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A/N: This idea just hit me and I had to write it down. Rating due to graphic femslash and suicide. Simone x Annabelle, mentions of Simone x Amanda
Disclaimer: I don't own Loving Annabelle, its characters or its wonderful storyline. Loving Annabelle is owned by Katherine Brooks.
Summary: Annabelle…Amanda…they were more alike than Simone first realized. The only difference was that Annabelle was here.
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Their fingers intertwine as she kisses her softly, drawing a low moan from her lover's lips, relishing in the feel of skin to skin contact as she pushes her against the wall of the classroom. For a moment the consequences of getting caught in such a position drift into her mind, but then her fingers find the soft and wet heat of Amanda's core, and she can't bring herself to care as she makes her raven-haired lover shout out her name as she tips her repeatedly over the edge. Yes, what they were doing was considered wrong in the eyes of the Church, but Heaven help her she was in love with this woman. And, right now, she was in love with her dark classroom, never knowing that this Summer Break would be the last with her beautiful lover.
She pinned Annabelle against the wall, crushing their mouths together in a heated kiss. Nothing mattered except this moment, she mused as she began to trail kisses against the column of her lover's throat. Annabelle's moan drew her from her thoughts, and she reclaimed her lips, biting on her lower lip to gain access. Annabelle's fingers danced against her hips, begging for more. Two fingers slipped slowly into warm, wet heat, causing the brunette to arch into her touch. True, Annabelle was usually the aggressor, but God, she loved giving up control, even if it was only for the sole purpose of having her fingers deep inside. She smirked and nipped at the warm skin along the column of the younger's neck, releasing a moan of her own as she thrust down on her fingers. It was so perfect. It always was with Annabelle.
"A? Baby, please, call me back. You're worrying me. I love you. S."
She had left the same message on her home phone, as well as her cell phone, at least five times. But, damn it, she was worried. The last time they had seen each other had been Friday. Today was Monday, the first day of her being an official teacher. It was after school hours – she checked the time, 5 p.m. – ok, it was way after hours. Amanda always called her. When she called the library where Amanda was working, she'd been told Amanda called off sick. When 7 rolled around and another 3 messages went to the answering machine and voicemail, she decided to head over to her lover's apartment. She wasn't prepared for the scene that awaited her. The blood — oh God, the blood — that greeted her in the bathroom made her stop, her eyes glued to her lover's form laying in the bath tub, an open bottle of pills beside her, slashes to both of her wrists. She caught sight of the note by the open pill bottle, barely registering that there was no blood on it. She called the ambulance even though it wouldn't do any good.
"Annabelle? Baby, please, call me back, please. You're worrying me. I love you. God, I love you, so much."
The fear she felt wouldn't cease. It was as if she was thrust back six years, the message going straight to voicemail and the answering machine. She had just gotten through her first photo shoot as a photographer, and she feared that fate was fucking with her again. The time on her phone read 7 p.m., and a wave of nausea rolled over her. She couldn't deal with it again, the pain of losing someone she loved. She'd called the studio where Annabelle was scheduled to do a first recording but was told that she'd called in sick, something about the flu. She'd questioned if she'd sounded sick. She must have sounded like a stalker, but damn it, she couldn't lose Annabelle. Her answer was met with a mumbled, "Not sure," before she was hung up on. She arrived at the beach house and in the house in record time, nearly passing the time she and Annabelle were caught in a thunderstorm.
"Annabelle?" she called out loudly, worry coursing through her veins. Not Annabelle, God, not Annabelle, please.
She darted into the bathroom, half expecting to see the bottle of pills, the blood, the suicide note, Annabelle lying dead in the tub. Instead she found wadded up tissues scattered across the floor, a bottle of pain killers unopened on the sink, and a very pale-looking Annabelle leaning against the toilet for support. Her lover's blue eyes caught her own, and a frown settled on the brunette's face.
"Fuck, Simone, why the hell are you screaming like someone's been murdered?"
She felt her knees buckle with relief as she slowly walked over to her lover and knelt next to her. Brushing strands of messy hair from her eyes, she cupped her face and pressed a hand to her forehead.
"You really are sick, baby." She muttered against the heated flesh of her neck.
"You feel nice." Annabelle replied back, a smile on her lips as she relished in the cool skin against her own.
"Let me take care of you."
Annabelle nodded, her words coming out thick, "Tell me why you were yelling when you first came in. Did we win the lottery?"
She smiled and gently helped her up, leading her out of the bathroom, "I wish. Do you know how many messages I've left on your phone and the answering machine?"
"Phone's been off all day, and I muted the answering machine and shut the ringer off."
She carefully shed what little clothes Annabelle wore before easing her into bed. She'd chastise her later, she decided as she peeled off her clothes and slipped into bed, spooning her from behind, letting her body cool her feverish lover.
"I love you, Annabelle." She muttered against her neck, her hands resting on slender hips.
"I love you too, Simone."
END
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed it. It was never explained how Amanda died, so I just chose the best course for the story. Thanks for reading. Please review. Hime no Kowai Shumi