Nothing Can Keep Us Apart

Chapter Ten

Note: I'm sorry for not updating in, like, two years or so but I had put this story on an indefinite hiatus. But then I saw that I reached the 100 review plateau (for the first time ever) and I felt bad—my readers deserve so much more than this. This is definitely not my favourite story, and I doubt it ever will be again, but I'll keep trying, okay? My plot is shitty (seriously, war?) but there's nothing I can do about it except rewrite my chapters. Anyway, to all those people who still have this as one of their favourite stories, thank you very much. This chapter is for you.

Velma's POV

"Oh my God!" I cried when Shaggy was knocked backwards by the force of Carl's punch. He stumbled backwards and clutched his cheek, his eyes closed shut. When he pulled his hand away from his cheek, I saw the blood smeared all over his pale hand, blood dripping slowly out of his nose and his eye slowly beginning to turn black. I wanted to go over there and slap that football player silly, but I knew there was no way I'd be able to.

Daphne grabbed my wrist and squeezed hard when Fred got involved. He placed his hand to Carl's thick chest and the other reached out to Shaggy. I felt my heartbeat slow down slightly—if Fred was drawn in, everything would have to be all right. Everyone listened to Fred Jones.

But Carl, he looked unnaturally angry. He was glaring at Shaggy with such intent hatred that it made me wince just looking at his facial expression. But for what did he have to be angry with Shaggy for? Their run-in was completely unintentional, and Shaggy seemed genuinely apologetic, even before he was punched.

Every little drop of blood that leaked out of his nose squeezed my chest and made my heart feel tight until I felt like I was going to explode. These feelings were abnormal for me and it hurt to even think that I could potentially lose my best friend over something as trivial as—dare I say—a harmless crush. I hoped it was harmless. I also hoped it wasn't a crush after all.

"Velma, are you okay?" Daphne murmured in my ear, her voice providing a sweet, concerned tone that, combined with my leaking heart, made me feel choked up, like I wanted to vomit.

And I did, all over the floor in front of us.

However nice she was, Daphne Blake did not do well with vomit. Her eyes crinkled with utter distaste and her brow furrowed in sync with her disgusted frown. She turned her head away, dropping my wrist from her grasp and taking a step back from the mess of bile on the floor. Those who had not been greedily watching the fight take place were now staring at me, their previous opinions of me being 'Captain Geek' dropping to something that would include vomit, or puke in the title. Needless to say, I would not be gaining any popularity points anytime soon, regardless of whom I was friends with.

I tried to ignore my throbbing heart in my ears by attempting to focus all my energies on the ongoing tension between Carl and Fred. They were glaring at each other as though daring the other to make the first move. Fred was popular but Carl was an ass—nobody ever messed with him. Nobody ever messed with someone who survived to be cruel.

And as he raised his fist again, the whole gym drew a collective breath. Because as much as everyone feared Carl, everyone loved Fred and nobody cared whether a stupid hippy kid got in the way.

I glanced at Daphne. She was positively white.

I turned my gaze to Shaggy. He was bleeding, and nobody cared.

I cared. I cared more than I should.

Fred's POV

"You think this is funny?" I hissed at him, watching his raised fist out of the corner of my eye. The minute he punched Shaggy I stepped in. I knew I could make him listen to me. I knew I had to make him listen to me.

"Faggot got in my way," Carl replied, his voice deep and monotone and his features set in stone. "I don't like when faggots get in my way. He needs to be taught to respect his superiors."

But he lowered his fist, probably because he knew the repercussions of what would happen if he harmed me—first he'd have hell to pay with Daphne, and then the rest of the school. I caught a glimpse of Shaggy as I turned my head slightly over my shoulder. He was clutching his nose in clear pain but nobody would help him.

I saw a few teachers scattered around but despite there being a student bleeding, they weren't doing anything. A few stepped forward when Carl raised his fist in my direction but they stopped when he lowered it. I guess they were as much afraid as him as everyone else was. I wasn't, but I wasn't everyone.

He wasn't that much taller than me—maybe six foot three to my six one—but his bulk and natural intimidation made him seem so much larger. I had to stop and constantly remind myself that I was Fred Jones and I probably had more power than he had and if it was my duty to step up against him when nobody else could—or would.

