A/N: Hello all my gorgeous lovelies! Is everyone enjoying the gorgeous weather? no? that's ok it's awesome/ terrible here too. Few notes to mention: severe lack of Naomily interaction in this one. I know, I'm bummed too, but they're key points to mention and next chapter is all Naomily okay? It'll be worth it I promise! So i notice I have a bad problem with using the word unmoving which is in fact NOT a word but it gets the point across nicely so I'll work on it but don't mind them so much.

It's not quite where we want to see our girls yet, but I enjoyed struggling through dialogue in this one, so points for trying at least? I hope so!

Enjoy, and all feedback is welcome! Thanks for staying with me guys, means the world. (Bonus kisses for those who catch the El Dorado reference lol)

When Words Fail

Ch 14

Naomi POV

Monday brought little relief. Stonem- Effy- despite being normally brooding and silent, seemed especially sour. I didn't know what brought it up but I wasn't about to find out. Not if her hardened eyes and fierce composure were anything to go by. She looked better though. Once we got back to her place the day prior (after a fucking stealth escape mission to avoid the pissy twin), I nearly collapsed as soon as I stepped in her room on the bed from the amount of energy the small visit took out of me. Just as I was closing my eyes, a similar thud sounded next to me and I saw the brunette already halfway gone as she landed on the bed. I smiled to myself, grateful that she was finally getting a well deserved rest with her feet hanging loosely off the sheets.

I think I heard the vague buzzing of a mobile later, but I stirred only just. The blackness washed over the walls completely from the night and it was now very simple to understand why she had chosen white for her walls. Whatever the case may be, Effy slipped out of bed in complete silence, almost snake like in her actions before answering a hushed 'yes' behind closed doors. I was back asleep in seconds.

I woke the next morning alone. My (her) baggy hoody had been removed and I was essentially half-naked in her bed. After taking a split second to register this fact, I nearly tore myself out of her sheets for the second time in two days in embarrassment and annoyance. I was about to yell a mouthful throughout her house when I registered a cool moisture hugging my back. My eyes widened and with a slow touch, I ran a finger lightly over my spine, fully relieved when it came back with the faint smell of antiseptic. I found my own mobile on the end table next to the bed with a small yellow note perched between its closings, the minimal words on the page giving some strange sense of reassurance.

'Cleaned stitches, changed wrappings.

Don't touch, I'll change it again later.

Sanitized cuts too. Stop hating

yourself. Its ok.'

I had peered down at my stomach and noticed that she had, indeed, traced over the cuts. A few band-aids covered the deeper slits and the others smelled faintly of sterilization. I don't know how she managed to do all of it while I was asleep, but I had to grudgingly admit I was impressed. And...a bit grateful. It was still early yet, I had woken up to the sun slitting through her blinds. After a painful sigh and self-motivation, I managed to get up and snatch the black jumper from her floor, dropped carelessly on the side of the bed. It was early enough to sneak back home and change into clothes I could actually fit and sneak out without my mother catching me.

I knew eventually I would have to tell her of the weekend and my injuries, and that damned lawsuit too, but now was nowhere near the right time. I was just starting to wake up from the weekend's exhaustive haze. I had stopped by the cafe like I had gotten used to doing in this past week and felt a tangible clench of my chest when I realized today would be coffee for one. Right then...

It was finished before I arrived at college, and the first thing I saw was Effy smoking on the steps, a look of aggression that could rival Katie's easily- and that was when I knew to avoid her.

Yet still something was off, she refused to meet my eye at all. She didn't seem to be angry or annoyed, but frustrated. Boxed in almost, trapped, and it was a feeling I knew all too well. I scolded myself, Christ what are you doing? Analyzing her now? Leave the readings to Stonem...

