Hollow

by terriblemuriel

You open your car door and step out into the brisk October night, your feet crunching against the graveled lot. It's been a tradition as long as you can remember that you come to Big Bob's Haunted Hollow Corn Maze on Halloween Eve.

A/N: This story was written for the Brittana U Monster Fic Mash on tumblr. You should also read its companion piece Kind Of, written by Lingerlilies, as they were written to go together. Special thanks to Lily for partnering on the story, and JJ (themostrandomfandom) for including me in the project.

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"This is for babies," your cousin says as you put the car in park in front of Big Bob's Haunted Hollow Corn Maze and stare up at the garish lights that decorate the entrance of the weathered old barn.

"I somehow remember you not thinking it was so babyish last year," you say as you side-eye her. She's sitting in your front seat with her arms folded, pouting at the window. She turns her eyes to you and for the barest of moments another, more familiar pout pulls at your gut.

Until she says, "I seem to remember you abandoning two ten year-olds so you could do gross stuff with Brittany behind the barn."

Touche.

"I also seem to remember you promising my mom that you wouldn't lose me this year. You do want to get paid for babysitting me, don't you?" She smirks at you. It looks eerily like one of your own.

So what if you did kinda sorta, accidentally on purpose lose her and Britt's little sister last year so that you two could cross #96 Have sex in a corn maze off of Brittany's bucket list?

"Fine. Then let's get this over with," you groan.

You open your car door and step out into the brisk October night, your feet crunching against the graveled lot. It's been a tradition as long as you can remember that you come to Big Bob's Haunted Hollow Corn Maze on Halloween Eve. You were seven years old you the first time you came here with Brittany and her family in their old camper van. You were scared spitless, but remember how Brittany pulled you onto her back and carried you, piggyback style—eyes clamped shut, face buried against her neck—the whole way through your first ever corn maze.

You saunter toward the entrance, hands clenched and buried in your new U of L letter jacket. You shiver, but not from the cold, as you approach the off-kilter old barn, Esperanza three steps behind you, as though being dragged to the dentist.

You don't remember ever getting too cool for the corn maze, but her brand of eleven-year-old insolence reminds you of yourself. Maybe she just needs a Brittany to...

Stop.

You promised yourself you wouldn't think of her. Not here. Not tonight.

Just because you kinda sorta broke up—look it wasn't official, okay?—doesn't mean that you don't still love her like crazy and miss her every day, and sometimes, late at night when you're falling asleep and your Lima Heights guard is down, regret that awful day. You regret that you hurt her and you regret that you never gave her a chance to say anything about your decision. And most of all, you regret making her cry.

But you can't allow yourself to regret what you did. It's not because you don't love each other, it's because you don't want to fuck up your future. Yours and hers. Together. At least that's what you're telling yourself. It helps get you through your long days of class and cheerleading when you don't have her to come home to any more.

Yep, this is going to be rough.

Around you, little children in costumes race to the entrance. Ninjas and princesses and more than one Harry Potter jostle in line for admittance. Parents mill around the entrance trying to organize their charges. You see a pumpkin-wrapped baby on a woman's hip. She has long, blonde, silky hair and you turn away quickly, not wanting the image to transfer from your retinas to your brain. That is a picture that you can't afford to have in your head right now.

You stare toward the corn, willing everyone around you to disappear while you shrink back to your seven-year-old self so you can relive your first trip into the corn. Your eyes glaze over, but before you drift back, Es is elbowing you in the side and pointing at something.

At first, you're not sure what she's pointing at, until the noise and blur of movement around you coalesces and your vision pinpoints on the only thing that has ever really mattered to you.

She's a vision.

The orange string lights forms a halo around her already golden hair and bronzes her Cheerios jacket until she shimmers; a shining beacon of light, a lucky copper penny, a mirage.

You blink, unsure if you should believe what you see.

You open your eyes and now she sees you. Your eyes meet.

Heaven.

It must be, you've just seen an angel. Or a ghost.

You're breathless. You literally cannot breathe. Your lungs have ceased their automated tidal pull. You're frozen; too numb to feel the tap tap tap of Es' hand on your arm or the dull, hollow ache in your chest that has been your constant companion for the last three weeks and four days.

