DISCLAIMERS: I do not own Glee.
I don't know why I wrote this. Oh yeah, I do, because I love Karley, and sadly, "Letters of the Misconstrued" is not being updated…TT
You don't know what's going on. Your knees hit the floor before you even realize it, and the only notion you get is the stall door slamming closed behind you before you are emptying the contents of your stomach in the toilet. After dry heaving for several painful moments, you look to your left hand and watch in horror your two wet fingers, and realize that you did this.
They made you do this.
You cover your mouth in horror, not even bothering to flush the toilet before you collapse on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably because you let yourself down, you let your mom down, and you let her down.
You can't even believe that you let their words get to you once again. You had been doing so well. Nothing could phase you, or so you thought, until those two pretty Cheerios approached you at your locker and picked out every single insecurity you had a hold of. Every single word stabbed you like a knife, so the only thing you were able to do then was run. And that led you to where you are now.
As you expected, there is some rustle in the halls, and you can hear some very angry voices before it all stops and you are left in the most utter silence, only interrupted by the restroom door opening and closing. You are able to hear the soft squeaking of a pair of sneakers stepping on the linoleum floor, and you think for a moment that you are either going to die or throw up again.
"Marley" a voice says tentatively, and you'd know that voice anywhere because it's hers and she's here, but you can't let her see you like this. Not now, when you have come so far. So you stay quiet, with your back to the stall wall, and your knees against your chin, preventing it from trembling.
But you know her, and you know she expected you not to respond, so she moves to the farthest stall and opens the door, the moves to the next, and then, yours. You hear the faint sound of her hand contacting with the door, and hear her sigh of relief and something else when it wouldn't budge.
"Marley, please, open the door before I go back and behead those bitches" continues the voice standing directly in front of your stall, and you can't help smiling lightly through your still falling tears at the girl. Only she could sound so cute in her cruelty. But you still don't move, just stay quiet with your head bowed down and a small smile on your face, in case she says anything else.
"Honey?" Asks the voice softly, and it's then that you lose yourself again as your face crumples and you let a tiny sob escape your mouth, action that just serves for alerting her even more, because the next words she speaks are anxious and alarmed.
"Marley, I swear I'll climb-" but at hearing her desperate tone and watching her white sneakers pointing towards the stall right beside yours, you can't hold back anymore and, managing to hit your lower chin in your hustle to get up, you open the door vigorously just to have a tiny ball of force collide against you. Another sob gets past your lips when you feel her lips pressing reassuringly against your jaw, while her arms hold you to her, keep you together. It still amazes you how she can completely hold you being a couple inches smaller than you.
You grip the back of her Cheerio's uniform top for dear life, and she walks you backwards into the tiny space until you are pressed against the stall wall you were sitting against mere seconds ago and the door is closed, giving you much unnecessary intimacy.
She has pulled back just so that she can look you in the eyes, and you stare into those hazel loving pools because that's all you can manage when she does that. Her brows are knitted and her lips are turned downwards, a fact that makes your heart twist and your gaze slides guiltily down her face until there's no more possibility of eye contact.
She notices immediately, and one of her hands leaves your hip just to reappear at your right cheek, tugging your face up gently until she can press her nose to your chin, as she knows you like.
"I'm sorry" she whispers in a valiant effort of showing vulnerability, but you just shake your head, rubbing her nose. "I really am sorry Marley."
"Please don't" you whimper, because you are the one who should be sorry, you are the one who broke your promise.
"Baby," Kitty murmurs as she moves you by your chin until you are looking into her pained eyes once again, "you are not any of the things those morons said, understand?" You just blink dumbly for a few seconds before you tilt your head upwards, knowing that she can't force you to see, to believe out of reach. But she's not stupid, so she waits patiently, nearing her lips to your exposed throat and letting them rest there, causing goose bumps to erupt all over your smooth skin and calmness to flow over your body. You are finally beginning to relax when you feel her body stiffen, her lips moving brusquely off your neck at the same time her ponytail hits your cheek with the speed of her movement.
