A/N: This occurred to me the other day when I was listening to Ellie Goulding's song "The Writer" (hence the name of the story and the lyrics included in the fic), and I contemplated doing Naomily, but for some reason this fit better as Keffy, to me (and I know what some of you are thinking, but I can't help if I get ideas for them). :P
Anyway, this goes out to the wonderful, brilliant, magnificent HyperFitched (who has finished her second masterpiece: 99 Problems that all of you need to read along with her first one and the prequel/companion piece to 99, I Hold a Force I Can't Contain if you haven't already...seriously...go read. You won't regret it.)
Hypes,
Congrats on finishing the story, babe. This isn't what was initially started for you when you finished the story, but I hope you like it anyway. The other thing is still coming, too, I promise. :) This is for you because you love Keffy as much as I do and you do incredible things with them.
Lots of love. xxx
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or Ellie Goulding or the song lyrics. *sigh* I do own my imagination, however. :)
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You wait for a silence, I wait for a word
Lie next to your frame, girl unobserved
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She starts writing at the end of her first year in the hospital. They call it a "home", but Katie's not fooled. When you have regulated medications multiple times a day and nurses and orderlies marching through the halls keeping eyes on everyone at all hours of the day and night, it's a hospital. She hates visiting, but she hates not, too.
The writing is something. She still hasn't spoken. Not a word since the news came in.
Katie can't blame her. If she knew a way to be effectively quiet and not die inside, she'd give it a go. It's not her style, though.
Instead, when Effy lies there staring blankly at a bland white ceiling, Katie fills the silence with words. Chatter is her defence, and, even though she knows that Effy lives for the silences when people leave her alone, Katie can't help hoping that if she just talks enough, one day Effy will say something back.
She lies down beside Effy once her eyes have closed, craving a closeness that she rarely gets to anyone these days, and lets her eyes run over the fragile frame of her friend. When Effy's eyes do eventually open again, they never look at her, and Katie can't help feeling almost invisible when that happens.
She doesn't know what keeps bringing her back here, to this desolate hellhole for the mentally unstable, but on the weeks that she doesn't come she's haunted by piercing blue eyes and a smirk that she never even sees anymore.
Some nights when she hides just outside the window so the orderlies don't kick her out when visiting hours are closed and then she climbs back in to lie once more beside Effy, she can almost hear Effy's voice.
"Good night, Katie," she hears a whisper, but it's just the wind whistling through the crappy latch of the old windows of an even older building.
She hopes the writing will help.
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You change your position and you're changing me
Casting these shadows where they shouldn't be
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Writing helps. In words she can express things she never could aloud.
She keeps two journals at a time now. One that she can share with Julie in therapy and one that she can write everything else in. She's on her third of the former category and her tenth of the latter.
She glances up from the rickety desk someone for some unreason known painted off-white at some point, hiding the natural beauty of the grain of the wood at the telling rustle of fabric on fabric.
Katie's perched on her bed, shifting to look out the window better.
Effy catches the way that she's gnawing on her bottom lip. She's trying to stay quiet, Effy knows, for her sake. She's trying to just let her write.
She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again when she realises just what she was about to do. She frowns to herself. She hasn't spoken a word in fourteen months, and she'd almost just forgotten why let alone that she had no intentions of it a moment before. Just for an instant, but it was an instant longer than she'd felt in fourteen months.
She stares hard at Katie. It's because of her, she knows. She moved and it made Effy move. It made her almost speak.
She's changing me, Effy thinks, unsure yet if the change is good or bad.
She looks back at the page before her. It's enough to discuss with Julie tomorrow. She closes it firmly, and notes with interest that Katie looks at her when she does. I moved and it made her move.
She stands and crosses to her bed, putting a hand on Katie's shoulder when she makes a move to stand and instead indicating that she should stay by the window. She lies on the outside of the bed, the side closest to the door, away from the safety of the wall, for the first time since she arrived, and she tilts her head so she can look back to Katie, this evening's revelations weighing in her mind.
Katie's eyes are wide in surprise for a moment before she recovers quickly. "Been fucking shitty weather outside today," she comments, once again filling up the silence in the room with words (there's never silence in Effy's head to be filled).
Effy nods noncommittally and Katie's eyes widen again. Effy can't figure out why except that maybe that's the biggest response she's given in all of the time that Katie's been visiting her. She furrows her brows at the unexpected guilt that curls in her gut.
Katie lies beside her, the change in her position casting shadows across Effy, but these aren't all consuming like the ones her mind creates. Instead, she's surprised to find them almost comforting.