It didn't stop me from looking out for her throughout the day. Classes passed almost instantly, like I wasn't there at all. As if no time had passed. I wasn't complaining, especially considering the knack of unease that was slipping back in with thoughts I was all too familiar. I was able to ward off the self hate for a bit longer, which I was immensely proud of, but something about Effy was unsettling me and I didn't like seeing her like this. It was aggravating not seeing her cool disposition, which I didn't understand at all considering a week ago I would've killed to see her go a day without that smug smirk littering her face. That was no longer the case, now it was like those puzzles you try to slide around to solve. Except nothing was getting solved here. Fuck.

I was able to get my mind off of it though as I enjoyed my politics class in the beautiful silence that could only be provided with the absence of Katie Fitch and all her high-heeled glory. It was short lived however as, after the break, I had taken more than a healthy swig from a comforting silver flask as I found myself in front of the door to our studio class. Our class. Fuck. Okay just have to get it together. It'll be fine, this is temporary. Her absence is temporary. You'll be back to taunting remarks and playful laughs before you know she's gone. With a small boost of courage I passed through the doors. Fuck.

Her empty space hit me like a battering ram, making it hard to physically down the swollen lump expanding in my throat. Should have had another drink. I sat down in a smattering of pain, the vulnerable space paired with throbbing injuries making it hard to just sit in that class without suffering another of my countless breakdowns this weekend brought forth. It was the most torturous hour I spent in nearly six months. By the last ten minutes I was gripping the table corner for any stability at all. Once we were let go, I all but bolted out of the room, putting as much space as I could between myself and the room which screamed of her space.

I walked back to my house shaken, listing shades of red to try and ground myself a bit more. It barely helped. What a coward. Can't even face up to the consequences of your actions can you? Newsflash, you have much worse to go through. Pitiful excuse for a girl. No, they were starting again. No. No, they can't. They can't.

I got up to my room more or less intact until I found a familiar brunette there, stretching apart pieces of gauze.

"How did you-"

"Blonde woman let me in. Bit of a feminist football mum type? Off," she nodded to my shirt. I paused a moment before just deciding to go with it. This was the most contact she had given all day and I wasn't about to fuck it up for her. She moved toward me to unwrap the bandage but I held her off with a hand.

"I- sorry, but I still need a shower. Haven't really rinsed off since...well you know." She hesitated a moment, debating, before she nodded once.

"Alright. But I'm staying here to get these on you," she held up the wrappings, "so don't take long. And Naomi?" She walked up to me, staring me dead in the eye with her old fashioned Effy see-through stare- unnerving but entirely refreshing to see on her.

"Y-Yes?" She was silent for a beat before reaching out and pressing light tipped fingers to the abdomen of my shirt.

"No more," she said quiet but firm. "Or the next time I'm going in with you. Alright?" It took me a minute to realize she was talking about the scars, and I flushed slightly at being so open to her, but nodded nonetheless. She reached for the bandages then and undid them then, informing of how to wash the wound without soaking it or opening it. I tried covering my chest up as the bandage broke free but she gave me a pointed brow before saying amused and a bit exasperated, "Like it's something I haven't seen before?" I rolled my eyes before turning away, the tiniest smirk creeping up on me.

It took me a moment of standing in front of the shower, taking deep breaths and panicking slightly- ironically enough- to get myself under control. I was going to get in, rinse the cuts, wash my hair, wash my body, rinse off, get out. There's a plan. You have to follow the plan and be done. Get out fast. As if I were gearing up for a race, I took a few quick pants, shedding my clothes before nearly throwing myself under the heating water.

Pain struck like an iron brand. The water was quick to adhere to the wounds, especially the open cuts and I gave a whimpered cry, chest shaking, before the moisture seeped around the jagged row in my back. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. A hand flew out against the wall as the water pounded against me like an engine. It burned so hot, I wouldn't have been surprised to see steam coming off me. Weak. Pathetic. Can't even step in water. What she ever saw in you is a mystery, because clearly you're not worth her time. No. No this couldn't happen. Not now, I had a plan. Stick to the plan. I grabbed the shampoo and lathered in quickly in my hair. The rest of the time moved like I was racing the clock. It had to be the fastest shower I'd ever taken. Then again, I didn't have a choice. I wouldn't give in.

