Friends
A/N: I recognize that the party that happens where Gwen says those hurtful things to Layla doesn't actually occur now – it should have occurred much earlier and basically a couple nights after Warren and Layla talked at the Paper Lantern – but I have placed it as so just to space out events a bit more, considering the fact that the movie only takes place over a month because homecoming is a fall event and I wanted my story to drag out longer than that. Anyway, enjoy!
Despite the fact that I had barely spoken to the other people sitting at Warren and I's table at lunch in the beginning, I found myself growing closer to them. There was no way of avoiding Layla's conversation, and Magenta wouldn't stop asking me about my tattoos, so each lunch I would get torn away from my book and dragged into conversation. It was uncomfortable at first, given that I wasn't used to conversing with so many people at once and there were constant awkward pockets in the conversations, but I got better at it over time. The people around me were interested in what I had to say and my personal interests, and as strange as that was I was starting to like it. It was easy to converse with Magenta about my tattoos since the topic came naturally to me, and when Layla and I got into a slow conversation about books I was thrilled to find that she enjoyed the same types of novels that Warren and I read. This surprised my closest friend to great extents, and caused him to have one of the first full conversations in his lifetime with Layla on the topic of literature. It seemed he had greatly underestimated his lunch table crew, but was now starting to realize – just as I was – that perhaps they weren't all that bad. Zach and Ethan were always happy to talk about movies as well as food, school drama and music, which made the conversation between us at the lunch table extremely hearty and set me back a couple chapters in my reading. Warren didn't seem to mind as long as I was sitting beside him; he had developed a desire for me to stay close and became upset if I changed my seating at the table. His explanation for it – as I questioned him fruitfully one afternoon – was that I was the only person he truly wanted sitting next to him during school, and that he was 'likely to fry anyone else like Popsicle or Glowboy that wanted to take my spot'. Speaking of the hothead himself, we had continued our book exchange and increased the amount of novels we switched each month from one to three. If I wasn't talking to our mutual friends, I would be comfortably seated in between Warren and Ethan, nose buried in my novel and eyes moving at the speed of light to cover as many words as possible before the lunch bell rang. Warren was much the same, although I had just recently realized that he took his reading at a much slower pace.
"Warren," I mentioned quietly one lunch period, as soon as I noticed that the speed of which he was turning the pages. "You read slow."
"How do you know?" He turned to look at me, scanning my face and letting slight smile turn up the corner of his mouth. "Were you looking at me?"
"No," I admitted, smiling back and feeling a slight blush rise to the surface of my cheeks. "You turn the pages slower."
"Well," Warren huffed, seemingly disappointed with the answer, and explained. "I read a lot of sentences twice – at least the important ones. And there are a lot of those, so I go slower."
"Holy hell," My eyes widened in shock. My brain hardly let me take in each sentence before it moved to the next one – I couldn't imagine grueling through books like Warren must have done. "How did you finish Moby Dick in under a month?!"
"Like I told you - I read when I can't sleep," He shrugged, turning back to his novel. We both continued reading until my frantic turning of the pages caught his attention. He obviously hadn't noticed it before, but now that I had brought up pace he had noticed mine as well. "You, on the other hand, are like a hyperactive chipmunk when you read."
"That's not true!" I blushed again, fully smiling this time because of the simple thought that I was clearly on his mind. "More like a...a normally paced squirrel. Maybe a little bit too excited."
"Nope," Warren shook his head, smile growing wider as he rose a brow. "You read like the world's gonna end tomorrow and your only priority is to finish Ulysses."
"Shut up," I mumbled, scrunching up my nose and staring down at James Joyce's novel. "I read just fine."
"Sure," Warren drawled jokingly, gently bumping my shoulder with his. "Loser."
There wasn't much I could say to that before the bell rang, ending our lunch period together and causing the whole table to get up in unison. Before I could venture off to class, however, I was stopped by Layla who asked me something I never thought anyone would have asked in a million years.
"Eleanor," She began, grabbing me by the arm and catching Warren's attention beside me as well. "Would you wanna come dress shopping with me and Magenta tomorrow?"
"A dress?" I grew confused as we continued walking towards the general direction of the hallway. "For what?"
"For homecoming..." She reiterated with a slight smile, laughing slightly as my lips formed themselves into an 'O' shape. "It's next week, and since you said you wanted to go we thought we'd ask!"
"Oh...I'm not sure," I looked at Warren – for no apparent reason I could muster – and then back at Layla.
I hadn't exactly thought this through; going to homecoming seemed more of a thing to do with a partner, and I didn't have one. I also didn't intend on spending a Friday night surrounded by parents, dressed up teachers and people I didn't know who planned on making awkward small talk until one of us was brave enough to part and break for food. A few friends was something I could handle, but homecoming seemed like a step too far. That, and also the fact that I hadn't dressed up since my preschool recital, caused my desire to attend this event very low. Despite this, there was one pulling factor in it all, and it was spending time with Warren. I didn't care if we were driving around or working shifts at the Paper Lantern; I loved being around him and found his presence to be extremely warm and comforting and wanted to take each and every opportunity presented to me to spend more time around him.
