Author's Note: I still think this ship could have been amazing.
Eli Goldsworthy. He walks down the hallways like parting a thick and sloshing sea of red; eyes fallen and mouth knit into a tight line like he's trying to keep together all the words that beat and bash around the insides of his skull. Scary. People would talk about him and they'd stare, but only because someone who drives a hearse and slaps that much black onto their body has to have a couple screws loose. Right? People wondered about him, but only because they'd heard so many rumors and she's listened in on a few of them, only out of curiosity.
It'd started a few weeks back when Holly J had been slipping out from English and into the endless sea of bustling students, Fiona at her side rambling on about a certain specific color combination and how she felt it was starting to make her bedroom look like something vomited into it. Again? Hadn't she just repainted the damn thing?
There is a stillness that settles over the very promise that only the greatest things may happen from here; a prying and eager buzzing in the air like a million eyes are all on you at once just as something happens that could offer you the world at the tip of clammy, shaky fingers. Fate; but she didn't believe in stupid things like that because she'd already had her fairytale and god only knows that hadn't worked out so well for her. No, this wasn't something that happens in movies, or mindless teenage novels; this was something burning hot and confusing and all-consuming.
He had been walking with bag slung over one shoulder and eyes forward when he'd just barely collided with her, all arm and elbow knocking her slightly off balance as he came into contact, walking in the opposite direction. Asshole.
"Watch where you're going!" Holly J had nearly spat out the words with a snarl; a scoff.
And what had Eli Goldsworthy replied with? Nothing. A great, big, fat nothing except for a quick glance over his shoulder; raised brow in her direction in careful consideration, before turning away with an almost laughable smirk painted onto his features. Funny. He'd found it terribly funny and completely unworthy of his time.
Whatever.
Holly J is all fiery red hair that falls in careful and flighty strands; she moves like a dancer without needing the shoes, or the training and her eyes hold the burned memory of words that she carries with her wherever she goes. Intellect. She values it above all else and it shows on her resume. Maybe that's what had attracted her to him so much. He's terribly smart and can write things with those ring-clad fingers that others couldn't even dream to craft into actual words.
Not that she'd really read much; he's not exactly an open book.
Eli Goldsworthy is a flaw in a tight construct; the stitch that didn't quite make it where it was supposed to go and sticks out all miss-matched and exposed for you to take the scissors to and start all over again. His boots scuff school hallways like the snap-click of sharp and drooling teeth; hungry and snarling at his heels while he moves absently. He quite simply doesn't belong there in the crowd. And Holly J? She belongs here. She's president; highly regarded and one of the school's hardest workers.
So, why then, had she ended up in the school's empty theater with her back propped against a messy desk and Eli Goldsworthy's head between her thighs? She doesn't quite remember, but it must have something to do with the paperwork cast aside and scattered over the wood flooring; she'd have to actually fetch that later. When he fucks her, chills crawl and claw their way up the charts of her spine like the slow and hot drip of candle wax down the neck of a glass bottle. The bones of his hips press into the junctures between her legs and his jeans are pushed down just enough, her skirt hiked up and his fingers playing her body like the twine of a guitar; stringing her tight and just on the verge of a break.
They scratch and bite each other a new layer of skin and she cums beautifully when he whispers damn-near-sinful into her ear.
"Let me ruin you."
She knows that he can't, of course. Ruin her, she means. She's built herself up with walls of steel after failed attempts at love and hard-working nights with only one goal in the future. Holly J functions for herself and she's very convinced that everyone should live in that sense in order to find their ultimate happiness. She doesn't need a boy to complete her, but she can enjoy how a boy makes her feel, right? This isn't about emotions. No, this is about something much less and much more all at once.
Holly J has managed to find a kindred spirit in another person, and if she just so happens to like sleeping with that kindred spirit while she's at it, then what's the harm in that? They're friends; she had to suppose she could call them that. Friends with a lot of added benefits and all of those things wrapped into one had been agreed to be kept under lock and key. No one would know they even knew the other existed.
She's a great actress. Eli is even better.
Midnight. The moon is the only source of light that leaks in through her bedroom window; peeking in and parting the curtains to step its lumiscent feet onto the carpet. Holly J drops a pencil hard against the surface of her desk and it's only then that she realizes that she'd dozed off while writing her paper. It's late and probably best if she just moves to bed now, anyway. Another hard tap and now her eyes are moving to sip on the stars outside; scanning the side yard now that she's most definitely certain she's hearing things.
It wasn't the drop of a pencil that had woken her. Is someone throwing rocks at her window?
Anger floods in and takes hold; Holly J yanks it open and throws a glance that pierces through the darkness of dusk. Eli. She can recognize him in just the way he stands now and that, alone, redirects her frustration towards herself.
"What are you doing here?" Her voice is the harsh crack of the whip that breaks their mutual silence that seems to stand on the tips of its toes as it waits for one, or the other to take initiative.
"Can I come in?"
"What do you want?"
"Please."
It's probably the first time he's said the word to her over the course of the past few weeks that they'd been talking through text messages and meeting up in secrecy. Never once has he said please in such a way before and it's the only reason why she opens her bedroom window further and steps aside.
Eli slips in quietly; avoids the desk and moves to stand silent and rather awkwardly in the middle of her bedroom as Holly J shifts to shut the window and cut them off from the night air, turning and gazing at him expectantly. Just because she's invited him inside doesn't mean that it's going to be without any explanation. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans and his eyes are downcast, mouth in a tight line; and Holly J is nearly tapping her foot in impatience when she finally speaks.
