Yeah. Don't own shit.

Chapter 4

Blank Space

Piper

I pushed the door of Jason's dorm room. It was two in the morning and everybody was asleep. His door wouldn't budge, so I pushed it harder and twisted the handle once more until I realized he or Leo must've locked it before going to bed. I sighed and reached for a bobby pin that was barely maintaining my hair intact. I've been single-handledly taught by the Stolls how to perfect the art of lock-picking, so naturally it only needed ten seconds for the pin to work it's magic and unlock the door.

I crept in, skillfully sliding into the room without so much of a peep, but then I accidentally bumped into his study chair and caused a squeak to echo around the room. He frantically scrimmaged out of bed and fell unceremoniously onto his cute little butt on the way out. I stifled a laugh, closing my mouth with a hand and sashayed over with the bottle of wine.

"Shh," I whispered, softer than a single string of a harp but it still bounced a bit off the hallways, "Tip toe across the corridors. Once you've reached the stairs, you can breathe. Nobody can really hear you there." An uneasy Jason shifted behind me and I smiled confidently at him, to show my utmost confidence. "I've done this before and you're with me, big boy," I winked. "You'll be just peachy."

"S-sure," he said shyly, clasping my hand for reassurance and my heart ached for him at the merest gesture. He was such a cutie, a complete social disaster- sure, but a cutie, in an awkward turtle way. Of course, he looked much better than most awkward turtles but still. He was adorable and so unsure, filled with such uncertainty, looking at me with those beautiful storms of eyes for guidance. Well, that would change soon. A little more of the Piper-machine and I'll have his backbone as rigid as steel in no time; but then I'll have to let him go. It made me more nostalgic than it should. It broke my heart, but at the same time I wanted to laugh hysterically. People were ought to do that more: when you were at your lowest and you felt like bawling your fucking eyes out, the best medicine was to laugh your head off.

But the point was that love was a game. It depended on how long he would want to play.

I took the lead and beamed a light onto the corridor from my phone so I knew where I was going. We strode silently down the stairs, as quiet as mouses as we passed the other dorms. Jason's grip tightened on mine throughout the eerie hallways- it was almost creepy as we crossed over the large open foyer, which led to the different wings of classrooms and other amenities. In the dark, the school was different, unrecognizable even. It was empty, hollow, devoid of the usual happiness that filled the spaces with students milling in and out.

My expertise with sneaking out came from the numerous times I've snuck out of my house to escape from my father and his Hollywood blood-sucking snakes. Whenever my Dad brought home another of his groupies home, I would climb out of the window and crawl up the pipe, then sit on the ceiling and stare at the stars all night long. I would number them across the skies, from the end of the horizon to another, and give them names. Sometimes, I throw in a bottle of vodka and a packet of Malboro Lights for good measure.

"Come on," I whispered, tip-toeing my way towards the dining room. "Hurry!"

With bare feet, I padded down the stairs which guided us towards the familiar large room where the dining tables had been packed with the chairs stacked onto the surface. There was a ray of fluorescent light gleaming from the kitchen, a sign that Miss Hestia was very well awake, probably preparing for tomorrow's breakfast.

I entered the kitchen, dragging Jason along with me. Miss Hestia jerked back, scared out of her wits, and caused the box of milk cartons to jostle out of her hands and fell onto the floor. "Piper!" she yelped, hand over her heaving chest. She picked up the milk cartons and regarded me oddly. "What are you doing here at such a late time?"

I grinned childishly, "You know, just planning to chill.." And I gestured to Jason by placing my head on his shoulder, "And I brought a friend."

Miss Hestia's warmth was radiant enough to melt through metal and she was often so kind, unlike the rest of the world. Whenever I couldn't sleep, I would walk down here and accompany Miss Hestia as she tidied the kitchen and prepared food for tomorrow. She would give me either fresh leftovers from today's meals or her stash of ice cream on the last shelf of the freezer while I humoured her during our chats.