"Why not?" Warren leaned on the locker beside mine as we all stopped so that I could get my books out. He hadn't mentioned homecoming in a while, but it was clear that he still wanted me there. "We'll all be there."
"Yeah," Layla smiled, assuring me as I looked between them. "It'll be fun! And if you really don't want to be there after five minutes there's buses going back and forth all night."
"Well," I weighed the options in my head, reminding myself that it was important to crack out of the shell I had been sitting in for so long. "Alright – I guess I can give it a shot."
"That's the spirit!" The red haired freshman nodded, giving me a final grin before she bid us farewell and headed to her own class. Her positivity caused a smile to form itself on my face as I waved back – Layla was turning out to be a lovely girl, if not a little eccentric.
"She's sweet," I muttered guiltily as I closed my locker, realizing that I had denied myself the opportunity to gain a friend for a long time. "I like her."
"Hippie's alright," Warren admitted, pulling a face as we continued down the hallway. "Still can't understand why she wants a guy like Will."
"She said that they've been friends since preschool, no?" I remembered what Layla had told me about Will in the past couple of days. "If they've grown up together it's no wonder at all."
"Even with that," Warren held the classroom door open for me even though Hero History wasn't his block that period. "I would think she'd be grossed out by someone who was as close to her as a brother."
"You'd be surprised," I smiled, wiggling my eyebrows and clutching my books to my chest. "We women are confusing creatures."
"No kidding," Warren snorted, beginning to back away. "I'll see you later Elle."
"See ya," I smiled after him, taking a moment to watch his retreating figure heading towards his own locker before seating myself at the back of the classroom and waiting for the rest of the students in my class to file in. Hero History had been an interesting course so far – we had covered the first hero ever discovered and how the types of powers and their classifications flourished, as well as the discoveries of the mutant genetic makeup and the huge leaps that science had made by safely testing on supers. At the moment, we were covering traumatic events and happenings in history, and how some of the heroes that were still alive to this day had helped in emergencies. Overall it was an interesting course, but I felt rather frustrated with the fact that the kids in the hero track were the only ones that learned about this subject matter. This didn't seem to be particular to heroes only; we were learning about general events that affected the entire nation and sidekicks as well, so it was unfair to shield them from this kind of knowledge. I did, however, take into account that there was Hero Support history and that they probably learned their fair share of this subject matter as well. Regardless it was silly to divide each and every one of the courses offered at the school into Hero and Hero Support except for Save The Citizen – it made the school's obvious fascist complex even worse (except to the eyes of super parents) and caused even more segregation among the students, not to mention social rifts.
Our class began and Mr. Whitehall began to talk more about the famous bank robbery with Invisitron and Comblast (two villains that had specialized in robberies for years only to be caught later by The Commander and Jetstream), his white eyes shining brightly as his visible excitement about the topic shone through. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that he loved the subject he taught and he taught it very well – I had no problems understanding the subject matter and enjoyed the lessons to great extents. The lesson flowed smoothly; he showed power point presentations and handed accurate news articles for us to look at as well as a video of the villain's capture. By the end of the period we had gained a better understanding of why it was important to always have young, generational functioning heroes who were willing to take on the role of sworn protectors to keep the city safe.
"Don't forget," Mr. Whitehall reminded the class as we began to exit the classroom at the end of the period, his white eyes shining. "You have your essays due next week on the importance of security systems and how they have assisted supers throughout the years - I want three references at the very least!"
There were some nods and some groans, but I ignored them and made a beeline to the exit. I generally liked getting to the change rooms first – the girls were fast to crowd and I wanted to make sure to get to the back of the bleachers so that I could hide away comfortably for the rest of the period. Boomer had seemed to understand my power enough to know that I was a weakling, so I still stowed myself away next to Warren's giant figure each class. Avoiding the mass of students that had gathered in the central hallway, I took a shortcut that Magenta had let me know about and used the back entrance to the girl's locker rooms to change. It wasn't that I was uncomfortable with my body – it was the simple fact that crowds caused my stomach to tie itself into knots, and it was worse if we were all in a small room. So, just as a large group of girls filled into the change room, I was already on my way out with my bag locked safely in a locker. I let out a sigh of relief; each time I avoided a crowd it felt like I had escaped a tornado or something of the sort. As soon as I spotted Warren on the bleachers I made a beeline towards him, marking it as my pillar of safety and letting out a long breath upon sitting down.
"In a rush?" He gave me a strange look before questioning my speed. "Are you hiding from someone?"
"Oh," I scoffed. "No – well, maybe Boomer...I don't want him to spot me if I'm out last, and the locker rooms get really claustrophobic."
"I see," Warren smiled. "So that's why you use me as a shield."
"Wh -" I spluttered, a blush forming itself on my cheeks for what seemed like the hundredth time that week. "I-I do not!"
