Unrequited Love?

Stage One: Grief

"What did you do now?"

The moment Veronica stepped inside the halls of Westerberg High this dreadful Monday morning; she knew something was off. The atmosphere was tense, and she felt like everyone was watching her—maybe they were. After becoming a Heather, then almost ruining it at Ram and Kurt's party two nights ago, it was expected. And after what went down with Heather. Yes, that Heather. As in the Heather Chandler; Veronica knew she had committed social suicide for her actions, or lack of.

"What do you mean?" Veronica played the fool well as she occupied herself with sorting out the books in her locker. She didn't need anything, it was close to winter break, but she welcomed the distraction.

"Pillowcase," Duke flicked her on the ear fiercely. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

She turned to Duke and found her to be more pissed off at her than usual.

"Sorry," she found it easier to just obey at this point. "What are you talking about?"

"What did you do to Heather?"

Veronica turned white, "Nothing," she said quickly.

"Yeah, try again, maybe next time it'll be more convincing." Duke frowned, "Something had to happen; at the party. Heather's being such a bitch, more than she usually is. It's unbearable. Last night she made me go out and get her corn nuts at like, 5am."

Veronica winced, "That bad?"

"Yeah. So, if you did anything to piss her off can you fix it already? Some of us have to deal with the consequences."

"Like I don't?"

"You're different," Duke lowered her voice as the front doors to the school opened to reveal the rest of her trio. "…shit, I've got to motor, I was supposed to have her coffee, like, yesterday. Fix. It." She said before hurrying off before Heather could spot her.

Veronica closed her locker harder than necessary as she prepared herself for the worst. Looking at Chandler, if it were a few weeks earlier Veronica would have suspected nothing, but she knew better. She knew Heather better to see when she was upset. The stylish amber sunglasses most likely hid the bags under her eyes. Veronica knew Heather had stayed up all night because she had the voicemails on her phone to prove it. Most of them were full of Heather drunkenly threatening to ruin her life if she confessed to anyone about what happened, and then a few of her crying. The cycle went on like that until her mailbox became full.

Veronica would have checked on her if she hadn't been sleeping when the calls occurred. She had only listened to a few of them before coming to school.

"Hey," she treaded carefully on thin ice.

Heather pursed her lips, holding back any form of response. Veronica could see her body shaking as she tightened the hold on the strap of her bag.

"Hey Veronica," McNamara looked between the two cautiously. The makeup on her face didn't hide the bags under her eyes too well, so Veronica knew she had stayed to comfort Heather last night. It made her feel better that someone had been there to take care of Heather.

After a moment of awkward silence with Mac trying to be anywhere but there, Chandler clutching her bag, and Veronica sparring glances at the head Heather, the tension finally snapped.

"Bathroom!" Chandler's voice pierced their ears louder than when she tells Duke to shut up. "I'm going to the bathroom."

"Okay," McNamara smiled weakly. "I'll go with you?"

"Me too," Veronica said.

"No!" Heather snapped. "…I don't need you two holding my hand while I piss, okay? I'll just, see you at lunch or something." She didn't wait for them to reply as she scurried to the restrooms down the hall.

McNamara was on her in a second, "What did you do?"

"Why does everyone think it was me?"

"Because my best friend doesn't call me, crying, at late nights over just anyone," she had to decency to lower her voice and pull them aside to a secluded corner. "…what happened after the party? I know she was pissed about Dumptruck—"

"Dunnstock," she frowned.

"—but she got over it."

Veronica sighed, "Nothing happened okay? I was drunk, and she dropped me off but then I didn't hear from her again until just now. Ram and Kurt probably just pissed her off or her parents."

"…her dad is back in town again, could have something to do with him I guess."

"Exactly," Veronica pried herself away from the tiny, but strong, hands holding her back. "I say we let it blow over, Heather doesn't do talking remember?"

Mac deflated, "Yeah, but I hope this passes soon, I can't handle another rerun of Look Who's Talking."

"She likes that movie?" Veronica smiled softly at the thought of Heather laughing along to the film.

"Don't get me started," Mac ran a hand through her hair. "I'm almost too late for calc. I'll see you at lunch?"

"Yep."

Veronica felt her stomach turn with guilt. All the tears, and the calls, the corn nuts, were all because of her. But there's no way she could tell anyone else the truth about what happened that night.

Night of the Party

"You're such a light weight."

Veronica fumbled with the dial on the radio in search for a decent song, "Proud of it."

"Not something you should be proud of," Heather snickered. "And, hey! Don't manhandle my dial, you'll break it."

"Can't help it," Veronica's smirk was devious as she said, "I like it rough."

The car jerked left as Heather barely avoided driving into the safety rails. Veronica came alive with obnoxious laughter while Heather scoffed; her flush traveled from her neck all the way up to the tip of her ears.

"You're such an asshole when you're drunk."

Veronica drunkenly traced the red spots on the tip of Heathers ear with her finger, "Relax. Red is totally your color."

"Seriously, stop," Heather waited for the shiver to pass before she shoved the finger away. "I can't stand you."

"I'm your favorite. Admit it."