Miss Hestia was something I didn't like to share with my other friends because they wouldn't understand why I would sneak out in the middle of the night to meet the cafeteria woman and Drew wouldn't hesitate to make cruel remarks the minute she caught wind of this. Miss Hestia was almost like a mother to me in this school, without the nagging. She saw the real Piper Mclean, underneath the sheds of toughness and ambiguity, she saw through me and she had never nagged me to change, like a real mother would. She knew I enjoyed who I am for the time being and she didn't see the need for a straightening out, or whatever my father intended to happen to me while I resided in this school. She was something for me to hold on to and somehow, I didn't know why, but I felt the strangest urge that only someone like Jason would comprehend my actions.

I could read him like a magazine. He lacked confidence and he slumped whenever he walked; hanging his low, avoiding eye contact. He was a wallflower while I was the exact opposite. He was my version of a misfit toy.

"So what are we going to do here?"

I leapt onto the kitchen's steel counter top. "Have a little picnic," I looked at Hestia, who had disappeared into the large steel fridge. "Hey, Miss Hestia, do you have any leftover food?"

"Of course," said Miss Hestia kindly, "Would you like some?"

I grinned like a chesire cat. "Yes, please," I licked my lips, "I'm starving and really thirsty," I shook the wine bottle in front of Jason's face. Popping the cork, I offered him the first swig. "Come on, don't be shy."

Fearfully, he'd taken a sip. "Ooh," he said, licking his lip after his first taste. "I like this. It's kind of sweet and different. What is it?"

"Strawberry champagne," I offered him proudly, showcasing my knowledge. "It's the fucking best."

"Mmm," he murmured in agreement, drinking small amounts of the beverage. He recoiled at the bittersweet, metallic taste, but then Hestia arrived once again and entered through the doors, smiling with two plates of leftover fries and fried fish fingers.

"There you go," said Hestia, handing me the plates. "Enjoy, but not too much," she yawned and patted my folded legs, "Remember to switch the lights off once you've gone back, okay?"

I nodded, "I will, Miss Hestia." Miss Hestia, being the sweetest ever, left us on our own and we were abandoned within the silence shared between Jason and I. For several moments, we just kept drinking the wine and didn't say anything. I liked it. Sometimes, silence was necessary in terms of conversation. Relationships can't singularly rely on words.

"So," I said teasingly, "Now that we're all alone…"

His eyes widened and a nervous laugh escaped him. I giggled along. I didn't know why I like him so much; I mean, yeah he's good-looking but so were two hundred other boys confined within this school. He's adorable but so were everybody else. Maybe I liked him because he considered me properly, as if I was someone with feelings rather than a whore to be lugged around. I just hoped he wouldn't get any ideas along the spectrum of forever and shit, because the sickening thought of marriage and babies was enough to trigger a gag reflex. Whatever this was, as I linked my fingers between Jason, it wasn't built to last. It was built to fall apart.

Heading over to his place, inviting Jason on my midnight detours, my intentions were anything but good. I wanted to open his eyes into my spectacular world of bad behaviours and I could show him incredible things but I had to admit- it'd be a challenge. Judging from the way he obeyed Thalia from every word, held himself with his head down and shoulders sagged and possessed no self-confidence whatsoever, I had lots of work on my plate. He was even worse than Lacy when she first started out.

Oh, dotting, little Lacy. She was cute and innocent, with braces attached to her teeth and her blonde hair bounded into twin pigtails. She reminded me of a little sister I never had. She was often put aside, she had told me, by her parents. Nobody looked at her, nobody spared her an ounce of attention, so she decided to make things happen for herself. Naturally, all those things were illegal- which was the reason of how she ended up here in the Wilderness. But nonetheless, she was as shy and timid as a mouse caught under a trap. I felt sorry for her. I empathized. I knew what it was like to be a misfit toy and I taught her it was better to be a misfit toy- true to yourself- rather than a plastic, shiny Barbie Doll. I've taught her how to threw big punches for a chick, smoke weed, handle a date-rape situation, chug down tequila shots and everything she needed to know about the bad and the ugly out there. Now she was strong and she fought her own battles; it almost softened me with nostalgia to remember the girl cowering behind Drew and her reign of terror last year.

I noticed Jason's shirt- a faded old t-shirt with the quote: Everybody's youth is a dream; a form of chemical madness. "Preach it," I laughed, swirling my wine.