"Right," Warren drawled, swinging his whole body towards me. "Is that why you practically folded into yourself behind me last class?"
"Oh alright," I moaned, giving up my charade. "I just don't want to get picked again. Last time was bad enough and Boomer is relentless."
"I'm teasing," My friend smiled, breaking his serious face. "Hide all you want."
"Thank you," I muttered sincerely, forcing a low rumbling chuckle out of him as the rest of the students filed in and the class started. "I appreciate that very much."
The first match was between Lash, Speed and two freshmen (Speed had recently come back to the school after a week of suspension and had caused poor Warren to basically shut down for an entire lunch to try and control his anger) who were both capable of controlling air. They seemed to be twins based on their similar facial structure and capabilities; they fought flawlessly and were giving the two school bullies a run for their money, but the villains had experience on their side and fought back just as hard. The match went on right to the buzzer – by the end of it Boomer had nearly fallen out of his seat three times from the powerful gusts of air and Speed was looking fairly disheveled, but the siblings were too distracted by their villains to realize that their citizen was very close to being mulched. Even with a last gust of air thrown it's way, the mannequin still fell into the mulcher and the villains were crowded winners. In the second match, however, it seemed almost certain that Speed and Lash would be defeated. One of the two heroes had telepathy – it was clear by the way he could easily predict his opponent's movements – and the other had invisibility. These partners clearly had a bit more experience than the freshmen, and focused their efforts much more on saving the citizen instead of attacking the villains. Whilst their defense was strong however, it was not concrete. Lash managed to catch the Invisible girl, whilst Speed focused his efforts on the telepathic boy. The game dragged on and on until finally their citizen was mulched as well, however this time Speed and Lash looked a little worse for the wear and slightly less confident in their win.
"Hit the showers!" The coach boomed from his high chair, yelling for the rest of the students to leave the gym as well. "Everybody get out of here!"
"I'll meet you by the buses?" I looked up at Warren, sharing a nod with him as we both disappeared into our change rooms. The girls room was stuffed to the brim, to say the least, so I quickly grabbed my things and changed in a bathroom stall, not wanting to deal with anyone eyes roaming over my body and possibly making comments that day.
Making record time through the crowded hallways to dump my books in my locker, I located bus number fifty three – the bus running to our neighborhood had what seemed to be the least amount of students on it – and boarded. As per usual Warren was in our typical seat at the back of the bus, and I joined him with a smile. As soon as I had slid into the seat and the warm heat from the bus's system - as well as Warren's temperature beside me - struck me, I felt an overwhelming exhaustion. Last night had been a late night with all of my Mad Science homework; Warren had been tutoring me in between breaks at work, but Medulla handed out a lot of work and I needed to keep up with all of the assignments. This resulted in several late nights in a row, and I was truly looking forward to a full weekend of sleep. However, I couldn't resist the sleepiness that began to shut my eyes as the bus began it's calm descent towards the mainland – the bus rides down were always extremely more docile than the ones up – and felt my eyes droop shut as I gave in to the exhaustion. I knew that I would get at least fifteen minutes of shut eye; the route that the bus took caused it a slight delay in winding through the rich residential areas before it reached the slightly more dingy ones. So, when Warren shook me awake fifteen minutes later – I hadn't even realized that I had passed out on his shoulder - I felt slightly more invigorated. I blushed again as I took note of the fact that he had let me nap on him for a solid fifteen minutes and tried to hide it as we exited the flying vehicle, now disguised again as a school bus, and began the walk to our restaurant.
"Sorry for passing out on you," I internally chastised myself for not being able to keep my eyes open.
"You've been tired then, hm?" Warren didn't seem to mind the fact that I had slept on him at all, and now that I could take a good look at him, it seemed that he had a little extra energy in his walk. "Staying up late?"
"Yeah..." I conceded, not wanting to admit my terrible schedule but not bothering to hide it, since just moments ago I had been napping comfortably. "I've been trying to catch up in Mad Science."
"Your marks are getting better," Warren nodded. He had continued to tutor me in between breaks of our shifts at the Paper Lantern, but my life was just getting so busy in between the school work and real work and therapy sessions that I barely had time to rest anymore. "But you've gotta sleep, Elle."
"I know," I smiled a bit at the sound of my nickname again, wondering why the hell it gave me butterflies each time he said it. "But with work, and the rest of my classes...I mean, I've dealt with worse in my time but I just feel like a need a vacation already."
"Junior year is where it gets hard," Warren agreed, grimacing. It seemed he understood the struggle as well since he was also in his Junior year with me, although he was much better at balancing his stresses than I was. "They start to push you on what you want to do after you graduate."
"Do they?" I rose a brow sarcastically, dreading the upcoming conversations with the school where I could only assume we would be urged towards a hero lifestyle. "Great."
