So...I'm back. Surprise! That break didn't go as planned, as you can already tell...turns out I was more organized than I previously gave myself credit for – spare time plus an active imagination results in a new story!
This one is going to be very different, as you've probably guessed. Well, if your reviews are anything to go by! Thanks for the copious amount of support already by the way, I was quite surprised to have such a reaction to this! I don't want to give too much away right off, but just expect the unexpected...
Okay, here we go! Enjoy, hopefully.
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She rolls over and sighs loudly. Her eyes follow a long crack through the plaster in the ceiling before settling on a tangle of cobwebs in the corner. Then she notices the soft swishing noise to her left, the beat rhythmic and deep. Her head lolls towards it.
Effy's hair is splayed out across the pillow next to hers. Her back faces Naomi, and the blonde watches as her sides inflate and deflate in breath. Naomi's gaze gradually traces along the arch of her back; the soft curve of it, the visible vertebrae protruding from beneath fragile flesh. Without thinking, she reaches out a hand to caress soft skin. Her fingertips dance along Effy's spine and up to her shoulder blades, where Naomi doesn't hesitate in brushing back some stray hair.
She uncovers a small swallow across Effy's right shoulder. She strokes it, her thoughts pensive. She's seen it countless times before, but always ends up analyzing it nonetheless. Initially she thought it was an odd choice of tattoo for someone like Effy – swallows were generally thought to be symbols of hope, love and prosperity. And not to sound brash, but Effy conveyed none of those things. Detached, aloof, pessimistic – that was Effy. But, eventually, the hidden meaning of her ink became clear – Greek legend claims that swallows were associated with the souls of the dead, and Effy always had this eerie quality about her. The bird is seen as bad luck in other cultures, symbolizing danger. Upon knowing as much, Naomi thereby deduced that the tattoo was in fact perfect for Effy – indefinable, ambiguous, cryptic. Free...ready to break out its wings and fly away if needs be.
Her fingertips continue to flit across the nape of Effy's neck when she feels her form stir. "If you wanted to grope me, you could at least have waited till I was awake". A soft smile breaks Naomi's sober expression. She retracts her hand slowly whilst Effy twists around. Her face is weary and her skin is as pale as ever, but her eyes somehow remain piercing and raw.
Naomi chews on her lip. "Morning" she murmurs in a cracked voice.
Tired lids blink over pale blue eyes. "Yeah" she simply offers. Before Naomi can say anything else, Effy has rolled over again and planted her bare soles on the wooden floor. The blonde watches, unspeaking, as the girl's slim frame rises to standing and she begins to pick her clothes up off the floor.
"You don't want any breakfast?" Naomi asks.
Effy confirms her assumption with a shake of the head. "I'm not really a breakfast person, you know that. And I've got a psych lecture in fifteen minutes. I'll get something on the way". Naomi continues to observe as Effy puts on the last of her clothing; her bare tits disappear underneath a plain black bra and a Jimi Hendrix t-shirt.
Naomi sits up. "Can't spare a few more minutes, no?" she asks, her eyes narrowing. Effy meets her gaze at last and Naomi is irked to see a smirk playing on her lips.
"Not today babe" she says dismissively. Naomi feels a pulse in her temple. Ignores it. This is normal. This is them.
She lets out a huff. "Fine" she eventually concedes. She throws the covers off of herself and stands up, stark naked. Watches with satisfaction as Effy eyes her hungrily. Smiles smugly when the brunette paces up to her, blue eyes flashing. Closes her eyelids and sighs when she feels Effy's chapped lips capture her own.
She feels a hand travel gently, leisurely, down her sternum and then gasps into Effy's hot mouth when the hand roughly squeezes her breast. Releases a groan when a rush of cold envelops her – Effy's pulled away.
Her vision is dazed when her eyelids open again, but she definitely can't miss the desire in those empyreal blue eyes staring back at her. "I'll text you later, Naomi" the brunette ultimately says. She winks and whirls around with a flourish to scoop up her bag. Then she leaves the room, and Naomi can hear her footsteps as they approach the front door. Then there's a bang and she's gone.
