Chapter 4: Part 1
A/N: Sorry it took so long. No worries though! I'm not in any way abandoning this. Finals, SAT studying, and a bunch of holidays/birthdays kind of got in the way, but I'm planning to get with the updating more often. Short, I know, but I'm planning on updating next week, when I know I won't have any essays or newspaper articles or contests to submit to.
Faith had never considered herself smart. Sure, she was street smart, and maybe she was a pretty smart fighter, but book smart? She certainly wasn't that. And emotionally smart? Not a chance in hell.
Which was why Faith was baffled when, after hearing her new roommate's sniffles - confusing in and of itself, since it seemed that they should have been imperceptible through a wall, a bookcase, and what sounded like a mattress - she felt a deep empathy, pulling her from her position on top of burgundy sheet to Tara's door, stopping to pick up the stack of sheets on the coffee table.
She raised her hand to knock, for the first time in her life tentative. Her hand wavered at the wood as she furrowed her brows and stared blankly at the ground. Hearing another sniffle, Faith snapped into focus and rapped firmly, but not harshly, on the oak door.
Tara's head throbbed, her eyes were raw, and the back of her ached like it was being stretched out by a large lump. She lay curled up against the leather jacket, with her face buried into the mattress.
A loud knock pierced the room and Tara flinched and leapt to her feet with almost superhuman speed, her whole body trembling. She wearily exhaled, blowing the stress through ruby lips. She sighed and stretched her neck in either direction, and then rolled her shoulders, relaxing them down her back.
It takes time.
She creaked the door open slowly to reveal her roommate leaning casually against the jamb, a bundle of sheets and blankets tucked under one arm.
"So I was thinkin' to myself, T, and I thought that since we're gonna be rooming together for a while, we could try hanging out a bit, get friendly -" she paused to waggle her eyebrows playfully.
"You know, chat a little about the weather, SunnyD, hot chicks..." she faded off to grin gleefully at Tara's blush and obvious discomfort.
"I knew it! You were totally staring at the girls when you came in! Not that I can blame you..." The smirk slipped from Faith's face when she saw Tara's eyes fill with tears.
"I... I understand if you don't w-want me to be your roommate anymore-"
"Hey hey, T, that's bullshit. I was just messing around. Like I'd ever give a damn who you were attracted to," she scoffed. "I mean, gender's never really been an issue for me."
Tara quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Faith shrugged. "I think it's called omnisexual or pansexual, which I don't get, 'cause I don't do fatties, and kitchenware never really got me hot. I mean, I'm just... me." Her eyes darted around the room self-consciously.
"S-so, you don't mind?" Tara sniffed hopefully.
"Shit, Tare, like I can say what makes you happy. Nobody has that right except you. Now, let's get this place ready for any chicks you bring back here." As Faith moved toward the top of the bed, stretching out the edge of the bottom sheet, one corner of Tara's mouth lifted into a mischievous smile.
"Should we have a system then? Bra on the doorknob? Wouldn't want to interrupt you and the stand mixer..."
Faith froze, bent over the bed; she then slowly turned to face her, her mouth slack. Tara held her ground, smirking into the shocked girl's gaze. A deep, throaty laugh escaped Faith's lips, and she collapsed on to the bed, laughing.
"Well I'll be damned. Who are you Tara Maclay?"
Her face flushed and she cast her gaze downwards. Seeing this, Faith jumped to her feet and slapped the tops of her thighs energetically.
"So, let's get on it! How 'bout we clear the stuff you've got on the bed, and get your stuff into the drawers? Then we can make the bed."
"S-s-sounds good."
Faith grasped the leather jacket on the foot of the bed and looked at it appraisingly.
"Damn girl, you've got taste. Where'd you get this?"
"It's- it was my mother's. She-" Tara's voice hitched and rose an octave as her throat clenched, failing to bely her tears.
"Oh. I'm just going to hang this in here, 'k? To keep it nice."
Tara could only nod gratefully as her entire insides clenched against the tumult of emotions roiling within her.
"Where do you want to put these?" Faith asked, gesturing to the stuff on the bed.
Tara hummed as she delicately sorted though the pile. She picked up the large stack of papers and handed them to Faith.
"C-c-could you put these in the bedside table?"
"Sure thing."
Tara brought the books and the crystal to her dresser, fastidiously arranging them before once again struggling to clasp the necklace about her neck.
"No worries, T. I got it."
