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EMILY
She does her best. She always tries extra hard for Naomi. Always has. She pushes herself so far that she reckons that the only thing holding her together are the thin, invisible strands of hope. Then, when those begin to snap, one at a time, she falls apart. Completely and utterly apart. Which is why she fights so hard against that, why she grasps for hope where there is none and winds herself up in it, why she imagines fairytales instead of looking at the ugly truth of reality. She doesn't want to feel that final snap of the last filament.
She's only experienced that once. It was so dark and hopeless there when she realised that you can stop loving someone if you truly want to, if you lose faith in them entirely. Gradually she rediscovered a few threads, sewed pieces of herself together again until she thought it was a strong enough garment to withstand a few cut strands.
But now, she feels that the tension is becoming a little too tight like she's being yanked in two different directions, and any moment they're all just going to give way at once and she'll be ripped and splatter like blood all over the place, soaking into the carpet, forever staining the walls crimson. That's why she just needs to make it work.
It's all or nothing for her. You're either in something, or you're not. You love someone, or you don't. There is no "sort of". No "maybe". No qualifications and adverbs. The world in black and white was easier to see, and learning to live in Naomi's domain of constant shades of grey had taken a lot of effort to understand, let alone cope with her never-ending questions about meaning and truth and complications. It was like living in fog with her sometimes. For someone who was so obsessed with right and wrong, Naomi sure didn't apply her politics to her emotional life. The only positive about that situation is that the the truth is so shrouded in a haze that even the silliest kind of hope seems actually plausible. How could anyone know better, right?
Right.
Or at least that's what she reminds herself of when the whole thing just suffocates her with its uncertainty, even after this long. Because, despite everything, she has doubts too. They are often ridiculous and exaggerated, and easily dissipated when Naomi looks at her in just that specific way that still gets her breath caught in her throat. She can see things in Naomi's face that remind her why they are still fighting for this, and the best part is she's pretty fucking certain Naomi has no idea she's so transparent. Always has been.
The girl with the triple-reinforced walls didn't realise they were just made of glass. And Emily's bloody good at peering through them, squinting at the warped images until they become clear. Sure, it takes effort but she likes effort. She likes trying hard for things because the pay-off is so much sweeter in the end. Work, school, relationships: they are all the same.
Give, give, give. She gives until her back aches, her fingers bleed, and her head throbs with the weight of decisions and consequences.
Just as long as there's a little bit of hope to grab ahold of and spin into strength.
And she's perfectly aware that it's not exactly the healthiest method for success because it eats away at her sanity, makes her do things that seem over-the-line, take things a little too far, push people a little too much. She doesn't give up easily though. She sees not what's there, but with the rose-coloured glasses of hope, she sees what could be.
She falls in love with potential.
Unfortunately, when that potential never materializes, and when she accepts this as the only reason for failure, it cuts the ties that bind her together, with each realisation snipping another thread.
Naomi has such beautiful potential.
To do amazing things, makes amazing strides for social welfare, governmental policies, environmental change, and to be an amazing person. But it all takes careful coaxing and trickery to get her girlfriend to see these things about herself. It's a little deceitful really, the way Emily manages to work her way in and around Naomi who at the present seems somewhat addicted to failure. Not in a significant sense, and not like she seeks it out. Just that she seems content to glide around, nursing Cook through his utter wreck of a life and fucking her on the side, and never really trying – a concept Emily has an incredibly difficult time understanding. Naomi's content to just fucking wait for everything, like the world owes her something, like she shouldn't have to ever move from her ivory tower for anything to get done.
That was probably the most infuriating thing: her sense of entitlement, no doubt passed down through the undercurrents of her charged belief system. The world was so unjust, and it should be fair. Therefore, fairness means everyone gets what they deserve and no one has to try for anything. Ever. Things come automatically to those who deserve them. In a perfect, just, karmic world. She misses the point that people who actually do try often do get what they deserve. That's fairness in a sense, Emily thinks.
Emily learnt at around the age of 5 that the world was not even remotely close to being fair, especially if you have Katie Fitch for a twin sister. Get it over it, move on. And she was determined to get everything she should, if she had to work hard for it or not. Naomi would just sit there and wait for Emily to make a move, to give an excuse, push her into that emotional turmoil that was bound to guarantee some sort of result. But to Emily, that attitude, waiting in that hell, was a fate worse than actually doing something. At least, that's how she sees it.
In the past few months, Emily had thought it changed. A shift had taken place that first night she moved in here. While Naomi can still be a stubborn cow when she wants, she isn't quite as stoic with her lovelife anymore (everything else is caught in static it seems). And Emily thinks her heart actually sometimes bursts open with hope when she catches Naomi smiling at her for no reason, or when Naomi's the one waiting for her on a bench near her last lecture, or when they are lying in bed and her fingertips are carefully, almost reverently carving trails over her skin, both absorbing and creating every spark. She wants then to shake her girlfriend and be like, "See, I told you it wouldn't hurt to trust in me. What took you this long?"