Naomi sighs and runs her hands through her peroxide hair. She can't even pretend to be surprised. This was Effy for you. One moment she's ravishing you with her wild desires; the next she's leaving you naked and alone in your apartment. But that was just how they were together, and Naomi – although reluctant to admit it most of the time – was, honestly, just like her. And when one of them was hot, the other would be cold – and it looked like Effy was feeling particularly icy today.
She sits back down on the mattress. Scrunches up her brow and squeezes her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Feels a headache coming on and is not entirely sure why. Sees a dull flash of red whenever she closes her eyelids. It intensifies her headache even further.
It's been a week since she ran into that redheaded freshman; Emily was her name. She hasn't seen her since. Probably won't again. Nevertheless Naomi, for some unfathomable reason, can't seem to rid her thoughts of the girl. It's like her brain has been programmed to remember their encounter at the oddest of times. One example happened just two days ago – she and her bandmates had been running through their set again, and Cook – their drummer – had thrown a freaker because of how distracted Naomi was being. The blonde had failed to mention exactly why, but she knew it was because she had caught sight of a poster on the wall. A red poster. A state of daydream had naturally followed.
She shakes her head. This was ridiculous. She was getting all confused and disorientated over nothing. Must be to do with Effy. Eff and her fucking mixed signals, she thinks scornfully. Yeah. Effy always knows how to muck her up. It's just how they are, and somehow it works for them. Well, she convinces herself it works. Works for her.
Knowing it's pointless to stay unmoving for any longer, Naomi decides to follow Effy's lead. Figures she'll get more done in college, rather than moping around here.
She goes to have a quick shower, and once she's done she begins to retrieve her clothes from around the room. She and Effy hadn't thought to be very tidy last night – although they could hardly be blamed when the only thing they had on their minds at the time was ripping each other's clothes off. This fact is only emphasized when Naomi spots her bra hanging off her bedside lamp. Grimacing, she grabs it and puts it on. Then she sprays on deodorant. Tosses yesterday's shirt and knickers into the laundry basket and dons replacements. Pulls on her jeans, which were previously strewn across her desk. Pulls on some woolly socks and shoves her feet into a pair of old, shabby Converse and fumblingly ties the laces. Surveys her reflection and dabs a quick coat of makeup over her face, thus hiding unwanted blemishes and illuminating her features a little. Combs out her wet hair and ties it up in a hasty ponytail so that it's somewhat less of a mess. Picks up her satchel. Another quick glance in the mirror and she deems herself acceptable. Fuck it. She never was one for self-indulgence anyway.
She steps out of her small bedroom and into the even smaller hallway. She's about to leave when a figure appears in the doorway to the sitting room. "Well, morning to you too".
She looks around and sees a tall, lanky boy leaning against the door frame eating cereal. Olive skin, black hair, deep brown eyes. He sports a lopsided grin while he appraises her. She smirks back at him. "Hey Freds" she says softly. Her eyes fall to his body, where she notices his lack of clothing. He's half-naked apart from a pair of cargo shorts. "Little underdressed, aren't we?" she comments.
Freddie shrugs dismissively. "Don't need to get dressed, no lectures today. Except I've got an assignment to do. Load of balls really" he says. He shoves another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. "Don't change the subject though" he abruptly says in between bites. "You could at least have the common decency to greet me after all the noise you made last night". His eyes flash mischievously and Naomi feels her cheeks grow hot. She unsuccessfully tries to conceal her blush.
"I wasn't...we weren't..."
"Oh trust me, I think the entire floor heard you two. Maybe the entire apartment building too. In fact I wouldn't be surprised if we got the Landlord coming down to complain about noise pollution". She releases something akin to a hiss from her throat and lunges at her roommate. He recoils too late; her hand comes down to slap his bare chest, hard. "Ow!" he exclaims just as she's whirling around to charge out the door. Right before she closes it she hears him shout a profanity at her, but she can't fail to notice the lighthearted tone it's said in. Tosser, she muses with smirk back in place whilst she descends the numerous sets of stairs to the ground floor. How do I get myself into these situations? she wonders once she's set foot outside. The pale sunlight hits her skin. Warms it. But of course she doesn't dignify her mind with an answer – because the truth is that she's hit by these situations more often than she'd like.
.
There's a void in your eyes
sometimes, It reflects your sole– Fuck, sole?