We started our shift minutes later upon reaching the restaurant, where I also took the time to tell Annie – our manager – that I wouldn't be able to come in tomorrow because of an appointment. She bought it, and since Warren had agreed to cover my shift for that night I had faith that I was in the clear to go dress shopping. Obviously, these kinds of lies didn't happen very often, but I was in high school and needed some time exploring, so I figured that missing one shift to innocently go dress shopping wasn't going to hurt anybody. I thought about what kind of dress I wanted as I waited tables, slapping a smile on my face and mindlessly passing on orders to the chefs all the while humming to myself. I had thought about a long black gown at first, but then changed my mind to something short, and then long again. The color, on the other hand, was a totally different discussion. My favorite color was black, and although I knew that there was a possibility of finding something else I liked, Layla was most likely going to bother me about wearing something so dull on my first occasion. I sighed, smiling slightly at the fact that I could call some people around me friends instead of acquaintance now, and continued to wait on my tables with a much truer positive expression.
"Hey Elle," Warren nudged me as I passed by him on my way back to the kitchen hours later. He held four trays of food in his hands, presumably going to serve the hungry family sitting in one of the front booths. "Is that...is that hippie?"
"Uh," I narrowed my eyes as in the direction where he was looking, eyeing the small green clad figure sitting in a secluded booth far away. "Looks like it – what's she doing here again? She only comes here when she's sad."
So far Layla had shown up a couple more times at the Paper Lantern – we had talked to her and tried to cheer her up but it was obvious that she came here to get away and grieve based on the multiple dead flowers that she left in her wake. Although it was good business (Layla tended to eat when she was sad and drown her sorrows in good food) I couldn't help but feel for the poor girl who was clearly dealing with months of frustration and torture watching the love of her life stay with another girl. I was angry with Will for not realizing what a gem she was and how much she liked him, but at the same time annoyed that after all this time, Layla hadn't made a move or said anything to Will. She had been angry and bitter without letting him know her feelings, and when I thought about it the only reason that her and her friends had to be angry with him was that Will had abandoned them to hang out with his new 'hero' friends. All the other emotions besides that could have easily been solved, but Layla wasn't taking any action and Will was as oblivious as ever.
"I'll check on her in a couple minutes," I assured my friend, bumping his hip as I shifted past him to go collect my tray for table five. "Our shift's almost over anyway."
"You've got an eyelash on your cheek!" I heard Warren call out as I made my way into the kitchen, and was thankful that the wall shielded me from his gaze because there was a blush on my face that I was sure wouldn't go out soon. I swiped at my skin, trying to rid it of the runaway lash, and made a wish in it's stead just to be secure. Then, I collected my plates and tried to believe in myself that I could calm the color on my cheeks before bringing a couple their ordered food. This was my last table of the night since it was right before closing time, so I took the opportunity to remove my sweater and uncover my artwork. Annie had requested that I wear a sweater when the restaurant was crowded as to keep the aesthetic of the restaurant going, but agreed that after certain hours when business died down I could relax and wear short sleeves. I agreed with her standards although I didn't agree with her thought process. My tattoos were not a representation of how well I did my job; with or without them I was still a good waitress and they didn't effect anything but the visual quality of the restaurant. It frustrated my slightly since I was getting used to the idea of uncovering myself to the world slowly and becoming more confident bit by bit, but this seemed to be a step backwards in a sense. Either way, I agreed and was happy to have a job – at this point that I was at I didn't care if I was scrubbing toilets or serving the Queen her tea – I just needed to get money to eat and pay the bills.
It took the rest of the guests another half hour to finish their meals, and by that time it was about two hours until closing time. Annie was still in her office, but the cooks were preparing to pack up and only stopped when I asked them to whip up some fresh dumplings and noodles for Layla. I quickly located her in the facility, retying my loose bun as I went to sit down in front of her. To my surprise, her eyes were red, glossy and puffy as if she had stopped crying after hours and hours of it. She tried to smile and greet me as I sat down, but it didn't come out as much more than a broken greeting. It was clear that something had happened, but I didn't bother to ask her anything until Warren came around with her food. She smiled gratefully at us both as he sat down beside me.
"So," He started in his baritone voice. "What happened this time?"
"I-I went for a walk to clear my head," Layla muttered, beginning to lift her noodles onto her fork. "In my neighborhood – which connects with Will's neighborhood – and when I walked by his house there was music and lights..."
"He had a party?" I hadn't thought that Stronghold would have bought into what seemed to be the typical hero jock asshole role at Sky High. Gwen had truly done a number on him, from what it seemed.
"Apparently," Layla began to eat her meal with vigor, pausing in between bites to describe the rest of the tale to us. "He only invited heroes – and obviously I was angry with him so I wanted to talk, but when I went inside Gwen told me the truth."
"What'd she say?" Warren leaned back, letting a long huff escape his nose and wrapping an arm around the back of my seat. It took everything I had not to grin like an idiot and pay attention to poor Layla, but Warren's warmth was getting to me and it was hard not to react to him showing affection.