It was dragging, I knew—but time seemed to stand still around us. We didn't do anything except stare at each other. I wanted to punch him like he punched Shaggy but I knew that wouldn't help me at all—he was probably made of iron and then he wouldn't hesitate to harm me back.

I glanced at Daphne, who was standing with Velma. Velma had thrown up all over the floor and Daphne was now standing a little ways away, her hand over her mouth as if to prevent future gagging. Her eyes caught mine and she shook her head ever so slightly, turning her head around. I knew she didn't want me to fight. She didn't really want me to go and stand up for Shaggy either. Despite Velma and Shaggy now being added to our growing lists of friends, they weren't nearly at the top and Daphne still cared more about her own social circle than she did about them. She was too nice to reveal it, but I knew because I felt the same way.

We hung out with them enough to find a common likeness but they would never truly end up as our best friends. As much as I hated and despised Carl at that moment, he was still one of us and deep down I knew I belonged more on his side than I did Shaggy. After all, Fred Jones would have normally never ended up getting to know someone like Norville Rogers.

So I stepped away and shook my head. "Don't start a fight now, Carl, don't be a total ass."

And then he walked away without even another look at Shaggy or me. Everyone in the gym sighed in unison, as if they were disappointed that nothing exciting happened.

I took one look at Shaggy and frowned. "You should get that cleaned up."

And that was all I said before I walked away.

Shaggy's POV

I had never been in so much pain as I was right then and there. It was for two reasons: first, because, obviously, my nose was bleeding and swollen and I was pretty sure I had a black eye. But also because as much as I thought Fred Jones was my friend, I knew that he also wasn't, and the pain that came with that realization was nearly as blinding as the pain I was feeling on my face.

A teacher came to check me over and so did Velma, despite her little scene on the dance floor only moments ago—a janitor was mopping it up as though it was completely normal (which it probably was). She pressed a wad of paper towel to my nose and pressed down on the back of my head. She looked sickly pale but a bit of color was slowly making its way back to her cheeks.

Finally, when my nose stopped bleeding and the DJ had taken over the dance floor with an upbeat hip-hop song, she whacked me across the head and stomped on my foot. I let out a cry of both frustration and pain and rubbed the spot on my head where she had hit me.

"Like, what did you do that for?" I cried.

"Norville Rogers, don't ever do that again!" she yelled, propped her hands on her petite waist—she really was tiny, despite her protests that albeit she was five foot four, she was fat. And then she would compare herself to Daphne Blake (in my opinion, everyone was fat compared to her).

And then she hugged me and cried. Velma Dinkley was not an attractive crier. Snot bubbled out of her nose and her cheeks slowly stained red and the tears crusted at the corner of her mouth, but she was still beautiful to me, even if she was leaving stains on my suit.

She was beautiful because she was Velma Dinkley and she was my only friend and the only one who even bothered to see if I was okay. It didn't matter whether Fred Jones had stood up for me anymore. There ended up not being a fight and now he and Daphne were dancing blissfully on the dance floor as if nothing had ever happened.

I hugged her close to me, gripping her waist as she let out a tiny squeal of surprise. It felt good being this close to her—to be able to feel the warmth of her body against mine and the electric atmosphere between us that fuelled my decision to kiss her.

And I was so close to her mouth before she turned away and pressed her cheek against my shoulder.

"Just don't do anything, okay?" she whispered, closing her eyes. I nodded, pressing my lips shut as we began swaying to that old, annoying James Blunt song that always seemed to come on.

But even as he crowed that some person was beautiful, I had to agree with him. Because Velma was beautiful and she was beautiful because she didn't let anything ruin this moment. Because what had begun as the best night of my life, had slowly faded to the worst, and suddenly it was the best again.

Daphne's POV

My mother was, and remains, a snobby, social-climbing witch and I had always vowed to never let myself become like her. I loved her despite her faults but I never wanted to be what she is. So despite people like Lara always clinging to me and desperately trying to turn me into a mindless bitch, I stayed true to my personal oath and was never mean to anyone.

But it was nice being popular. It was nice being pretty and a cheerleader because everyone favoured me and as far as I knew I had never been truly, deeply hated in my life—because everyone knew that hating me was hating the hierarchy that placed me at the top. And you weren't allowed to hate the hierarchy.

