you told me you loved me (so why did you walk away)
note1 how is it that a disney channel show has characters who are just so great for angst and heartbreak
listening colors — halsey
summary ugly, ugly, ugly —riley
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Riley is thirteen when she learns she can't be perfect. It's an ugly number, ugly on the tongue, ugly in the mind. Thirteen.
Thirteen. Mean faces and distorted words coming through her ears like she's underwater. You can't do anything. You can't be anything. Laughter, cruel, sharp, bitter.
Thirteen. She fades and sinks beneath the surface. Does anyone care?
She spends the next year in her room, scared of people.
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"This is perfect," his breath is warm against her palm, fingers tangled together. She stiffens. What ugly words, what farfetched lies, just no. Stop it.
"Get the fuck out of here," she starts to untangle herself from him, feeling cold in all the places he touched, "please." But why, why Riley? What did I do, What did I say, I'm sorry, sorry, just talk to me. She throws something, a black blur across the room. Someone inhales. The door shuts and everything rattles. Everything vibrates.
Thirteen. Her heart is pounding, singing in her ears, a harsh symphony that drowns out her tears.
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"What did he ever do to you?" It should be easier, talking to Maya. Maya, Maya who knows what she's been through in a vicarious way.
It takes her a moment to think about it. Perfect. An insult. She laughs dryly, rubbing her nose with her glove. What did he ever do to you?
"He lied to me." Somewhere in between, the laugh turns into a sob. What did he ever do to you?
He cared.
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It's like watching half a movie. She doesn't get him, he doesn't get her. Just guessing through biting lips and body language. Why are we trying? She wants to ask though it's not really a "we" since she was the one who asked to see him.
"I'm sorry." he sounds reluctant, like he doesn't know what he's apologizing for anymore. She doesn't know either.
She stares into her hot chocolate, the one he bought for her because he knew she doesn't like coffee, feeling detached from the world. He's trying too, he really is.
But that's not enough.
"It's ok," is all she gives him, barely enough satisfaction to make him feel like the seven dollars he shelled out for their drinks was worth it.
(It's not a goodbye, not a clean break. Not even a break at all, just a memory that they'll spend the rest of their lives wondering why, why couldn't (s)he, why couldn't we, and why didn't you try harder?)
