A/N: It's nearing the end now, my dudes. I have a hard time writing these last few chapters because they physically hurt me, so be patient.
Also! Big news. This fic turned one year two weeks ago. When I first started writing this I never knew it would become this. I originally intended to simply have a fun little smutty, secret relationship type of story that would never be published, and just let them live happy in my head. But alas, it was not meant to be. Instead, we got a fun, smutty story in the beginning that slowly turned into unrequited feelings and angst... so yeah. I'm so happy though for all of you that have read and supported me, your reviews and messages helped me get through some tough months this winter. So thank you everyone!
I do not own Total Drama, all rights reserved to the respective owners.
The sun caressed my skin when I woke the next day, and even though the alarm almost made my phone vibrate off of the bedside table, I didn't make a move to shut it off. Instead I kept repeating the mantra from before - we'd implode anyway, we're too different - over and over in my head, but it did nothing to dull the pain in my chest.
I had stripped the bed from it's sheets the night before, wanting desperately to clean away the scent of him, and thrown a pillow at the wall in frustration when even then it had still smelled of lavender. I had left it on the floor, using one of the decoration pillows from the livingroom to sleep on instead; at least that one only smelled of detergent.
If my mom had been home she would've demanded the pillow be brought back to its rightful place that morning, and she probably would've sent Will to fetch it from me. I could almost hear his naked feet on the floorboards, skipping up the stairs two steps at a time. The thought put a smile on my face, but the suffocating silence that filled the house instead wiped it away. I dragged the covers over my head with a groan, turning my back to the still ringing alarm. It was going to be a long day.
I eventually managed to get myself out of bed; brushed my hair and teeth, threw on a cozy, dark blue sweater and grabbed an orange on my way out the door. It occured to me, as I threw the peel away in a public trash can, I was being as passive aggressive as my parents, and the realisation made me cringe. When I was a kid I had wanted to be exactly like my parents, before I understood what that actually entailed. It wasn't until my teens I pieced together that the gifts were disguised bribes, material things that meant nothing in pathetic efforts to pin me against the other. Their snide comments and fake smiles stopped flying over my head, instead planting their roots somewhere deep within me; and they were now coming out in full bloom.
The thought of turning into my mother had my stomach turning into knots and I glared at the orange still in my hand. I threw the rest of it in the nearest trash can.
"I'm going to wear one of those really ugly hawaiian shirts. You know?" Bridgette said, excitement on her face and eagerness in her voice, "Geoff had, not exaggerating, ten of them."
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me", I said and shook my head as I opened my locker, Bridgette leaning her shoulder against them.
"Oh, hush", she waved unceremoniously before continuing, "We'll have fanny packs and sun visor caps, the whole ensemble."
"Sounds fun", I deadpanned, irritatingly flipping through the various notebooks - with unnecessary force - until I found the right one.
"What's wrong?" Bridgette asked, standing up straight beside me, her brows furrowing as she searched my face for some hidden answer.
"Duncan and I-" I started and shook my head, my gaze still trained firmly on the dark grey of the inside of the locker.
"You and Duncan?" It was DJ's voice that stopped me from continuing.
"Yeah, we, uhm, I helped - I helped him study yesterday", I answered without turning around, because I knew he too would see the circles under my eyes and the wrinkles etched in my forehead that told the truth, "History."
"Uh huh", he hummed in disbelief, but didn't press it further.
That day Bridgette kept tapping me on the shoulder and poking me in the arm with her pen during the lessons we had together.
That day I didn't tell Bridgette what was really going on.
That day Duncan didn't show up to school and I blamed myself for it.
On Wednesday I chewed on the back of my pen as I reread the same page in the economy book for the eighth time. I had stayed behind in the library after school, telling myself it was for the peace and quiet, but subconsciously I knew it was to avoid my house. Normally the emptiness of it wouldn't bother me. I had spent endless weekends by myself, since before Will was even born, I was used to providing for myself. But as I awoke alone in the house that morning, my dad having already left for work, the walls seemed to close in on me; and I couldn't deal with that just yet.
With a sigh I put the pen down on the table, clenching my fists as I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hands. It wasn't supposed to feel like this, to hurt. No, I thought, we'd implode anyway, we're too different. It wasn't as effective as it had been two days before.
My phone laid on the table next to me and I eyed it with a mix of desperation and hatred. I held my breath as I pressed his name and typed out a simple 'hey'; an olive branch. But as I stared at the screen, my breath hitching as my eyes glanced over the most recent message sent, the words echoed through my mind once again. Too different, I repeated before locking my phone, stuffing it into the back compartment of my bag.
"Focus", I whispered to myself, grabbing the pen from the table again, only to switch out the chewing to instead tap it against the table as I tried to concentrate.
I still hadn't told Bridgette what was really going on yet.
Duncan still didn't showed up to school and I still blamed myself.
I woke up early on Thursday, in time to see my dad before he drove to work. I had hugged him as he sat in the armchair in the livingroom, coffee cup in hand and the daily paper sprawled out over his lap. It felt awkward and unusual, but as he put the cup down on the table and returned the hug I couldn't help but squeeze a little tighter; reverting back to the seven-year-old who thought the world of him.
He offered me a cup of coffee afterward, not even trying to hide the confusion that was written all over his face at the sudden display of emotions. I said no but thanked him anyway. I slid into the kitchen without disturbing him once more, taking a seat at the breakfast bar as I tossed an apple back and forth in my hands. I knew I couldn't avoid Bridgette that day; not with both math and french on the schedule.