"Goodnight, Ef," Katie murmurs. "Sleep well."
Effy lets her eyes close, knowing from the quiet way that Katie is humming to herself that she's not the only one who's still awake. She doesn't know about Katie reasons for not finding sleep easily, but it seems she's got quite a lot to think about.
It feels like hours pass before Katie's breathing evens out beside her. Effy opens her eyes and then her mouth experimentally. She closes it again, makes a humming noise that comes out as a gruff growl. She clears her throat and tries again, the sound getting stuck in her throat once more. It's been too long since she's made a sound using her vocal chords.
She rolls onto her side, towards Katie, to see how Katie's already curving in towards her. The need for human contact, she thinks clinically to herself.
"Goodnight, Katie," she whispers roughly. The words feel foreign coming from her own mouth. They feel like they stick in an unpleasant way. Her voice is far hoarser than she remembers it as well.
Perhaps it's been too long.
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I try out a smile and aim it at you
You must have missed it, you always do
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Katie smiles in Effy's direction, but Effy's not looking at her, of course. She's facing the editor who's going over the detailed notes on Effy's manuscript. Katie hasn't been allowed to read it yet, but Julie was impressed enough to call her friend in publishing, and the editor has this pleased smile on his face and keeps saying things like "really revolutionary" and "unique view into the human psyche" which make Katie well up in pride.
She's not entirely sure why, since it's not like it's her accomplishment, but she's seen this progress from the start, so maybe that has something to do with it. She was there the first day that Effy started writing, and she smuggled in the extra notebooks when Effy had shoved a note across her desk at her asking for them.
She'd been there, too, when Effy had dug the stacks of her 'private' notebooks out from under the bed and murmured, just barely loudly enough for Katie to hear (and just quiet enough that she almost thought she'd imagined it), "I think it's time to share."
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"You spoke!" she gasped.
"I've been testing it out at night," Effy replied vaguely, eyes still fixed on her journals.
"For how – When did – You – I don't even – " Katie gave up on trying to form a coherent sentence and instead crossed to Effy and wrapped her in a tight embrace.
Effy tensed at the touch, but Katie felt her relax after a moment. Katie didn't care anyway. She wasn't about to let Effy go.
Effy's hand came up and patted her back tentatively, and Katie finally released, standing there beaming at Effy who missed it because she'd turned her attention back to her journals, flipping through them silently.
When Katie finally turned around, feeling a swell of emotions twisting inside her and overwhelming her, she heard a small, "Thanks," from Effy that brought tears to her eyes.
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"Well, Miss Stonem, you're quite an impressive young woman," the editor stands with a smile.
Effy merely nods in response and takes the hand offered to her. Katie fills the silence. She almost feels like it's her job to at this point. Effy may be talking now, but it's not like she ever said much.
"Thank you so much for meeting with us, Mr. Fletcher. We're so thrilled that this is happening and that you're interested in publishing this."
"Call me Stephen, please. It's we who are thrilled," the man replied with a sincere smile. "She's got quite a talent for writing. Her intrinsic style is fascinating." He turns his eyes to Effy before he continues. "It's like you knew all along this would be read by others. It's practically written as a novel already. The way you combined artistry and dark humour and...Well, now I'm rambling, which is never good for an editor. I look forward to our future meetings." He shakes hand with them both and Katie sees him to the door before turning back Effy.
Katie's beaming with pride (even though her curiosity about what exactly Effy has written is now eating away at her even more), but Effy's eyes have strayed out the window as she lights up a cigarette.
"You did great," Katie says.
Effy's eyes flick to hers, and there's a flash of something that Katie can't identify in them before Effy nods and looks back out the window.
Katie sighs. "I'll start on dinner, shall?"
She moves towards the kitchen, but a sudden movement from her right makes her stop.
"I'll cook tonight," Effy says, crossing to her quickly and putting a delicate hand on her shoulder.
Katie swallows hard at the touch, then the words sink in. Effy's words. In Effy's voice. It's her turn to nod.
She smiles at Effy's back as her friend moves gracefully into the kitchen. Another smile missed by Effy's eyes, but Katie likes to think that she can feel them, even when she's not looking.
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'Cause I'd rather pretend
I'll still be there at the end
Only it's too hard to ask
Won't you try to help me
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It turned into a mixture between her reality, her delusions, and her hopes somewhere along the writing process. She hadn't intended it to be a book, but combined the journals flowed in a certain way that made her understand why Julie had thought they could work as one.