"She said I was just embarrassing him and that he's avoiding us," Layla's eyes welled up with tears once more. "She said he didn't invite his old friends for a reason and he knows I like him. She told me he's just too nice to say that he's not interested a-and that..."
Layla trailed off, and it took some more encouraging from Warren and I to get it out of her that Gwen had told her to leave very rudely. Layla wasn't a rude person by any means, but when Will had encountered her trying to leave his party he had tried to talk to her, and she had told him to 'have fun with Gwen because they deserved each other'. She had then collapsed into tears and hid in a tree until she had gathered the nerve to come to the Paper Lantern, where currently she was gulping down the rest of her meal whilst trying to hold back sobs. I glanced at Warren nervously, noticing that he had the same amount of helplessness on his face that I had, and chose to speak first.
"Layla," I began, trying to place a sense of reality in the girl. "You said he tried to talk to you, right?"
The girl nodded, picking up another one of her dumplings with her chopsticks and reiterating that he seemed confused as to why she was angry with him.
"Maybe Gwen lied," Warren suggested. "The bitch does that."
Layla choked a little at his usage of words, but didn't say anything more and simply continued to eat. I didn't know whether or not the wheels were turning in her head, but I continued to remind her that after all this time as best friends, there was no way that Will would just dump her friendship behind for a girl. Will might have been oblivious and stupid at times, but he didn't come off as a total asshole to me. Even in his fight with Warren he had seemed to be meek and apologetic – although he hadn't done anything wrong and was only trying to get by on his first day of school. Will struck me as someone who new right from wrong, just like Warren – it was just that a freshman wanted to explore, and Will didn't have the clarity that my friend had. It was difficult to tell when a girl like Layla was in love with you when she had hidden it from the second grade onward – especially since she hadn't said anything or made a move when Will had begun to date Gwen. I reminded her again and again that she should try and get into contact with Will, and Warren repeated that Gwen was known to be a filthy liar whom Layla shouldn't have trusted. Gwen's words were never something to go by, Warren stated, unless she was giving instructions in Mad Science. I stored that information in my brain for future reference, counting on the possibility that I could be effected by those lies at some point as well.
"I don't know guys," Layla shook her head fifteen minutes later after we had continued to try and convince her against Will's wrongdoings. "He could have said something earlier but he didn't – he was obviously choosing her over us."
"Do you really trust what she has to say?" I narrowed my eyes, not wanting their friendship or possible relationship just to be ruined by miscommunication. "I would talk to him yourself, just to be sure."
Layla was quiet once more, finishing her water before staring between the two of us. "I'll think about it, but I don't care about the dance anymore – he hurt me and ignored his friends for weeks. That can't be fixed by a dance."
Both Warren and I breathed a heavy sigh; that was clearly all that we were going to get out of her tonight. Obviously saving her homecoming situation was off the table now – the dance was in three days and there was very little chance of Will interacting with Layla since they didn't have any classes together. She still, however, expressed her desire to go to the dance and before leaving instructed me to meet her outside the mall downtown with Magenta tomorrow. I smiled and agreed, not wanting to let her down since she had endured so much emotional trauma and it was clear that she needed some girl time. I hadn't really ever understood what 'girl time' was, but I was willing to try, especially since the concept involved friends and I needed to focus on strengthening my relationships. Warren reminded me of this as we began to clear tables, preparing for our last customers to leave. It was then that I spotted a distinct blue shirt seated in a booth, and notified Warren of his presence.
"That's Will," I murmured softly, trying not to attract attention. "Should we do anything? He knows both of our faces and Eric already left for the night."
Warren clenched his jaw, cursing our absent fellow employee and then choosing to go sit at Will's table with a full tray of glasses. I couldn't hear everything they were saying, but I overheard Will confirming that he wasn't attending the dance (obviously something had happened with Gwen considering his put out expression) and that he was looking for Layla. It was at this point that Warren shook his head, letting Will know how much of an idiot he had been and telling him that Layla was completely into him. Will shook his head in denial, and I could hear him uttering that she 'wasn't after tonight' as I approached the table. I felt the desire to say something – Will had hurt people who were supposed to mean something to him, and this resonated very deeply with me – so just as Will finished his sentence and mentioned how he wouldn't have been surprised if his friends never talked to him again, I butted in.
"You must have been a real jerk then," I picked up the tray of glasses that Warren had set down on the table, and rose a brow as both boys looked at me. Warren shot me a slight smile, warm brown eyes meeting mine and causing me to blush again. I nearly cursed; I was doing entirely too much of that.
"Yeah," Warren agreed, looking back at Will who's eyes trailed over my tattoos. "Cause no matter what we do, we can't get 'em to stop talking to us."
Warren left the table with a last face at Will, making sure to emphasize the fact that he dissaproved of his behavior and that he had a lot of patching up to do. Will said nothing else and ordered nothing before leaving, only staring back at the two of us as we cleaned the tables sullenly – we had both dealt with about as much drama as we wanted to for the night. I was beginning to realize that freshmen seemed to be able to create that quite a lot – Magenta and Layla were gossiping often at the table and it took everything I had to tune them out. I didn't want to be a part of the information superhighway, and I would never want to be.
