I love you,
I hate you,
I need you.
.
The first time he saw her, he nearly he nearly spilt his fifth cup of coffee (well, he needs some type of compensation). She has the same hair, same height, same features that Zoey had (and he's positive he's never going to see them again). Only her eyes are different, the blue holding the same pain that his eyes must have. He sees her sitting on the chair; her body slumped as she looks down at her soft hands (god, he misses the feel of Zoey's hands, his hand in hers, a light touch on the arm. He needs her). She bites her lip, and it's so cute because it reminds him of her when she was concentrating, reminds him of her on those couple of occasions when she was so nervous (he needs her, he needs it).
His legs feel numb after sitting on the fountain for more than an hour, his hands suddenly feeling cold as he draws closer to her, despite the fact that he's been holding coffee in them all day. He sees her looking in the other direction when he's closer to her (and her hair is just so shiny in the sunlight, and the memory makes him feel so happy, only to become depressed again just as soon; he'll never see it, never). She's looking at a couple who are kissing each other, and he can see the turmoil in her eyes, the hurt that hides there even with her dull and listless face. She finally notices him, looking at him with a careless surprise (she doesn't care, he doesn't care, it doesn't matter).
He can tell that her shade of lip gloss is wrong, and her eyes are a boring blue rather than an entrancing hazel, but he can work around that. She's rude and her manners are disgusting, but he couldn't care less about that as he looks at her grasping her coffee cup (the reply he got when he asked her what she wanted didn't surprise him, "Make it as bitter as possible") and her lips becoming a darker shade of red as the almost scalding coffee touches her lips. It's a curt conversation, merely names and fake happiness being shared (he has to be happy, she would've wanted it, and wouldn't have known it was impossible when she left).
She looks at him with boredom, but also with recognition (we're the same, we're the same). Suddenly, a shadow passes across her face and he's stunned when he sees just how similar she is to Zoey, and he can't break the illusion, can't forget the picture of her face every time he closes his eyes (and it would break him even more than it is now when he's holding on so tightly that it hurts). His fists clench, and his (fake) grin falls away from his face slowly as she puts down her cup. Her lips have remained that red, which he can now see matches her nail polish (what happened to light, pastel colours?). Without a word she gets up and leaves, and he follows her back to her dorm without tripping on a single flag pole.
They have time (so much time because she's never coming back); the volleyball match is in an hour.
.
It's awkward and it's stupid and it's wrong, and it's barely anything; merely a shadow of something that could've been perfect (but that's all she was, all she is). He's so wrapped up in the could'ves, would'ves and should'ves that he barely notices anything that happens. He's so wrapped in this delusional and fucking perfect fantasy that he doesn't care what he's doing, what she feels and how he felt merely one hour ago, one day ago (because this is better; it's wrong and he loves it, loves her).
He feels light headed, his eye sight barely focusing as he looks at the blurred image in front of him. Blonde hair, pink lips, tanned skin, yes, yes it's her; she's here when he needs her most. But the eyes still haunt him when he looks away, but the image quickly disperses when he closes his eyes, hazel and blue blurring into one (and she's so bloody gorgeous).
It's ten minutes later when he realises that he needs to leave; needs to forget about her and Zoey. But he can't. Gretchen is still silent, but he can hear the sound of her breathing (he almost forgot that oxygen was necessary to live). It's a lulling sound, putting him into an odd state of calm awareness. He's worried, and he's doomed - that much he knows. He's going to burn in hell, but the thought of fire and warmth (Zoey, she was always so warm, always glowing. He needs that) brings some comfort to him.
The weight lifts off the bed when he feels her move, and they still haven't looked at each other, still haven't made eye contact. Without much thought (he hasn't really had a coherent thought since about five days and seven hours ago) he asks her if she wants to join him for a volleyball game. His eyes stare up at the ceiling as he feels the trail her eyes leave on his body, feels the atmosphere change as the blow hits her (different, so different). Her reply is nonchalant, but he can still feel her eyes on him as he gets dressed, still hear her footsteps behind him when he leads her through the school (she's in denial, he's in denial, and they're both just an echo for each other - but it's better that way).
