Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything to do with Lizzie McGuire, Disney, or any other strange thing you guys can come up with. If I owned Disney, I would be basking in Hawaii's warm, tropical sun drinking pina coladas… every once in a while counting my money… ah, the life. But, alas, I do not live a fantasy. *grins* But I *do* write fanfiction! Isn't that good enough? … No? Oh.
Pointless, adored fluff is good. Awesome. But, today, I feel like I need to express some sense of angst in this story. As hard as we try, life isn't perfect, and it never will be. I dedicate this story to a young man. 11 was his age, and I never knew him personally, but now, I wish I had at least said hello. Only a few days ago, he drowned in a local pool. I was devastated when I heard, especially because he had no siblings. He was the most important person in the world to his parents, and he passed away. Quickly. Too quickly. Please take the time to say a little prayer for this young man.
Don't ever take your life for granted.
And now, I give you, "Tears"!
-Tears-
Elizabeth McGuire backed against the wall, feeling the cold, hard concrete beneath her fingertips. Her breathing was labored, sucked through her throat in short, gasping breaths. Her blonde hair, usually styled perfectly to her liking, was sweaty and grimy, plastered to her head in an unattractive tangle. A few stray strands fell across her face.
Lizzie slid along the wall as quietly as she possibly could, flinching each time her heart skipped a nervous beat. Every skid of her shoe, or skip of rock was like a blow to her eardrums, deafening her. Involuntarily, she grabbed her arm as it gave another painful throb. It was twisted at a strange - almost eerie - angle and her shadowed figure was obviously distorted in the sinister ambiance.
The beautiful cerulean dress she had worn was ruined. Tainted not just by blood, but also by dread and betrayal. Lizzie would never wear it again. Nor would she trust anyone again.
As soon as she reached the door of the shack, she pulled. It was locked, but Lizzie, with difficulty, began to rip away at the rotting wood with her freshly manicured nails. Bits and pieces of the timber fluttered and fell to the ground. Lizzie dug into the door and pulled. Soon, she reached through the crack, and bent her hand at an odd angle. Groaning in pain, she groped her hand until she found the knob. With her last amount of strength, Lizzie twisted and pulled. To her incredible relief, the door creaked open, and Lizzie tumbled into the night.
She ran as far away from the confining hellhole as possible. Past the park, past the fountain… Then, with her last amount of strength, she stumbled across a cobblestone alleyway to the garden. There she laid and cried, her tears flowing over the bloody fingernail scratches that were etched angrily into her cheeks.
She didn't want this to happen… she had never thought…
Lizzie wrapped herself into a protective ball and held her knees. Her shoulders were shaking, and her evidently broken arm was pumping a fresh batch of pain each time her heart beat. In her hands was clenched a single red rose.
The thorns that plunged into her skin felt numbed by the fear of discovery.
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
Lizzie cried silently and steadily, and soon, the droplets of tears and blood ran along her face as one.
She pulled herself forward, and shook. The harsh, bitter wind paid no heed to her troubles, and nipped relentlessly at her torn cheeks. It blew around her, suffocating her, and Lizzie couldn't do anything to stop it. It was just there. It existed. No more, no less. But, Lizzie hated it. It was cold and uncaring, just like the rest of the world.
Soon she found herself resting her head on a jagged stone, watching the beautiful daffodils sway back and forth. They were alive. They were presented with good fortune. Lizzie reached out her trembling hand. So close.
So far away.
She closed her eyes. This was it. No more pain. No more sorrow.
Engulfed in pure darkness, Lizzie relaxed her sore, deeply wounded body.
This is it…
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
David Gordon paced his parent's living room, occasionally glancing furtively up at the clock.
She was supposed to call an hour ago.
He made up easily usable excuses. Her date went late… she got stuck in traffic… Matt was on the phone…
He sat quickly, and twiddled his thumbs. All of those were practical reasons; why was he so uptight? He should have been happy for his best friend of seventeen years. But no, Gordo was not.