Maybe you did die and go to Heaven. If so, death isn't nearly as bad as they taught you in catechism. Heaven is a corn maze and it's populated with angels; angels named Brittany.

You remember to breathe the same moment that feeling returns to your limbs and you take your first step toward her in three weeks and four days.

It might as well have been a lifetime.

That first step is molasses but each one after gets lighter until you float to her side. She's smiling as you approach and you feel your own face stretch in response, your cheeks aching with unused muscles and on fire with the blush that only she can bring to your skin. A kind of pure relief washes over you and you feel the tension you've carried all this time slip away, loosening your limbs and your chest and your soul.

Then he appears.

Stepping up beside her, he places his hand against her back and turns his head to talk into her ear. Their twin blonde heads meet and blend and become one pale golden blur.

You freeze.

What's HE doing here?

She tears her eyes away from yours to turn and listen to him. He's showing her something, then laughing. She smiles back at him and oh my god, in that instant you understand.

She's on a date.

Here.

With him.

Your vision blurs and your head spins, and you reach out blindly, grasping Es' shoulder in your quest not to keel over. This is what dying must feel like. If so, death is every bit as bad as they taught you it was in catechism.

You reel.

But Es is still pulling you forward. In her excitement to see Brittany and Ashley, she hasn't noticed that you've ceased to breathe or think or live. And somehow, despite your willing them not to, your legs are still moving, placing each foot one in front of the other until you are standing a few feet away from Brittany and her sister and Sam.

Sam Evans.

Trouty Mouth.

He lurches toward you and you are caught like a rabbit in a trap. He hugs you too tight. He's too tall and his arms are too strong and his embrace is too awkward, almost but not quite brushing against your breasts. It is sincere, but this is not the hug you were expecting. You stare over his shoulder at Britt and all you can wonder is if he's been holding her like this.

Then he's releasing you and asking you a million questions that you try to answer, all the while staring at her and wondering how she could do this to you. How could she have brought him here? On this night?

Does he even know that this is your corn maze? Yours and hers? That this is your tradition?

You don't return his questions. You honestly don't care to ask what he's been up to, all you care about is the look that Brittany is giving you and how it's making your gut twist.

"Hi, Britt," you breathe.

"Hi," she croaks.

"It's good to see you."

"You too."

You stare awkwardly at each other, eyes locked. You will everyone else to melt away, to fade into the cornstalks and leave you alone with her, and it almost works, until Ashley is tugging at her sleeve and she looks away and the spell is broken.

The girls want to go through the maze together and you realize that that means you now have no one to go through with. It also means that Brittany and Sam will be alone together, on a date, as they walk through.

Your stomach twists. That realization almost makes you vomit, but what are you going to do? You're the one who started this. It's your penance for hurting Brittany.

"I'll wait out here," you say. Your attention snags on Sam. "Have-" Your voice catches. "Have fun."

You turn away to head back to the car—there is nothing you want to be witness to less than Brittany on a date with someone else—but then Sam steps forward and volunteers to accompany the girls through the maze.

Wait, what?

You eye him, uncertain of his motivation. You know him to be a pretty good guy, but why would he give up his date with Brittany to escort two eleven year-olds through a corn maze? You smell something fishy.

No, trouty.

Esperanza's eyes leap from yours to Sam and her cheeks take on that Lopez blush. She's bouncing on the soles of her sneakers and Ashley is jumping up and down repeating Sam Sam Sam and it occurs to you that your girlfriend's—ex-girlfriend, dammit—sister seems to know this guy pretty well. That doesn't cut you to the quick. No, not at all.

You look to Brittany for her opinion—you don't even need to ask, a look will suffice—and find her eyes leaping with as much fervor as her sister. She's pink with pleasure and pouting at you in her Brittany way.

How can you resist her?

You nod. "That'd be cool," you say, "just don't lose them."

You and Brittany share a look—you both remember exactly what happened last year when you "lost" them—and the girls cheer. Before you can stop yourself, your mouth crooks into a grin and you have to roll your eyes to counteract it. After all, someone may notice how much pleasure—and fear—the idea of being alone with Brittany gives you.

You share a few jostling, teasing, tense moments in line before Sam offers an arm to each girl and leads them into the entrance with one of his ridiculous impressions, and you are left standing at the front of the line to the entrance with Brittany. Just like you have for the last eleven years of your life.

