AN: Good day, my lovelies c:
Sooo this fic! I don't really remember where the idea came from anymore hahah but it's been on my mind for a while now. I've planned this out to be three or four chapters long so stay tuned for those!
"Look, lady. I don't care much for this job, but it's helping me get my bills paid and I like having a house with lights and hot water to return to every night. And I'm pretty sure you have better things to do than argue with me over whether this cup of shitty ass coffee costs seventy cents or seventy-five. So how about you save both of us the trouble and just pay up the five damn cents so we can carry on with our lives. Oh and never return to buy another cup again because we both know this tastes like crap anyway."
She threw the five coins down onto the counter begrudgingly and snatched the coffee, hot liquid swishing violently in the styrofoam cup, before storming out the door, muttering about how the younger generation was doomed.
He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose irritatedly. Brick had never been known to be the patient sort, but he was particularly on edge today.
He normally found the quiet humming of the chillers around the convenience store to be familiar and maybe even slightly comforting. Today, it was just suffocating. Not being able to stand it any longer, he dug around in the pile of clothes he'd dumped behind the counter upon arriving at work and retrieved a packet of cigarettes and a lighter and headed out the front door of the store. He was working alone as usual and no one was around to stop him.
He lit the blunt and wondered briefly how he'd even picked up the habit. How did Brick Jojo go from salutatorian of Pokey Oaks High to being cashier of a dingy little convenience store in some obscure part of Townsville, smoking packets of blunts he'd nicked from said dingy little convenience store?
The truth is, he did know. He knew full well how and why he had let himself come down this path. But he didn't want to have to think about that, didn't want to have to think about her.
Not about how throughout high school, she'd been the only reason for him to push himself so hard, hitting the books every night just for the slim chance that, against all odds, he'd beat her in a test and he'd have the satisfaction of seeing her face flush his favorite shade of red and her little fists clench up in anger. And not about how when she left to pursue the future that had been hers to take since the very beginning of her existence (such is the fortune of those who have been labelled geniuses since childhood), he didn't have any more reason to push himself.
And he most certainly did not want to think about the last night they had before she left for college and left him behind.
(4 years ago)
A tap on his window startled him out of his thoughts. He got up and pushed the curtains to the side to reveal none other than the one who had been dominating his thoughts for the last few days. He barely had time to register the self-consciousness at his scruffy appearance—basketball shorts and an old t-shirt—in contrast to her tidy and demure white blouse and pink skirt combination with her signature red bow, she was motioning for him to open up the window and let her in.
He could feel the chill from the night outside as he opened the window and he hurried to close it once she'd climbed in. He turned around to find her standing in the middle of his room, leaning her weight to one side, arms crossed behind her back awkwardly.
"Hey," she began.
"'Sup."
"Why… Why didn't you come for graduation today?"
He resumed his position from before she'd arrived, reclining on the bed with his arms behind his head, cap pulled down over his eyes. "Not my kind of thing, ceremonies."
"You're the salutatorian!"
"So? You're the valedictorian. Unless the reason why you're upset is that I missed your speech, in which case I'm sorry but, again, ceremonies aren't my kind of thing."
There was a pause as she searched her brain for an appropriate response, he guessed.
"Don't tell me you're here just to nag at me for not attending graduation." He broke the silence and sat up to look at her. She hadn't moved from her spot in the middle of the room.
"No, it isn't." She exhaled and pepped herself up. "So, Mr. Salutatorian, where are you going for the next few years of your life?"
"That is the question, isn't it?"
"What do you mean? Haven't you picked any school at all? You're salutatorian, I'm sure you've been offered scholarships, right?"
"Nope, my juvy record stops anyone with a semblence of sanity from ever offering me anything."
"Brick." She walked over slowly and sat at the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry… I don't know what to say… I'm the one who threw you into jail half the ti-"
"Hey, I didn't ask for a pity party. It doesn't matter, anyway," he said, really meaning it. "Blossom, why are you here?"
She fiddled with her ponytail, lightly combing her fingers through them, firmly keeping her eyes set on the ends of her hair.
"Blossom."
"I guess I came to say goodbye," she said hesitantly, amethyst eyes darting up to meet ruby for just a split second.