"Huh?" he was confused.

"Your shirt. I like it."

"Aha," he made that vague, coughy loud sound again. Nervous and shy, as always. "Yeah, it's ah- a quote from my favourite author."

"Ooh, a boy who reads? That explains the aura of sophistication."

He blushed, cheeks tinged cherry red. "Yeah," he said tentatively, as if he was afraid I might smacked him as nerd for his supreme love for books or something.

"It's spectacular," I said, giving him that boost of confidence.

He scratched the back of his head anxiously, the wine bottle I handed towards him forgotten. "Really?"

"Yep. It's hard to find people who actually reads nowadays," I smiled fondly at him. "Most people spend their times on social media, watching comically bad television shows."

He laughed- genuinely too. Humour sparkling in his eyes and enthusiasm invigorated in his upright body posture. "That's true."

"What's the author name?" I prodded at the shirt.

"Scott F. Fitzgerald."

"Isn't he the guy that, like, went crazy or something?"

"Sent to an asylum," he mused and I felt him eased up, growing more confident with every word. But it was a good type of confidence, where he found reassurance instead of arrogance. A kind confidence where he knew what to say and the words just right out of his mouth. I listened while he talked, his voice soft-spoken. He was in his zone now. "He was an amazing writer- and not only for the Great Gatsby. To me, my favourite was The Beautiful and the Damned, even if the Great Gatsby was the most popular and advertised. My father like to argue how his ideals were fanatical, but sometimes fanatical is a little of what we need in this world."

"Amen to that." I toasted a drink to his words, swallowing the warm fizzy liquid. He smiled more often too; and it was bright enough to light up my world. "So is that what you want? To be a writer?"

He cowered once again, hesitant to tell the truth as if he was afraid I might laugh at his ambition. I placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, levelling my gaze to collide with his and silently telling him it was alright. "Yeah," he nodded, "I would like to, but-" There was that awkward laugh again- "-I don't know."

"It's good you still have dreams," I admired longingly; couldn't help but envy his innocence. Man, this kid was breaking my heart. Dreams? Heroes? I'd quit thinking 'bout that shit way before I hit the pubes. "Mine's dead."

"Ridiculous," he admonished, "You're too young to be that cynical."

"I'm a teenager," I reminded him, "I'm never too young to be cynical."

"It's still so stupid."

"You're such a dreamer," I shook my head. "Even if I had a dream, how can a fuck-up like me ever achieve it?" I gave a bitter laugh, finishing the last of the wine and throwing it across the bin, shattering the glass into pieces. The noise echoed over the resonating thin walls. "I'm a fuck up, remember?"

"No you're not," he was adamant on telling me.

"Hmm," I mumbled evasively, "Do you think a fuck-up like you can achieve it? I mean, you are less of a fuck up than I am…"

"Probably not. Dad wants me to be like a lawyer or something."

"Screw him," I said dismissively, putting my head on his shoulder. He didn't try to wrap an arm around me. Probably too shy, I registered. "You do what you want," I punched him in the arm and he rubbed it, yelping when my fist contacted his flesh. "Nobody can tell you otherwise."

"He's my dad."

"So?" I demanded. "Don't let him push you around! Grow a fucking backbone." I pushed the wine into his hands and clambered onto my feet, standing on the metal kitchen table, my head nearly colliding into the swinging low lights and ceiling.

"What are you doing?" hissed Jason, eyes alarmed and body in position to bolt. "We could-"

"Take a drink and stand up," I ordered, my words slurring slightly and my enunciation was off. The alcohol buzz was only starting to settle in and I was deterring off the rails. He was reluctant to stand up, so I pulled him by the hand and forced him on his feet. "'Kay, good. Now, you say this with me. Yell it out, okay? 'STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO FUCKING DO, DAD.' Yell it out! Yell it until your throat breaks!"

"But-" he went cross-eyed. "What if we get in trouble? What if the school catches us? My dad will kill me."

