A/N: This is the result of me being very bored and semi-sick. I'm not sure
if it's a one-shot or not (I was considering going into Marissa's POV
and/or having some Summer/Ryan in there, but I don't know) so review and
let me know.
If you wanted to make me complicated, I guess you could call me a masochist.
These people, they think they know the real Summer Roberts. Not the one behind the mask, not the one hidden from the world. The Summer Roberts they know has nothing to hide. In a town where everyone has a hush-hush little factoid locked away—he's gay, they're poor, she's a bitch—no one ever stops to think that maybe they're not the only one.
No one except for me.
It comes with being pushed to the side, this seeing of things so glaringly obvious that no one wants to face. Marissa commits teen magazine sin numero uno more times than I can count: ditching me for Luke, Chino, Oliver, then for Chino again. And through all of this ditching, this, "Ohmigod Sum, was that today? I have plans with (insert name of latest boy toy). Some other time, okay?" of course it never occurs to her to cancel on them. Like everything she does is so endearingly something that it would take an ice queen colder than I to resist her.
If you wanted to make me real, I guess you could call me stupid.
Either Marissa is incredibly oblivious or incredibly cruel. On the one hand, she's too sweet to know. No one that projects that much innocence, from the frailty of her hard ribs and elbows to the fountains of hope that spill from her big blue-green (A/N: I wasn't sure what color Marissa's eyes are, but I looked at a picture and that seemed to be the closest color) eyes, could ever be anything less that perfect.
On the other hand, how can she not know the power she holds? When Luke cheated, he begged and pleaded to get her back. Chino went to insane lengths to save her from Oliver—who, do I even need to say it, was obsessed with her, tried to fucking kill himself over her. A normal person wouldn't do what she does to me and figure I would be okay with it.
And here's another thing. She expects me to listen. She expects me to groan, cry, burst into outrage at all the right moments while she spills her guts about every guy that's wronged her. I never talk to her about my boy problems. I never lay anything on her. She's too fragile, she's too broken. Don't trouble Marissa, just let her trouble you.
If you wanted to make me simple, I guess you could say I'm in love with her.
It's not a romantic kind of love. You can bet your ass Coop would make a shitty lesbian. And, ew, how gross would that be, doing your best friend? No, this is the kind of obsessive love no one can stop. She just has that power. Parents, teachers, kids, no one hates Marissa. And here I am again, the exception to one of the many Newport rules.
I love her so much; I'm starting to hate Marissa.
She sits across from me, eyes wide with tears, leaving a choked up message on Chino's cell phone to please call her, please love her, please take her back. Chino is no exception. Chino loves her, sure, but not enough to hate her. He wouldn't leave her if he didn't. It's not the all-consuming love that's fucking me over, but still, it's something. It's not strong enough to turn him into me, bitter and angry and hating her even as he scrambles for a scrap of her attention, but still, I admire him for being strong. I wish I could be strong like that.
"God, Sum, I don't get it," she says, flipping her cell phone closed with a sigh. "What else am I supposed to do? He won't return my calls, I don't even want to try going back to his house again..." she trails off and sucks in a shaky breath. "You up for some spa treatment today," she implores, "since it doesn't look like Ryan and I are going to be hanging out."
This is my chance to be strong, to be Chino. To tell her to go fuck herself because I can't take it anymore. Instead, I just look at her. Considering my options.
"Sure, Coop. My treat."
If you wanted to make me me, the real Summer Roberts, as elusive as she may be, the one behind the mask, the one behind closed doors, I guess you could call me pathetic.
If you wanted to make me complicated, I guess you could call me a masochist.
These people, they think they know the real Summer Roberts. Not the one behind the mask, not the one hidden from the world. The Summer Roberts they know has nothing to hide. In a town where everyone has a hush-hush little factoid locked away—he's gay, they're poor, she's a bitch—no one ever stops to think that maybe they're not the only one.
No one except for me.
It comes with being pushed to the side, this seeing of things so glaringly obvious that no one wants to face. Marissa commits teen magazine sin numero uno more times than I can count: ditching me for Luke, Chino, Oliver, then for Chino again. And through all of this ditching, this, "Ohmigod Sum, was that today? I have plans with (insert name of latest boy toy). Some other time, okay?" of course it never occurs to her to cancel on them. Like everything she does is so endearingly something that it would take an ice queen colder than I to resist her.
If you wanted to make me real, I guess you could call me stupid.
Either Marissa is incredibly oblivious or incredibly cruel. On the one hand, she's too sweet to know. No one that projects that much innocence, from the frailty of her hard ribs and elbows to the fountains of hope that spill from her big blue-green (A/N: I wasn't sure what color Marissa's eyes are, but I looked at a picture and that seemed to be the closest color) eyes, could ever be anything less that perfect.
On the other hand, how can she not know the power she holds? When Luke cheated, he begged and pleaded to get her back. Chino went to insane lengths to save her from Oliver—who, do I even need to say it, was obsessed with her, tried to fucking kill himself over her. A normal person wouldn't do what she does to me and figure I would be okay with it.
And here's another thing. She expects me to listen. She expects me to groan, cry, burst into outrage at all the right moments while she spills her guts about every guy that's wronged her. I never talk to her about my boy problems. I never lay anything on her. She's too fragile, she's too broken. Don't trouble Marissa, just let her trouble you.
If you wanted to make me simple, I guess you could say I'm in love with her.
It's not a romantic kind of love. You can bet your ass Coop would make a shitty lesbian. And, ew, how gross would that be, doing your best friend? No, this is the kind of obsessive love no one can stop. She just has that power. Parents, teachers, kids, no one hates Marissa. And here I am again, the exception to one of the many Newport rules.
I love her so much; I'm starting to hate Marissa.
She sits across from me, eyes wide with tears, leaving a choked up message on Chino's cell phone to please call her, please love her, please take her back. Chino is no exception. Chino loves her, sure, but not enough to hate her. He wouldn't leave her if he didn't. It's not the all-consuming love that's fucking me over, but still, it's something. It's not strong enough to turn him into me, bitter and angry and hating her even as he scrambles for a scrap of her attention, but still, I admire him for being strong. I wish I could be strong like that.
"God, Sum, I don't get it," she says, flipping her cell phone closed with a sigh. "What else am I supposed to do? He won't return my calls, I don't even want to try going back to his house again..." she trails off and sucks in a shaky breath. "You up for some spa treatment today," she implores, "since it doesn't look like Ryan and I are going to be hanging out."
This is my chance to be strong, to be Chino. To tell her to go fuck herself because I can't take it anymore. Instead, I just look at her. Considering my options.
"Sure, Coop. My treat."
If you wanted to make me me, the real Summer Roberts, as elusive as she may be, the one behind the mask, the one behind closed doors, I guess you could call me pathetic.
