First of all, HELLO MY DARLINGS! I haven't posted on FOR WHAT FEELS LIKE AN ETERNITY! I have several unfinished stories, I have neglected them to write my own novel, but typically I got writers block and this has been dancing in my head ALL day and I HAD to get it out. I'm hoping one day to return to Misfortunate Children but there's a chance I won't or at least I will and it'll be a completely different writing style as it's been a year *sheepish look*
So this came from no where. I don't even know. I just think Gabe needs to be used in fics more, his character had promise and was such a contrast to Tate.
In this, his parents never moved from the Murder House, and he formed a close bordering on flirtatious relationship with Violet, but it's only that of friends, she relies on him heavily to stop her from being alone. Tate of course is a continuous presence.
This is VERY short, I ran out of ideas, maybe I'll come back to it depending on feedback but never the less I hope you like and leave a review :D And also..KYLE/ZOE…LOVE THEM SO FREAKING MUCH!
Don't wanna be sly and defile you.
Descrate my mind and rely on you.
- Korn. Narcissistic Cannibal.
Tate tried to kill him again. Clammy long translucent fingers digging into his sweating throat. A deep hitch. Tears travelling down both their cheeks. Gabe had never felt true fear till that moment. He'd never experienced such a wave of consuming relief when Violet's startled face appeared from the doorframe and he was dropped soundlessly to the ground. This began as déjà vu, his room, Tate's room, Violet's room providing the backdrop of his impending doom, but Violet didn't kiss his would be murderer, didn't utter goodbye, her pupils were slits surveying Tate's guilty façade.
"Don't," She'd whispered crouching down in front of him, cradling his face in her delicate palms, her words breathed against his icy cheeks but they were directed at Tate, "Not him."
Gabe was spluttering blood from beneath the new gaps of his teeth.
"Vi-" Tate had trembled, the knife dangling from between his shaky fingertips.
"Don't," She echoed, one arm wrapping underneath Gabe's tattered jacket, huffing when she supported his body off the floor, together they'd stumbled towards the bathroom leaving splatters of blood in their wake, as they passed him she finally met his black eyes, "He's my only friend."
The day Gabe lost his virginity Tate expected to find her weeping, sickening large sobs reverberating throughout the murder house, he couldn't comprehend the buoyancy in which she manoeuvred around their old room, a light spring to her step, a mischievous grin stretched across her thin lips.
"Saw her leave," Violet laughed landing next to an exhausted Gabe on the bed, "Bit conventional don't you think?"
Gabe chuckled, dimples reaching eyes transfixed on the ceiling, "Jealous?"
The obvious teasing was lost on the invisible presence in the corner of the room, crouching in the shadows, rocking back and forth.
"Want me to be?" She'd challenged tongue between teeth, soft curls brushing against his shoulder as she turned to stare at him.
"Was it this awkward when you first had sex?" Gabe asks immediately squinting his eyes shut, Violets number one rule: never talk about her past.
But he's known her a few months, he's her only constant in a world devoid of change. He could do anything, ask anything and she'd comply only to not slip back into the darkest void. He was a cheerful distraction from the one always watching them.
He feels her shudder on the bed, feels Tate's nearing presence, can almost hear his pounding heart which shatters and breaks a thousand times when Violet's monotone lithe voice whispers, "I don't know, I try to forget that now."
It's Thursday evening. Gabe's parents have left for a simple sweet date, that's what Violet likes about his family, the normalcy of it, normal people scare me. She remembers Tate's t-shirt. A small longing burns inside her stomach, coiling, unfurling, but then her brother's small whine mocks her from downstairs and it's immediately buried again. They're in the dining area, she's leaning against a chair flicking through his baby books, he's texting Madison, the girl who robbed him. When he gets a final text declaring their little 'tift' over he can't say he's surprised, she's got a reputation. Violet was right. She's always right.
"Awww," She squeals flipping over the album and pushing it against his eyes, finger pointed at his stereotypically naked self in the bath, bubbles stacked in hair, rolls of baby fat adorning skin, penis on display, "Bet it's still that small," She taunts, cocking an eyebrow at his crotch.
"It's not," Gabe huffs snatching the book away from her, ignoring her uncharacteristic pout, "It's not," He reaffirms, when she remains suspicious he raises an eyebrow, "Want to see for yourself?"
She remains still as if daring him. He fingers the zipper. Pulls it down. Waits for her to scoff, call him a jackass and disappear. But she doesn't. If he hadn't wimped out, scoffed at her himself a knife would have landed in his back. Tate was always watching.
Halloweens approaching. The ghosts are flickering in and out of existence with excited energy almost giving his naïve mother a heart attack. Kyle calls him, demands to know if he'll come to the Halloween college party. He's met a girl, Zoë, and Madison will be there. Violet's in his room, flipping through his 'crap typical boy band music' pretending not to be overcome with disappointment.
"Sorry mate," Gabe says, "Got a girl of my own I've got to take out," His eyes flicker to Violet's. She elicits a small smile. Behind Gabe, Tate hisses.
Halloween. The murder house is deserted save Gabe's parents. He's promised her he'll go wherever she wants. She floats in front of him, long floral skirt fluttering in the cool breeze, her heads thrown back as she twirls, a bright silhouette twinkling against the sparkling sky, sand beneath her exposed toes, the sea dancing behind her. The beach is a sacred place for her. She won't say why as her head leans against his chest, but he can guess. It's habit now whenever she returns to her often melancholy state for him to stroke her hair, twirl it around his fingers until she swats him away.
"Did you love Madison?" It's abrupt, he thought she was away with her tortured memories.
"No," He sighs, staring beyond the crown of honey straggled hair and out into the depths of the ocean, "Did you love Tate?"
Halloween no longer means freedom from only her physical entrapment, "So much it killed me."
He doesn't question it, he knows the basics, rape, overdose, betrayal, isolation, her life is full of misery, he's her defined 'light.'
"Violet," He asks tentatively, "When will you stop punishing yourself?"
She shares Tate's punishment, the whole house buzzes with the repetitive statement. He condemned them both, never to love, to feel, to care again.
"Never," She laughs wiping the stray tear.
They're silent again, the waves caress one another before dissolving, their carcasses splashed across the grains of sand near their bare feet.
"You'll grow up one day," She whispers so quietly, "The life I'll never have."
"I'll never leave you," He replies squeezing her closer, she's like mist in his grasp, "You're my best friend."
"You'll graduate, marry, have a family, maybe an affair, you'll die," She continues a haunch in her usually poised shoulders, she nestles away from him to stare deep into his eyes, "I'm jealous of that, that you'll die. And I'll be forever this, the way I am, for all eternity."
"We make a pact," Gabe says, tone lighter, trying to eradicate the dismal mood, he offers his pinkie to Violet, "Here, every Halloween, for as long as I live."
She tries to contain a grin, wraps her pinkie around his, biting her lip after accepting, "Deal."
And Tate knows he has to wait until Gabe meets the reaper.