Hello lovely readers! I'm sorry that it's taken me awhile to update, I've been way to busy to get on a regular updating schedule yet. I had the prvilege to see the wonderful Tegan and Sara last week at the Warner Theater and the show was INCREDIBLE. Lets just blame my lack of updating on TnS shock. I apologize that this is so short as well... I was going to add a lot more to this chapter, but instead I'm going to stuff it into the next chapter - which will be a very important one, so stick with me if you're getting bored! Okay, enough rambling. I can't thank you guys enough for your reviews and for reading, you all rule. But anways. Enjoy!
S:
I let my fingers curl around Tegan's doorknob, and pulled it.
Once.
Twice.
I ground my teeth together, startling my nerves, when I realized that she had locked it. She never locked her door, always ranting that in times of house fires and apocalypses, she would be trapped inside her room, left to shrivel away and die.
Maybe I should have burned her door down. But instead I let out the heavy breath that had unknowingly wormed its way under my ribcage and sulked into the kitchen. The oven clock blinked a fluorescent green 7:34, forcing me to wonder why the hell I had decided to get up this early.
But my night had been filled with restless dreaming, dreams of craving and hoping for stability, but finding none. I wrapped my finger around my wrist, feeling up the scabs like a shy lover until I was able to convince myself that they were unimportant, merely flaws in already damaged skin.
There was a bowl of fruit sitting alone on the counter, yellowing slightly from age, and I let my fingers scrape the skin of an apple without any real will to eat it. I should have eaten, I hadn't eaten a damn thing but a slice or two of pizza in the last week, but I didn't feel the urge to.
I didn't feel most things anymore.
I sighed lowly, hushing it under my breath, as if any little utterance of noise would wake the whole damned city that was pressed into their warm beds, happily dreaming away the morning. But as I stumbled back into my room, I found myself sitting in a cold bed I didn't own with the sheets still folded neatly from a night of insomnia. I let my eyes wander to my cell phone, now fully charged on my bureau. I had the idle urge to check it, just to see if anyone was worried about me - maybe someone finally missed me - but I knew there would be no missed calls, no inquiries. And the thought alone left me with some kind of sick restlessness, growling with the notion that I was no longer comfortable in my own skin, as if it was stretched over bones that had grown too big for it. I bit down on my lip, hard enough to draw blood, and my mind whimpered with a growing weight that I couldn't stop. It pushed and pushed and my mind screamed and screamed until I was on my feet grabbing the razor from the sink, set neatly aside, and locked the bathroom door behind me.
I didn't realize that hours had passed until Tegan arrived at my bathroom door with a single, hesitant knock. I could almost picture the image of her, equipped with shuffling feet and clenching fists, biting down on her lip until she mustered up the courage to talk to me. I almost chuckled at it, lazily throwing on my hoodie as she called my name with a soft voice, still hoarse from sleep.
"Sara?"
I sighed and pulled my sleeves down until they devoured my fingers and hastily opened the door. Tegan had been leaning on it and nearly fell into me; I quickly caught her arm to steady her.
"Sorry." She grumbled, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment as she pulled herself out of our awkward embrace. "I uh, made breakfast. If you want some."
Her eyes darted from the floor to mine, caught my gaze for an instant, before shooting back to the ground. I grit my teeth and was suddenly angry at how she had forced us into such an awkward cycle, so much so that I merely pushed around her and headed for the kitchen.
"Well fuck, Sara. You don't have to have any if you don't want to-"
"I'm going out."I said simply, grabbing my bag as she followed after me. She was wearing my sweatpants, I noticed, and for some reason it made me sick to my stomach. It made me sick to look at her.
"Going out? Sara it's fucking 10 in the morning on a Sunday. Where are you going?" Tegan's voice was annoyed more than worried, although I could feel her glancing at my wrist, her voice probably flooded with damned therapist warnings and rehearsed interventions. She probably thought I was sick or something. I was sick, I was sick of her, I couldn't fucking look at her-
I ground my teeth together as hard as possible in effort to shut up my reeling mind.
"It doesn't matter, Tegan." I sighed and spun around to face her. She looked like someone I just met, refusing to meet my eyes as she bit down on her lip. Was she embarrassed? Was she ashamed? My teeth gnashed and the guilt bubbled up like acid, coating the walls of my stomach.
