Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or the characters. I'm just borrowing them.
A/N: Written for a prompt over at LJ to write in one of the 'deleted scenes' in the opening credits. I picked s4 Effy and Emily with Emily's head on Effy's shoulder against that blue background.
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"She did it. She really fucking did it. She went and fucked up, just like everyone in my whole fucking family said she would. She fucked the fucking dead girl," Emily croaks brokenly, voice raw, makeup smeared, trail of mascara staining her porcelain cheeks.
Effy considers commenting on Emily's prolific usage of the word "fuck" just now, but decides against it. Emily clearly just needs to vent, needs to scream, and cry, and have someone listen who won't judge.
Emily slumps against the overwhelmingly blue wall of the hallway, sliding down it until her knees are tucked under her chin.
Effy glances around and snags a hand towel strewn over a nearby chair before sliding down the wall beside her. She's dressed to party (Freddie promised a club after this ridiculously early house party), but it doesn't matter. Clothes are just things; hearts and minds are much more delicate.
"She really did it," Emily repeats, shaking her head, last tears sliding down her cheeks, numbness finally setting in. Effy recognises it in a second. She's been there. Not the same situation, but grief and shock are the same no matter the cause.
Effy presses the hand towel into Emily's hands then turns her gaze down the hall, hearing the faint roar of the party taking place beneath them. She doesn't know where Freddie's disappeared to, but she has no doubt that spliff is involved. She should care more, she thinks, about where he's gone, but all she can do is stare impassively down the hallway, waiting for Emily to speak again. (She's ignoring the growing sense of impending doom that's been circling her brain and tightening her chest for days when she's too near him.)
Emily wipes her face, rubbing hard, but when Effy glances back at her, her face is clean if a bit red.
"Better," she confirms when Emily shoots her a questioning glance.
Emily throws the towel harshly aside, and Effy averts her gaze once more. Just because Emily needs a shoulder to cry on, doesn't mean she needs an audience.
They sit in sullen silence for a few minutes, ignoring a heartfelt laugh that carries up the stairs.
Emily leans her head on Effy's shoulder, and Effy does her best not to flinch at the contact.
Emily sighs heavily. "Why does it hurt so much?" she asks in a small voice.
Effy wishes she had an answer. She knows people often expect her to have all of them. "Love is shit," she replies instead. Freddie's face flashes in her mind. "Even when it's not, it's hurting you," she mumbles, half to herself, half to Emily.