I rinsed body wash off. Look at yourself, you're so damaged, can't even handle a critique. You're weak. Not good for anyone. It will never be enough. No, no stop it.

Almost done rinsing conditioner out, a few soapy bits seeping into the wound and I cried out, hurting both my nose and my back. Why are you still trying? What can you possibly get out of this? Just give in, you're not enough. It will never be enough. You're a failure. You don't amount to anything.

Almost done rinsing off. So close to being done, my eyes were blurring but it wasn't from the water. You're nothing, all you do is hurt people. All you do is hurt people. You'll only ever hurt her.

Soap was gone. I turned off the shower and hurled myself out so fast, I nearly tripped stepping out. Grabbed a towel and patted down in seconds, gentle but thorough, eager to get some of the water burning me off. I stepped to the sink and flipped on cold water, rinsing my face as if trying to freeze the thoughts solid in my head. Unmoving. A gave it a few seconds until my body started to freeze in return and I then slowly shut it off. I was cold, but calm and relaxed and the thoughts were quiet. Thank fuck for that.

I jumped in fresh knickers and wrapped a towel loosely around my chest before heading back to my room, listening out the door of our communal house before moving. I almost breathed a sigh of relief as I opened the door soundlessly, but stopped in my tracks upon hearing the stifled whispered sobs coming from the bed.

She was curled up in a ball, so quiet that the only way I knew she cried was from the erratic shaking of her thin body faced away from me. I sighed sadly at the sight in front of me, picked a large tee shirt near the dresser and pulled it over me carefully, not to break any fresh skin. I sat down lightly on the other end of the bed, and lightly pulled one shoulder down, no forcefully, but barely a touch to show I was here. She nearly fell over on her own. It saddened me to see her like this, absolutely defeated with black running eyes so thick, it would be terrifying if not so heartbreaking.

I blinked once, staring her down, before joining my legs on the bed, carefully but still painfully, and pulled her to me. She huddled to my chest without question, both hands tucked to her neck as I wrapped one hand under her head and another around her small frame. She had stopped shaking but I wasn't going to let go of her yet. Not with anyone else either.

Her breathing shallowed out as her back rose and fell softly under my hand, and she was almost asleep when she muttered with a cracked voice, "Nobody breaks my heart..." I gave her a gentle squeeze that only started another onset of tears. I held her close and although it wasn't reassuring or helpful in the least, I was here and whispered the only truth I know.

"You can't break what's broken."

…...

The sun was just going down when I woke up. I shifted uncomfortably, extremely stiff from the rest, and nearly jumped out of my skin at seeing Effy still turned into my chest. She hardly moved at all and not a sound peeped from her quiet form. If it weren't for the slow rise of her back against my palm- that had still astoundingly stayed on her the whole time- I would've been scared she stopped breathing. She seemed more peaceful than I had ever seen her, so I tried to stay put for as long as I could to let her fully rest, but after a few minutes of conscious discomfort, I had to move.

I carefully pulled away, a small groan sounding from her, and sat up, good and sore. My neck was so stiff and I had the most wretched crick in my muscles. I took a few moments to let my body wake up and looked around when the faint smell of menthol wafted in my room. I honestly wasn't the least bit surprised to see the brunette somehow wide awake already, lighting up in my bed. Her eyes caught my own, considerably brighter than before she fell asleep.

"Alright?" she asked lazily. I nodded slowly, feeling sore but much more content.

Effy just had a relaxing air about her that I was happy to sink into. We stayed there in a comfortable silence for a few moments before she suddenly pulled herself out of bed and padded over the floors, standing in front of me quietly. A few empty seconds passed.

"Yes? Can I help you?" I asked expectantly, but not harshly.

She said nothing but pulled a long bandage wrapping out (where was she keeping that?) and quirked an eyebrow. I sighed and stood up gingerly, my thigh still aching- more pronounced now that the other pains had dulled down marginally- pulling my arms up gently so she could bandage me. It wasn't until she was almost done with the wrappings that I realized, for the first time, I wasn't self-conscious about my bare form at all. And I couldn't help but bite back a smile.