But as Naomi slowly (painfully so) grows brighter, Cook continues to slide down into something darker. She's not sure she wants to know how deep the hole is, she's scared to bear witness to that. She's mostly certain it's the same perpetually dark and hopeless place Effy dwelled. And he's got part of Naomi's heart in his teeth, tugging her away from Emily, pulling her down while Emily struggles to pull her up, grabbing with both hands and digging her heels in. It results in Naomi barely moving at all. She sometimes wonders how much hate for herself Naomi has buried deep inside to lead her always back to this darker path every time she seems to take a step away from it.
It's really this reason she's grown to resent Cook sometimes. Other times she's just broken-hearted for him. Fucking up his own life was one thing, but dragging everyone else into his blackhole of misery is another thing altogether, especially when the one person she's ever truly been in love with thinks she can't let go of him. There's jealousy in there: that Naomi seems to love him so freely, without judgment, without fear of reprisal from anyone, without any of those goddamn issues that plagued their own relationship. There's jealousy too in the fact Naomi never gives up on him the way she had given up on herself, and Emily, so many times. It results in some equally beautiful and horrid bond between them that Emily has no access to. She can only ever be a spectator. And there's still the uncomfortable niggling of a thought that there's something more to her girlfriend and Cook beyond being merely best mates, and it's something that she lost out on when they broke up. It worries her sometimes, the way they occasionally glance or snuggle in was that took her years to earn and he got in a matter of months. She wonders what's wrong with her. But then she passes it off always as being in her imagination... but it never quite fades entirely.
She doesn't hate him, couldn't hate him if she tried but she knows he sells drugs instead of working, she knows that he's lying to the only fucking person on the planet that still loves him. It's not her secret to share, and she hates the heavy feeling of keeping something so important from her girlfriend. It feels like they're in college, secretly filling out their own university applications. Despite this, she perseveres because that's all she really knows how to do. She sees the glimmer of a happy future, and wraps herself in it.
But everything is wearing thin now, stretching and being unwound.
Naomi's falling apart at her feet as each day without contact from Cook passes and she's exhausted from holding them both together, physically and mentally. Not to mention she hasn't been to classes in nearly a week now.
It's with a fair helping of guilt that Emily's grateful she wasn't in Naomi's life when Effy died. If the current situation is any indication, she couldn't have handled it. It would have drained her completely. Her breaking point is coming soon and there hasn't even been word on whether or not he's actually dead. She's so fucking scared about what will happen to Naomi if he never returns and so fucking angry that she's not enough for Naomi. So, so angry. At Naomi, at Cook, at everything. But mostly at Naomi for letting her feel this way, and sleeping in Cook's bed, just so that she can see him as soon as he comes home. Other than one night, they've been sleeping apart, she and Katie in what should be the bed she shares with her girlfriend, and Naomi adamantly alone in his.
The only respite is that Katie and Naomi have stopped sniping at each other and kind of exist in a silent peace treaty. It surprises her too that her sister is even still here, and even more that she appears genuinely upset at Cook's disappearing act. She takes comfort in the extra strength that comes from standing by her twin's side. It's a little boost that she had forgotten could have such a profound effect. Without Katie, she honestly wonders if she could have handled it alone. But even then, 'handling it' may be giving her current situation a little too much credit. She's coping, and she's worried about university not just for herself, but she's terrified for Naomi. They are both risking penalties for potentially missing assignments and exams. It doesn't seem to phase Naomi in the slightest and Emily wishes, for once, they could just sit down and talk it all out.
The mattress dips and she knows it's Naomi. Katie is breathing evenly on the other side of the bed, she really could sleep through most things. The taller girl says nothing in the dark but she crawls underneath the duvet, practically hanging off the edge of her bed. She grips Emily's t-shirt tightly in her fist and pulls herself flush against the twin. Emily's not sure what to make of the situation. For the last few days, Naomi hasn't sought out comfort at all despite Emily offering it almost constantly and now she was almost desperately pushing up against her. She's not crying, and not close to being relaxed. Emily can feel the tension in her arms and the way her breathing is coming in short breaths against her cheek.
"Naomi?"
There's no immediate reply from the girl beside her an she lets go of a sigh, wrapping an arm over Naomi's waist, holding her from falling off the bed. Despite their stalemate, she doesn't imagine that Katie will feel particularly generous sharing a bed with Naomi. They only merely tolerate each other.
"Please, Emily," she croaks, moving her lips urgently along the redhead's pulse point. A week of barely touching Naomi except for heavy and almost awkward comforting hugs and pointless hand-holding has done it's worst and she valiantly represses a shudder of arousal.
"Go to sleep," she manages to whisper. "I'm here. It's okay." The moment the words escape, she inwardly cringes. It's not even close to being okay. It's a blatant fucking lie. Emily doesn't like liars. And furthermore, she's not sure how long she'll be able to say that's she's here for Naomi and actually mean it. More than her obvious placating lie, that knowledge makes her want to throw up even as Naomi ignores her words and dances cool fingers under the hem of her t-shirt.
The whole thing is so wrong. Beyond the fact that Cook is missing, and beyond the fact that she's never seen her strong Naomi so goddamn shattered, and even more than the fact her twin sister is asleep, not half a metre away, it's that she doesn't like this kind of comfort. It's false, and no one ever feels better afterwards. She pushes Naomi's hands away, with a little more force than necessary.
