Look at me, I'm on a roll! Sorry this chapter is so short, but I have a lot in store for this story now so be patient. :) Thank you ALL for your fabulous reviews and feedback, they honestly make my day. Y'all rule.


T:

Sara pulled away before I had a chance to memorize her taste.

It left me desperate and aching with desire, so much so that when she busied herself with readjusting her hoodie and hair, I could only focus on the tremble in my finger tips and the heat in my core. She cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ear; a nervous tick that she had never been able to fully cure.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she gently pushed away my hand, still unknowingly lingering on her shaking thigh. She coughed once, but it sounded like a whisper.

"You have my phone." She mumbled, pointing to the small cell phone that had wedged its way between me and the windshield of the stranger's car that we were still splayed upon.

"Sorry." I grumbled and made six flustered attempts at trying to fish out the damned thing. Sara rolled her eyes, hissing an annoyed breath through her teeth, and leaned over me to grab it herself. The close contact set my nerves on fire again. I slid out of my hoodie and let it slip onto the concrete, half-heartedly watching Sara as she fumbled with her phone.

"Fuck." She hissed under her breath, typing erratically on her phone. I tried to peer over her shoulder but she just glared and slid off of the car, jamming the phone to her ear. She walked to the far end of the parking lot so I could only see the deft movements of her lips, her hands twining in the front of her shirt, her anxious pacing through empty parking spaces.

I walked over to her once she hung up. Her breathing was heavier and her face flushed, and I wondered if she was calling someone or just downloading porn or something. I chuckled at my childish thoughts; she lifted her gaze to mine. I cleared my throat and faked a smile.

"Everything alright?"

"Fine." Her voice was hoarse and sharp and matched her quick movements as she brushed by me. Annoyed and surprised, I darted out to catch her wrist.

"Hey-"

"Get off." Her voice sounded oddly afraid and I watched her as she stopped in front of me and stared at the ground. She kicked idly at the pebbles that scattered the pavement, watching as they popped and pinged off of my own shoes.

"We should talk."

She finally met my gaze and the look in her eyes made me flinch; there was something starkly ferocious in her gaze, as if she had only a thread of sanity left, a thread that was inches from snapping. I unconsciously wormed my hand into my jeans pocket.

"You always say we need to talk, Tegan, that we have to fucking talk about all of our goddamn problems, like you're my fucking therapist or something." With each word, she took a step closer, stumbling towards me in some dangerous gait. I had never seen her so raw, with the confusion and anger bleeding through her eyes in hot salty tears, splashing on the concrete. Annoyed, she brushed the restless tears from her face with the back of her hand.

"Sara, calm down-"

"Don't you fucking tell me to calm down, Tegan!" Her voice cracked when she spat out my name, and this time it wasn't adorable or comical, instead it was terrifying and made my skin break out in a cold sweat. She stopped moving a foot from me and stood there in the flickering sunlight, staring through me.

"Did you ever stop to think about what we're doing?" The fragileness unknowingly crept back into her voice, and she cleared her throat to stop it. I took a step towards her; she took a step back. "You're my sister, Tegan, and we're sitting on top of fucking cars and making out like drunk teenagers. And…" She twisted her hair between her fingers and I could nearly feel the sob lingering against her teeth, clawing its way out of her throat. But she restrained it and choked it back down. I knew she was thinking of last night, replaying the splayed legs and hoarse moans in her head, again and again. She was too ashamed to say the words, despite the fact that she had said fuck more times in the last sentence then she had in a year. She couldn't admit that she had fucked me, and it made me sick to think that I thought that maybe, just maybe, she didn't regret it.

But she did, and in the back of my mind, I knew I did too.

I didn't love Sara. Not that way, anyway. I couldn't love her that way, I just couldn't. I was in love with the feeling of love, in the concept of it. If she had told me she loved me I would have reciprocated, merely so I could feel loved again, only so I could hold her in my arms and kiss her slow and deep as if my very life depended on it. But I didn't love her. I wouldn't love her, I wouldn't let myself.

She had unconsciously moved closer to me and now was only a few inches from me. I had the urge to touch her sleeve, just brush against it, but I clenched my teeth and told my damn instincts to shut the fuck up. She glanced up at me, eyes glossy with stubborn tears that refused to fall.

"I'm fucking crazy, Tegan, I'm going crazy."

"You're not crazy-"

She pushed to her tiptoes and kissed me gently, pressing her sweet tongue against my bottom lip. My instinct was to curl my hand around her waist (stop it, Tegan, stop it), but she pulled away before I could.

"Fuck." She groaned, pulling at her hair so hard that I was surprised it didn't tear. She had finally started to cry and I craved to comfort her, to pull her close and tell her that we were dreaming and that tomorrow, the world would spin right again. That tomorrow, everything would be fine.

I took a step towards her; she took two steps back.

"Sara," My voice was hoarse and desperate. I could still taste her. "You're just confused. You don't know what you want."

"Stop, stop." She choked out, her words heavy with tears. It broke into my ribcage, tore holes in my heart like nicotine. "Please. Tegan, I can't… I can't do this. I'm going crazy. I can't do this."

She sputtered and drowned in her words until she was rendered completely incoherent, yelling out desperate screams into her sleeve like it was the only thing keeping her sane. It brought goosebumps rushing to the surface of my skin, to see her come undone like this; and yet I could do nothing but stand and watch like a stranger, tearing at the strings of my jacket.

The minutes passed by. My head spun, her screams turned hoarse until her voice faded away. Her breathing was heavy, eyes bloodshot, and her words we near silent when she mumbled:

"I have to go."

I nodded, once. I felt like a fool, I felt like I should say something, anything to calm her down her bring the life back into her eyes. But instead I watched her walk away like a mute, as if I had lost my voice too.


S:

I should have been able to find it easier. It was our place, she had told me over the years, but now that I was stuck in this disintegrating soul, putting one foot in front of the other was hard enough.

I stumbled through the doorway. Everything ached.

I wished I was home. I wished I was prettier. I wished I was sane. I wished I have never gone to that fucking New Year's party in the first place.

I shook clean my absent thoughts when I saw her, sitting alone at a table. We had always eaten at the same table, by the window, since she had always said: they view never changes, so I never stop loving it.

She looked the same. When she caught sight of me, she smiled the same, and, like always, my heart rate thundered. She gestured to the seat adjacent from her and I stumbled over, sitting awkwardly in front of her warm eyes.

I looked at her with bloodshot eyes; she looked at me with a gaze too inviting for the circumstances.

"I missed you." She whispered; her voice sounded the same.

I smiled, and took her hands went she stretched them across the table. She felt the same, and I couldn't hide the smile in my voice when I whispered:

"I missed you too, Emy."