I sighed, massaging my temples with my fingers. "Jason, Jason, Jason," I tutted. "This is the Wilderness, a place for fuck-ups like you and me. The school's supposed to teach you how not to be a fuck-up, and if they tell your parents about you fucking up, it's obviously not working and your parents won't be continuing paying for this. Therefore, we'll be in trouble but they won't tell our parents that you're fucking up more than you already should." I concluded cheerily, as if it justified everything. "So get your slimy ass up and start yellin', dude."

He sighed, eyeing me from his folded-legs position.

"Stop telling me what to do, dad."

"That was pathetic. Louder, and with the swear words."

"But…" Irresolution halted his decisions but I was insistent.

"With the swear words!"

"Do I really have to?"

"Yes!" I said boisterously, "You do!"

"Fine," he sighed, and rose his voice in volume: "Stop telling me what to fucking do, Dad!"

"Again! Louder."

"STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO FUCKING DO, DAD!"

"Yeah!" I yelled in agreement and high-fived him, collapsing into a mass of laughter. "You fucking said it, man!" I wrapped my arms around him into a hug, as we stood high and inebriated on the kitchen steel tables, and our faces were dangerously inches apart, nose grazing as I grinned at him, teeth showing through the gap of pink.

Without thinking, I rotated my head to fit his mouth and kissed him, coiling my arms around his neck. I kissed him until it was blue and black, with stars dancing in my eyes, alcohol buzzing in our veins, and infinity waiting to swallow us up. I kissed him, letting him believe we were built to fix ourselves when we were meant to fall apart.

The next morning I woke up to Miss Hestia shaking me on the arm. I've realized Jason and I had curled our bodies together on the metal kitchen table. Now get your head our gutter- we didn't have sex. We just slept at the same place, I noticed as Miss Hestia prodded Jason in the arm as well, earning a moan, his arms created a sense of protection by the way they encompassed around me. I didn't know what to be at the most surprised at- the fact that we hadn't had sex yet, or the fact that he hadn't even thought about initiating sex yet.

Most guys usually jumped at the chance. But I guessed Jason wasn't like most guys. No, I thought as my finger traced circles onto his chest exposed by his V-neck, most definitely not. Jason was the most peculiar. I traced circles and stars, flowers even. But not hearts. Never hearts. Hearts were taboos. I felt the steadied, soft thrum of his heartbeat repeatedly drumming beneath his chest, his breathing deep and calm. Even though he was on the nerdy side, Jason was actually quite athletic. He wasn't excessively muscular, but he wasn't weedy either- he was a medium, with muscles at all the right places.

Must have passed out, I groggily assumed as I staggered onto my feet, yawning. "Jason," I whispered into his ear, shaking his arm. "Wake up, sexy."

"Hmm?" his eyes fluttered and blue eyes gazed hazily at me as sleep receded slowly from his brain. "P-piper?"

"That's right," I said, smirking. "Sleep well?"

He rubbed his stiff neck, "Not really."

I laughed, "Yep, me too. But I had fun. Come on, let's get back before our roommates start panicking."

"Okay."

It was only the crack of dawn and it was a good ole' Sunday, so nobody in their right mind was awake yet. I've led him towards his dorm and bid him goodbye by kissing him lightly on his cheek, my lips rubbing against his skin. As we parted, I saw a mane of black hair flashing at the corner of my eye from a small gap of a dorm room door. Thalia, I realized at the familiarity of the choppy layered hair but I pushed it out of my mind as I set a smile on my face and gave him a kiss on the lips, the taste of strawberry wine sizzling as a reminder of our lips.

And then we've bid each other goodbye.

Announcement: I might be, um, 'quiting' Fanfiction.

MIGHT. JUST MIGHT. I mean, I've been writing on here since...2011. And if you've paid attention to any of my notes, I've mentioned I'm writing a book and several originals on Figment and Wattpad. With my harder school years approaching, I wanted to prioritize my writing and I was trying to choose between writing originals and fanfiction. I might not completely give up and let cobwebs to infiltrate this site but I doubt I'll be able to update as often as I can. Since it's my holidays, I'll try my best to write more than often so I can get most of the plots I've planned up and running. This goes for Desire as well.

I hope you guys understand.

Please review!