Tara froze in terror, feeling Faith's hands close around the chain and bring it up against her neck; she could hear her carotid smacking furiously, in time with her heart. The cool chain dropped loose about her neck, and Faith stepped away.
"Okay, let's see ya."
Tara turned to face Faith, bashfully bowing her head. "H-how does it look?"
"Damn, T. It looks... beautiful."
Tara flushed at the complement, and even Faith seemed a bit confused by her turn of phrase.
For the next half hour they bustled about the room, arranging Tara's bed and clothes, occasionally exchanging an amicable wisecrack, but for the most part staying silent. Once finished, Faith busied her hands by fluffing the pillows.
"Faith?" Tara timorously called. "I was w-wondering, if you knew of any good places to go for clothes or stuff? I k-kind of want to make this place, um... my own."
Her deep brown eyes lit with excitement, and a cheeky grin engulfed her face.
"Shopping? I'm always down, T. You'll have all the girls in town drooling over you when I'm done with you, you don't even know!"
"And they don't already?" Tara shot back, receiving a sharp laugh from her companion in response.
Refreshingly blue eyes scanned the newly furnished room - the new home - with the pride of a robin having just made her first nest, and caught upon a multicolored knit blanket at the foot of the bed.
"Oh, what's this?"
She unfurled the blanket, its bottommost edges an inch from the ground. The blanket was made of approximately twenty squares, each a different color, and each knit with varying degrees of skill.
"It's a blanket some of us get. Some elementary school kids knit it for us, to have something... warm... in this crazy experience," she explained, voice raw.
"A security blanket," Tara murmured to herself, rubbing the textured fabric between her fingertips.
Faith nodded wistfully.
"Yeah. I got mine eight years ago in Boston, when I first got put in government care. Even when they moved me around, I still had it with me.
"But it's not a fucking baby blanket," she finished, with as much bravado as she could muster.
Tara couldn't help but giggle.
"Alright, T, g'night!"
"Sleep well, Faith," she responded, bringing the blanket up to nuzzle against her nose.
The clear light of summer illuminated Willow Rosenberg's path down Harrison Boulevard, towards number 166. After sleepovers at the Summers' house, she often liked the mind clearing effects the calm midmorning walk had to offer; only the ornamented birdsong and the clacking of her mary jane shoes against the pavement disturbed the still air.
She ran her thumbs underneath the rainbow straps of her backpack and adjusted them on her shoulders; skipping slightly, she raced up the stone walk, and unlocked the door.
"Mom? Dad?" she yelled, hanging her keys on the key rack.
"We're in the kitchen, dear. And please try not to yell," she heard her mother respond. Following the sound of the news reports, she walked down the hall, into the kitchen, where she found Ira and Sheila Rosenberg seated at the small table.
"Someone got up early today," Sheila noted. "I called you for breakfast and you didn't respond."
Willow huffed.
"I slept over at Buffy's, remember? I told you yesterday morning."
Sheila simply nodded punctiliously, eyes glued to the paper in her hand.
"Oh, yes. How is Bunny?"
Willow sighed, again, and walked over to the breakfast bar to pour herself a glass of orange juice.
"It's Buffy, Mom, and she's good. Actually, we were planning on going to the mall later?" she inflected, as if asking a question.
From behind a large newspaper came a grunt from a mouth full of oatmeal, and Willow sipped at her juice anxiously.
"Oh, that sounds nice dear."
"Mom, I'm asking for some money to go shopping, maybe?" she asked, craning her neck and moving her brow as if she were trying to force her mother's eyes to meet hers.
"Shopping?" Sheila's head snapped up and her eyes narrowed. "Why would you need to go shopping? Do the things I bought you last year not fit anymore?"
"N-no, it's not that..." Willow started hesitantly, but soon her eyes lit with cunning. "It's just, you promised you would take me after the SAT's in March, and I never got the chance to go."
Sheila pursed her lips guiltily. "That was Atlanta, wasn't it? Oh well, I guess you can. Ira?"
"Hmm?"
"Your daughter wants to go shopping."
"Hm." He lay his paper down next to his bowl, beckoned to Willow, and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Here's a credit card for you. You can keep it with you from now on, I suppose, for when your mother and I are at conferences."
Willow rolled onto the balls of her feet, barely containing her excitement as she held the blue plastic by her fingertips.
"Thank you Dad! I'm going to go shower before I go; see you this evening!"
Willow raced up the stairs, excited about, of all things, shopping.