Heather glared at the passing street lights. "That's part of the problem, isn't it? I should have ruined your life once you refused to carryout out the task of destroying Dumptruck—"

"Dunnstock," Veronica managed a serious expression. "She has a name, use it."

Heather rubbed her forehead to assuage the approaching headache. "…if anyone else spoke to me like this," she whispered.

Veronica lulled her head over to watch Heather's meltdown with glazed over eyes.

"…why do you let me?" Veronica mumbled. "Get away with so much. Why'd you even pick me to be a Heather?"

The car slowed as they pulled up to Veronica's house. "We're here," Heather got out of the car.

She pulled one of Veronica's arms over her shoulder and carried her up the lawn. There were a few lights on in the house, so it was a bit concerning.

"Are your parent's home?"

Veronica shook her head, "Nope. Out of town for a family reunion dinner thing. The drive back will be a bitch."

Heather stopped at the front door, "Key?"

"I got it!" Veronica wildly removed herself from Heathers shoulder to retrieve the spare key from under the place mat. She grinned as if she had performed the greatest trick in the world.

"So tacky," Heather snatched the key so she wouldn't have to watch Veronica drunkenly struggle to unlock the door for another fifteen minutes. "There is such a thing as thieves, ya know?"

Heather opened the door in record time. The heat inside called out to her, she was almost tempted to go inside but decided to brave the cold weather. It was comforting.

"Have a nice night, don't choke on your vomit in your sleep, all that good stuff."

Veronica snickered, "Yeah, good stuff." She stumbled a bit but held onto the door frame to keep herself upright. "Wait, you're leaving?"

Heather looked at the hand holding her wrist, encumbering her. "Yes."

"Wait, you owe me an answer."

"To what?"

"Earlier," Veronica said. "Why do you let me get away with so much stuff?"

Heather tugged her arm back, but Veronica's grip was iron. She looked at the glazed over brown eyes before concluding—

"You probably won't even remember this."

"Probably not."

Heather glanced at the stars, mumbling, "You're happy, aren't you? With your loser friends and loser life, right?"

"I guess so?" Veronica's face fell. "Is that it? You're not happy? What about the Heathers?"

"They're not really my friends, it's just part of their responsibility to the hierarchy."

Veronica blinked. "You're an idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"Mac adores you, I heard her trying to get all of your favorite snacks together when you were in a bad mood that one day," she said. "And Duke gave me so much shit when I tried to ruin your plan for Martha. She has a weird way of showing it, but she cares. You have friends, in them and me, so be happy about that at least."

"Still, you probably want me to be nicer."

Veronica said, "Some people have a thing for blonde and bitchy."

"Some people?"

Veronica shrugged. "…is that all I'm here for? So, my happiness can rub off on you or something?"

"You're a good person. You are. That's why I feel safe telling you this stuff without worrying about you telling the whole school or something. Having you around makes me feel less shitty about all the fucked-up things I've done. So, I guess, part of me wants to be a little like you."

"…we'll," Veronica said. "If we're being honest, all that stuff they say about you being the daemon queen; I don't think it's true."

"It is."

"Even so," she laughed. "There's good in you."

"If you say so," Heather looked away stubbornly. "Now give me my hand back."

Veronica gave the queen her hand back and watched as Heather took in the scenery. The porch light above them put off a bright yellow glow that surrounded Heather like an aroura. A well-timed breeze swept Heathers bangs out of her blue eyes to make them visible. Her furrowed brow and concentrated look added to whatever was causing Veronica's stomach to toss. She found herself saying—

"You're beautiful."

Heather snapped her head back and blushed at the unfamiliar word.

"…" for a long moment they stood there just watching each other. There was no thought process in Veronica's mind, but she could tell by the way Heather chewed on her lip that she had more to say.

In the end, it was Heather who broke their staring match by grabbing Veronica by the crisp collar of her blue blazer until she could brush her lips against hers.

Veronica's mouth fell in surprise, but it didn't stop Heather from continuing the gentle caress. Heather's sticky red stained lipstick made their lips smack more dramatically with each kiss Heather gave. It felt like hours, but Veronica lost herself in the kiss. She closed her eyes to focus on the sensation of Heather's supple lips against hers.

Veronica felt her knees buckle when a hot tongue came out to lick her lower lip until it was sucked completely, safely tucked between supple red lips. Veronica latched onto the nearest thing, which happened to be Heathers blazer lapels, to steady herself. And when Heather released her lip only to swipe her tongue against hers, Veronica moaned.

"Fuck," Veronica pulled away with heaving breathes. "Holy shit," Heather Chandler just French kissed her.

"You good?"

Veronica gulped, shaking her head in different directions. "Yeah, shit, sorry, I shouldn't have done that." Suddenly she felt far more sober than before.

"I'm the one who kissed you."

"Yeah but, I'm not," Veronica fiddled with her hands nervously. "…I don't feel that way about you."

Veronica winched at her own words. But it was better than saying, I don't have feelings for you, but that kiss was really hot, so I thought why not; sorry if it confused you.

Heather scratched the back of her neck, "And on that note, I'm gonna go before I embarrass myself even more."

"Heather," Veronica tried to run after her, but the alcohol was taking its toll. "Heather!"

