Almost an entire week had passed and Violet felt as if she had been sent through a whirlwind of emotions. The beginning of the week, directly after their kiss, the two had spent an odd amount of time together. After school, he would be waiting for her by her backyard, lingering around the fence line with his usual boyish smirk. From there, the two would venture to the park and smoke, while they talked about everything they hated. For once, Violet felt like she could lose herself with someone. There was finally another person who understood her darkness... who accepted it. Who would sit and talk about all the shitty things that people did or said, and everything they wished they could do. He wanted to live far away on an island, where it was just him. She liked the sound of that. He wanted to go back in time, to when Kurt Cobain had been alive and shake his hand. She liked the sound of that too. Of course, Tate often closed off from certain questions. He didn't like to talk about his mother, nor did he particularly like to be asked about where he had come from or why they had moved. But Violet didn't mind. There would always be that certain kind of... mystery that hung around him. Of that, she was certain.
And sometimes, he would even kiss her.
That was the one thing that made Violet feel... different. It sounded like bullshit, really. She hated those people who got so stupid over another person, but something about Tate made her feel alive. Ironically enough, he also had the ability to make her want to die at the exact same time. Sometimes, when they would sit nestled in that odd little park near both of their houses, he would lift up her sleeve and run his fingers over her scars. He would feel the little white marks, raising goosebumps on her skin. And those eyes... Those dark, seeing eyes would stare at her, with a glint of hurt shimmering inside of them. An iridescent display of how it pained him to know that she felt the need to harm herself. But then, suddenly, everything had stopped.
In the middle of the week, Tate wasn't there waiting for her. At first, Violet had shrugged it off. It wasn't as if she had really wanted him to be there. Honestly, she had just met the guy. And obviously, there was something wrong with him, if he was spending time with her. But no matter how many times she told herself that, it didn't dilute the creeping sensation of stinging rejection that prickled at her skin. The night passed and even as she sat on her porch, expecting him to join her for a night time cigarette, the feeling was still there. He didn't show and she went to bed with a hollow feeling in her stomach.
That hollowness thickened over the next three days. It changed from an emptiness inside of her belly, to a surprisingly white hot emotion of anger. She hadn't seen a ghosting glimpse of the blonde since three nights ago. And without a word of notice, she had the terrible feeling that he had moved on. That maybe his controlling mother had forced him to help her pack up and then – bam. No more Tate. No more late night cigarettes and long, pointless talks as their backs dug into uncomfortable bark on the trees. And the anger wasn't just for him, either. She was angry at herself for even becoming so invested in a singular person. She had always been the type of person to scoff in the name of adoration. All the other girls were dependent and needy and ended up getting their heart broken over some brainless guy who didn't even care for them.
Though, she supposed that she couldn't blame herself too much. Tate was far from brainless. In fact, that was one thing about him that scared her the most. He was too smart, too knowing, too... present. For someone his age, he was far too mature. Almost as if he had seen things that his peers could only dream about in nightmares. So, perhaps, she could forgive herself for becoming so infatuated with him in such a short span of time. People like Tate were rare. People with actual thoughts, who weren't brainless droids.
But that didn't make it hurt any less.
It had been four days since she had seen him. The day had passed in a haze of snarky comments and hurt looks from Leah, who had no idea why Violet had suddenly started acting so crazy. Or, well, crazier than normal. Her father was drunk more than usual lately, but even that didn't deter Violet from locking herself in her room and curling up on her bed, music blaring. Her dad could drink himself to death, for all she cared. Maybe then someone would notice that her life was slowly falling apart – ripping from the seams and unravelling into a mess of nothingness on the floor. Violet turned over from her side, so she was lying flat on her back, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. It was hard to see, now that the darkness had completely overtaken her room. All she could hear was the faint sound of her music. Her playlist had gone on so long that it had reached the more melodic and angst ridden tracks. Letting her eyes close, she pictured Tate.
