Author's note: I wrote this very fast. It's unedited, so, all mistakes and errors in grammar are definitely my own. I have, like, at least twelve other GMW (Most Rilaya, a couple of Lucaya) stories in progress right now so I'm feeling salty that this even came to mind because I'd love to be able to finish those other ones. I like how this turned out, though. Reviews are cool but I'm happy if anyone even glances at anything I write. Thanks in advance. - Josie x
Title: Look At Me To Know That It's True
Rating: T for cursing and mentions of sex.
Summary: Rilaya AU.
Disclaimer: I don't own Girl Meets World.
You often think that you're maybe only someone that people desire but you're never what they actually need.
Life gets easier when you also accept that for yourself. It may not be the truth right now, but it's your truth at this moment and that's really all that matters. It's what gets you through the day. Because hope is for suckers and if you're not out here hoping that someone might actually need you, you're not needing anyone either.
It's worked for you thus far. Eighteen years of your life.
But then you move to New York because you so desperately need to get away from Arkansas, your mother, and the stale predictable air to being in a small town. There's something about the idea of a large congested city and tall, tall buildings that you think will give you new inspiration and breathe new imagination and creativity to your paintings. It's your first love, art's the only thing you've ever needed or bothered to put faith into.
God forbid you put your faith into another person that isn't yourself.
With millions upon millions of people in the city, you're sure it's impossible to focus on any one person as you're walking down the street.
Somehow you do.
A young woman, probably the same age as you, with brown hair and brown eyes that catch onto your blue ones.
She's beautiful and you're sure you'll never see her again.
She's probably already forgotten about you.
"I recognize you."
You lift your head to put a face to the soft voice that's just roused you from your sketching and when you see the girl with those brown eyes that you haven't forgotten, a small smile finds it's way to your face. She hadn't forgotten you either.
"Hi," you murmur quietly, unsure of yourself because things like this don't happen to you. No matter how much you try to move your life in a different direction, routine boringness always dictated your life. It's why you moved here. For something new, for something good. For things to be completely left up to chance.
She sits across from you at the table you're stationed at and you don't mind one bit.
You learn that her name is Riley. She's a student at NYU and her mother owns the bakery you're currently sitting in right now.
You talk for hours until it's time for the bakery to shut down for the night.
You don't say goodbye.
It's late and she's in no hurry to go back to her dorm room and to a roommate that apparently she can't find anything in common with. You have a feeling that there are very few people in life that Riley doesn't get along with so her college living situation must be difficult for her.
You invite her over to your tiny shit hole of a studio apartment. It was the only place you could afford here with money you saved up working a job all throughout high school so you could get the fuck away once you graduated.
It's littered with boxes. Some unpacked, some unopened, and some overflowing with clothes that you had strewn all over the place.
The only items fully unpacked are your art supplies. Safely set on any and every surface that isn't the floor. Your easel is set up in the corner, a blank canvas resting upon it.
She asks about your art and you hesitate briefly before handing her over the sketchbook you have in your bag.
She takes a seat on the floor, the only place to sit other than your bed, and slowly flips through your drawings. You've never really shown them to anyone before. Riley periodically comments about how talented you are, that she's never felt much when it comes to art because she's never really understood it. She laughs as she says she's sure that's something she inherited from her dad because art seems to go right over his head as well.
Her laugh sounds like music and you think you might be in trouble since you feel so drawn to this girl.
You don't trust anyone, but you trust her.
You tell Riley that your dad left when you five and you haven't seen him or spoken to him since. You barely remember what he looks like. Your mom burnt every photo there ever was of him.
You tell her that you have a pretty damaged relationship with your mother, that Katy consistently managed to bring up how much you look like your father. There was a fight, once, where she told you looking at you was too difficult.
You think she'll keep your secrets safe. That all the bullshit and dark feelings you've felt don't have to weigh so heavy on you anymore because Riley only wants good things to happen for you. You want to accept that.
When you're all talked out, she reaches for your hand and you don't flinch or try to move away.
It's when you realize that she's absolutely gotten under your skin. You feel secure here, with her.
It scares you that you've gotten this close to someone. You tell Riley you should spend some time apart. That knowing each other has been too much, too fast.
Riley insists that you're wrong.
She needs you, she says.
You're her best friend, she tells you.
You've never really had a best friend and you know that you need her, too. It's frustrating, because you shouldn't. You haven't ever needed anyone and no one has needed you. Why the fuck is the universe allowing this to happen when you're so adamant on it not?
You give in.
Riley's never known what you've known. She grew up differently she's a hundred percent better for it. She has parents that love each other and that love her, she has a family that stayed.
You promise to stay if she does.
She swears she's not going anywhere, that the thought wouldn't even cross her mind.
You hang on to her words.
You kiss her.
It's raining and you're huddled together on a small chair on your too-small balcony just watching the rain fall, enjoying the closeness and warmth of each other.
She says something likening the two of you to a storm. That there isn't thunder without lightning and that she can't imagine herself without you.
Before you can stop yourself, you turn your head and lean into her. Your lips barely graze hers at first but she moves toward you as well and you deepen the kiss. It's heady and intoxicating.
Soon enough you're both stumbling through the door, trying to find the bed all while shedding articles of clothing on the way there.
After, you're all tangled legs and fast heartbeats. Trying to catch your breath, but you don't mind.
You've never felt as alive as you do with Riley.
She tells you she's in love with you.
You don't hesitate when saying it back.
She's changed you.
You love her so fucking much that you physically ache when she isn't around. You miss her when she's in class, or when you're at work.
You know any bit of distance has her feeling the same as you because when you're finally together at the end of a long day she'll gently tug into her arms and swear she's never letting you go. It's a notion you think you'd be okay with.
She still has a dorm on campus but hasn't slept there in over a month. You see her influence throughout your apartment. If it wasn't for her, you probably would still be living out of the boxes you hauled here from Arkansas. Your paintings and drawings have Riley all throughout them. There's a small portion of one of your walls that has polaroids haphazardly plastered on to it. All of them taken by Riley. Some of them just of you, most of them were of the two of you.
You're thankful that any instinct you ever had to run, since being in New York, was destroyed just by looking at Riley.
Needing someone isn't a bad thing.
You tell Riley that she's your home, your safe place. She kisses you gently and says you're hers.