Okay, second challenge for "Of Love And Fanfiction", and it is Heather/Gwen! Woopee, it's definitely a challenge and I love writing Yuri, working on a Heather/Lindsay and a Gwen/Bridgette sometime. xD
Main Pairing: Heather/Gwen
Side Pairings: Heather/OC, Gwen/OC
Disclaimer: I don't own Total Drama, or any of its related characters.
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"Cheer up hun, it's the first day, and the first's day is never bad."
Heather just moaned and sat back in her seat, filing her nails and thinking of more excuses to get out of this.
Missa Chang just sighed as she focused her attention on the road again, instead of her now eighteen-year-old daughter. She loved her daughter, despite her faults, and only ever did the best for her (not counting the tape where she was selling Heather's things; she'd had a bit too much chapagne that day).
Heather did always see it that way.
Yes, she was being sent to group counseling. The single most boring, sleep-inducing, tear-inducing thing in the world. Group counseling.
"Ugh... mom, if you say that, you'll jinx it. You said the exact same thing right before that stupid Total Loser Island, and I got shaved." Heather protested.
Missa chuckled. "Well, think of it this way. There's no psychotic army chefs, no sadistic hosts, no fat, farting balls of lard - " She truly hated Owen's recurring gag of farting, and therfore hated him for it, " - and no 'weird Goth girls.' Plus, I don't think any of the kids there carry razors on them."
"Gwen would, whiny little emo-Goth girl..." Heather mumbled. Missa rolled her eyes and dropped the conversation.
The car pulled up to the group counseling building, a horribly plain white building with a mural of kids her age hugging and having a good time. Underneath read a slogan: "Tale your tale but never fear, for friends your age are always here!"
Heather moaned again, leaning back in her seat. They couldn't have thought up a better slogan?
A few months had passed since the events of Total Drama World Tour. After Courtney managed to convince the team to vote off her instead in Sweden Sour, Heather had managed to perfect the art of avoiding everyone. That creepy stalker girl Sierra had managed to win the stupid show, and now Chris had a new cast of kids to torture.
Pssh. Whatever.
Having abandoned the ponytail, Heather's hair now reached to just a centimeter below her shoulders, and she would know, she was counting every precious inch that grew back (extentions or not).
"Well, have a good time sweetheart. Just remember: it'll only be bad if you make it bad." Missa smiled at her daughter, a warm red smile that even Heather had to return, albeit half-heatedly.
As the car pulled away, Heather pulled her burgundy sweater closer to her, shivering against the cold wind. "Yeah... bad." She muttered.
Heather had had a hard time after her elimination. Romantic feelings were beyond her but somehow they managed to creep through her skin and wrap around her heart, like thorns trapping an animal in a bush one might say (her father, Aaron, for example). Heather was initially attracted to guys, or at least she thought, until that stupid damn night at Playa De Losers 3...
But that was a story that would wait until the stupid counseling session began.
The lobby was also a horribly plain white, with white walls, white ceiling, and white floor, plus white doors and white windows. Hell, even the furniture was white. They was such thing as other colors, you know!
The receptionist looked up from the counter, wearing a bored expression as Heather walked up. "Are you here for the group counseling session?" She asked, or rather stated.
Heather nodded. "Yeah. Heather Chang."
The receptionist sighed and rolled her eyes. "Don't care for your name. The session started five minutes ago, the doors are locked, you have to knock. First door on the left." The receptionist said boredly.
Heather groaned. Dammit mom!
As soon as Heather was out of sight, the receptionist chuckled. "Ha ha... sucker..."
It was just like elementary school all over again; when you were sent to the principal's office, the hallways were always longer and wider than they actually were. Even now, at eighteen, the dreaded walk of shame was always the same.
Despite her confidence in everyday situations, the Asian girl had to summon a lot of courage to knock on that door.
What the receptionist hadn't told her was that she was not five minutes late. No, she was actually twenty minutes late.
Through the small window on the door, Heather could see everyone look up at the door, and she felt everyone's eyes and ears on her.
Just what you wanted, right Heather? She could practically hear LeShawna say that menacingly.
The counselor, a balding man in his mid-thirties came and opened the door for her. "Miss Chang?" He asked in a voice that was nowhere near comforting.
Heather swallowed. "Y-yeah..."
"Where've you been for the past twenty minutes?" The counselor asked cruelly.
Heather's jaw dropped. "W-what? The r-receptionist said that it was only f-five minutes..." She said, pointing at the receptionist.
The counselor rolled his eyes and ushered her into the room, where a bunch of juvenile delinquents and losers (Duncan's and Harold's aplenty! She thought cynically) were sitting, blowing gum and picking their nose.
