Solitary (1/1)
A Jules x Bess drabble.
Summary: A continuation of the bathroom scene in 'Crush'. I switched the order of the dialogue and changed the scene's tone a little so that it would flow a bit better.
AN: Dedicated to everyone on the 'Bules' ship (Rainy, Octo, Beff, Ledge, Alice, Anu, and many more...)
Special thanks to mister-ten-below.
-x-
The upstairs hall bathroom was secluded, and dimly lit. The sole spark of light stemmed from a modern bulbous light fixture, vaguely resembling a plump mushroom cap. The bulb was placed high above the mirror so that its light could reflect in the glass to cast a soft golden hue across the walls of dull suburban gray. It did little to make the room feel more welcoming.
Implacable, austere, white marble encircled the cold square-cut of the sinks and the faucets were plated in some sort of polished cheap metal, meant to look like silver. It was mundane, monotonous, and boring, but it was just what she needed.
Solitude. Safety. Darkness.
Jules stood, gazing at her pallid reflection in the wide mirror, and slowly realized that she did not know the face behind the silvery glass.
"At least up here," she muttered "I am away from their glances and their judgments."
She wiped at her tear-soaked cheeks as her gaze scoured the darkened circles that clung like shadows beneath her empty azure eyes.
The stress of the past days had taken its toll.
The time spent locked away in her bedroom had made her skin fade to an eerie pallor, and despondence had made her lustrous bouncing curls fall flat. Even her smile, once so radiant and ever-present, was hardly more than a faltering flicker across her face. Ever since the pictures from Scott's phone had been emailed to nearly every senior in school, she'd never felt quite the same.
She felt hollow; as if something had been taken from her, something precious, that was only hers to give. She had trusted him, and he had betrayed her in more ways than one. The tiny pictorial pieces of her were being passed around, spreading like wildfire. They'd been plastered across her locker at school, slipped into her notebooks, and even posted on Facebook for all to see.
Something meant for only two eyes was being perused, devoured, and consumed by thousands. She had become a plaything for their sick hilarious pleasure; the butt to a sneering joke. They had made her vulnerability a commodity.
She hated him for it, of course, but more than that she hated herself.
She had prayed that the party would be a way to take her mind off the stark realities of the present. She had hoped beyond all hope that once she did not bow or hide away like a scared little dove, that they would forget…but alas, it had not been so.
The crowds parted before her like the Red Sea; even her dearest friends were afraid to associate with her, as if she had some unholy plague. She was a pariah and they all knew it.
She recalled the snickers and whispers behind her back as she moved through the rooms. They hissed like vipers, spitting poison into her ears.
"Slut."
"Whore."
"Scank."
"Floosey."
"I bet those tits aren't even real."
"Damn those boobs are nice. Ya think she'll let us go up and give 'em a squeeze."
She told herself that counting the tiles on the floor of the upstairs bathroom had suddenly become a mission of utmost importance. It was the only way she could pretend not to hear.
These days, she realized, it didn't matter whether she was in a crowded room, or standing by a mirror in a hallway bathroom, she was always alone - in more ways than one.
Her vision grew bleary and watery, as hot tears of anguish flowed from her crystal clear eyes. Irregular gasping sobs soon wracked her thin frame, and she clasped her hands over her lips to muffle her cries.
"I cannot let them see me cry." she thought "Let me at least keep my dignity."
A creak of floorboards and a shadow on the threshold were all that alerted her to the other girl's entrance.
Jules jumped hard, her breath coming in a gasp. "Damn!"
She glanced down, anxiously fidgeting with her purse as she tried to still the hammering of her heart. "Good God, you scared me."
The shadowy, dark-clad girl did not reply. Instead, her hand moved- slowly, deliberately,- towards the dark bag at her hip, and Jules felt her breath catch in her throat.
Oh God, what is she grabbing for? Has she come to mock me like all the others? What's she going to-.
Jules' inner whirl of trepidation was interrupted by a soft 'fwip' as the girl drew a tiny tissue from the darkened depths of her purse and offered it, arm extended in silent understanding.
"T-thanks." Jules stammered, caught entirely unawares. She reached out to grab the tiny gift, and felt the panicked tension in her muscles uncoil.
The dark-haired girl remained still and silent, but a halfhearted smile fluttered across her lips.
Jules turned back to the sink to rinse off the tell-tale trails of her smudged eyeliner.
"You're…ah… Bess, right?"
There was a nearly imperceptible twitch at the corner of Bess's mouth as the name passed Jules' lips.
"You were in my math class." Jules recalled, watching the other girl through the reflection in the mirror while dabbing her eyes with the folded corner of the tissue. She cleared her throat and abruptly switched topics, hoping to spark up some sort of conversation and draw attention away from herself.