He despised Bryan. Almost as much at he despised that jerk Ronnie, who dumped her in eighth grade. Gordo knew it was stupid and egotistical, but he had asked Lizzie after each and every date to call and talk to him. Her response was always the same. "Sure Gordo, but why?" He had laughed easily, but inside, he was burning with hatred. He never answered her, for fear she would hear the quiver of anxiety in his voice, or the way his voice deepened with a passionate urge to protect her. Gordo hated himself for it. He hated his lust.
Roberta Gordon looked up from her cup of coffee. "David?" She frowned when Gordo did not answer her. "David! What's wrong with you? You're shaking!"
Gordo looked down at himself and furrowed his brow. Indeed, he was. "Mom… I –," He lowered his head and grumbled, "Too much caffeine."
She smirked. "Caffeine isn't good for you, son – especially at your age." She traced the rim of the mug with her index finger. "It'll stunt your growth."
"As if that hasn't already happened!" Gordo shot back tersely. He was used to his parent's occasional attempt at a joke. To be sure, he was glad that they finally developed somewhat of a sense of humor, but usually, the joke was disguised as a hurtful comment about his height. Even if they had finally ignored the fact that he was short, and it wouldn't change, most of their jokes were sarcastic and crude. And, as much as it hurt Gordo to think this, his parents were never very supportive or caring, so it didn't change their relationship in the least. Truth be told, Gordo had a healthier bond with the McGuire's than he did his own parents.
And Lizzie. He had a healthy relationship with Lizzie.
Gordo glared at his father's brown leather jacket. "Mom, I'm going out." Unexpectedly, he turned to Roberta. She narrowed her eyes.
"David, you are not going anywhere. It's almost eleven o'clock; your father will be home from his meeting in fifteen minutes."
Gordo put his hand on the doorknob. "Tell him I'll be home soon. Bye."
Before Roberta could say another word, her son threw open the door, walked into the blustery night, and let it slam behind him. She closed her eyes. His words stung like a bee. She slowly moved her hand to rest on top of the steaming coffee. She could feel the warmth of the liquid beneath her fingers.
Outside, Gordo clambered, with difficulty, into his old Toyota pickup truck. It wasn't much really ("A pile of junk," Miranda often told him). The once-green paint was peeling, one of the taillights was smashed in, and the fender was rusting in more places than one. But it was his, and he loved it like a newly born child.
He took his car keys out of his back pocket and thrust them into the ignition. The truck gave a few sputtering gasps, slowly - but surely - warming up. Gordo patted the dashboard tensely.
"C'mon baby, c'mon," he hissed through his teeth. The truck gave one final stammer, hummed, and roared into gear. Quicker than lightning, Gordo slung his arm over the seat and looked behind him. No one in sight.
He backed out of the driveway, and sped down the road, mumbling profanities under his breath.
Frantically, he drove to Oakwood Gardens. Of course he knew where they Bryan and Lizzie had planned to go. She told him everything, down to the waffles she had for breakfast, or the unnecessary CD she had bought at the local store for fifty percent off. Nothing went by unnoticed. The older Gordo got, the more interested he had become in learning everything about her day. It sounded boring to the average person, but to Gordo, her day was both exciting and fascinating. Each time he would ask, Lizzie would smile appreciatively and tell her stories; voicing her worries and woes, expressing her happiness in hand motions and smiles. And after each "interrogation session", as Lizzie so affectionately called it, she would laugh and say, "We sound like a married couple, don't we?"
She couldn't even begin to imagine how much that sentence meant to him.
Gordo finally arrived at the dusky, dreary, late night garden, and parked. The chilly wind bit into his arms and face unremittingly, and soon, he was wishing he had enough sense to bring a jacket. The reasonable side of his brain prudently stated that he wasn't going to be here long anyways, so it wouldn't matter, but the other side – the rebelliously protective, Lizzie-obsessed area – stubbornly hissed that it would matter, because he was going to stay at this damned park until he made sure Lizzie was safe.
Crossing his arms against the cold, Gordo began to tread down the cobblestone path towards a little restaurant called "The Green Garden". He pushed through the large swinging door, and a decorative bell sent a chiming welcome in his wake.
