Creating a Life of Trends and Make-Believe
Cleaning Up The Messes That You've Made
Heather was getting out of the care, and looked over at Elx. "Aren't you coming?" she asked.
He shook his head, staring at the wheel. "No," he said, sadly. He started pulling a set of keys from his pocket. "It's the pink one. Upstairs, last door at the end." Alex looked over at her, his face sullen and serious. Down in the innermost depths of his eyes, she saw a light. A small, but big, difference of light and hope. "This is something you need to do alone."
She sighed and nodded. "Okay." Looking in her eyes, she was searching for an answer. There was nothing except that small light lost in a sea of brown despair. Could it really be this bad? she was asking herself. There is no way anyone can get this bad over ME. Heather leaned over and hugged Alex once more. "Thank you," she said. She got out of the care, shut the door and walked up to the little plain house.
It looked like a set piece from a suburb movie: brick, two stories, cross-barred windows. . .: A modern fairytale home. Heather took a deep breath and walked up to the door. The little pink key fit in smoothly. The lock didn't click, no matter which way she turned it. When she tried the door handle, it opened. Adrenaline started racing through her body as she looked into the blackness of the house. When she looked back at Alex, still in the car, for encouragement, he was on the phone. Three guesses who.
Heather took yet another deep breath as she looked back into the house. It was pitch black and she couldn't see anything, but she heard music. Yes, Jack's Mannequin. Using that as a guide, she slowly made her way upstairs. Las door. Heather followed what little of the music she could hear over the beating of her heart in her ears.
She walked into something hard, a wall, and landed on her back, both with loud thumps. Everything seemed to get even more black then, if possible. The music almost seemed to get louder.
That's when she felt a cool, clammy hand on her arm and cheek. "Jack?" she asked feebly at the same time a familiar voice asked, "Heather?"
Before either of them could make any sense of the situation, they were in each others' arms and Heather was crying.
"Jack?" a voice called over the music.
"Go home, Tracy," he replied over Heather head. A slut in just a t-shirt, one of Jack's, padded down the hall, dropped something by Jack, who was kneeling on the ground, proceeded like a pro through the house and out the front door, closing it behind her. Heather listened to this procession, but never looked up.
"Now I know why Alex is outside," Heather said into Jack's bare chest. "I sort of thought. . .But, I came anyways." He re-positioned her so he was leaning on the wall with her in between his sprawled out legs and her legs rested over his left, towards his room. Heather sniffled.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, "but I didn't know what else to do." She looked up at him, trying to see his face and read it; memorize every detail; drink it all in. All seh could see was a small sparkle from his eyes. "Ooh," he said after awhile, "maybe I'll finally have an STD!" She could tell that he was smiling like a child.
Heather giggled. She smiled for the fist time since she broke up with Zane. Jack thought it was more than just a small giggle -- or even what it was to Heather: a bringing back of joy -- but like hearing tiny fairy bells playing an addictive, musical melody.
Through the dark, they looked at each other. "I love you," they said in unison. Three simple words; that's all that was needed to be said. They found each others' lips and kissed with sugar and fire at the same time.
*****
It was a happy ending:
Heather and Kellz grew up to own a club together; All Time Low became one of the number one bands ever (at least to them); Kellz had Alex, Rian and Zack had Allyssa and Daryl; Jack had Heather.
And no, they did not do it that night: Heather was only 16.
He shook his head, staring at the wheel. "No," he said, sadly. He started pulling a set of keys from his pocket. "It's the pink one. Upstairs, last door at the end." Alex looked over at her, his face sullen and serious. Down in the innermost depths of his eyes, she saw a light. A small, but big, difference of light and hope. "This is something you need to do alone."
She sighed and nodded. "Okay." Looking in her eyes, she was searching for an answer. There was nothing except that small light lost in a sea of brown despair. Could it really be this bad? she was asking herself. There is no way anyone can get this bad over ME. Heather leaned over and hugged Alex once more. "Thank you," she said. She got out of the care, shut the door and walked up to the little plain house.
It looked like a set piece from a suburb movie: brick, two stories, cross-barred windows. . .: A modern fairytale home. Heather took a deep breath and walked up to the door. The little pink key fit in smoothly. The lock didn't click, no matter which way she turned it. When she tried the door handle, it opened. Adrenaline started racing through her body as she looked into the blackness of the house. When she looked back at Alex, still in the car, for encouragement, he was on the phone. Three guesses who.
Heather took yet another deep breath as she looked back into the house. It was pitch black and she couldn't see anything, but she heard music. Yes, Jack's Mannequin. Using that as a guide, she slowly made her way upstairs. Las door. Heather followed what little of the music she could hear over the beating of her heart in her ears.
She walked into something hard, a wall, and landed on her back, both with loud thumps. Everything seemed to get even more black then, if possible. The music almost seemed to get louder.
That's when she felt a cool, clammy hand on her arm and cheek. "Jack?" she asked feebly at the same time a familiar voice asked, "Heather?"
Before either of them could make any sense of the situation, they were in each others' arms and Heather was crying.
"Jack?" a voice called over the music.
"Go home, Tracy," he replied over Heather head. A slut in just a t-shirt, one of Jack's, padded down the hall, dropped something by Jack, who was kneeling on the ground, proceeded like a pro through the house and out the front door, closing it behind her. Heather listened to this procession, but never looked up.
"Now I know why Alex is outside," Heather said into Jack's bare chest. "I sort of thought. . .But, I came anyways." He re-positioned her so he was leaning on the wall with her in between his sprawled out legs and her legs rested over his left, towards his room. Heather sniffled.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, "but I didn't know what else to do." She looked up at him, trying to see his face and read it; memorize every detail; drink it all in. All seh could see was a small sparkle from his eyes. "Ooh," he said after awhile, "maybe I'll finally have an STD!" She could tell that he was smiling like a child.
Heather giggled. She smiled for the fist time since she broke up with Zane. Jack thought it was more than just a small giggle -- or even what it was to Heather: a bringing back of joy -- but like hearing tiny fairy bells playing an addictive, musical melody.
Through the dark, they looked at each other. "I love you," they said in unison. Three simple words; that's all that was needed to be said. They found each others' lips and kissed with sugar and fire at the same time.
*****
It was a happy ending:
Heather and Kellz grew up to own a club together; All Time Low became one of the number one bands ever (at least to them); Kellz had Alex, Rian and Zack had Allyssa and Daryl; Jack had Heather.
And no, they did not do it that night: Heather was only 16.
♠ ♠ ♠
Sucky ending.I sort of suck at writing, but really at endings.
Give me a break, though: most of this was written in Comm Apps.