A/N: First Reamy Fanfiction *happy dance* This isn't what I was planning on when I started this but here you go. None of my works are beta-ed so I apologize in advance for the mistakes. I hope you enjoy! Reviews are always welcome!
They say it's the things that we love most that destroy us.
Maybe, for Reagan, it already has.
Because this isn't her.
She isn't someone who spends endless nights at a bar, getting hit on by probably the entire gender spectrum.
Granted, it does happen from time to time, but she doesn't smile, or tuck loose hair strands behind her ear. She doesn't show a hint of receptiveness toward these indecent advances.
She doesn't tip her head back to let people pour drinks down her mouth, the liquid burning her throat as stubborn droplets trail down her exposed neck.
She basks in the stolen glances and the lingering looks she gets as she climbs up her DJ tower, smiling back at a dark-haired girl who's been eyeing her all night.
She isn't the type to revel in catcalls and heads whipping in her direction but tonight she craves it.
Because in the last month, her girlfriend practically put her in the back burner.
And boy did it burn.
A few weeks ago, between having to beg her girlfriend to at least have lunch with her and driving close to speed limit when she finally (finally) says she's free to hang, only to watch her and Karma share inside jokes as they people- watched in their free period, something shifted.
Maybe it was going several days straight without hearing from her and then finding her and Karma's faces on instagram so often, you'd think they lived together.
Maybe it was the feeling of rejection every time she would have to be okay with the younger girl passing up on dinner dates because something happened with Karma. And more importantly, finding that Amy had no idea what was wrong with that statement.
Or maybe it was just the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion for having to try so hard and not being given a chance, of crippling abandonment.
Especially because it was almost always Karma.
(Who are we kidding. It's always going to be karma.)
She learned that night that her name was Mia: french, sassy, I don't give a shit, Mia.
Mia who's backpacking across whatever piece of land she finds.
The same Mia who's been ogling her from where she stood on the dance floor, tipping back shot after shot of different colors and temperatures.
The same Mia who, after a few nights, clambered up her tower and offered her a shot of her own.
She's taken aback by her boldness and the accompanying disarming smirk. A confidence that can only come from someone who knows she can probably have anyone in the club.
The black haired girl offers her the glass with a knowing grin and slight tip of her head.
"I can't drink. I'm working," she shouts over the blaring bass.
"Later, then?," the other girl answers, slurring either from the alcohol buzz or her accent.
Reagan laughs, brushing it off with a shake of her head.
When she heads to her car for her phone charger, she finds her outside smoking a cigarette, leaning on the wall of the service door.
They watch each other as Reagan makes her way back from the parking lot and she surprises herself when she sticks her arm out for a shake.
"Reagan." She tells herself she's just being nice, making friends, no harm, no foul.
The other girl climbs back up with her to the tower, picks up the headphones she offers and smiles at her for the rest of the night.
After a few songs, a group of accented europeans wave her down.
She grabs Reagan's phone on the table and types her number, slipping it into the pocket of the DJs tight leather jeans.
A gasp almost escapes her mouth when she feels her press an open mouthed kiss on the her cheek, whispering Call me.
She tells herself that the girl's just being friendly, just bring french, just drunk.
That night as she settles in bed, finding another picture of Amy and Karma on her feed, she tells herself she can be friendly, too.
She chances upon her messages with Amy, a seemingly endless litany of her asking the blonde to hang out peppered by the occasional Can't go. Have to study, or Can't tonight. Sorry.
She used to think the blond was trying, at the very least, that she was just really busy with school (not with Karma, no.) She used to try to convince herself that when the exam week is over, she'll finally get her girlfriend back.
Surprise, surprise. She didn't.
So that night she types out a smiley face and hits send and is surprised when she realizes it's nearing 4am when they stop talking, agreeing to meet tomorrow at another party she's DJing for.
That night, as she closes her eyes, it's no longer blonde hair she sees, but black; it's no longer Amy's cadence and sunshine. That night, it's Mia's accent and Mia's thick, sultry voice.
And then, before she knows it, it isn't just that night anymore.
She lets her forget.
That's what Mia is to Reagan.
She knows it's wrong and that she's being unfair but that's what it is.
She drives the girl around, wasting hours away on a patch of grass watching the sunrise after a gig or mixing drinks for her friends' pre-game.
She likes it, having someone who craves her attention, who actually gives her the time of day (night, mostly).
As they lounge around her apartment, one lazy afternoon, their heads sharing a cream-colored pillow, it's Mia who addresses the elephant in the room
"You know I like you, right?," she says, lifting head up and shifting to her stomach, eyes bare with the kind of honesty that's disengaging, vulnerable.
"You know I have a girlfriend, right?," she says, mustering as much finality in her tone as she can, wishing the other girl couldn't detect the uncertainty she's denying.
She hoped she could live in this bubble, where she has Mia who talks to her and brings her lunch and holds her hand; where she can keep Amy, still.
But, more than anything, she knows she's being selfish, holding on to more than she can have, hiding behind road trips and stolen glances to mask the gnawing emptiness and hurt.
"You don't deserve her, Reagan."
She knows this, too, but for some reason she's can't seem to let herself give up, even though, clearly, Amy's barely even trying.
Mia's hands are suddenly pulling her up, asking her to the same sitting position.
"You don't deserve sleepless nights thinking about whether or not you're still together. You don't deserve to spend Friday nights alone asking yourself if you did something. You shouldn't have to feel like you're not enough."
The caucasian girl wraps her hands around Reagans, rubbing funny shapes on her knuckles.
"A girl like you needs to understand that you never have to wait for anyone, that you deserve all the hand holding and spooning. all the breakfasts in bed and midnight snacks across town."
Mia shifts, sitting with her knees folded under her so her eyes are level with Reagan's.