You gulp and look everywhere but at her.

"We should go through," she says, nudging your shoulder.

You want nothing more than to lose yourself in this corn maze with Brittany like you did last year—like you have every year since you met her—but are inexplicably afraid. It's not the scary noises, or the things that you know will jump out at you; it's being with Brittany that scares you. You love her so much and you've also hurt her so badly, and hurt yourself in the process, and you don't even know how you feel about entering this dark, scary maze with her now, as your friend. Or without her as your girlfriend. This is either going to suck balls or be the best night you've had in the last three weeks and four days.

Probably both.

You frown a little, betraying your trepidation before you agree. "Sure." You nod as if convincing her will convince yourself as well.

You step through the entrance together and are immersed into a darkened world of rustling autumn-dry corn stalks.

Your steps quicken, taking you deeper into the maze before the tension becomes unbearable, and you have to speak.

"So..." you say, not at all awkwardly.

She casts a wry little Brittany grin your way. You swallow. When did your mouth become as dry as the surrounding corn?

"So... How are you?" she asks.

You play with your jacket, unsure how to answer her. You know what you want to say: that you're dying inside right now, that you're an ass and you've missed her like crazy and will she ever forgive you and please please please will she take you back. But you can't say any of that.

Instead you shrug. "I'm okay," you say, fumbling with the snaps on your jacket. "Busy," you add several seconds later.

Several more excruciating seconds go by before you remind yourself to ask how she's doing. It's not like you haven't wondered that very thing every waking moment since you saw her, or allowed your finger to hover over the send button of a thousand texts asking the same question. It's not like you haven't lulled yourself to sleep in your dorm every night with thoughts of what she might be doing every minute of every day in your absence.

"How are you?" you finally ask, alternately lusting for and dreading her answer.

"I'm okay," she responds.

Oh.

You hoped she'd say that she was heartbroken and empty without you as her girlfriend, that she didn't want to go on without you at her side. You know, like how you feel. But instead she said she was okay. Fine. Perfectly content with the ways things were now. Well, okay then. That's what you wanted, wasn't it? To move on and be friends?

Looks like you got your wish.

You nod at her. "Good." You keep walking. Maybe you made a mistake, thinking this time could be anything like the corn mazes of the past.

Several more minutes go by wherein you can't think of one thing to say that won't just make you sound like a pathetic loser, so you say nothing. You walk in silence—tense, dramatic silence—through the towering corn walls. You hear the crunching of your feet on the shorn corn stubble below, the rustling of the dried corn husks above, and the faraway laughter of the other patrons in the maze, but what thunders in your ears the loudest is the deafening silence that envelops you and Brittany.

At your side, she stops. Curious, you turn to face her.

"You said you didn't want it to get weird," she accuses, and instantly you are on the defensive.

Weird? You're not the one who made any of this weird. You wouldn't even be doing this if it weren't for her. You'd be walking through the maze with your cousin. She's the one who made things weird. She's the one who brought a date to your corn maze on your night. That was weird.

"I don't want it to get weird." Your response is too quick, too sharp, and it scares Brittany. It scares you too. You didn't realize you were this angry.

"So let's stop being weird. Let's just be us." She's quiet, giving you a soft shrug, her eyes finding yours from under moonlight-frosted lashes.

Her look softens you. You want to kiss her. You want to take her in your arms and pull her against you, so tight that you can feel her heartbeat echoing your own. But you bite your lip to quell your desire.

"How?" you ask and it comes to you that you've never been so uncertain around her. Not like this, not ever, and you wonder where that comfort went. Everything about tonight feels wrong and you can't imagine how anything you can say—except what you really want to say but know you can't—would ever make it better.

Then Brittany offers you her pinky. You eye it for just a moment before exhaling and taking it.

Bliss.

Relief washes over you and you feel whole again, as if the last three weeks and four days never even happened. You feel light and free as she grins at you and swings your coupled hands, pulling you through the maze.

She's talking to you as you walk, but to be honest, you have no idea what she's saying. The words that enter your ears flow in and out and in again like ether, dulling and relaxing your senses to everything that isn't Brittany. You are content to place one foot in front of the other, guided by the warmth from her pinky as it spreads through your hand.

