A/N: It's been awhile, a long while, but here's an update. It took time to figure out what to do with this chapter and that's the main reason it's taken so long but it was also because I forgot which draft was for this chapter. Enjoy.
School comes falling back into place as you scrub the burning liquid from your teeth and gums and almost plunge the toothbrush down your throat to scrub any traces from there. You choke on it and blood comes out with your empty stomach. "Fuck," you cough out, red metal and your inner rust leaking onto your tastebuds.
For a girl of iron and will and gears instead of organs, you bleed and cry a lot.
It crosses your mind that there shouldn't be blood from that, but a lot of things about you aren't right so you quiet yourself and rinse the blood out. It thins and rushes away with the water down your sink. The sight makes you sick. Your head already aches and your throat still burns so you search the drawers for Aspirin. You know you need a lot more medicine than just this but fuck it, at least this will get rid of the hangover.
It tastes bitter and dissolves too much before you swallow it.
You've never been good at taking pills.
She wraps her arms around you and you feel strangled for a moment until your brain registers that it's your princess. Then your arms are bent upwards and your hands are between her shoulder blades. Your head cradles itself into the crook of her neck for a moment.
Then the moment is gone and she's just grinning like wild. "I can't believe I danced with Lucas!" She squeals.
You want to cringe and run away and cry your eyes out but instead you smile for her as wide as you can. "I know," you laugh at her little happy dance.
She will never dance like that over the kiss you shared. It's a simple fact but it fucking hurts you.
You're a big girl so you make yourself get over it by the time you're seated in history. (Or you tell yourself that and you can cry later.)
"So you and Riley — " fucking Minkus, you'd almost forgotten.
"Shut the fuck up, Farkle. We were drunk." You leave it at that because you have to bury the way she makes your heart stop. He opens his mouth (you can feel it in your wrists) but you're already gone and halfway down the hall.
His feet are slamming down on the floor but you just keep walking. You have no time for boys who want to trade a fucking cow for you.
That doesn't stop him though.
Oh, fucking God. Does anything ever stop him from chasing you down? Sometimes you're a hunted mutt and she's a pretty little doe frolicking about that doesn't realize he wants to eat you both. He's still better for her than you will ever be though.
"Fuck off, Minkus," you tell him, not looking back.
For once, the footsteps stop so you slip into the art room.
It's quick and suddenly he's sitting next to you, loosening the collar of his shirt. "Wanna explain to me why you cussed out Farkle?"
"Gee, I dunno, Friar. Maybe I think he's a creep and I got sick of being followed around and of him coming onto me? Is it so hard to believe that I'm not exactly thrilled to be hounded by him all the time?" You can't even tell if you're ruining your day or if they are anymore.
"I guess not, Maya, but there are better ways of rejecting him. You know that, you're better than — "
"Will you shut the hell up? I've rejected him plenty," you growl. It's time to go.
All today is turning out to be is you fleeing from boy after boy and you can't take it anymore.
(Maybe if Lucas wasn't so goddamn uptight you wouldn't run away from him.)
You miss the liquor down your throat and warm in your belly. You miss her lips against yours. You miss everything that isn't right now and right here.
Is this where you start smoking or drinking or getting high in the bathroom? That's how all the movies go. Then again, the movies also end with the best friends fucking.
You don't exactly see that in your future. Frankly, you don't really see anything in your future. All this thinking is making your head hurt — or maybe that's the leftover alcohol.
Your dreams are plagued by dancing shadows and angel lips at night. Your stomach is warm and your hands are buzzing and your lips are otherworldly because all you can feel is her and the night before.
This probably isn't healthy.
Being in love with her is wrong.
The moral compass would run the fuck away from you if he knew.
Not a word bothers you tonight. You're practically laughing at the idea of him running away. What the fuck do you care? All that matters is you and her and all the night's skies. This feeling is infinity again, like her eyes locked on yours or that smile at the corner of her lips only there for you. Her hands are safe and her mouth is home and her eyes are everything, yes, everything in the world. There is no drug to give you this rush, there is only her. Only her. Only her. Only her. The world is only you and her and that is all it ever will be. It has to be.
She is absolutely everything to you and you are so much to her.
"I love you, Riley Matthews."
Hell has never scared you less.
reviews are love. give maya some.