Oh no. Oh no.
You forgot that, in you endless stupidity, you hadn't flushed the toilet. And, at any other time you would have scolded any other person for their lack of hygiene, but now, while your heart stops and Kitty's arm is rigid around you, you couldn't care less about that fact.
Needless to say, you are incredibly surprised when Kitty wraps her arms around you possessively after that unwanted whimper of despair bubbles up in your chest and slides between your lips. You are not about to let a chance to hold Kitty go to waste, so you close your arms around her shoulders and bury your head in her neck, your body angled down awkwardly like you both have gotten used to these past three months, and cry.
She hasn't said anything, and you try to crawl inside of her and yourself at the same time, because you are sure that once she reacts, the pain will be too much to handle on your own. But, taking a deep, wet breath against her hot neck, you decide that you won't let the best thing to ever happen to you go because of a freaking mistake you hadn't been able to control.
"I didn't mean to." It comes out as a muffled mess of words, but you still hope she understands. As time passes and Kitty doesn't react, you start losing control again, your sore chin starting to tremble again as your breathing begins to bait. This seems to pull her out of her unresponsive state, because not even two seconds later her lips are pressed fiercely against yours and her arms are like iron around you. You don't move, just let her lips press reassuringly against yours when you remember why you were there in the first place and jerk your face up, just to have Kitty bury her face in your neck and kiss it chastely a few times, her grip unrelenting.
"I'm sorry" you whisper, but Kitty pulls back in that moment and gets in her tippy toes just to be able to stare right into your eyes, at the same time one of her hands comes up to cup your jaw ruthlessly but gently nonetheless. You inhale sharply through your nose now that you have no other option but look back. You know she's trying to appear unfazed and hard, but the barely there glimmer in her eyes betrays her.
"Now, you listen to me Marley Rose," speaks up the blonde, and you can hear the trembling in her voice due to repressed anger, "you are the most beautiful girl in this dumb ass school. You have nothing to be sorry about. No. Marley. Marley." She tugs at your face again, forcing it to bow a little. Her teeth are clenched
and her sharp inhales and exhales of breath hit your chin with in a determined rhythm, one you seem to grow fond of as you try to ignore those dilated pupils boring through your own.
"Do you think that any of those girls, bitches, feel good about themselves?" inquires your petite girlfriend, whose voice has softened by the end of the question, and who is trying desperately to keep her tears at bay, to stay strong for you, because you lost that ability when you slammed your locker's door closed. "No. They feel like crap, because their boyfriends have probably told them how dumb they are, or because they aren't good at anything that matters, or- I'd bet half of them are struggling through a bunch of coats to see if they are able to exit Narnia. " She tries to ease the tension, but you just look back and absorb as much of your beautiful girl as you can through the blurriness covering your vision.
You won't admit it to her, probably not even to Wade or your mom, but in this moment in which she is supporting you even when you were the one who broke the promise, the one who definitely does not deserve to be coddled, you almost sense a physical I love you erupt in your tongue. You are fastest, though, and just inhale deeply. It conveniently comes out as a shaky reaction to the opening of her mouth.
"I know what you're thinking." She whispers just before kissing your jaw tenderly, like you love so much and like she does over and over again until you fall asleep beside her on her bed. Surprised, you open your eyes because, how can she know? You didn't even realize up until a few moments ago.
"But this is absolutely not your fault." You just stare right in front of you, the relief of hearing those words and the disappointment that she hasn't been able to completely decipher you escaping your body through a sigh. Taking it as a sign of frustration, Kitty moves her lips back from their comforting motions and grabs your face tightly between her hands in a way that, you are sure, must look ridiculous.