I did genuinely like Velma and Shaggy but the truth was, they would never be a part of my circle and my true life. I enjoyed the movies, and the parties, and the clubs, and as much fun as I had with them, it felt as if I was leaving a part of myself behind. Because when I was my other half, there were better movies, better parties, and better clubs. And people like me thrived for everything better.

We were better. That much was inevitable.

But they did bring Fred and I together, which was more than I could say for my social half. And for that I couldn't butt them out of my life completely. As indirect as the matchmaking was, it happened and it happened with them. Everything happened with them. And so I needed them for more to happen.

I loved Fred more than I loved being friends—not only with them but also with anyone.

"What are you thinking?" Freddy murmured in my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin and sending tiny tingles up my spine. It was strange that we hadn't known each other very long and yet I was feeling as if I had been together with him for all eternity. But then I remembered that eternity didn't exist (according to the teachings of my mother) and I looked down at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I'm thinking…" I replied softly, "I'm thinking that I wished eternity existed."

Fred raised his eyebrows at me teasingly. "So philosophical, aren't we, Miss. Blake?"

I giggled delicately, pleased that he could make me feel so happy and gentle. I glanced over his shoulder at Velma and Shaggy, who, despite clearly being the oddest couple on the dance floor, were also swaying slowly to the music. And I looked back at Fred, straining hard so that, for at least this one night, eternity really did exist.

Kitchen

Shaggy was miserable. He sat on one side of the granite-topped counter, opposite Velma, who was staring anxiously out the window. What kind of poorly assembled military would place them in a 'secluded' house on a mountain above the battlefield itself? It was sick how badly she allowed fear and dread to manifest itself inside her heart.

But it was times like these where she questioned the gang's sanity. Shaggy was depressed and lonely; Daphne clearly was in no state of mind to do anything, let alone travel down a precarious mountain in search of her love; Scooby was a dog, but he too was struggling to help everyone cope; Fred was just an idiot, despite the majority of the gang's support; and Velma herself…well, she was probably insane just to question her own sanity.

Life was nice before corrupt governments decided to give into their own selfish demands and wage war on other corrupt governments who wanted the same thing. They continuously used propaganda to imbed fear in innocent civilians—but clearly Fred had been taken in by it the most. Why else would he be gone?

Velma knew this couldn't possibly be a true war. As far as she knew, the USA was the only country involved. That meant that this was some kind of civil war—which Velma found utterly ridiculous. Civil was supposed to mean polite. If it were polite, it wouldn't be a war. This whole thing was just one big oxymoron to her.

Every deep and poignant thought that welled up inside her threatened tears to form but they never did. She touched the skin beneath her eyes and frowned. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't cried in days. Was this how her body decided to react to everything that she deserved to cry about?

"Why do you look like you're going to cry, Velma?" Shaggy asked monotonously. He couldn't move from his spot. Every shift in his seat was only a painful reminder that Scooby wasn't there.

Velma looked at him. "Because I can't cry."

Daphne

Time passed in slow motion. She ran down the hill towards him, her arms outstretched in that ridiculously thick cloak, but it all seemed so slow and dramatic. Only when she reached his arms did time shift forward and become normal again. When they hugged, however, it seemed like an eternity before he left go.

Daphne remembered that she didn't believe in eternity.

"What are you doing here?" he yelled, pressing his arms tightly against his sides. Daphne noticed that he was wearing a soldier's uniform and it made her want to cry all over again. It reminded her that this reality and every passing moment they stood there, she realized he wasn't coming home anytime soon.

"Are you stupid? This is the most dangerous place you could ever go! Why the hell would you come here? You could get killed any second! Daphne, I swear to God…"

He was angry with her. She watched his mouth form words that she couldn't understand. All she wanted was to be with him. Why didn't he get that? It was almost like he didn't care enough to want to hold her anymore. She knew war would change him but she didn't understand why it had to happen so fast.

And then she fainted.

Polska – best chapter I have ever written, hands down. It's three thirty AM and I am feeling so angst-y. I hope I still get reviews, even though it's been two years. Which, come on, is kind of funny. But I'm still not feeling this story, so it may or may not go back on hiatus, depending on how I feel in about a month or so.

Cheers.