Obsessively, Gordo searched throughout the restaurant for Bryan and Lizzie. But the only teenage couple at hand was kissing intensely, leaning over the table. The two people surely weren't them. Raising his eyebrows, a little afraid of being drenched by saliva, Gordo walked out of the restaurant disappointedly.
At least if she were there, Gordo thought, glaring at his untied shoes, I would feel better.
Gordo bit his lip. This was stupid. He should be home, resting his feet on the footrest, and listening to his father blab on and on about his work progress. He shouldn't be carrying out a one-man search party for a friend that was probably no more lost than him.
He kicked at the dirt in front of him. For a split second, he considered driving to Lizzie's house and searching for her there. But, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind pulled him forward through the park.
Gordo hunted all the way around the park, gaining reassurance from each step.
She wasn't here. She was home.
Matt was hogging the phone.
It was that simple.
Defeated by his inner thoughts, Gordo began to trudge - humiliated by his conscience - back to his truck. In the moonlight, he could see around the park. With his hand on the rusty car door, his eyes swept over the flower garden. For a second, his eyes lingered there, squinting in concentration.
A black shape was huddled in the rose patch.
Gordo hesitantly moved towards it, bracing himself to run back to his truck. It could be anything. A wild animal, a misplaced stump… Gordo tilted his head and moved forward, trying to see what it was. He didn't even know if it was even breathing or not.
Taking a deep breath, Gordo stared at the shape in front of him, and moved closer so that he was within ten feet of it. As his eyes swept over the shape, he noticed a thick strand of blonde hair protruding from what he assumed, was the head. Gordo felt his heart clench in worry. He rushed forward unfalteringly and knelt down by the figure, his breathing raspy and forced. Gently, he turned the body over.
He felt as if all the air was squeezed from his lungs.
"Liz? Lizzie? Lizzie!" Hot tears stung the corners of his eyes. "Oh-my-God… damn. Damn! What happened to you?" He moved one of his shaking fingers to her temple. There was a pulse; weak and faint, yet it was the only thing binding her to life.
With a small groan, Gordo carefully rolled Lizzie onto her back. Blood was seeping through her dress: most likely from the scratches that were imprinted all over her body. Gordo brushed her hair from her forehead and leaned over her. He noticed that she seemed to have no blow to the head, but she had probably fainted from excessive exhausted and blood loss. Frustrated and confused, Gordo looked around, desperately crying for help. He was afraid to move her anywhere, lest he make the damage worse. But, alas, no one was in sight.
"Oh, God…" he whispered frantically, his eyes becoming bloodshot from the roaring wind, "Oh God…"
He leaned over her once more, trying to do something, but not sure what exactly to do. His arm pressed down on hers, and suddenly, the girl underneath him let out a pained shriek, and began to cry. Gordo, startled, felt himself flinch.
"Get away from me!" she yelled, hiding her face and shaking in terror. "Get away!"
Gordo immediately jumped back, and stared at his frightened best friend. She was waving her one good arm, and slowly backing up. She let out a scream as she tried to place pressure on her broken arm. Suddenly, she grabbed at her dress, and broke into tears. Gordo reached out a hand to touch her, but thought better of it, and withdrew.
"Lizzie…" he managed to gasp, "It's me, Gordo."
Slowly, reluctantly, Lizzie peered at him, still partially hiding underneath her arm. "G-Gordo?" she asked.
The look on her face was like a sledgehammer to the heart.
"Liz… it's me, Gordo. Your friend," he explained carefully. Lizzie began to back away from him again.
"Leave me alone!" she cried, huddling into a protective ball at the end of the flower patch. Gordo just stayed where he was, confused and filled with apprehensive terror. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears.
Lizzie seemed to be having inner difficulties as well. Silent tears ran down her face.
"Lizzie?" Gordo choked, "Listen, I know you're upset. I am too. But you can trust me…" He was pleading with his eyes. "You know that, right?" Lizzie's eyes, wide with fear, filled with drops of tears.
"No," said Lizzie with obvious difficulty, "No, I can't trust you."