"You gonna be alright tonight?" I rolled my eyes at the irony for what she asked, but nodded nonetheless with an ever-growing smile that was dropped off my face in a second flat from the shock of her lips ghosting across my cheek. She squeezed my hand loosely, whispered a small 'thank you', and walked out of my room, leaving me momentarily surprised and then free to slip back into my exhaustion.

Three days this went on. All of it. The in-college ignorance, the burning loss in drawing studio, arriving home to somehow always find the perceptive girl in my room. Three days like I was living on repeat. Until one day I wasn't.

The Thursday started like the days before until I found myself walking up the steps to Roundview and coming face to face with a smirking Stonem. In fact, in her position, she was absolutely beaming. I don't know what caught her in such a good mood, but whatever it was, I was sincerely hoping it would last. What really threw me for a loop was walking into Politics (with Kieran not even there, the fucker) and seeing-leaned in her seat, buffing her nauseating shiny nails- one uninterested and very real Katie Fitch.

I froze in my tracks, debating ten minutes in a second for whether or not to skip class before shaking my head. This was the first time I'd seen her since narrowly avoiding her at the hospital. It had to happen sometime. And come on, you're a no fucks given girl, remember?

I made my way slowly to the front of the room until I was right next to our shared table. I stood in front of it motionless and she didn't even look my way. Didn't blink an eye- completely quiet, just buffing her nails. Even as I cleared my throat softly, she said not a word. Hesitantly and extremely nervous, I slid down to the edge corner of the seat. Nothing from her. Five minutes passed and I found I could relax onto most of the seat. I didn't have a choice with how tight and uncomfortable my thigh was getting. Still nothing.

Eventually after twenty minutes came and went- with not a sign of our sodding teacher- she finally motioned to move. It shot a tension of adrenaline in my body nearly immediately and I couldn't breathe despite my lings desperate for air. She was silent when she stood up, huge bag over her shoulder, and flipping her straightened hair back before walking away without a word, on the click of her heels.

I let out an audible breath and didn't register the returning clicks getting louder until a firm, terrifying hand wrapped around the base of my neck under my messy bun- giving far too much generous pressure on my my skin.

"Listen to me, you cunting bitch," she hissed in a far-too-calm whisper, "If you fuck with her- you know who- I will fuck you up so bad that what you have now will look like child's play," she tightened her grip on the last words. My non-existent breath hitched. "Stay away from Emily of I swear on my life I will end you."

With that she released her hold and clicked out of the room, leaving me terrified enough to wet my pants.

…...

It took me nearly all of our free period to recover from the shock and get my head fractionally screwed back on right. After a long, long session with a shiny helpful flask, I found I could I at least put off the number of thoughts swirling in my head at the moment and use my experience of acting sober to get me through the last part of the day. I no longer trusted anything related to fags no matter how much I was seriously craving them.

I gathered my bag, skewered across the steps outside, and made my way back in the building down the hall. It was nearly empty, no more than five people in all to be seen. Where is everyone? I was nearly in front of the door now, and paused for a breath and one last swig of vodka, only registering faintly that I shouldn't be going to class drunk but fuck it. No use for regrets now.

I opened the door a bit louder than I'd have liked, and tripped over my feet a few times on my way to our seat in the back. Ours. I scowled a shook my head as I sat down, realizing only a few seconds later that I was the only one in the class yet. Where the bloody fuck is everyone?...

The door opened again, about a minute after I'd sat down, and in walked the familiar grey-haired pixie-cut woman, sending a clench in my chest for all that she represented in this class here. A tried to withhold the shaky sigh desperate to slip out. She didn't even look my way as she made her way to the front of the room and began erasing the chalkboard. It was anxious silence until she spoke up.

"You're twenty minutes early, Campbell," she stated plainly. She hadn't turned around while she was working and I stared ahead not quite sure how to respond. I wasn't really that early ...was I?