"So? You know you can't just-"
It only takes a second. Eli doesn't allow her to finish her words, before he's cleared all the space that seperates them and his mouth covers hers with a desperation and a hunger that nearly knocks the wind out of her. He's there to catch all of her gasps with tongue that curls and presses past her teeth; he's swallowing down her air when hands come up and cup either side of her face in the cradle of long digits. Oh. Is this all he wanted? She responds with an equal fervor, but there's something in the way he pushes now that leaves behind a question like the imprint of a bruise, angry and blue with welting yellow like ink dropped into a cup of water.
She's on the bed and her shoulder blades kiss the sheets when Eli makes quick work to rid her of the shirt that clings to her form; he'll leave her completely naked so that the dips and curves and every single line of her body shines in the darkness against the raging moon like silver ribbons wrapped loosely against her every limb. And it's only when she's nude that Eli reaches behind his neck to pull his own shirt over his head; hands fumbling between the two of their bodies to undo the clink of his belt.
"M-mm..."
He doesn't push his pants down all the way. Impatient; he rids himself of just enough coverage to allow himself between her legs where he fits snug and comfortable just before he's sheathed inside of her with a sigh of relief like coming home, or breaking the wet surface of the water to fill your lungs for the first time.
She's a complete dinner on silver platter and he is an upset stomach and just as much as they love pretending that they fit together perfectly, she can feel the way that something within him swells like an upcoming storm. Eli is dynamite lit on both ends.
And so what does that make her? She likes to think that these little interactions are for his peace of mind, but she's starting to think they're for her own too. And, god, does it feel good to allow herself a little bit of freedom. She can forget about her responsibilities and her worries and the pressures that come with both things when she focuses on the touch of Eli's hands. And so, she fucks him to forget and he fucks her to remember what it's like to have a woman invite you between her legs.
And as for tonight? His every motion and action is clumsy and desperate like he can't seem to figure out where to place himself. It's out of sorts and it's not like him. So what's going on?
She can always tell when he's close. Eli is quiet; head fallen and face buried into the bow of her shoulder where he releases a low and muffled growl and his hips give a rather harsh slap into hers when the pace picks up. She doesn't have to necessarily like him, she just has to like the way his dick makes her feel, but maybe she is rather fond of him. Maybe that's why she's more than a little concerned for him. She can tell something is wrong because he's using her body to forget about something. It's oh-so-easy to see your own faults in somebody else.
When he cums, Eli has one hand just barely brushed over the long column of her throat like a warning and his other hand with knuckles white in the sheets. He moans into her shoulder like a long, low sob, and the last few angry pushes of his hips are enough to take her with him and Holly J crests like the stars have pinned themselves behind her eyelids.
Stillness.
There's nothing but the heavy in-out of their breathing as their lungs fight for oxygen and their hearts hammer loudly against the cage of their ribs. Quiet; the aftermath.
Eli is the first one to move. He pulls away and shifts to lay on his back beside her with an exasperated sigh, eyelids fallen over the flicker of green eyes as hands come up to push messy black hair away from his face. She wants to tell him that he wouldn't have such a problem if he just got a haircut, but she knows that now is not a time for half-hearted joking.
"Something's wrong." She almost scares herself when she finally speaks and her voice breaks the silence, soft and hoarse. Eli is quiet for what feels like hours, before he finally answers her.
"Yes."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"No."
She feels slightly frustrated now, but this is how their relationship goes. They talk and they flirt in secret; they meet up and they sleep together without any question as to why they may be doing it, or what they may be getting out of it. Asking questions isn't something they normally do. And as for getting personal? Talking about their problems? They still haven't reached that stage of their little 'friendship' yet.
"Are you sure?" She's giving him one last opportunity, before she kicks him out. She needs to get some sleep if this isn't going anywhere productive.
"No."
Oh. A hard blink and Holly J shifts to lay on her side, peering over towards him. "So?"
"Things have been... weird for me lately. I mean, Clare and I aren't going to work out."
Holly J nods silently for a moment and thinks about it. Clare Edwards; innocent, blonde-haired, blue-eyed little Clare Edwards with an upturned smile and a soft laugh like the tinkling of bells in the breeze of summer. She's everything that he isn't and Holly J had always thought it to be strange when she'd see the girl trailing behind him, or following Eli out to his hearse at the end of the day. They are a strange fit. Clare and Eli aren't together, but she has known that they'd been talking back and forth for a little while now.
"She wants to be more than just friends and I can't give that to her. I can't tell her why."
"Do you want to tell me why?"
"No."
"Are you sure?" Another second chance.
"Yes."
A final long pause. He's particular about what he talks about whenever they do have a conversation. She's okay with that. She's the same way. What they have between them is something quiet and exclusively just them and there's no breaching into territory that makes things anymore complicated. If it's the last thing they want, it's complicated.
She also knows that he doesn't really want advice. That's not why he's just given her a little peek into the inner-workings of his head and that's not why he's told her what's upsetting him. No, he just wants to say it out loud and she can appreciate that.
"I should probably get home," he says finally, before moving to lift his hips off the mattress enough to pull his jeans up where they belong, sitting at the bones of his hips as he makes to buckling his belt.
"Maybe next time I'll show up at your window."
Standing up and pulling his shirt back over his head, he casts her a glance, half caught between humor and a warning. She can see that he finds it funny, but she also knows what he means by that gaze. He does not want her showing up at his house.
It's brief and it's not like she's all too concerned, but she throws Eli a half-smile that's returned back to her when he slips out her window to drop back into the night like a cracked egg slips into a hot pan. It's not often that Holly J ever really wonders about him, but it's in this moment, that she can't seem to still her thoughts.
She wants to know more.