Unfortunately, I was forced to deal with their gossip the next day when I met up with Layla at the mall after school. It was tedious to listen to them drone on about other freshmen in their class and what they wore, or who they were seeing – despite the fact that they were Hero Support, it was obvious that they had their own cliques and separations. It took forever to find a different topic to talk about; I was too shy to butt into their conversation and when Magenta asked for my opinion and I tried to change the subject with a question she would ignore it. I was near the point of exasperation until Layla spotted a dress shop and dragged us into it. There wasn't much to say about it besides the fact that dresses were designed for clubbing only and didn't suit a high school dance whatsoever. So, fruitfully, we moved to the next shop down the row of stores. This one was a little more suited to my standards; many of the dresses were alternative but there were several that caught my eye. Poor Layla couldn't find anything that she liked, but Magenta and I both found multiple dresses to try on.
The first dress came up a bit too short for my liking, as well as the second and the third – they seemed to be too loose for me and I was beginning to give up, but upon slipping on the fourth dress I knew I'd found the one I wanted. It was black, sleeveless and came up slightly above mid thigh, tight around the bust and loose underneath the criss cross of the fabric. Despite my tattoos being on full display, I bought it right away without even bothering to look around the rest of the store. The dress complimented my figure and I loved the way I looked in it; even after homecoming I knew I would continue to be happy with my purchase. Layla and Magenta agreed with me, although Layla was looking slightly disheartened at the fact that Magenta had also found an alternative purple dress that she had liked with a black lace pattern all over it. We assured her that she would find something in the next store, and find she did. Everything was colorful and bright; even the music was positive and upbeat. The only thing that I enjoyed throughout the entire store was the shoe department, where I looked around for my size 8 and picked out a nice pair of black five inch heels with a stud design on the back. For the cheap prices at this mall I could safely say that the items were of fairly good quality and that these were awesome finds.
Layla exited from the change room five minutes later with a red number on, spinning for us and asking us what we thought. The dress was like the length of mine, coming up mid thigh with gold accents along the bust. It was cute, but it just didn't seem like Layla. We were honest, telling her that although red was a strong color, it clashed with her hair. She moved on to the next dress, which was a light blue and tight to her skin. This one was a bit longer and had a stooped neckline as well as an open back.
"It's a beautiful color," I smiled. "But are you comfortable in it?"
"Sort of," Layla squirmed. "It's a little hard to walk, but I like the color."
"It's nice," Magenta offered, nodding as well. "But I told you – green goes well with your hair! Try the long one on."
Layla's final dress was perfect for her; it was long and green and complimented her figure to great extents. There was a gold ribbon running around the waist line, twisting and turning to loop into the back of her neck so it was visible that it supported the dress. It went perfectly with the red color of her hair, and she looked very happy with herself when she looked in the mirror. It was settled after she found a pair of gold heels to go with it – Magenta had assured us both that she wanted to wear her combat boots with her outfit much to Layla's dismay – and we made our way out of the mall with successful purchases in tow. Layla's mother was kind enough to drop us all off at home, and I thanked her multiple times for it as well as Layla for bringing me out in the first place. She shot me one final smile before taking off with her mother, assuring me that we would see each other tomorrow.
I made my way into my apartment with a final sigh and eyeing the still open doors of the Paper Lantern. The shopping trip hadn't taken that long, and I was debating going back and telling Annie that I could work the rest of the shift for the night, but something held me back. There was a tiny bit of guilt in my stomach for lying to Annie about my 'appointment', but I shoved it down and convinced myself that spending time with friends was a good thing as long as I didn't jeopardize any of my work. I quickly unlocked my apartment and hung my dress up in the closet, glad that I had reminded myself to buy coat hangers as well as cooking supplies. I cooked chicken as I did my homework on the small counter top, whizzing through all of the homework besides Mad Science and hoping that Warren would be able to help me with the problems I was having trouble on at lunch. Most of the concepts that Medulla had tried to explain to me so far were fairly clear in my mind now, but I was still having trouble with some of the specific ones. Warren had worked wonders; I had to give him that.
Upon finishing my chicken, and preparing my books for tomorrow, I decided to turn on the radio and get some liquor in my system. I didn't want to have another crying session in the shower today and I certainly didn't feel like calling my mother OR getting flashbacks whilst I tried to sleep – despite the wonderful day I had had – so I grabbed a small bottle of whiskey and coca cola and ventured into the bedroom. I had to admit; it was nice to know the fact that a bed frame was on it's way to my house since I hadn't had a bed frame in nearly eight years. I also hadn't had a dress in eight years, so it was mighty fine that things were changing.