"Oh...A-Am I?" I gave a silent hiccup. She gave a heavy sigh and her shoulders heaved as she stopped erasing and dropped her head down. Putting the eraser down and clapping her hands off, she turned around walked toward me slowly, her usual stern face giving away nothing. For the demeanor I was so used to putting off, she was unsettling me something wicked. She finally took the chair from the bench in front of ours- mine- and pulled it around so she was sitting across from me in a silence rivaling Effy's.

She was looking at me with grey-blue eyes and a face expecting too much of something I wasn't sure I could give. Answers.

"You know, I can't say I ever approve of my students showing up to class inebriated," she said after a long stretch of quiet. I turned my head down, swaying slightly and kind of ashamed I had been caught so easily.

"Sorry," I said with my head tucked low.

"No you're not, don't lie," she replied bluntly.

"I-I uhm..." To be completely honest, I had no fucking clue how to respond to that. How exactly are you allowed to answer a teacher calling you out?

"You know, you shouldn't be in this class. You've got far too much talent to waste spending it in an introductory course." I fell silent at the change in direction the talk had taken.

"I just...just wanted to do something with art this term." She hummed her response monotone, giving nothing away as she stood up and walked back to her desk in relaxed manner.

"You know who's increased their talent tenfold since taking the course?" she called over a shoulder as she bent down near a drawer cabinet and pulled out a thin folder. "Miss Emily Fitch." I felt my brows shoot up and didn't think to flush at how easily she caught me.

"I know, I know," she laughed, "when she turned in her first partner piece with you, I thought 'Oh lord, here we go'. Barely looked human, it did. But then I gave Emily your own piece drawn of her to practice teaching structure and balance. And you know what? God, that girl's a natural." She let out a sigh as she passed the folder over to me and I found a series of portraits. They started very rough but as I flipped through them, lines were softened. Edges soothed and features more pronounced. Shadows darkened. Near the last few, it was obvious who the subject was.

"She used you for practice religiously. Drew you over and over and over again trying to get it better each time," she finished in a voice filled with something like pride.

"I...I—uh didn't-"

"In fact, this is the one she gave me last Thursday," as she handed over a separate crisp sheet. "Remarkable how steady her hand can get in less than a week. Look how she grows. How far she's come. But she's not the only one is she?" She paused in her speech and for a reason I didn't know, I was absolutely petrified to take my eyes off the page to meet hers.

"Why do you suppose I chose the two of you for our figure drawing unit?" I had a feeling this wasn't a question I was supposed to answer but, of course, I did.

"Uhm. I don't know, thought it was just us being...distracting. Or loud..." I finished lamely. The nausea was beginning to wear off.

Oh fuck me, she's sobering me up faster than I can handle. She sighed heavily and shook her head.

"I chose you two because you have promise. You were so steady in your partner works last week Naomi, and now..." she trailed off leaving me free to interpret quite easily what she thought about me now.

"Her father called the office and told me what happened- where she is." My stomach gave a surging drop, and with it went my hope of fading nausea. "Such a shame, poor girl. But if it were only the talent that kept me here teaching, I'd be well out of the job by now," she scoffed. "God knows I'm not here for the pay, huh. I'd watch you with her though, and see what it was keeping me here- your passion, Naomi." She had leaned in and put her hand on the table, trying to get a point across that really didn't seem to be doing the job.

"You took such care with your work and your subjects that I had my eye on you from the very first day. And I'll tell you what, you alone showed me the exact reason I wanted to teach in art in the first place. You have the knack for it- that's obvious- but wouldn't let yourself feel anything." A familiar tension rippled lightly over my arms.

"You'll just replicate what's in front of you. Very well, might I add, but there was no depth to what you did, and yet there was promise. And when I set you two up for modeling on Friday, you didn't really think it was for the buggered height difference did you?" What exactly she was hoping to get out of this, I don't know. But I could hardly sit here and listen to her anymore. These thoughts were dragging me back into places I wasn't strong enough to venture through yet.