Gordo felt as if the life had been sucked out of him. His eyes were filled with an incredible sadness. Right then, he would've done anything to wipe away her tears, give her a hug, and return to being normal friends. But something had happened to Lizzie. Something bad.
Gordo hung his head. "Lizzie, please, I've been your friend forever… I would never hurt you."
A sniffling sound came from the place where Lizzie was huddled. "I know, Gordo…" He raised his head. "But, I can't. I can't deal with everything. You…" She squeezed her eyelids shut, and tears filtered through. "Gordo, I don't know what to do…" Her voice wavered.
Gordo just sat on the other side of the flower patch; the stinging tears trickling down his face. "What happened to you?"
Nausea crept down her windpipe to her stomach. She could feel herself begin to shake again. "I… oh God… G-Gordo… c-could… you h-hold me?"
Without hesitation, Gordo moved closer to Lizzie, and embraced her gently. At first, his touch seemed to smart her skin, and she screamed involuntarily. But instead of releasing her, Gordo held onto her shaking figure even more protectively. Filled with an incredible gratefulness, Lizzie buried her face into his chest and cried. Gordo rested his head on hers and rocked back and forth soothingly.
"Shhh… Lizzie… It's okay now…" whispered Gordo, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry…"
She continued to sob pitifully, holding onto the collar of his shirt.
After a few minutes of Gordo whispering pacifying words of comfort, he noticed that her breathing had become deep and unforced. Her shoulders, which had been shaking, had relaxed considerably, and now were rising and falling with each breath. Tiredness creeping into his own body, Gordo tenderly removed his arms from around her huddled figure and sighed through his teeth.
As carefully as he possibly could, Gordo lifted up her sleeping body (purposely avoiding her mangled arm) and began to walk, slowly and vigilantly towards his old, battered truck.
When he reached the vehicle, he closed his eyes tightly, ignoring the throbbing weariness that pulsed through his head. He held Lizzie more securely, a trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His fingers ran gently through her knotted hair, massaging her scalp.
When he opened his eyes again, a blazing white light temporarily blinded him. Unable to shield his eyes, Gordo turned around and shut them tightly. From inside of his eyelids, Gordo could see white flashes of color.
He heard, rather than saw, someone jump out of the car and rush to where he was standing tiredly with Lizzie in his arms.
"Gordo!"
Gordo immediately turned around and squinted, still adjusting to the contrast in light. "Mr. McGuire?"
Sam took a step towards Gordo, staring at his sleeping daughter. Fear flicked quickly in his eyes. "Gordo? W-what is wrong with Lizzie?" His voice was considerably calm, but his gaze rested for the longest time on the fingernail marks engraved into her cheek. Which were, by now, red streaks lined with black and blue beginnings of a bruise. His wife came hurrying up and gasped, clutching Sam's shirt. Gordo saw in their eyes the reaction to a parent's worst fear. Total meltdown.
Or at least it was for Jo. She began to sob silently, whispering, "My baby, my baby…"
Sam, however, just cleared his throat. "What are you doing here, son?"
Gordo looked down at his best friend and back to her father. "I was worried about her, sir. She promised to call me… and, when I didn't hear from her, I came here to look for her."
Jo's lip trembled, and Gordo snuck a glance at her. Sam frowned at him.
"Where are your parents?"
"Home." It was Gordo's turn to frown. "Why?"
Sam moved towards Gordo almost threateningly, and held out his arms. "I can take Lizzie now, David."
Instinctively, Gordo backed away from Sam's hostile approach, and flinched. The McGuire's never called him David… This was wrong, all wrong…
Sam gritted his teeth. "David Gordon, give me my daughter."
Feeling dread sink to the pit of his stomach, Gordo gently passed Lizzie's sleeping form to Sam. He quickly took her, walked to the car, and laid her on the back seat where she could rest. Gordo stood stalk-still, a horrible realization dawning on him. Gordo strode towards Sam and took a deep breath.
"Mr. McGuire!" he said, "You believe me, don't you?"
Sam laughed coldly. "Sure, David, we believe you."
He began to dial on his cell-phone, but Gordo grabbed it away from him. Sam glared at the young man in front of him, and icily held out his hand.