She can't let go, and neither can he. But that's the type of relationship that he can accept; it's better than nothing.
.
He can feel the disgust radiating from his friends (and he thinks that he should probably feel that too) as he walks with Gretchen, only looking at her out of his peripheral vision so he can keep the image of Zoey in his mind (no fucking denial now, just plain facts and statements-move on and get over her - not that he's going to follow that). Their reaction is completely normal-he realises that-but he's honestly too exhausted, too heartbroken and too fucked up to care that much.
The volleyball bounces to the ground, and he sees Gretchen look right past it…and not touch it. He hears everyone groan in annoyance (get over it) and sees Lola and Quinn whispering (and if he'd just listened, if he hadn't made that stupid bloody decision, she'd still be here, and that stupid ball wouldn't be on the ground).
He can see everyone judging him (judging hurts, but seeing as he's still numb, he can't really care that much). Quinn and Lola are in disbelief, Logan looks dismissive of him (but that's not a change), Michael is confused and Zoey…fuck, she's still not there. And Del Figgalo just got hit in the head by a volleyball. Everyone immediately starts to criticise Gretchen, to which she just looks uncaringly are them all. Only he notices the boy, who he takes to be Max, and his girlfriend walk past. Now closer to him, he can see the dark hair that covers his forehead and the grin that looks ever so similar to his. He turns his head again to look at Gretchen, and their eyes make contact.
Ten minutes later, the volleyball game has finished and everyone is still judging him and staring at Gretchen in disgust (you're all just jealous). He and Gretchen depart ways without a goodbye, or any other displays of affection, and now he really is doomed because he should've done something with everyone behind him.
"See? He's only with her because he misses Zoey."
Yeah, he'd already figured that out.
.
Her nails are so sharp as they draw down his back, bringing him pleasure and pain but no clarity, his grip on her hips are too tight as he digs his nails into them (revenge is sweeter than you ever were). Their kisses are too harsh, just a collision of teeth and tongue. It's just to share the pain, the heartbreak and re-live the memories and fantasies that have plagued them. Her moans and whispers join with the segments of remembered conversations with Zoey, with Michael, with Lola, with everyone that he's lost, will lose and everyone else that can judge him.
He sucks on the spot where her key necklace was just minutes before, until he'd ripped it off with vigour, the memory too painful and his whole being too weak (too weak to forget, too weak to remember, to weak too apologise). He marks her as his, marks Gretchen because he could never have Zoey when he wanted her so badly and now he doesn't have a chance, never will have a second chance. He tugs at Gretchen's hair forcefully, trying to bring Zoey back, only bringing back reality when he realises that Zoey used completely different shampoo (smelt like strawberries; soft and fresh). So instead, he tugs on her hair to hold onto the memories because it's all he has left.
This isn't how it's supposed to be. It's supposed to be loving and gentle, compassionate and careful. Instead it's raw and rough, only filled with lust and harshness. She's the complete opposite of Zoey, but this is the only time Gretchen could even compare to Zoey; her face is flushed, a slightly rosy colour in her cheeks. Her hair is around her like a halo (the devil in disguise), the light catching the gold within it. Her face shows the beauty that Zoey would possess, finally appearing because she's not frowning, not unhappy.
God she's beautiful. Just not as beautiful as Zoey.
Only her eyes are wrong. They stare up at him, and the sadness is still within their blue depths. It's because she remembers Max, still remembers how his skin felt against hers, and how his hair felt in her hands. It's the only thing that stops him from falling in to her eyes, those memories and feelings.
He drags his nails down her thigh, and she throws her head back, arching her neck. He grins wickedly when he sees the red mark on her neck, because now it is official-he's hers. And he fucking well deserves her after what life has taken away from him (give it back, please give it back, I need her).
Gretchen moans, and suddenly he starts moving even faster and more furiously, the anger he suddenly feels giving him more energy. It's so wrong; so wrong, and he can't do anything. Her hips are too bony as they buck against his, the name she utters sounding wrong to his ears, and he doesn't respond. They're so similar, yet he can't help but hate her. Why should she stay when the girl he was best friends with, girl he was in love with, left the fucking country? Since when was Gretchen worth more than Zoey? She never was, and she never will be.