"Oh. I, hah- ahem- thought it was...odd. A bit," I stammered pathetically. She smiled reassuringly at me, as if trying not to frighten me with whatever was coming.

"If I'm going to do a figure drawing session, believe me, I wouldn't set them hugging," she chuckled before growing quiet and staring at me in a strange unsettling way.

"You were so close to finding yourself Naomi, anyone could see it- I could tell she was breaking you down- and when she did there would be so much wonder in the things you make." Mrs. Jolson spoke with so much depth in her voice, that a small part of me actually believed it. That I could do something great.

"She was helping you grow- is helping you- but now when she's gone, well, it's killing you, isn't it?" I bit my lip and kept my face from cringing as my heart clenched painfully. She read me like a book. "It wasn't a question, not really. Do you know what you turned in yesterday?" I blanched. I hadn't paid attention at all this week and had no idea exactly what I had been doing.

"Yes—hah- you did turn something in yesterday. Don't worry, nothing wrong with it," as she pulled a ruffled sheet from a different folder, "there you are. And whose eyes are these exactly? Because I've only seen them a handful of times and yet you've captured them time and time again effortlessly."

I looked down at the sheet and saw under the smear of charcoal dust the undeniable swollen innocence of the younger twins eyes sketched on to the page. Not once but tens of them covering the entire sheet. Looking up, off to the side, cast down, even closed lids. They were all there. When had I done this?

"She's going to come back and I think you should show her these. Go give them to her even, give her some motivation to look past the troubles happening right now, and to be hopeful." That was the teetering line that she had now violently crossed.

"No I can't do that. I'm not doing that," I replied bluntly, tearing the page from my sight and pushing it all back to her on the table.

"Why not? What's got you so terrified?" she pushed. Get out of there Campbell, just leave.

"No, I am not doing that." I stood up abruptly and started to grab my bag, ready to leave.

"So you're going to be a coward about it." I froze.

"Excuse me?" I whispered disdainfully after a long expectant silence. She didn't bat an eye, but stood right up with me.

"All that time you spend hiding behind your don't-give-a-hoot attitude, speaking your mind of anything you like without a second thought, and when it comes down to someone who needs you, you're going to walk away?" as she made her way around the table, "After all that political rally talk last year of Campbell versus injustice?"

"You've got it pegged all wrong, she doesn't ne-"

"You really can't be that blind Campbell," she said with a confusing malice meant to rile me up. "She needs you, and of any other time in that girls life, she's going to need you now. Don't you understand that? The girl is confused, alone, in pain quite obviously, and with her father at work and her mothers absence, I would be quite surprised if she weren't breaking down right now. She put herself out there to drag you out of your shell and you're going to run from her? Hypocrisy at it's finest, I see." It was then that it dawned on me, all of it. She was right but instinctual walls still flew up.

"I'm not running! She knows i'll be there if she wants it!" I defended harshly, desperately trying to mask my faltering stance.

"Then answer the question Campbell." She spoke the words with such calm and expectancy that it made me nervous. It infuriated me that she was able to do that.

"What question?!" I cried out, at wits end.

Why are you still here?"

We both stayed put, not moving a muscle, her gentle smirk clearly trumping my furrowed brow and the silence between us at the time was nothing short of foretelling. She could see right through me. The ruse, the fears, the conflict- it was all glass to her and yet I was the one taking a long look in the mirror. She had me beat. I had me beat. I knew that she was right and the only thing keeping me from where I was bound to go were the habits I had grown into.

"But..t-there's class and coursework and such..." I muttered weakly, one last protest.

"And since when has that stopped you before?" she replied knowingly. That was it. I sighed and with refreshed drive in me, I finally looked her dead in the eye, ready to acknowledge her wake up call, about to tell her when she somehow beat me to it with a familiarity I couldn't quite place.

"I know," she said softly and nodded to the door, "Now go."

My feet were walking already moving before I registered that I was out the door.