I took several shots in the span of ten minutes, turning on the radio and listening to Men At Work's, 'Land Down Under'. I hadn't heard the song since my real father had lived with me, so it struck a couple cords and I sat up to listen to all of the words properly. I remembered my father turning this song up whenever he heard it on the radio, or when he was cooking breakfast in the morning, or when he was shaving in his bathroom. He hadn't been the friendliest man in the world and didn't always show a lot of positivity, but he loved this song and always found the time to enjoy it. I didn't know how I felt about it; on one hand I wanted to crack the radio open and on the other hand I wanted to sing along with the little words that I did know in memory of my father. I hadn't heard of him nor seen him since he had left with his other woman, so to hear something that reminded me of him so much was rare and brought tears to my eyes.
But, like all good things, the song eventually came to an end and was replaced with Motley Crue's 'Saints Of Los Angeles'. I didn't mind this at all and left the knob, going instead to turn up the volume and taking a large chug of my alcohol. The point of me drinking was to get drunk fast and fall asleep, so I wasn't surprised when the effects of the alcohol came into play and I felt a wave of fatigue sweep over me. Despite this, I continued to drink to expel any further memories of my family that tried to pop into my brain to the point where I was so drunk I didn't even realize there was a knocking at the door until the radio changed songs. I shut it off with a smack, stumbling towards my door and eyeing out the peephole. It was Warren, and I was utterly smashed, meaning that the situation following couldn't have possibly been good.
"H-hello!" I swung the door open, just as the first hiccup of the evening made it's way up my throat.
"Eleanor?" Warren looked at me quizzically, as if surprised to see me stumbling slightly and slurring my speech. "I have your amp..."
"Yes..." I pointed at it. "I see that – come in."
"Are you drunk?" He questioned immediately. Warren wasn't an idiot, and it was rather obvious in every form that I was inebriated, so I wasn't surprised when he figured it out.
"Yes," I led him to the bedroom stumbling slightly, hiccuping as I went but managing to keep my steps fairly straight. "I am c-completely shit faced."
"Well," Warren grunted, setting the amp in my room and plugging it in. "Before you vomit I should probably let you know that there's an IKEA truck here."
"Fuck," I muttered, flopping on my bed face first. "That's n-not good."
Warren was quiet for awhile, regarding my form on the mattress before sighing and going to organize my CD's. I could hear the distinct clacking noises and make out some shuffling as well. It took ten minutes for me to move my drunken ass and turn around so I could face him, and when I did all of my books were organized as well as my CD's. Warren was now flipping through a copy of Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, and it took me awhile to comprehend the organization skills before I could say anything.
"Wow," I drawled, leaning slightly to one sight and not being able to maintain my balance even whilst seated. "You should b-be a librarian, Warren."
All I got in turn was a snort from him before there was the distinct knocking on my door. I groaned, flopping back into bed lazily and complaining about how 'everyone was knocking on my door tonight'. Warren merely lifting himself off of his position on the floor and made his way into the main room, opening the door for me and speaking to whomever was on the other side. From what it sounded like they were moving furniture in – Warren was instructing them where to place everything and I trusted him enough to make good choices so that he wouldn't have to move it again later. I really didn't want to step outside of the bedroom but knew that I would have to eventually to sign more papers from the delivery men themselves. In fact, around ten minutes later after Warren had placed the bookshelf in the bedroom by himself, he gently shook me and coaxed me to rise so that I could sign forms.
"Hello," I smiled sloppily as Warren guided me out of the bedroom to find three delivery men standing near my door. "What can I d-do for ya?"
"You just need to sign these miss," One of the larger workers held out a clipboard for me as well as a pen. "The bottom line."
"Here?" I started to sign my name on the first line I saw. The pages were blurry and so was his stubby little finger, so I could barely tell what the heck he was pointing at.
"No," He stopped me, marking a little line with an 'x'. "Here."
I began to sign my name there, only to be stopped again and be told that I was signing underneath the line instead of above it. I sighed, feeling the irrepressible urge to lie down and groan thanks to the growing pain in my stomach, but shoved it down.
"Ma'am," The IKEA representative grew frustrated and pointed to the line where I was supposed to sign once more. "This line, right here."
"Oops," I slurred, writing a messy signature and a little smiley face next to it. "S-sorry."
"Thank you," All I got was a curt nod, a receipt, and then the three men were out the door as fast as possible. As soon as Warren had locked the door behind them and I had thrown the receipt on the counter I made a beeline for the washroom, recognizing the feeling in my stomach as nausea. There was bile preparing to expel itself, and I wasn't going to take any chances laying down anywhere if my stomach was getting ready to projectile vomit. It took only a minute or two of Warren standing behind me and my cheek leaned against the cool porcelain to begin the torture. Vomit made its way up my esophagus, burning the entire way and embedding itself in my nose. I felt shame, disgust and the desire to be swallowed up by a hole in the ground all at once; it was a mistake drinking tonight – it was a mistake drinking in general and to be seen in this state was even more embarrassing. I had no control over myself and the only way I was capable of dealing with my emotions was drinking. I felt even more pathetic than when I had told the therapist about this; she and I had talked for awhile about strategies, but I hadn't felt much better by the end of the visit and now my best friend was finding out just how pathetic I could get.
