Thanks for all the lovely reviews. But please, to those who have left reviews saying simply: DO A GEMMA KARTIK or I WANT THIS PAIRING…I'll probably do that pairing (and I'll get to Gemma/Kartik eventually), but honestly, I appreciate reviews a whole bunch more than random commands. :) Still, I'll keep your requests in mind, being as it's so fun to do them.
That being said, here's the next little fic. Make sure you review, loves.
Story Five
Title: No One Ever Loved Me
Rating: K+
Summary: No one ever loved Felicity until Pippa came along.
No one ever loved me until Pippa came along. I suppose that's why it's been so hard for me to let her go.
It was torturous, really, to watch her beautiful violet eyes turn to crimson. It was horrid to watch her almost perfectly straight white teeth turn crooked and pointy and yellow. But things like that would be horrid for anyone to watch. I suppose it would be hard for anyone to fathom how I felt.
Pippa was the only one who understood me, and that's why we got along so well. That's why we were friends and perhaps more than friends. We loved one another, but not in a romantic way, no. Sometimes we did things that would have been considered taboo by most of society—we shared many a stolen kiss, but I like to think that the bond between us was more of a sisterly bond than anything. I know that it's not true—that we shared kisses and talked of sharing more, although we never did, but that was just because neither of us knew another kind of affection aside from sexual affection.
I think I really loved Pippa because she was so innocent. Her parents just wanted to get rid of her, yes—send her off with a man before he realized that she was sick, marred, broken. And I think she loved me because I wanted to be innocent, but couldn't escape my past. She was an object solely to be admired from afar. I was an object solely to be used.
And so we admired and used one another in ways I can't begin to explain. But we healed one another as well. I never told Pippa about what my father did to me, nor did she explain her frustration about her epileptic condition. Yet we shared many a night in one another's arms, comforting each other for said reasons.
Pippa is lost to me now, whether I like to admit it or not. She's gone forever—a predator, a servant—no longer a friend. She frightens me, quite honestly. I no longer wish to caress her soft, smooth, ivory cheeks—and not just because they're rough and chapped and red. I can barely remember kissing her full, perfect lips, which are now cracked and broken. Yet I don't want my memory to fade.
No one ever loved me until Pippa.