"I know you know this. You deserve someone who doesn't make you forget what you deserve, who reminds you everyday that you are loved and wanted. That's what you deserve."
She feels her palm on the rise of her cheek, thumb wiping away a stubborn tear.
"I'm here Reagan, and I'm willing to wait for you to realize that."
She leans her forehead on the DJs, eyes dropping to a close.
And for a while, Reagan forgets about Amy.
She wakes up to a feather light kiss on her neck, the warmth behind her dissipating.
Even with her eyes closed, she knows what this is, what it could be - an end to a guilty reprieve or a beginning of something potentially great.
When she hears the door close, she releases a sigh, not willing to choose just yet.
In the end, it's Amy that comes, occupying the space that's been Mia's in the last several days.
Hugging her from behind, she plants her lips on the base of her neck whispering I missed you.
A chuckle escapes her, unable to hold in the sarcasm.
It all comes back to her now, the pain, and it floods her chest in waves that are threatening to drown her.
"I was right here, Amy."
Her words are a splash of ice cold water, dimming the warmth off her. She can't remember Reagan ever calling her Amy, not even when she had to meet her parents, or when she introduced her to her friends. She was always shrimps or shrimp girl or my girlfriend.
She's never heard her name said with so much animosity.
Reagan hops out of the bed leaving the blonde dumbfounded. She makes her way to the kitchen without a word, not even bothering to hide her distaste.
"Reagan" she calls out, following the older girl out of the room.
"What's.."
"Don't even finish that fucking sentence, Amy."
When the brunette turns around to face her, tears are streaming steadily down her face, marring her make up.
She takes a deep breath and swipes angrily at the betrayal of her eyes.
"Do not dare ask me what's wrong because if you can honestly tell me that not talking to your girlfriend for a week straight, not replying to her texts for days, not seeing her at all; if you can fucking tell me right now you don't think there's anything wrong with that.." she can't bring herself to finish the sentence because she's not sure she's ready to say the words.
"You know I had exams, right? I was busy…" she takes a step forward, hands reaching out for Reagan's.
"Oh fuck you." Reagan swats her hands away, taking a step back.
"I have four jobs. Amy. But I walked you home and picked you up and brought you fucking donuts!"
She walks away then, feeling suffocated with the diminishing space between them. She flops down the couch intending to end the growing fight.
But she makes the mistake of picking up her phone and finding Mia's messages, reminding her of the way she made her feel: wanted.
The DJ swipes angrily at her screen, bringing up their conversation.
She jumps to her feet and faces Amy.
"You know how many messages you sent me in the last week?"
Amy has never seen Reagan angry. Amy's Reagan was always so sweet and sexy and soft. She was fiercely protective and undeniably strong.
But never angry.
"The only message I got from you in the last week says you can't meet me in the parking lot of your school because Karma…"
"I can't even bring myself to care what's happened to Karma this time. You care for her more than enough for us two," she snaps, watching her words hit her girlfriend (?).
"I keep telling myself that there's no way you're okay with this, that you're okay with spending so much time with her, away from me."
She closes the gap between them, not wanting to shout.
"And I almost convinced myself that it was because if Karma. That you were being a good friend, staying with her every fucking time she beckoned."
She drops her gaze on the floor, fighting to mask the pain.
"But it was your choice, too. You chose me over her, but you always always choose her and you don't even realize it."
When she lifts her eyes to meet hers she finds tears in them.
"So many fucking nights, I told myself that I just had to try harder, try to reach out more. But you were walking away with Karma and it felt like somewhere along the way you dropped me."
Another laugh escapes her as she reclaims her position on the couch.
"I met someone."
Amy's eyes snap back to her and she finds them panicked. She squares her shoulders, ready for defense.
"A week ago at the bar," she adds.
"Gee, thanks, that really helps, Reagan."
"Oh because I used to be inlove with my bestfriend who I spend every waking hour with is better?"
Amy's never been punched to the gut, but she imagines this must be how it felt like.
"Mia. She was everything like you, Shrimps," Reagan continues, a sad smile gracing her lips.
"Smart, happy, gorgeous. Only difference is, she was there."
Amy walks to her then, drops to the other side of the couch facing her girlfriend (?).
They sit like that for a while, the weight of their words starting to catch up on them.
"I'm slowly learning that some people are not good for me, no matter how much I love them."
She hears Amy sob at that as the blonde moves closer.
"Baby, I'm sorry. I don't know. I thought.." She shakes her head, not even sure how to finish her sentence. She drops her head on the older girl's shoulder.
It came crashing down on her and she was so stupid she didn't even notice the gaping cracks.
She used to think it was okay, always justifying her actions by convincing herself that Reagan would understand.
And she did, she knows that.
What she never thought to consider was that Reagan needed her, too. Like the selfish, self entitled little brat that she is, she forgot that relationships aren't a one-way thing.
"It's been close to two weeks when I last saw you and we live in Texas. I didn't think that was even physically possible."
Reagan wraps her hands around the other girl's elbows, pushing her back so she can look at her eyes.
"Maybe you are happy, Amy. Just not with me."
"For so many nights, I had to rack my brain for what else I should do, what I could have possibly done, but Amy there's no space for me in your life right now and I'm done fighting for something I thought I had."
There's a finality in her words that scares Amy, like she's truly screwed things over before they had a chance to begin.
"Mia told me I don't deserve this, that I don't deserve you."
"I think she might have me convinced," she says, looking straight into the blonde's eyes, her guts twisting into tight knots.
She knows there's no way this is going to end well.
But fuck it.
This wasn't supposed to end.
A/N: My first Reamy Fic, go easy on me :) I'm thinking of doing another chapter but it's a oneshot for now. What do you think? Leave me that review please?