In that brief moment, he knew that she knew what they were both thinking about even though it was unsaid. On the surface, the animosity and competitiveness that everyone saw. It had started as that—purely rivalry. After the Mayor had found out about the Rowdyruff Boys' lack of education and had thrown him and his brothers into school, he'd needed to find something to entertain himself for the remaining schooldays, and getting under his counterpart's skin by doing as well as her—if not better than her—had been an outlet for him. But as the competition went on, he found himself thinking about her more and more. Underneath all the rivalry, the passion they both held for one another, the desire, the want for each other had been mutual. Those late nights in the library had made him wonder if he could get under her skin in more ways than one.
It all began because he wanted to annoy her. He'd walked into the library one of those afternoons, ready to hit the books when he'd spotted her sitting alone at a table, books in a mess on the desk while she was too absorbed in solving the Physics problem before her. Smirking at the opportunity to rile her up, he made his way over, shoved her books aside to make room for himself and dumped his stack of books on the desk wordlessly. This earned him a little jump and he watched with satisfaction as her look of surprise quickly turned into a look of contempt. She'd rolled her eyes, but returned to the Physics problem, probably knowing that he was doing it to irritate her once again. They both studied in silence, and he knew she was suppressing her annoyance simply because she didn't want to give him the chance to gloat. There was unsaid consensus that this was a competition between the two of them on who could last the longest and they both ended up studying till the librarian had to kick them out. The next afternoon saw a repeat and it quickly became a usual thing for them to study together till the closing hour.
What had first begun as tolerance (and barely) soon turned into familiarity and acceptance, and eventually into comfort and routine. Glances that once held animosity and anger soon turned into shared looks between two close friends that communicated without words.
And dare he say it, sometimes there were even looks of longing and lust. Of course he found her attractive—alongside pretty much the entire male population of Pokey Oaks High. And while she was still the same goody two shoes as she'd been her entire life, still prim and proper and responsible, at the back of his mind he'd always wondered if she was ever tempted to step out of line, to live life on the edge even if for just a few moments. Even though he'd given up the life of crime, his bad boy reputation still lingered and more than once his superhuman hearing had picked up the female whispers in the hallways of Pokey Oaks High as he sauntered through them. He was well aware of how the giggly females glorified and idolized his rebel status and he made good use of it, feeding his male ego with casual sex with a hot brunette or blond here and there.
Never a redhead though. It was stupid, he knew. But every time he so much as chatted up a redhead, his head would be drawing comparisons nonstop. And it wasn't fair because she was his definition of perfection so how could anyone ever match up to that? But she was unattainable because she was a Powerpuff Girl and he was a Rowdyruff Boy and she was a role model, a heroine while he was what your mother hoped you'd never turn out to be and she had her entire life ahead of her while he was trying to get by each day. Even the nights at the library that started this whole damned thing had to remain a secret; he couldn't imagine her telling anyone that she was study buddies with Brick Jojo.
And yet, here she was, saying goodbye. Standing in her pristine, pressed blouse that contrasted starkly against the backdrop of his crummy bedroom that it almost seemed comical.
He realized belatedly that he'd stayed silent for too long in his reverie. The silence that had begun as poignant was quickly turning awkward and she was fiddling with her hands, probably questioning just how much thought she'd really put into this before coming here.
"I'm sorry, I think I made a mistake. I think I'm just going to go," she said while turning back to the window to make her escape.
To hell with it all, he thought. He grabbed her and spun her round to face him, and pushed her up against the window, the cool of the glass pressed up against her back juxtaposing against the heat of his lips on her own. His hands wandered, rough and careless in feverish desire, working their way up smooth, milky thighs, then skimming up her sides, and back down, as if trying to memorize her silhouette with his touch.
He picked her up without breaking the kiss and dumped her roughly onto the bed before climbing over her and pinning her wrists down with his hands and trapping her legs between his knees.
"Brick…" She was panting and her eyes were wide with shock at the abrupt turn of events. The image of her, with her fiery hair splayed out on his pillow and every freckle on her face clearly visible given their proximity, imprinted itself into his mind, never to be forgotten.