"Hand me the phone, David," he demanded. Gordo shook his head.
"Not until you hear me out." Before Sam could protest, Gordo gestured towards the car unhappily. "I don't know what the hell you are thinking right now, Mr. McGuire. You-You're acting as if I'm some sort of criminal!" He took a breath. "Lizzie… she's hurt. I see that, Mr. McGuire. I'm freaked out too, okay? But, please…"
With a snarl, Sam snatched away the phone. "You hurt my daughter, David. You are in no position to be telling me anything."
"I didn't hurt Lizzie!" cried Gordo, "I'm her best friend! The person she can count on! I couldn't hurt her, Mr. McGuire… I would never hurt her!"
Sam just stared bitterly at Gordo. "And I suppose I should believe you after I find you in the parking lot alone with my daughter in your arms, scratches all over her face, and a broken arm?" He laughed briskly. "Oh yes, David. That's not surprising at all. And where the hell is her date?"
Gordo's mouth opened and closed. "I-I just found her here… alone!" He looked frustrated. Gordo felt crushed. Just listening to himself plead his case was pathetic. He didn't sound reasonable at all. Sam just crossed his arms and stared at Gordo. His eyes were hollow and betrayed.
He sighed and lifted his face to the sky. "You know what, Gordo?" he asked, using his nickname again. "Isn't it funny how ironic this is? I didn't even like Bryan. I trusted you." He set his jaw angrily. "Yes, Gordo, I trusted you. But it turns out Bryan was the dependable one in the first place!"
Gordo cringed. "Mr. McGuire, you're not being rational…"
"Rational?" Sam yelled. "Rational, David? How can you even say that?"
"Doesn't my friendship count for anything?" Gordo retaliated, growing red with anger. "For seventeen years I've stood by your daughter and comforted her! Why shouldn't I do this now?!"
Sam just glared, and Gordo continued, the beginnings of tears forming in his usually mellow eyes.
"Half of the time, Mr. McGuire, I thank God for her friendship! But… on the other hand, I can't stand it! All those worthless jerks she dates… leaving me in the dust? It just tears me apart!" Silent tears ran down his face. "If I were a woman, it would be easier, wouldn't it? If I were a woman, we wouldn't be having this argument, would we?" Gordo slammed his fist into his hand. "I've figured this out the hard way, Mr. McGuire. Life isn't fair."
With that, Gordo stormed to his car, wrenched open the door, started up the engine, and slammed it behind him.
With a heavy heart at what he had just done, Sam McGuire watched David Gordon drive hastily down the road and out of sight.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Lizzie awoke late that night; her head was resting comfortably on top of about five different pillows, and her body was so sore that she almost cried out in sheer surprise. But she bit her lip, not daring to move. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, and was shocked to find her arm enclosed in a hard, shielded cast. She looked around the room. Yes, she was in her house, not the emergency room.
How had she even gotten here?
The last thing she remembered was Gordo… his arms around her, holding her close… his azure eyes burning into her own. His scent was implanted permanently in her mind. It was interesting: a homey, down-to-earth scent. Lizzie smiled. It was comforting.
Lizzie shut her eyes again, savoring the moment.
"Lizzie?" asked a small voice. Her head snapped around at the noise.
Matt stepped into the room, looking nervous. "Hey, Lizzie," he said, smiling. Lizzie grinned quickly.
"Hi Matt. What're you up to?"
He shrugged. "Not much." With that, he pulled something out from behind his back. "This is for you." Pity was reflected in his eyes.
Frowning in concentration, Lizzie carefully took the little blue box from her brother's hands. Looking bemused, she peeked inside. Matt watched her eagerly, his gaze following hers. Suddenly, she gasped and smiled brightly.
"Oh Matt! This is wonderful!" She held up two golden hoop earrings. "I-I… how did you buy these?" Astonishment lit up her features. "They're exactly what I wanted! And how did you know I wanted these?"
Matt sighed. "Sorry, Liz, but I'm delivery boy. I didn't get you those. Actually, I haven't even seen them before." He grinned, leaning closer. "Wow. That must have cost Gordo a fortune!"