She was inside her car and driving away before Veronica could count to ten.

"Shit."

"Heather," against her better judgement, Veronica had followed her into the bathroom.

Heather was leaning into the mirror with her hands clutching the sink like a life line. The amber shades were tucked up into her bangs and allowed the tiredness to shine through. Veronica knew she had a sleepless night, but she felt even worse knowing it was her fault.

"I told you to leave me alone."

Veronica said, "Can't do that." She checked the stalls to make sure they were alone. "We have to talk about what happened—"

"I got it wrong, it was a mistake, let's just drop it."

"I'm sorry," Veronica didn't know what to say.

"It's not your fault."

Veronica frowned, "This isn't like you. Why aren't you threatening to ruin my life if I tell anyone what happened? Aren't you mad?" The voicemails say yes.

"Why would I be mad? You can't make people reciprocate your feelings…" it was the closest Veronica thinks she'll ever get to a confession.

"Well, be angry," she knew how to handle an angry Heather, but this was something she didn't have experience with; she looked so, defeated. "Yell at me! Threaten to tell the whole school some lie that will destroy me!"

"I'm tired, Veronica." Heather snapped. "…and I care about you, like actually care, not that fake shit I tell my family."

Veronica shook her head, brow furrowed, "You probably shouldn't be telling your family fake—"

"Whatever." Heather stopped her. "I don't want to hurt you. You can still be a Heather but for now I just need you to stay away for a while. A week or two, just give me time to get over this."

Veronica felt her heart jump to her throat, "Wait! This doesn't mean I still don't want to be your friend."

"I just need some space." The bell provided her with an excuse. "And now I need to get to second period."

"Okay," Veronica didn't know what to do with her hands. "I'll see you at lunch, right?"

"I need space from you, Veronica." Heather put her shades back on to hide her flickering eyes. "Sit with your loser friends, sit with the trench coat future school shooter, I don't care; but I better not see you at my table."

For a moment Heather was starting to sound like herself again.

"…you should be happy," Heather said over her shoulder. "You never liked being a Heather anyway."

Veronica was left alone in the bathroom with new freedom she didn't want.

"Was it my fault?" Martha asked over the roaring cafeteria sounds. "Because you defended me at the party, they kicked you out of the Heathers! I'm so sorry Veronica."

Veronica smiled sheepishly, "It's not your fault Martha, I promise. It was a mutual break up," she winced at her poor choice of wording.

"That's what everyone says once they've fallen from grace."

JD took it upon himself to sit across from the duo with a slushie in hand. "What's with you and slushies?"

"What's with you and the Heathers?"

Veronica threw her hands up, "Nothing! It was a mutual break—separation! It was cool being untouchable, but I missed you guys, is that so hard to believe?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's true so accept it." Veronica stabbed the peas on her plate. "So? What did I miss while I was at the top?"

JD chewed on his straw before saying, "While you two were off at that lame party, I was hanging around my usual slushie spot when I met this weird but nice girl. We got along pretty well so she invited me to this cool event her school is having, the theme is—"

Veronica tried to pay attention, but the Heathers had trained her to block out anything during lunch that didn't have anything to do with the latest gossip or fashion trends at school. Her well trained eyes observed three key topics to discuss; one being the disgusting barf green slacks Billie Joel was wearing, to the botched hair cut Amy was sporting, and the new girl who had made a smart decision to sit with the B-list popular squad.

"…so, what do you think?"

Veronica didn't miss a beat, "Sounds great, you should totally go."

"Yeah?" JD sounded hopeful.

"Why not?"

JD nodded, his confidence through the roof. "You're right, I'm gonna tell her I'm in. Even if I do get relocated again because of dad, it's worth a shot."

Against her better judgement, Veronica checked on what the Heathers were up to. She could see Mac gossiping with Duke animatedly while Heather checked her makeup. Not that she needed to.

Her eyes followed Heather as she went to toss her tray in the trash. It was like watching a double decker bus wreck as the new girl bumped into Heather by accident. The tray didn't spill any food or stain her clothes, but she had just bumped into Heather Chandler.

"She's so dead," Veronica said.

The entire cafeteria tuned in on the scene to watch the demise of the unfortunate newbie. But instead of a storm, there was nothing but calm.

"I'm so sorry!"

Heather shrugged, "It's okay," she looked her up and down. "You're the new kid, right? Ram's cousin Elizabeth. He told me you were moving here from Texas at his party last week."

"Yeah, it's all true. If I'm being honest, Ram's sort of an idiot and I'd rather not be associated with him," she smiled, revealing a cute dimple in her cheek. "You can call me Liz."

"Heather."

Liz smiled, "Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Sure," Heather dismissed.

When each girl went back to their table without there being an incident, the world continued to spin.

"Wow," Martha gasped. "The second person to survive getting tangled up with Heather Chandler herself. First you and now—"

"The new girl," Veronica frowned.

Dear Diary,

Why do I want to punch Eliza-what's her name in the throat so hard it'll send her back to Texas?

Notes:

Next chapter will be called, Stage Two: Sadness.

Updates will be Saturday or Sunday nights.