"How come you always wear black and white?" Jules queried, turning to look Bess in the face.
The question was greeted by a shy glance and an absent shrug. "It's too difficult to think about all the other colors."
Jules nodded knowingly, despite her uncertain confusion regarding the cryptic reply.
"Well, uh, thanks for the tissue."
The other girl said nothing and soon the pair lapsed again into silence, each unsure of what else to say.
"Why are you crying?" Bess whispered, breaching the gulf between them as she tipped her head curiously to the side.
Jules stiffened and glanced down at her hands, absently toying with the tissue before balling it up in her fist. "Lots of reasons"
"I know the feeling." Came the murmured reply.
Bess's hand came up fast and in an instant it settled to caress the other girl's face, slim fingers cupping Jules's fair cheek. Jules flinched instinctively from Bess's touch; her blue eyes flicked from fingers to face, questioning and fearful.
Before Jules had the chance to protest, the round pad of Bess's thumb swept sure and gentle beneath her eyelid, dashing the glittering tears that still hung, trembling, from the tips of her dark lashes.
In that moment, Jules was many things.
She was confused, lost, tired, mildly drunk and full of the darkened poison of self-loathing, but something deep inside of her wakened at the tenderness of the contact. Something told her that she needed this- needed to be touched.
She was a child, vulnerable and scared, and Jules suddenly needed to know she was tangible and real.
Jules strove to understand why Bess's touch made heat bloom in her bosom. She struggled to comprehend how such a tiny action could make her feel that she was more than a picture, or a mistake, or a pretty pair of tits.
So, despite the silent screeching of her mental trepidations, Jules welcomed the breach of boundaries and space and she shyly leaned into the touch. She felt her fingers go slack, the tissue falling from her grasp as she reached up to pull the hand closer, welcoming the palm that hesitantly cupped her jawline.
She soaked it up, breathing in as if she could drink the tactile contact into her very cells.
A small moan slipped from her throat; weak and wanting. She closed her eyes, and let herself drift across the turbid ocean of sensations as her hands fell slack at her sides. She felt herself move closer, tipping towards the hands that held her grounded. And then….
Their kiss was halting and shy. It was not at all like kissing Scott, Jules thought to herself.
Not even close.
She could not taste the bitterness of his tongue foisting its way into her mouth, nor could she feel the boyish grin on his lips as he smashed her mouth against her teeth.
This kiss was different.
Her world narrowed to a pin-prick, comprised only of light, dark, want, need and all that her senses could convey.
She could taste the cloying sweetness of confusion, emptiness, sorrow, and rapture all rolled in one penitent brush of their lips. Her tongue grazed the other girl's bottom lip, and her tastebuds sang with the sweet tang of cherry lip gloss. She could smell the subtle hints of the party: beer and sweet sweat clinging to her own clothes, like specters, and mingling with the gentle musk of Bess's body.
The shouts and whoops wafting upstairs were like whispers to Jules now. They were shadowy memories, playing at the corners of her mind. Shades and remnants of a world that was far gone. Real, but unreal. Heard but not seen. Phantom faces and phantom laughter.
All that existed was the heated pounding of her racing heart and the hot creep of passion knotting itself in the pit of her belly. It was as if the subtle warmth of Bess's lips ignited a hidden fire inside her that scorched and consumed in the greatest and most terrifying of ways.
It was a hunger, Jules realized. A hunger she had never experienced with any man.
And just as suddenly as the kiss had begun, it ended. Bess pulled away from her with a whispered goodbye and moved with a startlingly quiet grace as she whirled for the door. In a fraction of a second, Bess had slipped through Jules's reaching fingers and vanished, evaporating into thin air.
Jules blinked, mouth agape. The tears in her eyes had long since evaporated beneath the heady heat of their shared closeness. Her cheeks were still flushed with exhilaration and her body still pulsed with her own rushing, raging, desire-filled blood. She shook herself mentally, as the hard grit of reality grated back into sharp focus.
'Was it all a dream?' Jules wondered.
Perhaps this whole night had merely been some fantasy, no more than some trick of the mind borne of too much alcohol, stress, and far too little sleep.
Perhaps, she wished, her shame would vanish too, when faced with the cold light of day.
She sighed, running her fingers through her dark locks and glanced to the floor. Her eyes fell upon the tiny wad of balled up tissue that had fluttered to the ground when her hands had fallen slack during Bess's touch. She knelt to pick up the tiny disposable scrap and brought it up to her chest, holding with a detached sense of wonder, before pressing it like a fragile bird against her bosom.
This night had been no dream. It was true. All of it was real.
Bess had kissed her. And she had liked it.
She tucked the keepsake into her purse, with a tiny quirk of her lips.
'Perhaps,' Jules thought to herself, 'being alone tonight hadn't been quite so bad after all.'