Disclaimer: The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy belongs to Maxwell Atoms and Cartoon Network Studios. I own this piece of fanfiction and nothing else.
Can it be coincidence that clothing from my favorite cartoon is being sold in my favorite store, and that I have an unused giftcard worth $25 for such store? I think not. Two (so far) Billy and Mandy shirts are being sold at Hot Topic. Who do you think already has them both on order?
I'm a slut :-)
Summary: Loner and lover are just one letter apart.
scream
m a n d y X g r i m X e r i s
Two lovers walked side-by-side in the sweaty June sidewalks of Endsville, oblivious to the humidity and discomfort in the air. Today the sun was framed by heavy clouds but still managed to cast bars of light all over the town. Backs held up straight and proud, the lovers chattered animatedly and unashamedly in the morning light. He picked a flower—a cherry blossom, all folded and elegant—off a nearby tree and handed it to her. It bloomed in her palm, petals unfurling from the center. She smiled and placed the blossom behind her ear.
One silent little girl trailed far behind them, squinting whenever the sun's rays beat her. Her steps were timed with theirs as if controlled by a metronome, and her eyes stung as she watched.
She was considerably shorter than the two lovers; one of whom was not quite a man and the other not quite a woman. He wore a hooded robe and she a fashionable white wrap. His robe was black and absorbed the light, but being nothing more than a skeleton, the weather didn't affect him. She, on the other hand, wore pure and untainted white, but beads of sweat laced her flesh. She shined, all pretty and aglow.
It was a simple concept: the lovers loved, and those who were left out walked alone. Mandy brushed sweat off her forehead and walked on the strip of grass separating the pavement from the street. The lush blades muted the click of her Mary Janes.
Ahead, he was demonstrating something using his hands, and she gave a cute laugh, renewing his enthusiasm. Yet Mandy could clearly see a golden apple in the other woman's hand, and her eyes were darting, darting, searching for a target.
She didn't even love him, the slut. But he was still smitten at her every word.
The light zigzagged in awkward patterns on the ground, occasionally striking Mandy. She reached the cherry tree the lovers had passed and ripped out a fistful of blossoms, throwing them into the air. The wind picked them up and made them spin in a carpet of torn petals on the ground.
She especially hated how their hands were clasped together, bone holding godly skin. White contrasting with pale gold throughout the entire walk.
Holding hands was a symbol of unity; a symbol that stung her. Unity—a state of utter completion, of being perfect, of not needing any more.
They didn't need her. He didn't fucking need her. They had what they wanted, a perfect circle of gold, of joy, and she couldn't break in.
Goddesses were only concubines, she thought, whores for the supernatural. She could do better, but he'd never look at her when he could stare into the lovely deep blue, long-lashed eyes of someone divine instead.
The lovers turned a sharp left out of sight, still holding hands. She stopped where she stood. The sun disappeared behind clouds, then flashed raw once again right on her like a sizzling poker.
And she was hot and tired and sweaty and would always be alone.
-
The basement was chilly and unkempt, a dreary setting at best. In the middle of the room, a wooden trunk glowing with supernatural power stood with its lid open.
Today was a special day.
She tore through its contents in a rather desperate manner. At last, her hand surfaced, grasping something, and she shut the trunk.
In her hand was a pink, heart-shaped box with a floral pattern traced in white. Attached with a bright red ribbon was a single crimson rose, with a full stem and a fuller flower.
Yes, today was a special day.
The label on the box read: 'To Eris, my lovely: Happy Valentine's Day. Only the best for you! Grim.'
Her breath caught in her throat. Should she laugh? Should she cry?
Should she mourn…?
Instead, she tore the ribbon from the box and let it flutter disgracefully to the floor. And hearing her heart in her ears, she ripped off the lid and held the box upside-down, causing showers of chocolates to pour out. She crushed them with the heel of her shoe, later wiping off the sticky, sugary fillings onto the box, effectively trampling it. The label was unintelligible now from the smears of candy.
But there was something left, something still whole. She grabbed the rose and snapped its stem. Fluid leaked from the broken ends and she dropped the flower, devastating its petals with her foot. Breathing quite audibly, she sunk to the ground and stared at her work. Was it possible to die from something as clichéd as a 'broken heart?'
The adrenaline slowly simmered away from her. Mandy stood up and carefully pushed the mess over to one wall. She left the basement.
Upstairs, Grim was on the couch. He caught her eye and beamed. "Mon, I can't wait for seven o' clock. Eris and I are going out for a Valentine's dinner, and I got her de perfect present! I'm gonna get it now so I have it ready when she comes."
Eyes on the ground, she skulked over to the door and stepped outside into the sunlight.
Before she left, she caught a few of his words as he disappeared downstairs. "By de way—Happy Valentine's Day, Mandy!"
She paused.
"You too," she said flatly, and slammed the door shut.
.End.
Envy is a beautiful thing, so long as you aren't the one who feels it.
Constructive criticism encouraged, since 'appreciated' apparently didn't get me much (It's going to turn into 'Constructive criticism fucking expected' if I don't get any soon).
In other news: I strongly recommend tiramisu-flavored gelato.