Pinky/Derby (Can't Pretend - Tom Odell)

Abuse TW

Ever since they'd been little, Derby and Pinky were close. At family soirees, they would be off to the side making comments to each other about the guests that any unfortunate passerby would faint from hearing. That was what their youth was, at least.

When you grow up, your heart dies. Pinky was groomed to be a princess and was spoiled to hell like one. Derby was brought up to be a hardened business tycoon. They started socializing with the soiree guests. Even the slightest glance of amusement at each other could bring forth a slap across the face once the guests had cleared out.

Then news of engagement spread. It was news to Derby and Pinky as well. They were cousins. It didn't feel right, but it had to be. That's what their parents said. That's what everyone else told them. The kids at school could pick on them relentlessly; it wouldn't change a thing.

Derby grew to worship Pinky. Pinky grew to rely on Derby. Their relationship was co-dependent and rarely healthy. The adults made sure of that. Their dates were full of cynicism and no fun. Any closeness that they'd had in their young youth was demolished. They were expected to wed, have children, and be highly successful members of society.

Neither one wanted it. They wanted to go back to their old friendship. They wanted to venture to the Greaseball part of town and spend the day causing havoc and end up running from a pissed off Johnny Vincent whose hair was now green from a spray paint can. They wanted to stay out at the carnival and ride all the rides and gossip about the people who passed by. Instead, their future was to be prim, proper, and picture perfect.

The sun had set long ago. Pinky pulled her knees in closer to her chest. The cold air blew right through her thin nightgown. A shiver convulsed her body as she glanced up at the stars. She couldn't sleep. Daddy's handprint still stung on her cheek, and she sniffed back a few tears.

"You okay, princess?" a voice asked.

Pinky didn't need to turn to know the owner of that honey-rich voice was Derby.

"What do you want?" she snapped, gritting her teeth. Derby cautiously made his way onto the roof next to her. She felt a warm material over her shoulders and was pleased to find Derby had given her his robe. "That's more like it."

"Drop it..." Derby muttered, stretching his legs out. Pinky's playful smirk fell. "Please."

"I'm sorry," she whispered in response.

"You know you don't have to pretend when it's just us," he reminded her, a melancholy sound to his voice. He sounded broken, and they both knew he was.

"I know... but I just can't forget again," she muttered.

"Let me see," Derby muttered, his hand underneath her chin, turning her face toward his. He shifted his hand to cup her face, his thumb rubbing gently over the red mark. "I'll get you out of here."

"How can you?" she asked, her voice breaking as a tear fell down her cheek and into his palm. "You can't even leave."

Derby set his jaw and dropped his hand. He clasped his hands together and looked down at them. "One day... I think we can. If you just wait a bit longer, I can get us out. I can start a business from the ground. You could start a business. We could move across the country. Just us. They can cut us off. Damn it, Pinky, we could be somewhere else."

"That's just a dream," she cried, not even bothering to wipe her tears away. "I could never leave. It would destroy daddy... it would cause a chain reaction and I'd be the bolt cutter... thingies."

"Let him destroy himself, princess."

"Derby... I just..."

"Shh..."

He wrapped his arms around her, her face pressed against his shoulder as she cried. He kissed the top of her head and held her close. One day he'd get her out of here. He just couldn't wait for that day to come.