'Now our bodies are the guilty ones. Who touch, and colour the hours.' – Spring Awakening
Emma received the letter on a Friday afternoon, the last day of school. Finally, acceptance was found. The letter was post marked 'New York City, New York', and the enclosed letter had formally accepted Miss Emma Pillsbury into the Dramatic Writing Program at Tisch School of Arts at NYU. There was no more settling for second best, for Ohio State as an English teacher. Farewell to study sessions with Will in the College library, as images of a pen held before a clean journal as the young redhead sat alone in Central Park filled that gap in Emma's heart and mind.
The letter, detailing the commencement of the course in nine days, was stashed between Pride and Prejudice and Wuthering Heights on her bookcase. She wasn't torn, but she wasn't prepared either. How could she possibly tell Will that she wouldn't be joining him at OSU? He would be completely heartbroken. They had been discussing their future together since prom and well after final exams and graduation. To tell him that she would be leaving Ohio would be hard, but it was harder to imagine leaving without a goodbye.
And what a horrid goodbye it would be.
As they walked down Main Street on Friday night after a film, hot chocolate in hand as the wind blew around them, she whispered her secret.
His face registered more emotions in one minute than she could possibly describe. She waited for an argument, or at least minor trepidation as a result of sadness and disappointment, but he smiled.
And it was real. An honest, delightful smile as he confessed he was so happy for her, that she was getting what she wanted most.
She ached to tell him that he was who she wanted most, but she was afraid he would then question her decision to leave him, so she didn't. He asked if she had yet to tell her parents and she nodded, confessed that she wanted him to be the first to know, as he was the most influential and important person in her life. He kissed her then, long and hard, and whispered his love for her in the middle of the naked street, his lips tangling with hers as they both craved something tangible that would cause bliss to break over them.
He suggested ways that they could be together, drives he would make to New York and flights she could take that would get her to him in less than an hour. She was pleased and relieved, but calmness didn't completely console her. She wanted to see jealousy in his eyes, to know that he needed her, because she missed that so very much.
On Saturday afternoon, Emma found herself climbing the few steps up to Will's front porch. The front door was open, the house quiet as she called his name down the hallway. She removed her coat, hanging it carefully by the door as she closed it behind her, curious and hesitant. She had only taken four steps down the hallway when she peered into the living room to find Will splayed across the carpet, staring perplexedly at the ceiling.
"Hey, Will."
No answer. Was this the jealous she had anticipated and desired?
"Where are your parents?" As the question escaped her lips, his fingers pinched the end of the frayed rug lightly.
His eyes drifted shut as she watched his chest heave, breath leaving in a tired rush between his perfect lips. "Out."
"Where?" She continued with the question, making an effort with trivial conversation.
"At my grandparents for lunch."
Silence. Emma peered down to the hard wooden floor beneath her brown lace up boots.
"Will, I can see that you are apparently angry that I've accepted the offer, but I wish you would just be happy that-"
"Mrs Adler died two hours ago."
The blood rushed to her head in shock and blatant misunderstanding. His eyes opened to gauge her reaction, her lips parted and plain.
"Oh God," As nervousness overwhelmed Emma, she found it increasingly difficult to breathe. She moved closer, standing before his splayed legs, offering her comforting gaze which he rejected as he shut his eyelids again.
"I'm so sorry, Will." And she could feel his pain as her skin broke out in goosebumps.
She knelt down at his side, taking his hand that rested against the edge of the maroon rug, clasping it tightly between her own.
He pulled on her hand and she lay down beside him, her body moulded against his side, her breasts pressed against his chest as he began to cry, to sob and whimper.
Emma rested an arm over his chest to hold him to her, her fingers digging into his ribs as she buried her face in his neck, her anxiety peaking as she fought the urge to cry. His warm palm that wasn't clasping hers slipped between the rug and her side to rest on the small of her back, pulling him against his side roughly as his uneven breaths warmed her skin. It was an exquisite sensation that had no place in the moment, an intimacy that was too wise for them to experience. She pressed her lips against his neck ever so lightly, a single kiss that spoke a thousand words to silence.
Will held onto her tighter, wrapping a leg around her lower half, as he always did by the lake. His tears were warm against her naked neck, pouring endlessly in desolation as her soft red curls tickled his jaw.
The room was quiet, entertaining only their troubled spirits, but as Emma's soft kisses on Will's perfect skin relaxed him, his emotions became raw. His neck inclined towards her lips as they parted beneath his smooth skin, which smelled of soap. Her tongue peeked between her lips as he almost smothered her with his skin, desperate for affection in his darkest hour yet, the taste of salt clouding her senses. Her head rested against the rug softly as he pulled back to gauge her reaction again, finding a distinct clarity in her brown orbs.
And then his lips crashed down upon hers, and it was indescribably imperfect. His kisses were clumsy on her smooth skin, his wet lips hungry as tears fell from the ends of his eyelashes, little pearls of despair. His body shook against her as a choked whimper of humility escaped between her dry lips amongst kisses.
"Will, you're so upset." Her hand left his palm and came to rest on his face as she pulled back, scooting herself onto her back to place distance between them. Her attempt was rejected as his hand only slid from her side to rest on her abdomen, holding her to him unsurely as he watched her eyes, regret beginning to pool in the form of tears.
He immediately retracted his gaze, moving his glare to his hand that rested between her two most intimate areas, two sweet curves that haunted his dreams and the wet, warm place he desired to rest his own weakness in forever. He could feel the heat of her body beneath his palm as he felt her eyes watch his hand, as they always did.
His fingers led the way across her body as his palm followed, inching over her chest as she bit her bottom lip in quiet contemplation. She wasn't refusing him and he was tired of hurting so terribly, so it wasn't long before his hands wandered aimlessly over her chest as his heavy leg rested over her thighs, a dead weight.