The name he whispers over and over is not the name of the girl below him. It's a the name of a memory, the name of his fantasies, the name of his best friend, the name of the girl that he thinks he's still in love with.
.
It's been two days since he pronounced his undying love for Zoey, and he hasn't seen Gretchen since. No goodbye, no phone call (it's all seeming very familiar). She hasn't come to talk to him, just accepted the fact that what the hell they had going on was over and moved on and forgotten about it. And honestly, he's been far too busy making pleading phone calls to his parents, buying plane tickets and scavenging warm clothes to really care. Well, that and the forever enlightening fact that he's going to see her, going to see Zoey.
Fourteen days after he pronounced his love for Zoey, his suitcase is in his hand, his guitar in the other. Everyone's saying good luck to him, tell Zoey they miss her and not to mess this up(he doesn't need to be told two times, left alone fiv-four times…soon to be five-hopefully). Out of the corner of his eye he sees a flash of blonde, and his mind takes him back to the impossible (it's not a possibility; she wouldn't come back to PCA). But then sense hits him and he recognises Gretchen.
They look straight at each other. Her eyes still hold that sadness-it's almost familiar-while his would hold hope. He can see that Max and his girlfriend are only about three metres away from him, and he can see the familiar effect that it's having on Gretchen. She looks back at him, and he feels sorry for her, maybe even nostalgic about everything that had happened over the past couple of weeks. Not because he loves her, or even likes her, but because he's going back to get the thing he lost; the thing he loves. While she never can.
He almost feels guilty; he doesn't need another Zoey (the real much thing as always so much better). But she has no one; no one to share her pain, no one able to sympathise with her. But she still manages to accept this, still manages to walk away from the only thing that could ever compare to the happiness she must have felt.
"Dude, I am so glad you broke up with her." Michael says when he spots her.
"I was never dating her." he replies nonchalantly.
Goodbye Gretchen, Hello Zoey.
.
It's a semester later when he sees her again. He's proud to say that there weren't any others like her, particularly as he couldn't bring himself to hurt any others. He hates those memories, the sadness that was in her eyes, the marks on her neck, the feeling of his lips crashing against hers. The guilt still remains.
She's sitting against a tree, slouching and looking at her feet as she listens to music. Her hair still shines in the sun, the golden colour remaining and sending him back to the memories, both of her and Zoey. A shadow (light and dark, dark and light) passes over her face, and once again he is tricked into believing the lie. She looks up at him, her blue eyes shining back at his as they make eye contact.
Recognition.
His attention is diverted when a light kiss is placed on his cheek (and it's so different from the harsh kisses they use to share, but it's just how he imagined it should be). He looks down to see the familiar hazel eyes and Zoey's glowing smile. She greets him and tells him that they need to go, tugging on their entwined hands and leading him away (and it feels so right; so perfect).
He quickly glances back to see them; Gretchen's new boyfriend as they share a chaste kiss. She's then led away, but not before they share a fleeting look. Her eyes are a shining, sea blue which seem to possess a happiness and love. She even manages a small smile, and he is once again struck by her familiar beauty.
He feels another tug on his arm and he gives Zoey a warm grin, his happiness rising when he remembers how close he came to losing her, how it felt to be without and now, how it feels to have her as his own. He leans down and presses a light kiss to her lips, feeling her smile under his lips. She then tugs him away again, towards the group.
Looking back, he can see one speck of blonde. He remembers the feel of her skin, the texture of her hair and lips, the harshness and rawness of it, now compared to the softness and love that comes with Zoey (and it's just how he imagined it to be). He remembers the hatred and lust he felt towards Gretchen, how she helped support him and how they let each other share the pain. The coldness of her hands, the sharpness of her nails and the taste of her skin. And then Zoey, Zoey with her sweet and kind words, Zoey with her soft caresses and love that she gave to Chase. The sweet smell of her surrounding him.
In a way, the familiarity makes him want to follow both.
.
The heart that truly loves never forgets.
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with Zoey 101 and this was for an unprofitable cause.
Review. Please. No flames, constructive criticism welcome.