"Listen. And listen clearly because being this close to you during school is giving me unwanted reactions. Allergies." She adds as an afterthought while she rolls her eyes lightly, and you can't help the smile that curves your lips up the slightest bit, causing her own to quiver upwards for a moment before regaining her serious instance once again. "This," and she points to the toilet, "it's not your fault. Those little, stupid twigs don't…" she inhales deeply, "three months ago I thought that bringing you down would make things easier for me, and revenge is sweet. You know it." The girl in front of you bows her head just to murmur "Actually you don't".
"But that doesn't-"
"Marley, shush, dear Lord. I'm trying to make a point here." She snaps at you, and you don't flinch or wince like you used to when she used to be so rude towards you at the beginning of the scholar year, but you know that there's something showing on your face when she takes a deep breath and slides her hands down your neck until she reaches the lapels of the worn jacket she gave you almost seven weeks ago, on you third date. Gripping them tightly and attracting you to her, she steps forward and presses your fronts together, not leaving even an inch between the two of you. On instinct, you close your arms around her petite waist, which seems molded perfectly for them to fit there.
"I tried to make you insecure; just as insecure as any of the Cheerios in this crappy school. They don't eat, they don't stop moving. I wanted, needed to make you feel at least half as bad as I felt, just because you were disgustingly perfect and I was not." You tighten your arms around her because, you already know the story, and you know how much of a struggle it is for Kitty to talk about her feelings. Then she looks up and meets your gaze, and her lips are squished in an irregular line while her eyes are begging for you to understand, as if you hadn't done just that when you first kissed under the bleachers of McKinley' field.
"But instead, I started feeling better when I was around you, and in exchange I kept making you believe that you were fat and-" she stops at the breaking of her voice, so uncharacteristic of her and breathes deeply again. "And I kept on playing mind games with you." One of her hands is bunched now at the back of your neck, gripping the hairs there and bringing your head down to rest your forehead against hers. "I don't know how, but when this happened" she continues, tightening her hold on the word this, "I had already left you broken."
"No, no no no." She doesn't even have time to finish the thought when you are already denying those stupid assumptions. How could she possibly believe that? She is the best thing that's ever happened to you besides your mom, and you are not about to let her carry all that guilt on her back when it made this – you – happen.
"But Marley," she continues with urgency on her voice and her eyes, "no, you're- no. Shut up. Marley." She tries to look stern, but so much of her walls have been already broken that you smile timidly at her attempt to look stoic. You watch as her nostrils expand violently and decide not to push your luck anymore. You know how important and difficult this show of vulnerability is for her.
"You remember Sectionals." It is a statement, and you can't help the shudder that crawls up your spine at the thought. Of course you do; everyone does. You nod your head softly, knowing how unnecessary that is.
"But everyone knows it wasn't your fault-"
"It doesn't matter Marley." Her voice is strained once more, memories of the anguish paralyzing her system undoubtedly running through her mind. "That's not the point. It could have been me. I could have been the responsible. At the moment I thought I was, and…" she inhales deeply once again, and on instinct your hand shoots up to curl around her jaw, covering the pronounced bone with your darker skin and loving the way it contrasts with hers. Your brow furrows at the words she might pronounce next, but she's too occupied looking at your chin to notice.
"I broke. I hated myself so fucking much." Silence. There are words too strong for you to stand right now, and hearing Kitty Wilde, your fearless and brave Kitty Wilde saying them is enough to let you fall completely apart in front of her. But she's been the strong one for so long, and you just want to be her for a moment.
"Hey, hey," you whisper between sniffles, and as she raises her head you see a tear make its way down her cheekbone, but before you can wipe it away she's intercepted it with the heel of her hand and dried it off roughly. "Baby, it was not your fault. And you're strong. We both are. We would have gotten over it, I'm sure."