"What!" Lizzie exclaimed, "Gordo bought me this?" Her heart fluttered, and she stared at the gold as if it had just transformed into priceless platinum. Matt laughed.
"Yeah. He was going to have me give it to you for your birthday. But, it seems like it needed to be given early." He laughed. "It looks much better now, doesn't it? Knowing Gordo bought it?" Lizzie blushed crimson.
Trying to act nonchalant, she shrugged. "Yeah. Now I know that you haven't poisoned it with toxic fumes or something." She tried to move her broken arm, but as a sharp pain shot through her body, she thought otherwise. "Matt? Where is Gordo anyway?"
He shrugged. "Lover-boy is gone."
Lizzie frowned. "Gone?"
"Yeah. I don't know where he is. But don't ask me… I wasn't there when you were found. But I heard Dad and Mom arguing over something." Matt looked almost as sad as a brother could look.
"What?" inquired Lizzie. Matt gave her a gloomy smile.
"They think Gordo raped you."
Lizzie's mouth opened in awe, and she held back angry tears. "H-how dare they say that!" she screeched shrilly, finally bursting into tears and hitting her pillow against the wall furiously. "Bryan… not Gordo…" Lizzie held her head between her hands, and Matt quietly went to the door and shut it. He put his hand on her knee, which was hidden underneath all of the blankets and comforters.
"I didn't believe it when I heard," Matt mused, sighing deeply. "He's like a brother to me. I know he wouldn't do that to you; or anyone else, for that matter."
Lizzie sniffled. "So he's gone?" The words wrenched her heart painfully.
Matt twiddled his thumbs, not looking at his sister's heartbroken expression. "Listen, Liz, I'm sorry…" Tears ran down her face, and suddenly, her arm was excruciating. She rubbed her puffy red eyes.
Matt bit his lip, and gestured towards the door. "I-I should go…"
Lizzie put her hand on his arm. "Matt…" She smiled wearily. "Thanks."
"No problem," he said.
Lizzie closed her eyes, and using her good arm, hoisted herself off of her bed. The sheets fell to the floor.
Matt sighed. "Should I leave, Liz?"
She nodded. "I'll see you later, Matt." She glanced toward the window, and with a sad smile, turned back to her brother. "Don't tell Mom and Dad."
With a little nod of his head, he retreated out of the door and into the hallway, closing the door behind him warily. Lizzie sighed, and with a little leap of her heart, walked over to the window. She looked down the roof, and watched the wind disturb the tops of the trees. Leaves and pine needles drifted to the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut.
She couldn't stay here.
Not now.
Glaring angrily at her broken arm, she opened the window, and carefully lowered herself down on the roof. She could hear the wood creaking underneath her weight.
"Oh God," she murmured, holding onto the windowsill with one hand. Groaning with effort and pain, she slid down the roof, her shoes barely holding onto the slick wooden planks. Her broken arm gave a sudden burst of a fresh batch of pain, and she had to muffle a scream.
Cradling her arm, Lizzie had to stop. Her breath came in ragged gulps, and each intake strained her tired lungs.
Summoning as much courage as humanly possible, Lizzie let herself slide bumpily down the roof. Her good hand and arm grasped anything that she could find.
She was almost to the gutters, but, looking down, everything seemed further away. She felt like she was looking at a rearview mirror, which said everything was closer than it appeared. The gutters sure seemed far away, but, in fact, were fairly close.
Lizzie took a deep breath, and stood up carefully. She moved down the roof, heart pounding loudly. If she fell, not only would she visibly destroy her body, she would get into serious trouble with her parents.
Sighing in denial and determination, she reached the gutters and grabbed. With a grunt, she moved horizontally across the roof until she came to the latticework. Lizzie smiled shortly. Only a month ago, Sam had put up the latticework next to the roof, and as much as Lizzie liked it then, now it was like a gift from heaven. Silently saying a prayer of thankfulness, Lizzie grabbed the top of the frame with a shaking hand, and fit her shoes into the latticework pattern. Slowly, she climbed down, making sure to press herself up to the side of the house, so that the latticework wouldn't rip and topple over backwards.