"Is this what you want? If you want me to stop, you'll have to do it now. There's no turning back after this."
"I… I want this."
"What do you want? Say it. I need to know you're sure."
"I want you to fuck me, Brick," she said in a small, timid voice. The curse word sounded so foreign coming from her dainty little mouth. He struggled for a moment—she was so pure and proper, could he really just take her like that?
But who was he to refuse her what she wanted especially when he'd been lusting after the same thing for months? Brick Jojo is not a gentleman. And so he gave in to his carnal desires and shagged her.
He took a last drag of the cig and dropped it, snuffing it out under the toe of his sneaker with a little more force than necessary. He hadn't wanted to remember but the memories just kept coming, flooding back into his mind.
It would have been pleasant memories. He should have felt a sense of satisfaction and achievement at being able to bed the most sought-after girl of Pokey Oaks High. But all that was tainted by the morning after.
He awoke to a warm weight pressing into his chest. He pried an eye open and glanced at the girl that lay on him, her delicate features serene in slumber. Her breaths were long and even; she was still asleep. He adjusted the covers over her, absently noting that she must be cold sleeping in the bare. Various garments, both his and hers, were strewn around the room and her white blouse was presently draped haphazardly over his bedside lamp. That was sure to be crumpled, for once.
It occurred to him that this was the first time he'd let someone stay the night. Normally the night would end after the deed was done and he'd chase the girl off. His sexual needs were met, he didn't need the emotional mess.
But this time it was different. Not only had she stayed the night, she'd stayed the night in his arms. They were cuddling. Brick Jojo did not do cuddling.
It was nice though. For the moment, at least. He knew there would be complications that they would need to untangle themselves from afterwards, but he let himself indulge in the moment. The steady rise and fall of her chest against his reminded him of just how fragile she was, how fragile the entire situation was. It all felt so unreal and he was not ready to break it just yet. So he waited for her to rouse, inhaling her scent and savoring the way their legs intertwined under the covers.
After what felt paradoxically like both forever and no time at all, she began to stir and he felt her tense up at the foreign feeling of being wrapped up with someone else.
"Morning," he said, his morning voice gruff and scratchy from unuse.
He watched as her pink eyes finally opened and she peered up at him, recollecting exactly the events that had transpired the previous night.
"Good morning," she mumbled, surveying the room, registering the garments littered and abandoned around the room.
As a joke, he grabbed her blouse off the lamp and handed it to her.
"Looking for this?"
She flushed a little, but grabbed it out of his hand and rolled off his chest to sit up at the edge of the bed. She stared at her feet.
A wave of panic washed through him. Was she regretting the last night? Had she not enjoyed it as much as he had?
"What's on your mind?" he asked, semi-monotonously, working his hardest to keep the worry out of his tone.
"Is this… Is this goodbye, Brick?"
He was stumped at her question. Of course he knew this was her last few hours in Townsville, it had only made him even more desperate for her the previous night. And it had come through in his actions—holding her tighter and kissing her harder with the knowledge that this night might be all they have. But he hadn't expected her to vocalize it into words.
"I guess," he said lamely, and kicked himself internally once the words left his mouth.
She turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. Then her head shook almost imperceptibly, and she got out of bed to collect her clothes from around the room.
He picked up her skirt from where it lay on the floor on his side of the bed and held it out to her. She snatched it away quickly. Okay, something is definitely wrong.
"Blosso-"
"I'm sorry, I think I made a mistake."
"Bl-"
"Goodbye, Brick."
She would not meet his eyes as she said those two final words and she climbed out the window, zipping off, leaving behind a trail of pink and a perplexed Brick.
He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker and sighed. She came back to visit regularly, of course. Her family and her friends were still here. But she never visited him. He'd keep up on how she was doing from hearing things from old friends, but he never went to find her because he worried she didn't want to see him. Besides, it'd been four years. She probably found herself someone more suitable for her in whatever prestigious, high-class college she was in.
He shook his head as if attempting to shake off the thoughts and headed back into the convenience store, turning his back on the familiar pink streak in the sky.
AN: Well, that's it for this chapter. See you soon with chapter two c: Feel free to leave any reviews or comments you have, I'm open to any feedback!