She wanted to stop, to tell him to pull away, to leave her be and not use her body to make his pain go away. Is this how he had felt every time she abused their intimacy? She had no idea it could feel like this. He was almost suffocating her, but she was the loneliest she had ever been.
Words refused her, the ultimate rejection. She knew language better than she knew herself. Emma knew what words could do to a person. Somewhere in the process of this denial, Will had managed to unbutton her thick cardigan. They had done this before, more than this. He would stop soon. A chorus of thoughts were running through her mind as he continued to undress her torso, leaving her bare. The cold metal press studs of her singlet were ripped apart by his strong hands in his haste to feel her skin, his kisses pressing adamantly on the soft skin of her navel.
His lips attached to her nipple, suckling like a child. She was caught in momentary bliss, as his world crumbled around him and he connected his lips to her perfect, perky breasts like a lifeline of nourishment. Emma's fingers came to tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck, her dainty strokes providing enormous comfort as he lapped at her breast. She felt tears on the contours of her chest as he licked a path around the curve of her right breast to the left, his warm palm wandering over her navel.
Emma attempted to sit up, but he straddled her, pressing her back down against the carpet gently as his breath became ragged against her freckled skin.
"Please, let me make love to you." He lusted after her body, while he loved her for her heart and mind, and in that moment, in his desperate plea, she learnt that. This was what their whole relationship was about-lust. And in the process of discovering pleasure, they had been hurt by love in so many ways, learning to understand the most important part of life-communication.
"No, Will."
The sun gleamed through the windows. It was a perfect day. It was cold, but it wasn't windy. Trees didn't sway, birds only chirped happily.
"But you're ready, Em..."
"You aren't, Will."
"I am." As he refuted her statement, his fingers curled around the rim of her panties beneath her skirt, pushing them hastily down her thighs as she closed her eyes tightly. He contributed to her anxiety as he continued selfishly, "Let me feel you."
She swallowed harshly as she willed away a panic attack, trying to piece together a short monologue in her mind that would refuse Will his greatest desire with careful ease.
Though, as she listened to the clink and scratch of metal as he unbuckled his belt, her thought process seemed to falter and it was as though her soul left her body at that moment. At the sound of a zipper, her eyes screwed shut and her lips parted. His knees knocked against hers as she felt denim slide down his legs. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist as he rested his knees on either side of hers. Her soft skin pressed against his strong, hairy legs, her panties resting mind calf. She wondered if his boxers had been cast aside, too.
"Not like this, Will."
Her boots were still on, and she regretted lacing them so tightly around her ankles. It felt like her circulation was being cut.
"I can't lose you, too." He sounded detached, just like Emma.
She anticipated that silk would touch her exposed core as he moved to press against her, but the tip of his naked manhood frightened her as hell held his arms open to the whimpering, distressed girl.
And then her best friend was finally inside of her. Flesh against flesh, soul against soul.
"Are you okay, Em?" He shivered as her chest ached.
Against her innermost feelings of regret and overwhelming sadness, she nodded.
There were no whispers of adoration, or love, or promises for sweet futures in the sun. Pain overwhelmed Emma entirely and her body caught ablaze as Will grunted with each thrust, tears rolling from his eyes in bent up emotion before he buried his face in Emma's neck. Her body slid against the carpet with each careless movement.
She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He was gentle and devastated, and so she held him to her, her only safety in the storm her afternoon had become. She was shipwrecked as whimpers escaped Will's lips. She wanted to comfort him, to love him, but she couldn't help to despise him.
It would be okay, she told herself. They would be together forever. He had given so much of himself to her, already. What was happening in this moment was only physical. He loved her and she loved him. They had the rest of their lives to make sweet, sweet love with a singular purpose.
The moment she tried to reason with herself, to remind herself that he was hurting so completely, and that her loss was nothing compared to his, his tears stopped and his thrusts became wild, until he eventually spilled his release into her for the very first time. His body shook more so than previously and her thoughts were halted for many years to come.
They lay there like that for a long while, his hands cupping her bare behind in the palms of his hands, her legs bent at the knee as he softened inside of her.
Emma was scared, so incredibly scared. Threat of pregnancy loomed at the forefront of her mind, dispelling the utter devastation in losing her virginity in such a circumstance. The soft skin between her behind and her back rubbed harshly against the rough rug of Will's living room floor as the heels of her boots pressed flatly against the floor.
He pulled back as she felt a wetness seep from her, a mark of both of their betrayal and lust.
Realisation dawned on both as they realised their mistakes.
"God, Em."
Seconds, minutes, days of silence. He should have worshipped her. She should have worshipped him.
"I'm so sorry."
Emma was violently ill that night. She couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep and she fainted twice. Her body ached and her mind simply didn't work.
What scared her most was that she would never be able to write again, to have the luxury and talent to pick up a pen and tell a story that wasn't littered with disgust and regret.
Emma wasn't waiting for him by the fence in the car park Sunday morning.
In fact, he never found her waiting for him again.
The next time he found her was eleven years later, by total and complete chance. Chance, and death.
Those you've known, they linger until they find you, and nothing is the same until you know that they have found you.
And those you've pained, they carry that still with them.
AN: This is not the end and there is so much more to come and I really hope you trust me with what I do. I know a lot of people will not like this, but there was a warning in the beginning and I feel that I owe it to myself and my versions of these characters, that I am solely controlled by my own ideas. I'm not sure when the next update will be, but as you will learn with this chapter, we are farewelling time. Thank you so much for reading part one of Just Like That and I cannot wait to begin writing part two. Thank you, logicallychaotic, for all of your encouragement and I want to dedicate this chapter to you.