Status: Just a little cute something that'll be written when inspiration or boredom occurs.
Breaking Suburbia
Chapter Sixteen
“I mean, Maggie, I just don’t get it.” Chester frowned, trying to not show the disappointment on his face. That’s another thing I simply loathe about people; if we are disappointed, what’s so wrong with looking like it? We’re all so hypersensitive. It’s ridiculous.
The arm weaved around Maggie’s hair and her back felt like a millstone. “I don’t either.” The gravely undertones of such a simple incantation took the phrase to a loftier meaning, something beyond what Maggie Wentworth intended to convey.
“Well, you’ve got to find it out for yourself.” Chester iterated. His cheeks were flushed a vibrant fuchsia as a result of the tizzy he seemed to have worked himself in. Chester realized his love story was the equivalent of a dog barking at a cat in the tree; he, the dog, could never have the tools to bring Maggie, the cat, down from the branches. In fact, Chester knew he drove her further up that tree, and that made him very sad. “I mean, it’s a gorgeous life if you notice it.”
Maggie sighed, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. She enjoyed the pressure. “The world’s also full of terrible things.” The austerity was so thick in the summer’s humidity. Everything about the moment was so right and so wrong, so simple and so intrinsically complex, so black and white. Many moments in a fleeting youth should be cherished, but it was the times that were so emotionally draining and complex that made them hold abhorrence towards every second of the concentrated conversation that mere chance had forced them to share.
“You never wanted to get out of here?” Chester furrowed his eyebrows, speaking with passion that scared Maggie out of her wits. He continued on, without a second to spare as the words flew out of his mouth with fervent ardor, “Never wanted to break away? God, has the thought ever crossed your mind with all of the time you have alone in that house?”
The zeal was contagious, as Maggie felt the fieriness evolve in her chest. “You know what? I have. I freaking hate it here.” She muttered caustically. “Everyone has this perfect house with this perfect white picket fence and this perfect little family with their bullshit nine to five job they’re fucking miserable at. Hell, they may have a fucking dog running around in the fucking grass too, Chester. And even though they have this perfect house that looks like a magazine, everyone’s fucking miserable. I hate it—suburbia-- my mom hated it, but you’ve just got to accept some things in order to live.” Maggie took a breath, something much needed after her speech.
Needless to say, there was a silence that endured. Maggie could still feel the words nestled in her mouth, they reverberated in the walls of her mind, she thought if she reached out far enough into the sultry air she might be able to pull the words back.
Nervously, she rotated her head to view Chester’s reaction. He held this half smirk as he digested Maggie’s explosion of the passion she had hindered for so long. It was entirely out of character, at least the character Maggie portrayed around him. “So she speaks.” Chester dryly chuckled. Maggie smiled anxiously, but in all honestly, she didn’t care what he thought of her. Gently, she rested her head in the crook his extended arm created between his arm pit. Slowly, she daintily inhaled so as to not cause suspicion. Spice. His warm scent was a craving of hers. “What makes you any different from the people you hate? You’re not happy.”
“I’m not sad.”
“But you’re not happy.” Chester rebutted.
He was fairly effective as well, as Maggie had to think about her next response instead of simply blurting items aloud. “Life’s too short to care. I’m content and I’m fine with that.” Maggie replied, still clutching to her denial.
“This life is the longest thing you’ll ever know.” Chester tapped her nose playfully. It was quite inappropriate in her eyes, as they were attempting to have a serious adult chatter for once. Nevertheless, she proceeded to stare into his eyes, trying to decipher the reason behind her own heart beating so rapidly. As the sun went down, the stringed lights that lined the sidewalks illuminated, creating effects of a firefly summer some children experienced frequently in the countryside. “I hope you realize happiness isn’t a phase, Maggie. I really do.” He pushed away a strand of her hair that hung lazily in her face.
He kissed her. She kissed back. The firefly lights continued to burn. The night still loomed ahead of them.
It was about time something changed for Maggie Wentworth, it really was.
The arm weaved around Maggie’s hair and her back felt like a millstone. “I don’t either.” The gravely undertones of such a simple incantation took the phrase to a loftier meaning, something beyond what Maggie Wentworth intended to convey.
“Well, you’ve got to find it out for yourself.” Chester iterated. His cheeks were flushed a vibrant fuchsia as a result of the tizzy he seemed to have worked himself in. Chester realized his love story was the equivalent of a dog barking at a cat in the tree; he, the dog, could never have the tools to bring Maggie, the cat, down from the branches. In fact, Chester knew he drove her further up that tree, and that made him very sad. “I mean, it’s a gorgeous life if you notice it.”
Maggie sighed, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. She enjoyed the pressure. “The world’s also full of terrible things.” The austerity was so thick in the summer’s humidity. Everything about the moment was so right and so wrong, so simple and so intrinsically complex, so black and white. Many moments in a fleeting youth should be cherished, but it was the times that were so emotionally draining and complex that made them hold abhorrence towards every second of the concentrated conversation that mere chance had forced them to share.
“You never wanted to get out of here?” Chester furrowed his eyebrows, speaking with passion that scared Maggie out of her wits. He continued on, without a second to spare as the words flew out of his mouth with fervent ardor, “Never wanted to break away? God, has the thought ever crossed your mind with all of the time you have alone in that house?”
The zeal was contagious, as Maggie felt the fieriness evolve in her chest. “You know what? I have. I freaking hate it here.” She muttered caustically. “Everyone has this perfect house with this perfect white picket fence and this perfect little family with their bullshit nine to five job they’re fucking miserable at. Hell, they may have a fucking dog running around in the fucking grass too, Chester. And even though they have this perfect house that looks like a magazine, everyone’s fucking miserable. I hate it—suburbia-- my mom hated it, but you’ve just got to accept some things in order to live.” Maggie took a breath, something much needed after her speech.
Needless to say, there was a silence that endured. Maggie could still feel the words nestled in her mouth, they reverberated in the walls of her mind, she thought if she reached out far enough into the sultry air she might be able to pull the words back.
Nervously, she rotated her head to view Chester’s reaction. He held this half smirk as he digested Maggie’s explosion of the passion she had hindered for so long. It was entirely out of character, at least the character Maggie portrayed around him. “So she speaks.” Chester dryly chuckled. Maggie smiled anxiously, but in all honestly, she didn’t care what he thought of her. Gently, she rested her head in the crook his extended arm created between his arm pit. Slowly, she daintily inhaled so as to not cause suspicion. Spice. His warm scent was a craving of hers. “What makes you any different from the people you hate? You’re not happy.”
“I’m not sad.”
“But you’re not happy.” Chester rebutted.
He was fairly effective as well, as Maggie had to think about her next response instead of simply blurting items aloud. “Life’s too short to care. I’m content and I’m fine with that.” Maggie replied, still clutching to her denial.
“This life is the longest thing you’ll ever know.” Chester tapped her nose playfully. It was quite inappropriate in her eyes, as they were attempting to have a serious adult chatter for once. Nevertheless, she proceeded to stare into his eyes, trying to decipher the reason behind her own heart beating so rapidly. As the sun went down, the stringed lights that lined the sidewalks illuminated, creating effects of a firefly summer some children experienced frequently in the countryside. “I hope you realize happiness isn’t a phase, Maggie. I really do.” He pushed away a strand of her hair that hung lazily in her face.
He kissed her. She kissed back. The firefly lights continued to burn. The night still loomed ahead of them.
It was about time something changed for Maggie Wentworth, it really was.
♠ ♠ ♠
Thank you all for the tremendous support. This chapter just sort of came out wrong, but right.I'm tired, so I'll be heading to sleep. Love you all bunches.