Her visual memory was pretty shitty, but she surprised herself for being able to envision him so clearly. She could see the little dimple that dug at his cheek when he let a rare smile go. And his mop of blond hair fell exactly around his face the way it always had. Her mind drifted to his fingers... The same ones that had caressed her scars – fresh and old. Boys had never really interested her. Sure, she had always imagined herself finding a boyfriend and eventually getting married when she was younger. But as she grew up a little, she realized that boys were shit-heads and all they wanted was one thing. Sex. Even the word made her flinch. It was such a disgusting thought – one that made her literally cringe in the darkness of her bedroom.
But this new side of her slowly coerced her mind into thinking of kissing Tate. That hadn't been disgusting. In fact, she had enjoyed kissing him. More than he seemed to, anyway. Her cheeks flared as her mind wandered to thoughts that had never crossed her mind and she flipped over on her side, groaning into her pillow in a tormented way. Tate was driving her crazy. Certifiably insane.
Violet hadn't really realized that she had fallen asleep, were she to be honest. Somewhere between cursing Tate's existence and wishing that he was here with her, she had drifted off into a light slumber, occasionally woken by the faintest sound. The third time it happened, though, she sat up. Her sheets were tangled, wrapped around her legs in an awkward position. As she struggled to free them, she caught the faint outline of someone standing in the darkness, making her heart plummet to the floor. The first thought she had was that it had to be the guy that had attacked her and Leah. However, before the faintest of gasps escaped her lips, a hand was over her mouth, tightly restraining any noise that she might have made. Almost landing a punch on the intruder's face, she finally kicked her legs free, trying to twist off the bed before she was murdered. However, an urgent whisper of a familiar voice made her freeze for an entirely different reason.
"It's me."
Tate? With him a bit closer and her eyes more adjusted to the light, she realized that it was indeed the teenage boy. Though her heart was still racing, she was no longer flailing around like a murder victim. Instead, she was stock still, her chest heaving with adrenaline. He seemed to take her lack of movement as a positive sign and slowly let his hand drop, falling onto the bed beneath him. He was half sitting, half leaning on one of his knees, the dark of his eyes staring intently at her, as if he were afraid she might scream.
"What the fuck?" She whispered, a bit more venomously than she normally would have. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
Tate's head dipped with an apologetic bob, shaking from side to side. "No, I-"
But she was too quick for him. "First I don't see you for four whole days and then you decide to creep on me in my bedroom? That's not how it works, Tate. I thought were were... friends. Or, whatever the fuck we were. You scared the shit out of me."
The silence that lingered in the room was suffocating, to say the least. Thirty or more seconds passed before Tate gave a solitary sniff, his gaze raising once more, instead of being downcast as his fingers. "I couldn't see you, Vi. My mom she... wouldn't let me."
With the slight amount of light on her side, she could suddenly see the purple blotches across his skin. Bruises. A pang of guilt ran through her, striking her like a match that lit a flame of sorrow inside of her small frame. He had gotten in trouble for spending time with her and now he was risking his safety to come and see her? She found it hard to swallow, the lump in her throat making it difficult to manage.
"What were you gonna do... just... stare at me?" There was a slight teasing hint to her voice, that indicated she was only joking. For the most part.
A solitary smile broke through on his lips, half crooked and somewhat relieved. "Well, I was... Until I heard you moan my name."
Her eyebrows shot upwards, shock rendering her silent once more. Thinking she had heard him wrong, she stammered a bit, hoping that her cheeks weren't flaring red. It wasn't as if he would be able to see if they were, but the point stood clear. "P-pardon? I didn't do that. Don't fucking flatter yourself."
That previously boyish grin had shifted into something of a wicked affair, ultimate glee written across his features. His eyebrow cocked upwards, a challenging look flashing through his eyes as he leaned closer, his lips lingering near her ear. She could feel his breath, hot against her skin as he whispered, "I know what I heard, Violet. Do you need me to make you do it again... Or am I just that good?"