still working things out with her husband. I don't want to get in the way."

"Okay. So is my place okay?"

Rebecca nods. "Thanks," she says finally. After a pause, she looks up at Valencia and adds, "That's nice of you." Her voice is very tired.

"Hey, no one's ever said I'm not nice."

Rebecca looks as if she's about to say something, then stops herself. With a shaky smile, she says, "Yeah. Anyway, thank you. For... all of this."

"It's okay."

"Can we just sit here a bit longer?"

"Of course."

Rebecca stares through the windshield, looking out into the sky's endless, empty blue. The burnt gold light deepens over the landscape as the day draws to an end, and her tears begin again, this time silently. On the seat divider, Rebecca's hand, taps out a shaky, accidental drumbeat. Gently, Valencia places her own hand on top to still the trembling.

Rebecca reaches for her, entwines their fingers. And holds on.