You find yourself being pulled off the trail and through the stalks toward the far corner where the scarecrow resides. You and Britt found him a few years ago when you got bored of the same old scares and brave enough to go exploring off the trail.

With a grin, you remember the first time you kissed behind that old scarecrow and speed up.

You want to find him now more than ever and before you know it, you are racing through the corn, making your own trail and holding your hands up to protect your face and arms and bodies from the sting of the stalks as they slap against you. But no matter how fast you run or how brutal the corn, your pinkies never loosen. You might as well be seven again, or eleven, or sixteen; in the corn you are ageless and time stops. You are simply two girls in love, holding hands and running through a cornfield.

Brittany smiles back at you and you stop because you are out of breath and covered with husks and silk from the corn and because you want to savor each moment you are together. The moment where Brittany's hand brushes against your thigh as you step closer toward her to avoid another cornstalk. And the one where she is smiling at you and her teeth are framed by lips that look plump and kissable. And the one where the moonlight is glinting off her hair, turning the pale blonde a silvery white that your fingers itch to run through. Or the one where Brittany is making you laugh with yet another of her clever quips. You want to gather up all of these moments to take home and relive over and over again.

No. You don't want to go home. You want to stay in this corn maze forever with her.

Then there is that moment when you reach for her and she pulls you into her side, her familiar warmth a balm to your anxiety and fears, followed by the even better moment that she stops and turns and takes you in her arms and pulls you against her, your bodies flush and tight.

You melt into her as she settles her chin on your shoulder. Yeah, this moment you want to last forever. It's the moment that you realized what it really means to come home. It's not taking that drive from Louisville to Lima, it's not entering your parents' house, it's not even your old bedroom. It's being in her arms.

You want to tell her you are so so sorry, that you made a mistake and that you'd do anything to right it now, to have her back. You sigh and bury your face against her neck inhaling her familiar smell.

You want this moment to last forever, but it doesn't. Endings always come before you want them to, and realizing that you can't say the things you want to, you pull away. You eye her from under moist lashes and see a flicker of something, fear or pain or remorse, cross her face before she smiles at you again and says, "I'm really glad you're here."

"Me too." You nod. The truth is that you'd secretly hoped you'd see her tonight. It's the only reason you signed up to babysit your cousin; you needed that excuse to "accidentally" run into Brittany.

"Do you remember the first time we came here?" she asks. You grin and nod as she reminds you that she carried you through the maze that first year. She teases you about being scared, but mostly you're just happy that she remembers it too.

"I wasn't scared, just tired," you say, trying to save face. You both know that you were petrified. But you also know that Brittany just plays along with your tough girl exterior.

She grins at you. "Well I hope no one jumps out at you tonight and makes you tired."

"Me too."

You stare at her, your eyes locked as a breeze rustles the corn around you. For the first time you realize that you are alone. In a place that reminds you of nothing else but being alone with Brittany. You could be kissing her, embracing her, making love to her right now and you're not and it's your own fault.

You're lost for what to say or do beyond stare at Brittany until she suggests you go find the old scarecrow and you galvanize into action. You seize her hand and lead her, steadfast and true, to the deepest corner of the cornfield, arriving there quicker than you ever remember doing in the past. You don't know how you managed it, in the dark, with no trail to follow and only the moonlight as your guide. You suspect it must be Brittany's influence. She's always been able to fortify you.

The scarecrow seems smaller this year, less jaunty, and more emaciated and ragged. He's eerie in the half-light; head hanging to one side, his splintered and jagged mounting pole jutting from his neck. His clothes are tattered and hang loosely from his form, flapping in the breeze, and his cap it missing entirely. His mouth has been half eaten away and it looks like he's leering down at you as he sways and rustles in the wind. He's so creepy you wonder if he's gained or lost his ability to scare away the birds.

You move forward, arms reaching out as if you're going to right him on his perch, dusting off his shoulders and straightening his neck. But before you do, something huge and dark and monstrous leaps out of the corn right at you, laughing ghoulishly.

In your rush to escape the monster, you trip and land with a thud in the soft, upturned earth, your leg twisted underneath you and your hands pierced by hundreds of needle-sharp, shorn cornstalks.