The action does absolutely nothing to dissuade Naomi who seems to have a one-track mind at the moment. She uses her weight and large frame to gain an advantage, trapping Emily under her and sucking her bottom lip so hard it almost hurts. Fucking Naomi. Emily wishes that she could stop kissing her, but she can't and the blonde is all too aware that they just can't say no each other, no matter how wrong it is. She doesn't even realise her hands are tangled in blonde locks until she attempts to deepen the kiss and it happens easier than expected.
"Fuck's sake!"
Katie's voice rings out piercingly. She launches herself out of the bed with surprising speed, and grabs a pillow. "Shit. Take your pity sex elsewhere next time. Disgusting."
She is beyond angry, and Emily winces again as her sister slams the bedroom door behind her, no doubt making her way to the sofa right now. Thankfully, the interruption has caused Naomi to cease her onslaught. She merely hovers above her girlfriend, looking perplexed in the dim light. Emily glances over and sees the time being near to dawn.
"It's not pity sex," a voice says and her attention turns back to the blonde above her. "Is it?"
Emily doesn't know what to say because she thinks that it was going to be exactly that. She wonders when telling the truth became so difficult and she momentarily resents Naomi for placing her in this position once again. She was always between a rock and a hard place. She opts then for a half-truth.
"Dunno." Maybe.
Naomi's shoulder's slump noticeably and she lowers herself to the mattress beside Emily with a deliberate sigh. Emily knows too well that Naomi is thinking things she's not saying. She never gives Emily the benefit of the doubt that she won't judge her. In fact, she knows Naomi so well by now that she'd even hazard a guess that it has something to do with just wanting to feel close to someone. But if she refuses to say it, Emily will continue to ignore it. She's tired of forcing it out of her girlfriend.
As if reading her thoughts, Naomi mumbles, "I'm sorry." And Emily knows it's not really an apology for closing herself off as much as it is for her poorly-thought out pity sex attempt.
She just wants that other apology, just once. Something meaningful. Something reassuring.
"Talk to me," Emily pleads, already knowing it will fall on deaf ears. Her suspicions are correct as Naomi shakes her head and resumes her fingertips' journey across the smooth plane of her her abdomen.
"I just want you to make it go away."
It maybe should sound sweet, maybe even be a compliment but it makes Emily uncomfortable because that's exactly what she's been trying to do all week, and she knows she can't, and it makes her upset because she should be more than just a person to forget with. Especially since the whole exercise is just for the blonde to forget about bloody Cook. But Naomi's lips are warm and insistent and her hands are equally determined so she relinquishes control again and lets Naomi lead. The groan bubbles up inside of her and she forgets that this is supposed to be comforting Naomi. She claws at the layers between them, desperate to feel hot skin against her own and to feel the low vibrations of Naomi's pleasure reverberating through their bodies. Desperation streams like sweat between them as her teeth collide with soft skin yet it's still like everything is in slow motion; they're frantic but not rushed, dragging it out as long as possible. They are splintering and Emily tries to push thoughts of Cook, and Naomi's motivations for this, out of her head as Naomi rolls a nipple between her fingers, eliciting a series of sparks to shoot right to her toes. She flips Naomi onto her back with practised ease, feeling how ridiculously wet Naomi already is, and burying her fingers deep inside the other girl. She moans in response to her girlfriend, twisting and stroking so agonizingly slowly and grinding herself vigorously against a taunt thigh.
This isn't going to solve anything. Emily doesn't quite understand why they still resort to sex to solve problems because it never does; it just delays the inevitable conversation, or it distracts them enough to never talk about it again. She remembers when the would make love for months without it being an alternative to an honest relationship. Those days feel lost. This feels like a huge backslide. But regardless, it's still intoxicating as the first time, all those years ago at the lake. The touch of Naomi's fingers is enough to make centre feel heavy an warm, and her chest constrict in the most pleasurable way.
But Naomi's taste is altogether something else, and all she can think about at the moment. She follows the familiar path down to the apex of her girlfriend's thighs. It only takes one hesitant, almost regretful, sweep of her tongue through the length of Naomi's folds before she's addicted all over again; lapping and sucking like a starving animal. She can feel her hair being tugged at as her tongue deftly circles Naomi's clit and hips are pushed into her face. With her fingers beginning a rhythmic accompaniment, the sound of fervent moans are enough to tell her that Naomi is close. There's the initial tremble and Naomi's orgasm explodes without much warning, shocking in its intensity.
After a brief respite, where Naomi catches her breath, she pulls Emily up, catching her lips with her own, not giving herself an opportunity to become tired. It's sloppier now but no less determined.
She misses the blonde's lips and tastes Naomi's well-hidden, rare tears sometime in all of this, betraying the girl they fell from. She kisses them back if only to finally taste her weakness. It reminds her not to cry as well, especially as she feels a hot mouth slip down to her tits and further still. Naomi is so slow, so meticulous, tasting every bit of skin before finally laying almost ghostly kisses against her core.
It's not supposed to feel like goodbye but she just can't shake the feeling that it does.