As soon as she was approximately two feet from the ground, she jumped. Not being the most balanced person in the world, she landed awkwardly and collapsed to the ground. Her broken arm gave a painful twang.
Lizzie hoisted herself off the ground, not bothering to wipe off the dirt from her jeans. Feeling incredibly like a criminal, she jogged across the shadowy lawn, her ears ####### for the unwelcome sounds of night. Everything was registered in her mind as danger, and Lizzie was jumpy and scared as she walked to the sidewalk. She engulfed herself in a hug as soon as she reached the curb, trying to rid herself of the goose bumps that had crept up her elbows to her shoulders.
As if in a trace, she walked down the road, unsure of her destination.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Gordo sighed, and kicked another coke can across the pavement. It skidded noisily until it slammed into the tire of his truck. Thrusting his hands in his pockets carelessly, Gordo slowly walked towards it. Another angry kick of his shoe, and the can flew through the air, landing loudly in the dumpster. The sound of tin against metal reverberated through the garbage site by the side of the road.
Gordo leaned against his truck and breathed a sigh.
What a wonderful life he lived.
Laughing sarcastically to himself, Gordo ran his hands through his disheveled chocolate curls, and closed his eyes painfully. Half annoyed with himself, half aggravated, he bit his tongue and slammed his elbow into the side of his faded green Toyota.
The rearview mirror shattered into a tiny thousand pieces.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
She walked down the streets of Hillridge, her hot breath sending puffs of vapor into the night air.
She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know where she was headed.
All she knew was that she desperately needed to see Gordo.
Lizzie shivered quickly and sighed, her teeth chattering, her jaw trembling. The clouded night sky did her no favor as she walked on, without the moon's hearty glow to guide her. All she could see was a lonely star, dying in the corner of the sky… its light flickering off, and then coming back on with a tremendous amount of strength. Lizzie looked at it closely, and without warning, tears began to slide down her face. However much it tried, the star would soon die.
Life is unfair.
She grimaced at a dog's disheartened howl, and sighed. It was amazing how Hillridge could be so buoyant and bustling in the day, and so hostile at night. Why couldn't it always be happy? Why couldn't it be Status-Symbol Land, like it was when the sun shone?
Life is unfair.
Lizzie shuffled her feet and sighed in anguish.
Life is unfair.
Beginning to become dispirited by every step she took, Lizzie trudged along the road, her useless arm held stonily at her side. The other arm was rubbing her shoulders, trying to begin circulation. Then, suddenly, Lizzie stopped moving.
She heard a sound, like the breaking of glass.
Lizzie gasped quickly, drawing her breath in through her mouth and down her parched throat. She shivered uncontrollably, and began to back up. She began a silent prayer, and clasped her hands together, asking for forgiveness. Asking for mercy. Silent tears of fear slid down her cheeks. She couldn't deal with anything like this now…
Scared to death, Lizzie backed herself protectively against the side of a ramshackle building.
And then, as if God had heard her plea, a stifling sob came from around the corner of the run-down building. Lizzie tensed at hearing the sound, and bit her lip. Whoever was weeping was in great pain, and Lizzie couldn't bear to hear his heart-wrenching cries. She began to move along the building.
Soon, she was at the corner. Apprehensively, she peered around the side of the building.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Gordo tried to hold back the regretful tears, but they spilled down his face just the same.
Soon, he didn't fight the thickheaded masculine side of himself, and broke down completely. His sobs were shaky and uncertain, inaudibly crying out for help and comfort. But, the only people around at this time of night were homeless and in more need of help than he was, so Gordo's assistance was unlikely to come. Knowing this fact, he sighed in discouragement, and buried his head in his arms.
Suddenly, he heard a noise.
Gordo whirled around in dread, and found himself staring perplexingly into the eyes of none other than Lizzie. His sweet Lizzie.
Before he could comprehend how she had even gotten to the derelict, disgusting garbage site, he was almost knocked backwards by an arm around his neck, and a pair of lips against his, passionately kissing him.