Brittany is at your side in an instant, concern etched on her face, her warm hands running over you.

You're more embarrassed than anything and try to laugh it off—it is a corn maze for children after all—but as she helps you to your feet, searing pain shoots up your leg. It vanishes in an instant however when you realize that Brittany's hands are on your side, and one hand has even slipped underneath your jacket to wear it now warms your cool skin.

A powerful longing—visceral and as old as you are—fills your every cell. You want Brittany. You need her touch to fill you up like this every day for the rest of your life.

Your heart is pounding, your head swimming and all you can do is stare at Brittany and hope that she can read your thoughts.

You are the best thing that's ever been mine... Mine. Mine. Mine.

But Brittany can't hear your thoughts echoing inside your head and is instead patting you down, trying to ascertain if anything other than your pride is injured.

"I think I hurt my ankle," you tell her. It's not that bad: it stings and might be swelling a bit, but when Brittany calls you poor baby and crouches beside you, offering to piggyback you out of the maze, walking on it suddenly seems impossible.

So you bite your lip and nod.

"Sure."

She has her arms around your legs and you are hoisted onto her back in an instant. You wrap your arms around her and allow your chin to light on her shoulder as she lifts you effortlessly and begins your journey out of the maze.

"Where to?" she asks chivalrously.

You can feel her hips undulating as she walks and as you relax into her stride you allow your breasts to press against her back. Her shoulder blades ripple and rub beneath them, and you can feel her breath becoming labored as she exerts herself underneath you. She grunts and you curse your stupid body that can't help but respond by flooding your panties.

You point toward the exit even though that is the last place you want to go right now. Not when you are this close to her for the first time in ages. "To safety."

To bed.

As Brittany carries you toward the exit, you close your eyes and allow yourself to bask in how right this feels. The now head-height stalks of corn brush against your hair and face and body, threatening to dislodge you, but Brittany is steady. You cling to her despite the corn's distraction, knowing you are as safe with her now as you were when she carried you out as a child.

The exit comes too soon. As you near the pumpkin patch, clumps of laughing, costumed children materialize from the thinning stalks around you and you realize you are no longer alone with Brittany.

"I think I can walk now," you say quietly, even though you are loath to put any distance between yourself and her now. The thing you've been wanting to say since you first saw her tonight, haloed in pumpkin lights, is bubbling up inside you and you don't think you can hold it back much longer.

I want you back. I made a mistake and I want to be with you. You're mine and I'm yours and that's the way it should be. Forever.

She sets you down gently. You turn to face her. You inhale, her name on the cusp of your breath. You need to tell her. You're ready.

A whisper of a breath escapes you before movement catches your eye. Es and Ash and Sam have spotted you and are moving in your direction, the girls picking up a run in their excitement, and Sam's enormous mouth widening into an eager, unmasked grin.

Your purse your lips.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

You forgot that she had moved on.

"I didn't expect it so soon."

You didn't realize you had said it out loud until Brittany shrugs at you, indifferent, as if to ask you what you expected. You broke up with her and she's moved on and tonight was just her being nice. Tonight was just for old time's sake.

She doesn't want to be with you.

You place your hand on her cheek, a last caress. It's warm and soft and as you stare into the depth of her eyes, you realize you will never get to touch her like this again. You didn't kinda sorta break up with her, you ended things. This is it. The end.

"Take care, Britt."

You slide your hand down her cheek as you turn away, her last mournful look already blurring with tears are you race to the parking lot. Es appears at your side, bouncing with excitement, and regaling you with tonight's adventures, and is nothing like the sullen brat you left at the entrance to the maze. Perhaps it is magical, and the maze changes people. It brought you and Brittany back together after all. If only for a moment.

You chance a glance over your shoulder to see if she is looking at you, to see if maybe, just maybe, she felt that magic too, but Sam is throwing his jacket over her shoulders and she is turning and walking away with him.

Despite what happened in the maze tonight, she's dating him now.

The sting of it should hurt. But the tears that escaped your eyes dry in the breeze and you don't feel anything. You reach your car and give one last look back at the maze. Despite the garish lights, the cornfield is beautiful; silvered and glazed in moonlight. In its depths is a lopsided and ragged scarecrow. Your scarecrow; as forgotten and as hollow as you are.