Now, of course, it's well on its way to becoming one. Draft four has been submitted to Stephen, a few key changes made. She's working on the epilogue as well. It's different. Special.
She glances across the living room...their living room, and her eyes soften when they take in Katie's small form, curled up into an impossibly small ball on the couch, the copy of Heat she'd been reading on the floor beside where she's now snoring softly.
They've come a long way together, and she couldn't have done it without Katie. Not a single step of it, not that Katie probably knows that. Katie had insisted that they live together when she'd finally gotten out of the hospital, and Effy had opened her mouth to protest, but she'd realised that she hadn't really wanted to.
It was amazing the changes that such a small person had managed to cause in her, but, then again, there isn't really anything small about Katie apart from her physical height.
It's because of Katie that Effy started writing to begin with, that she agreed to do any journal writing. She's more prominently featured in the book than she has any idea about (and that's part of the reason that Effy still hasn't let her read it).
It's because of Katie that she started talking again, too. Her presence. Her constant chatter. Her constant support (never mentioned in all that chatter but always felt).
It's because of Katie that she's got hopes to include in the story. Dreams, even (rather than nightmares).
She's the writer, but she can only be one because Katie's been writing on her all along. Writing on her mind, filtering into her thoughts. Writing on her soul, teaching her to live again.
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At night she lies awake, often slipping into Katie's room just to lie beside her once more, the comfort her body provided at the hospital still desired. She knows that Katie doesn't mind because she thinks that all intentions are innocent.
In her head, though she writes a different story. One where she's welcome with open arms into Katie's bed at the end of every night. One where her goodnight kisses are placed on the lips instead of the cheek and some nights they never end.
She doesn't remember when she started to write these stories in her head, just that she can't fall asleep without them now.
She likes to pretend, in the darkness of Katie room in the still of the night, that this is how the story will someday end: her and Katie together.
Some days she almost mentions it. Some days she almost says just how much she needs Katie...just how much she wants her.
It's just easier not to. She's spent so long saying next to nothing, she can't ask for things now.
Instead, she writes.
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Why don't you be the artist
And make me out of clay
Why don't you be the writer
And decide the words I say
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Katie holds Effy's hand tight, fully aware of just how tense Effy is in the crowded streets. Effy's hand grips back even tighter, almost crushing her hand, but Katie doesn't mind. They knew there would be days like these, ones where, for whatever reason, the medications and the therapies aren't enough and Effy's mind betrays her.
They're almost home, though, and Katie knows they'll make it if she doesn't let go (and she has no intention of doing that).
Effy practically collapses through their front door just behind her. Katie moves to pull her hand free to close the door behind them, but Effy's still clinging to it, so she just kicks the door closed instead. When she turns, Effy's blue eyes are blazing into hers.
Her heart's pounding in her chest in an instant because as many different emotions as she's seen flashing in Effy's eyes (terror, amusement, boredom), she's never seen this. Not aimed at her.
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She knew she wanted this, but it's not until Effy's lips are on hers that she realises exactly how much.
They're collapsing into her bed before she even realises that they've left the living room.
It doesn't matter, though, as Effy's hands trace up and down her sides, mapping the skin she reveals beneath the satiny fabric of Katie's top.
It's not long before they're tangled in the sheets, clothes long forgotten about.
With every movement, every caress, Katie feels as if Effy is sculpting her, changing her, tearing her down and creating her all over again.
When Effy stares into her eyes as their bodies move together, melding into one, flowing with a rhythm Katie didn't know that either of them possessed, she wonders if maybe they've always been doing that to each other, just by their presence in each other's lives.
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Katie opens the book, pride flowing out of her as the hard cover cracks for the first time. She glances up at Effy who's watching her with eyes that say nothing. Katie doesn't care. She's too proud of what Effy's accomplished to care. Too proud of how far she's come...how far they've come together.
She looks back at the book and turns the blank page, smiling to herself when she sees "by Effy Stonem" on the title page.
She opens her mouth to speak. To say once again just how proud she truly is, how great an accomplishment this is, but Effy's hand reaches out and turns the next page for her, and a name catches her eye.
Her name.
Her breath hitches as she reads the words above it and a tear of past aching and future joy trickles down her cheek. Her heart swells as she traces the words over and over with her eyes. She's left speechless, for once, filled only with the words that Effy has written:
Dedicated to my friend, my constant companion, giver of smiles, the writer on my soul. These words are for you, Katie Fitch.