"Just go sit in the back. Um... next to Guenevere." The counselor said, looking at a small sheet of paper that was probably a seating chart.
Heather nodded, determined to avoid anymore humiliation when she saw exactly who Guenevere was.
A blue-haired, silver-eyed, weird Goth girl.
Gwen.
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Gwen was not looking forward to group counseling. After the break-up with Duncan (which lasted about a week), she hadn't been feeling too happy. So her mother, Ruby Carter, insisted that she go to group counseling.
Kyle Carter, her little brother, had snickered. "Enjoy your study group, Gwennie."
Gwen rolled her eyes. "Oh shut up, Ky." She said, albeit a grin on her face.
Not ten minutes ago had she arrived to the boringly white building herself, being ten minutes late (stupid receptionist, she said that she was only two minutes late) and taking the dreaded walk of shame.
She was not in a good mood and so therefor, the mood did not improve when she saw a familiar Asian bitch walk through the door.
"You've got to be kidding me..." Gwen muttered in anger, smashing her head against the desk when the counselor, Mr. Hickey, told Heather to sit by her.
Well, at least I was earlier than Miss I'm-Too-Cool-To-Show-Up-On-Time. Gwen thought cynically, which cheered her up a little to insult Heather in her head.
However, admist the anger at the bad karma, she felt a new feeling when she saw the obvious humiliation on Heather's face. What was it? It couldn't be pity, she hated Heather...
But you were in her spot only ten minutes ago, Guenevere. She could practically hear her mother scolding her in her head.
Instead of her normal slut clothing, Heather was wearing a burgundy sweater, a long black skirt that hugged her long, slender thighs, and a pair of elegant black high heels.
Gwen felt herself blushing as she stared at the queen bee, who was still in humiliation. What are you doing, Gwen? You're not checking out Heather of all people, are you?
But still, her eyes wouldn't move from the queen bee, feeling her pity and anger combined with shame and self-revulsion.
Unbeknowst to Gwen, Heather was also stuk in the same rut. The Goth girl was not wearing her normal corset, but in, well, less clothing than she'd seen before. A black tank-top with a Marilyn Manson logo, and a dark blue miniskirt with black swirls on it, combined with her normal black combat boots, gave Heather the opportunity to observe Gwen in ways she hadn't before.
She was short, there was no way around that. But unlike in guys, it was actually attractive. Why hadn't she noticed before?
Heather fucking Chang, you are NOT checking out weird Goth girl, you are not checking her out...
"Miss Chang, go take your seat by Guenevere." The counselor, Mr. Hickey, suddenly interrupted.
It wouldn't have been too bad if the tables weren't so small. Way in the back, the tables were very short so that kids were practically crammed together. Taking her seat by Weird Goth Girl, albeit grudgingly, their thighs were crammed together.
God, why do you hate me? This thought was shared by both girls.
"Weird Goth Girl, still using pig sweat for perfume I see." Heather whispered, making her feel better and ridding herself of those... thoughts.
"Go soak your head, Heather." Gwen replied, the same sarcasm making her feel better as well, and also ridding her of those weird thoughts.
Heather, however, could not help the flutter of embarrassment in her chest when she felt Gwen's bare thigh against her, the thin material of the skirt not really acting as a shield between their flesh.
Gwen let out a small sigh, barely heard by herself, much less Heather.
"Now, to continue where we left off when Heather Chang burst in and rudely interrupted - " This issued some snickering from the class - " - you will turn to your partner and tell him why you're in group counseling to begin with." Mr. Hickey left the front of the class and sat at his desk, drinking from a novelty mug and watching something on the Internet.
"He's probably watching porn." Heather said in disgust, tapping her manicured nails against the smooth, wooden surface of the desk.
"Hmmph." Normally Gwen would've disagreed and called her a pervert, but for once she had to agree with Heather. Mr. Hickey looked like the type. I mean, Mr. Hickey? Who has that last name coincidentally?
Heather, having been on the same team with her (thrice), knew that 'hmmph.' "Did... did you just agree with me?" She asked in shock.
Please say yes! She felt herself thinking. Heather pinched herself to snap herself out of it.
Gwen scowled. "Well... Mr. Hickey is the type." She said grudgingly.
Heather couldn't believe herself. Checking out Gwen, the desire for Gwen to agree with her... what was wrong with her? Maybe her mother was right and she really did need therapy.
"Finally, you see things my way, Weird Goth Girl." Heather smiled smugly, earning a scowl from Gwen.
Maybe this therapy thing wouldn't be too bad after all.
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Not to sound like a Harold, but GOSH! I totally meant for this to be longer, but that just felt like the best place to end it...
~AerisSerris