"Well I'm not, Marley." She states firmly, and you rush to grab her free hand in fear of her pulling apart. She feels, is so nice and perfect against you that you can't help yourself. She sighs and you fee her eyelashes flutter closed against your chin. "Yes. Yes, you're right. I know we would have." She doesn't pull away, but doesn't grip tighter either, so you squeeze harder until she reciprocates. Once she does, you feel her hold slackening, and before you have time to panic she's placing both of her hands on your cheeks and looking up at you with reassuring eyes, a barely there smile present on her pink lips.
"I'm just gonna grab a bottle of Gatorade, okay?" She murmurs, and you look at her for five seconds before jerkily nodding her head. Gatorade doesn't seem like a bad topic breaker given the circumstances. Finally, she gives you a tight smile before pulling back completely and getting out of the stall, and then, the restroom. You instantly miss her heat against you, and you close your eyes as you tilt your head back against the wall, thinking.
You do love Kitty.
When did you get to this realization? You don't know – maybe minutes ago when you screamed it in your head, maybe before –, but it's one of the greatest feelings in the world. You can feel its warm fuzziness even through your thick layer of insecurity and vulnerability.
You finally look down at your left, eyeing the toilet, and after a few seconds of contemplating, you determinedly flush the lid and get out of the stall, your stance a symbolism of power.
Standing in front of the sinks with your lips pursed, you raise your chin and push your shoulders back like Kitty told you so long ago, when you performed your first duet together. You smile sadly at the memory, and slowly, you sweep your eyes over your reflection. You see yourself perfectly: your slim legs, your flat stomach, the outline of your thin waist, the slight press of your breasts against your brand new blouse – a gift from Kitty that you love dearly –, your long neck and your heart shaped face, framed by long and shiny brown hair. Your eyes, those two pools of blue with bags under them that you've been told so many times these past three months are beautiful.
A lone tear slides down your cheek, but you are quick to intercept it. It's right now, looking at your reflection, the one you know lots of more insecure girls would kill to have, that you understand how wrong you were. How wrong everyone is. Because, if this body was anyone else's, you would definitely be light headed at the almost perfection of it. You know that's what Kitty thinks, because she also suffers. She's been forced to be like she is her whole life, and she hasn't been able to stand the pressure, just like you, but you like to think that you are for her what she is for you.
You lift your right hand to your collarbone and lightly tug at the edge of the material until the patch of skin covering the pronounced bone is in display, and you lightly caress it in an almost unconscious haze.
A light tapping noise resonates in the restroom, and the door opens to show Kitty with a bottle with blue liquid inside. She carelessly lets the door slam closed behind her as she approaches you and handles you the bottle, her eyes having caught your actions. You just crack a small smile and take it, purposefully rubbing your thumb against hers for a second before you take your hand back. A soft thanks is muttered, and you uncap the bottle clumsily – you think you can actually feel the soft puff of air Kitty has let out at the display of gracelessness – just to sip it and let it sit in your mouth for a moment, spitting it out eventually.
Once you've repeated the process about six times, you put the cap on the bottle once more and turn to give it back to Kitty, but she's already softly grabbed your wrist and forced you to press the bottle against the counter. Your hold slips, and her other hand moves to your collarbone, to the exact same point you were admiring mere minutes ago, and looks at it in what you consider awe. Slowly, excruciatingly so, she leans forward, and with her usual gentleness she places her lips over that same part. Your eyes slid closed, and your left hand instantly moves to her upper arm, encouraging her to explore as she pleases. As if she understands what you want to say,
Kitty gets in her tippy-toes and brings her lips to yours, instantly eliciting a trail of goose bumps all over your body.
The hand previously holding your wrist runs up your arm until she reaches behind your neck and bunches up the hair there, forcing you to bow your head, again. Her lips open and in turn you open yours too, relishing on the feeling of your bottom lip being sucked and lightly grazed by her teeth to really care about the oxygen you both need and are most definitely not getting. Her free hand is curled around your cheek, and you press her body against yours, forcing your head down even more. Her nails caress lightly behind your ear and a pleasured sound bubbles in your throat, but instead of letting it out you turn the two of you to the right until Kitty's lower back is pressed against the counter and you are impossibly close.