It reflects your SOUL and
I wonder if– wait, no –WHEN it will swallow me ho––WHole.
Do you enjoy it? This game?
Is the cold your only comfort when – Jesus – AS we
try to hang on?
You are...You are...
Fuck it.
Naomi scribbles her pen angrily back and forth across the page, her lack of articulation breaking her at last. Christ...she was a fucking English major for fuck's sake! And now she could barely spell! Bet my lecturers would love to see me right now, she thinks as her eyes scan fretfully down the page. The crossed out lines of her mistakes glare menacingly at her, until she can't bear to look at them anymore. She sighs and tears out the page, casting it aside.
She's definitely in a full-blown stage of writer's block. She thought writing lyrics might help to clear her head a little, but all she's managed to come up with so far is some cryptic shit about Effy. It's not terrible, but it's not great either. And she knows she doesn't want to let the others down, because they could really do with some new material. As Cook's said before, "You're the fuckin' Van Gogh out of us, Blondie – so do me proud and write us a fuckin' masterpiece!"
'Blondie' had failed to tell Cook that Van Gogh was in fact an artist and not a writer – he wouldn't really know the difference either way. But despite this, the message was clear. And she knew it meant her sorting her head out, and fast.
She sighs again and looks around. It's about afternoon now, and students are bustling back into the arts block after lunch. She's been in the library all morning, but came out for a break; she's now sitting on a sofa in the middle of the noisy space. She scowls in frustration. Figures now's as good a time as any to get back to work, since writing is no longer an option. That in mind, she's about to get to her feet when she feels the cushion next to her shift.
"Hi".
Her body seizes. She'd know that husky voice anywhere – has been replaying it in her head repeatedly for seven days straight. Turns her head slowly – very very slowly – to the left. Big brown eyes stare back at her, still just as sparkling as when she last saw them. Pink, full lips are stretched into a genuine, friendly smile. The scowl on Naomi's face lessens without her consent.
"Hey, Emily" she says tentatively after a few seconds. She returns the smile. Her hair is dry now, but some strands have broken loose of her pony. She brushes them back from her face self-consciously, abruptly regretting not blowdrying her hair this morning. "How are you?"
The redhead shrugs and bites her lip. "Okay, I guess". She pauses. "You?"
Naomi looks at her hands in her lap. "Yeah, I'm okay too" she murmurs. Then grins widely. "Haven't managed to crash into anyone else, anyway" she says evenly. She hears a throaty, melodic laugh and looks back up. Emily's eyes are closed and she's shaking her head, but she's still giggling.
"Good to know. Me neither" she says eventually, stilling her laughter.
Naomi scoffs lightly. Then spots Emily's bag lying haphazardly beside her. Sees some large books poking out of it. "How are you finding everything?" she finds herself asking, tone serious now.
Emily hesitates, clearly contemplating. "It's good" she decides on. "I'm really enjoying university. Nothing like sixth form. But it's just getting my head around assignments and stuff that's really stressing me out, you know?"
Naomi nods. Knows all too well how difficult it is to cope initially. "You get used to it" she says simply, and leaves it at that. Emily smiles politely in reply and then glances away. Silence falls between them, and Naomi finds herself looking at Emily out of the corner of her eye. Like, really looking at her. She's dressed in jeans and a casual jade green jumper. Her hair is lightly curled today, leaving red strands to hang in loose ringlets around her face. She's wearing a taupe shade of eye shadow, which brings out the shine in her eyes. Makes her look softer. Prettier. The observation makes Naomi feel increasingly uncomfortable. Her mouth feels dry again, and her nerve endings are jittery. Again, can't fathom why. She frowns. "Well, I suppose I better g–"
"Do you know where 'Samson' is?" Emily cuts in abruptly.
Naomi meets her gaze and tries not to shy away from her penetrating stare. "Sorry?"
Emily scoots closer and faces her. "'Samson' lecture theatre? My next class is there. You know it?"
Naomi hesitates. Vaguely registers the name in the back of her mind. Takes her a couple of moments to remember why. "Yeah, I do actually. I had a class there last year" she answers. "It's not here, though. It's in the building across from this one".