"See you later, kiddo", my dad said as he walked into the kitchen. He had his coat and shoes on and I nodded goodbye to him before returning my attention to the, now half-eaten, apple in my hand. What surprised me, however, was the kiss he pressed to the top of my head as he slid the newspaper on the counter in front of me. "If you want it." He looked almost nervous.
"Thank you, daddy", I said, a small smile on my lips at the gesture.
My assumption about Bridgette had been right. After avoiding her the entirety of the day before, she was tired of waiting and greeted me with a harsh stare as we met up at our lockers before the first class of the day.
"You and Duncan", she inquired, her arms crossed over her chest seriously.
"Where's DJ and Geoff?" I asked instead and opened my locker, leaning in more than necessary to avoid her demanding gaze.
"I said we needed to talk girl stuff", Bridgette explained with a shrug, letting her arms fall to her side as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other.
"I guess we do", I sighed. She didn't answer. "We had a fight."
"You and Duncan?" Her brows furrowed and the fierce attitude in her eyes replaced with concerned.
"Yes", I nodded, "I think we, I don't know, broke things off. I guess." It was my turn to shrug now before taking the book I needed and closing the locker. Bridgette stayed silent, her mouth hanging open slightly in both shock and confusion.
"I don't", she started, shaking her head, "You gess?"
"Yeah, I mean, there wasn't really anything to break off." My voice was low and my eyes were glued to the floor. "We weren't dating."
"That's bullshit and you know it", Bridgette said, her arms once again crossed and her voice filled with a stubbornness that made me snap my gaze back to her face. "You've been seeing each other, exclusively I might add, for weeks now. Even if you wouldn't admit it to yourself you were dating."
"He asked me to go to the party with him", I confessed silently, "I said we were already going, all five of us." She winced at that and I couldn't stop the guilt from building in my chest as I remembered the pain that had flashed across his face before he tucked it away somewhere deep inside, too far away for me to see. "He started telling me all these things, about how I push him away, that I actually like him but pretend that I don't." She looked at me with sympathy in her eyes and laid a comforting hand on my arm. "I may have told him he was wrong", I finished silently.
"Oh, Court." She used the hand on my arm to pull me closer to her, enveloping me in a hug.
The day went by fast after that. Having to avoid being alone with Bridgette the days before had been hard and tiring, making the day drag on and on and on. But once I had told her, everything went back to normal. Well, almost everything. Duncan still didn't show for school and even Geoff started to get worried.
I still blamed myself.
It was Friday, the last day before the Halloween party, and everyone seemed to be buzzing with excitement for the coming night; booze, dancing, makeouts with strangers in costumes. People were planning who would drive and who could get the best liquor. You couldn't avoid the topic no matter how hard you tried.
"So what have you decided on?" Geoff asked during lunch, referring to the nonexisting costume of mine. I shrugged without looking up, continuing to poke around in the mashed potatoes with my fork. "You need to start thinking, dudette. It's tomorrow. You know that right?" He turned to Bridgette. "She knows that right?"
"I know, Geoff", I deadpanned and dropped my fork as I looked up at him and DJ, "I was thinking of maybe not going."
"No, Court", he answered; if there was one thing Geoff took seriously it was parties. "You already said yes."
"I changed my mind." I shrugged again and Geoff's mouth fell open dramatically. "It's no big deal."
"No big deal", he shrieked and Bridgette sighed loudly next to me. She reached out and laid her hand on her boyfriend's comfortingly.
"Geoff", was all she said, a gentle smile on her lips and a look in her eyes that made him melt.
"Well if you change your mind", DJ cut in, "I can pick you up."
"Designated driver?" I asked humorously.
"Claimed", he answered, "You really expect Geoff or Duncan to drive?"
"Right", I said, my mouth in a tight line as I worried my lower lip, "I guess not."
"It's not guaranteed he'll even be there", Bridgette assured me quietly, leaning toward me so the boys' wouldn't hear. I only nodded, not lifting my gaze from my mashed potatoes.
I kept my head down in English class, knowing - and literally feeling - the looks Heather's cheerleaders threw in my direction. Occasional words every now and then would reach me as they seeped through the class's constant chatter. Tomorrow night. Date. Doesn't. Heather said. Shut up. Duncan would bring some. It only made me sink lower in the chair, my forehead almost resting against the table as I groaned to myself.
It wasn't unusual for me to not show up at the big parties - I had even blown off Geoff's last New Years Eve party - but something about the way their hushed voices and mentions of both Duncan and Heather made me realise people would notice if I decided not to go. My interactions with Heather had not gone unnoticed by the gossiping students, and since I had publicly accepted her invitation and agreed to go, not showing up would be seen as a personal attack, only generating more of the mind-numbing gossip.
It wouldn't matter what I decided, either the weekend would be crappy or the following week. Pick your poison. I wouldn't be in this position, I realised, if his stupid dad hadn't thrown him out of that stupid house and he wouldn't have had to sleep in that stupid campground and therefore never showed it to me in the first stupid place. If his stupid face hadn't needed a stupid place to sleep. If his stupid eyes hadn't made my stupid heart feel and if my stupid upbringing hadn't kept me from shielding my stupid self from the impending doom.
Duncan hadn't shown up that day either and I no longer blamed myself.