You are already lost in your girlfriend's essence when the bathroom door cracks open and group of Cheerleaders enters, the fact that they are not giggling like, well, Cheerios surprising you. You break the kiss immediately and try to back away from Kitty, because this can be no good for her reputation – one thing is to claim to be in a relationship with a female loser, and other is to be caught in an obvious PDA display with said loser –, but your blonde just pushes gently until your forehead is pressed against hers and your body is in almost the same position as a few seconds before. She inhales deeply and closes her eyes, her hold on you strong and firm as ever.
"Did you track them?" She asks out of the blue, and your brow knits a little. Who did they have to track?
"Yes. Scott and Donaldson are already off the squad." Oh. Them. You had completely forgotten why you were here in the first place, but then the information catches up with you. You turn your head slightly to the right, just enough to hide your face from the athletes and gently slid your cheek against Kitty's, attracting her attention.
"You don't have to do that." You murmur in her ear, and you can almost feel the way she rolls her eyes. Wait. You actually can hear her teeth slamming together.
"Okay. We'll talk later. I still have to take care of something." Her voice is sharp and nasal, but even in her angry state you love it. You don't turn to look when the door eventually closes and the only sound reaching your ears is Kitty's slightly baited breathing; you just squeeze her hand a little and stay there. A few moments pass, and you feel like this is the most calm you've been since you entered the room.
"I'd do much worse things, Marley." She speaks up, and you nod your head, because you know it's true. You heard about the 'Left Behind' prank she and the popular kids pulled on that poor Asian girl, after all.
"For you." You actually feel your muscles squeezing tighter without your permission, but that's okay, it feels incredibly nice. "But it's also for you that I don't do those 'worse' things." This time you smile, a grin, and you pull back to see her face once more, because you're sure that a grin is taking over her features too. Effectively, her lips are curved up in the first smirk you've seen on her face for hours, and it seems like way too long for you to not have seen it.
"I'm glad to hear that." You tease, and it feels so good to be yourself again. She looks like she agrees with you, because her smirk hasn't left her face yet and her head is playfully tilted to the side like she always does.
"You bet your H-O-T-T ass you are" she jokes, and suddenly everything is perfectly normal again. Her fingers are tracing patterns on the top of your hand, and she's looking at you like you are her very personal Quinn Fabray clone, and even when your smile isn't as big as it usually is, you know that she'll fix that as soon as you let her. Suddenly, a bell rings signaling the end of lunch period, and your heartbeat increases noticeably at the look she's giving her.
"You know, we have the same class now." She states in this suggestive tone that always manages to make your knees go weak. You nod and hum your agreement n the back of your throat, because you are not sure you are able to utter any words right now. "And this class happens to be-" she lowers her voice and gets in her tip toes once more, just to be able to reach your ear with her mouth as she supports herself I your shoulders. "-study hall." And everything is over now, because you both know what she means – the auditorium is always vacant after lunch time, and you've taken good care and use out of that piece of information. You grip her waist to prevent yourself from falling, because oh God, and let her fall to her feet once again, watching as she gives you this wicked smile with a playful glint in her eye.
She makes you bow your head once again – you should seriously discuss the privileges and obligations of this relationship, because your neck is seriously starting to get sore – and covers your lips with her own, immediately tasting you and getting the flavor into her mouth.
Just when she's about to move her kisses to your jaw, you squeeze her ass once playfully and pull back swiftly with an innocent look, reminding her immediately of your plans. She looks faux shocked for a few seconds, but you know the instant she gets what you're implying when her smile diminishes considerably and her back straightens, the playful glint turning dark and mature. She starts walking to the door, knowing that your eyes will be on her the whole time, and she turns her head towards you when she reaches it.
"Are you going to stand there, or are you coming to let me show you how perfect your body is?"