Emily nods. "Great" she says. Then she gets to her feet and strings her bag strap over her shoulder. Naomi tries not to look relieved. "Could you show me where it is?"
Damn. She bites her lip and averts her eyes. "Um, actually..."
Emily's staring at her again, and she feels her throat constrict on her excuse at once. Some odd part of her knows that Emily would be able read her lie straight away, and although the girl's face is impassive right now while she stares down at Naomi with those captivating eyes, the blonde doesn't want to be the one to cause her expression to change to one of disappointment.
She releases a sigh and smiles coyly. "Of course" she says. A flash of approval crosses Emily's face and the blonde gets to her feet. She spots her scrap paper still lying there last moment and grabs it hastily, shoving it into her bag. Would find it quite embarrassing if anyone were to read her drabble.
Emily and her walk wordlessly through the block, no light-hearted conversation passing between them. Naomi abruptly realizes that they must look more like two acquaintances walking beside one another rather than two friends. Disregards this thought. We're not friends, twat, she reminds herself sternly. But Emily breaks the silence when their feet come into contact with the concrete of the campus.
"English". Naomi glances sideways at her and raises her eyebrows. Silently implores the redhead to explain. Emily smirks. "You're studying English" she explains. Now Naomi finds her eyebrows lowering in confusion. Another thought registers.
"But...I never told you that" she says slowly.
Emily looks straight ahead of her, smirk still firmly in place. "I know. I guessed. I saw that poem you wrote – the one on that piece of paper beside you". Fuck, Naomi thinks in alarm. "It was really good" Emily continues without missing a beat; she doesn't give Naomi the chance to panic. Even before the blonde can react, Emily looks back at her. "Plus you've got that haughty, up-yourself attitude that English students tend to have. I hear they can be quite pretentious". Naomi bellows out a laugh. Christ. This girl was good.
"Great" Naomi says sarcastically in between laughs. She's still grinning nonetheless.
But then Emily's smirk softens to a smile. "Seriously, though. The poem was really clever. Personal. You should be a writer" she says sincerely. Naomi feels her stomach flutter, just like last week. She pushes it down. Ignores it.
"Thank you" she replies quietly, abashed. "It...it wasn't a poem actually. They were lyrics. For a song". They're approaching the designated building now; it's Emily's turn to raise her eyebrows while Naomi's holding the door open for her.
"You're a musician?"
Naomi nods sheepishly. "Kind of...I play in a band. Guitar, mainly. I was trying to clear my head and come up with some new stuff at the same time". They walk into the entrance hall. "Don't think it worked out too well, though". They walk up the stairs and Naomi knows they're nearing their destination. Feels oddly disheartened by the fact. Although she would've been happy to have been rid of her freshman companion a few minutes ago, that wasn't the case now; she's realized since then that Emily's company isn't actually too bad. Nice, even.
She eyes the redhead, whose expression is thoughtful. "Well, I'd love to hear something sometime". They come to a stop outside a door. It's sign reads 'Samson'.
"End of the line" Naomi says unnecessarily. Emily nods and brushes a curl away from her face. As her hand moves, blue eyes focus on it. She's wearing two silver rings. They look pretty. Pretty on her.
"Cheers, Naomi" says Emily earnestly. Then she opens the door and walks in. A thought suddenly occurs to the blonde.
"Wait" she says urgently before the girl disappears. Emily glances over her shoulder. "You never told me what you were doing" she says.
Emily winks. "You never asked" she replies slyly, then shuts the door. Naomi stares at the blank wood for a moment or so, smiling to herself. Turns around and heads back through the building. Maybe she'll head back to the library. Or try and write more songs; she suddenly feels more inspired. The wind greets her with its chilly caress once she steps back outside, but then her phone interrupts her daydreaming. She pulls it out, sees a message from Eff.
Later ;-)
Naomi stares at it. Her brow creases. Then a vague recollection drifts into her mind from this morning. "I'll text you later, Naomi". She pauses, then can't help in giggling quietly to herself. Finds her previous despondency dissipating altogether as she continues to walk. Can't decide whether it's because of Emily or Effy. Or both. Her eyes lift up toward the sky. A swallow flies by. Strong, determined, carefree. Naomi smiles thoughtfully and returns her phone to her bag.
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