"I'm r-really sorry," I slurred, face planting again into the toilet bowl as Warren leaned against the sink. "I h-have a slight d-drinking p-problem."
"It's not necessarily your fault..." Warren grimaced as I retched again, vomit spewing out of my mouth. I felt him gently tug my hair back as I continued to gag, feeling my throat give in. "Although the IKEA guys didn't look too happy."
I groaned as more vomit expelled itself into the toilet, angry with myself for not remembering which day it was that the delivery guys were supposed to come over. If I had just been a little bit more cautious, none of this would have happened and I could have easily ushered Warren out and enjoyed getting drunk a little later with some nicely placed furniture. But now, because of my stupidity, I had pissed off the delivery men who left in a huff without organizing my things, and now Warren knew about another problem of mine.
"How long have you been drinking like this?" He sighed, sympathy coating his tone.
"It's a h-habit," I hiccuped, gagging again. "S'been goin' on for a c-couple years."
"'Years'?!" Warren quoted incredulously, chest rumbling. I could hear it and feel the warmth behind me as he continued to hold my long black hair back from my face. It felt like hours that Warren helped me – flushing the toilet and grabbing tissues for my face in between vomiting spells as well as wetting a towel to place on my forehead and calm the flush.
"Is therapy helping?" He asked as he returned from the kitchen with a cup of water.
"A bit," I muttered, realizing that the nausea was ebbing away. "Thank you."
Warren said nothing, simply sat on the rim of the bathtub right by me in case I was sick again. I had invested in shower curtains and a comfy bathroom rug and towel set as soon as I had been able to as well, so the only good thing about this very moment was the fact that my butt wasn't on a miserable cold floor. My head, however, was in a miserable state and beginning to feel very heavy. I was tired, and Warren saw my head slumping against the ceramic 'throne' once more.
"Hey," He grabbed me just before my head bumped into the toilet. "Elle – don't fall asleep here - do you wanna move to the bed? I can set it up for you."
"Yes," I muttered, considerably more sober than I had been twenty minutes ago. He moved me over to the new couch I had purchased for the time being whilst he assembled my new bed frame and mattresses together. It took him five minutes with his incredible muscles, and by the time he was done I had already stumbled to the bathroom and back three times to pee. I was sobering up fast, but my body was exhausted and needed to rest. As soon as he guided me into the bed with the comfy new sheets and pillows, I face planted onto it and thanked him for getting me a glass of water and the bucket from underneath the bathroom sink. I had to hand it to him; Warren knew how to take care of people despite his outer appearance. Despite this, he apparently didn't have the mind to stay, because as soon as he turned out the light he picked up his discarded backpack and began to exit the room.
"Where're you goin'?" I slurred into my pillow, frowning at his retreating figure.
"Home?" He seemed confused, stopping to turn around and look at my form underneath the new sheets.
"Stay," I suggested, hoping that he would take it platonically – I needed support at the moment and he was able to offer it. "Please? I don't want to spend another night alone."
He sighed at this, seemingly regretful at his prior decision to leave me, and moved to take off his shoes. He placed his bag down,used the bathroom and called his mother quickly, but didn't re enter my bedroom. It took me awhile to realize that he had occupied the couch, and I sighed as I called out his name. He didn't respond at first, so I slid out of the bed and retrieved him. I had no intentions besides wanting someone's presence to keep me warm and safe throughout the night – so to have him sleep on the couch would defeat the purpose of him being here at all. In fact, I didn't even tell him that the couch I bought had been a pull out and instead urged him that sleeping in a bed with me was perfectly fine.
"You can sleep in the bed you know," I held onto the wall for support, not fully seeing his figure in the dark.
"It wouldn't be..." Warren tried to find the words. "I don't...are you sure?"
"Yes," I laughed, walking back into my room and changing my pants as quickly as possible into pajama bottoms. Warren entered just as I slipped back under the covers, making sure to lie on his side only and not breach any trust barriers that had been set. He was a very respectful person, even though he had fooled everyone at school to think otherwise.
"I hope you don't steal covers," I slurred again, reveling in his chuckle. "'Cause I do."
"I don't," He assured. "Get some sleep, Elle."
There was a split moment of silence before I spoke again.
"Hey Warren?"
"Yeah?"
"You're a g-good person," I continued, trying my best not to slur my speech anymore despite my hiccups resurfacing. "I don't know why p-people judge you so harshly."
There was another couple beats of silence, but he didn't say anything. I could almost feel the tension in the air, but continued to speak no matter what – I truly felt he needed to hear it.
"And I don't think it m-matters who your father was," I continued. Perhaps it was the liquid courage still flowing through my veins, or perhaps it was because of the emotions that I had been building up over the past several weeks, but I was speaking my mind on a bold subject for the first time in years. "You are a different man. A different, kind, patient, l-loving, wholesome person who helps and is honest by n-nature. You know right from wrong and you know this. Please don't forget it."