This is your fault. It's your fault she's hurting. I ignored my conscience and pulled my sleeve down lower. I had the urge to brush the stray hair from her eyes in some kind of comforting gesture, but it just wouldn't fit, not with my trembling fingers and the look in her eye. I dropped it and instead turned on my heel, walking towards the door.
"Sara, wait." She darted her hand out and caught my wrist. I gave a low gasp and winced, yanking it back as hard as my arm allowed, nearly taking Tegan with me.
"Shit." I grumbled, for her grasp had opened up the nearly-fresh wounds, and I rushed to the counter to fumble for a napkin. I could feel Tegan's eyes boring into me, and the silence was almost too much for me to bear. It made my bones heavy in my skin. It made it damn near impossible to face Tegan, I didn't want to see her face, I couldn't.
But I forced myself, and when I did she was staring at me, her mouth trembling in some kind of painful expression that hurt more than my aching wrist. She walked over to me and leaned around to grab a paper towel; she gently twined it around my wrist, her fingers brushing my skin in small gentle strokes as she adjusted it.
"I got you a hotel room." Tegan finally broke the silence, and her voice was oddly steady. I wished she would cry or at least give me some kind of notion of what she was feeling. But instead she gently pressed down the paper towel, over and over and over again until it was too much for me to take; I ripped my wrist to my side and glared at her.
"What the fuck are you talking about, Tegan?"
"I…" She sighed, her voice growing hoarse and she fumbled for her words. "You just have to give me some time. I… I can't take this," She gave an absent gesture towards my wrist, avoiding eye contact all the while. "And since I can't seem to help you at all, it's probably better that you go it alone."
Since I can't seem to help you. The words stung and made the breaths heavy and painful beneath my ribcage. I wanted to scream at her that I needed her, that I wouldn't be able to handle it alone, but my pride ate away at the words until they disintegrated in my throat before I could let them out.
"It's only ten minutes away. If you need me or something, you can just call. " She whispered and finally looked to face me. Her hands were twisted in the front of her shirt – something she tended to do when she was nervous – but suddenly it seemed mocking and nearly cruel. It seemed so formal, like closing off a business deal.
She was staring at me, waiting for an answer that I couldn't give. What did she want me to say? Did she want me to refuse? I sighed and tried to push my way past her. It was difficult, given the fact that we were crammed into her small kitchen, and my hips brushed far too tightly to hers. She stopped me and held my free wrist; I could feel her breath on my neck, pricking goosebumps on my skin. And I fumbled with the two things that had suddenly severed us: this sick, mind-reeling attraction between us, and my bleeding wrist, now hidden behind my hip.
"Let me go, Tegan." I mumbled, my words reverberating off her skin and back down my throat, choking up my senses and setting my nerves on edge. Her eyes flickered down to my lips and my heart pounded at the thought of her own lips on mine again, this time without a blurry mind and dull senses. But she thought better of it and dropped my wrist, her body painting intimate strokes on mine as she brushed past.
My bags were packed within the next half hour.
Tegan had helped although I protested, insisting that it was only polite. And I couldn't help but wonder as she leaned over my battered and worn suitcase if it was merely an act of politeness or a plea for forgiveness.
She walked me to the metro. I could have walked to the hotel directly, I realized, for the metro station was 15 minutes away with another 15 to get to the hotel. But I didn't want to lose her, despite the fact that she was pushing me away now. I tried not to think about it. I tried not to think about the uncomfortable bed I would be sleeping in tonight, marked by years of lovers making sweet love or loners restlessly tossing and turning. I figured I would join the latter ranks.
The metro finally came 5 minutes late, tumbling and chortling down the track in a dusty gait. I cleared my throat as people started to board, grabbing my small bags by my side.
I turned to Tegan with a mouth full of empty words that weren't nearly enough to fill the silence, despite the bustling crowd next to us. "Well," I idly shifted my bags from hand to hand. "Bye-" She darted forward and pressed a small kiss to my cheek, just under my ear. It was awkward and clumsy and it would have made me smile if I had the strength.
"Can you call me when you get settled? Please?" Her voice was flimsy and I nodded and tried to smile, but it came out as a broken grimace. I shifted my bags once more and boarded the train, still feeling the remnants of Tegan's lips on my cheek and her stare in my soul as the train rumbled into the tunnel.