Gordo closed his eyes in ecstasy, and brought his hands to her waist gently, urging her closer to him. Feeling all of his fears melt away, Gordo kissed her back fiercely, not ashamed to demonstrate the infatuation he had kept locked up inside for so long; not ashamed to admit that he was kissing his best friend, and he was in love with her.
Only a few seconds later, Lizzie and Gordo broke apart. Gordo opened his azure eyes slowly.
"Gordo…" Lizzie whispered, breathless. "I'm sorry."
Before Gordo could say anything to question her statement, Lizzie threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, crying onto his shoulder. "I'm sorry Gordo… I really am." She sniffled. "Matt told me everything… What Dad did… everything." She pulled reluctantly away from his warm, comforting body, and peered at him. "Gordo, I'm so sorry…" Tears stung her cheeks. "I-I… Bryan raped me, Gordo. That's what happened… I was scared… Oh God, I still am." She stared at her best friend. "Just being this close to you," she started, the inside of her mouth growing dry, "Makes the whole night terrifying, yet exciting. Do you understand, Gordo? I'm frightened!" Her lips brushed tenderly against Gordo's neck, and sent shivers up and down his spine.
Gordo held her closer to him, not saying anything. He kissed her blonde-strewn head, letting the news creep into his heart. In the back of his mind though, Gordo had already known what had happened to Lizzie. He rubbed her back soothingly, and Lizzie looked up at him.
"Gordo… aren't you going to say anything?" she asked uneasily. He just smiled and pressed his forehead against hers.
"I love you, Liz… I won't let that happen again," he vowed. Lizzie's eyes lit up in jovial approval.
"I love you too, Gordo…" she told him gratefully. A smile fluttered to her face. "Oh God, Gordo, I love you so much!"
He brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes, and pressed his lips against hers. This time, no hesitancy was displayed; Gordo and Lizzie just relaxed into a passion-filled kiss, their hands roaming across the other's body. Lizzie deepened the kiss by leaning closer to him, and running her hands through his hair.
Gordo smiled through the kiss, and pulled away for a second. "Lizzie?"
They stared at each other, and no words were spoken. An inaudible realization was passed between them.
The two lovers smiled warmly, and embraced each other.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
So… you guys like this? Love it? Admire it? Worship it? *grins*
I really enjoyed writing this one, because I got to get away from my other, longer stories. *grins* I can't believe how long this is. *sighs* See, this is what happens when I try to do one-shot fics without any "real" boundaries. Scary? I know. Lol.
*grins* Yeah. Well, I'm thinking that I probably need an epilogue. Am I right? Sorry I didn't just finish it. I'm too lazy, and I wanted to get it up ASAP. But anyway, tell me if you want an epilogue, and I would REALLY appreciate some nice, heartfelt reviews. *grins* They don't have to be a novel, but just some kind words (or not so kind words… *grins*). Anyway, if you could take the time to review, I will be forever in your debt. *grins*
So… anyway… please review, and, NO flames (I'm not saying I get them, I just dislike them). Please don't take your time to write them out. Remember, flames are one thing, and constructive criticism is another. *grins* Savvy? (hahaha, I love Pirates! Kobe-Mac, GO YOU! And Gordo'sGirl PapyrusInk!! Whoohoo! *coughs* Er…)
Have fun anyway. Hope this story "enlightened" you. *grins* I'm not sure how, but… *looks around*
And Em? I expect a LONG review. *laughs* Right, old chap?
Hello Dini! Love you! Hurry up and email! *grins* I'll be waiting!
Well, that's enough little messages. To everyone else… PLEASE REVIEW, and HAVE A WONDERFUL, HAPPY-GO-LUCKY DAY!! Muah! ^_^
Wait! Don't go yet! Random spontaneous moment. I only learned yesterday that "ciao" is pronounced something along the lines as "chow". Isn't that cool to people who never knew? *laughs* Well, it was for me. Anyway…
And if you noticed *cough cough* the title can be interpreted as tears, as in the salty water that leaks from your eyes, or tears, like a tear in fabric. Oooh… I'm so creative… *sigh* Okay, maybe it's not *that* good, but it's a start. *grins*
~Tic-Tac