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hunnylagoon · 4 months

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Right Where You Left Me

Pt 3: Being So Normal

Ellie Williams x Reader

Horror pushes tears from my eyes as I uncover the corpses of your past relationships. Each of them dead and lifeless as the next. Because that is what you do, you ruin what is good and it makes me miss you less and less as everyday goes by.

Premise: You and Ellie were childhood friends until you drifted apart. Funny thing about soulmates is that they tend to find their way back to each other. On this night some questionable choices lead you to a vulnerable state where you run out of options.

Warnings: Angst / reader has religious issues / drinking / smoking / drugs

Part one here!

Part two here!

Part three here!

ELLIE

It wasn't as fun as I thought to watch you fall apart.

The morning after Christmas you left before I even woke, your makeshift bed made. You gathered all of the boxes of shit I collected off your dad's lawn and took off, leaving behind nothing more than a letter thanking my dad for his hospitality.

When I came back to Northridge a week later it was like I was looking at a new person.

Everything that had happened was swept under the rug, you lied and told the girls that you had a great Christmas. You started picking up overtime shifts, you were out more than you were at home.

I watch you stumble through the doors at five AM, makeup smeared, hair a mess and the fakest smile I have ever borne witness to, plastered across your face. You worked the closing shift almost every night and would go partying afterwards with your shitty co-workers who enabled this type of ruination.

I saw your stories too, shot after shot, In every single picture you nurse a drink in your hand or a cigarette wedged between your fingers. When did you even start smoking?

Abby and Cat didn't know just had bad you were but Dina was catching on. I remember how she would go out with you at the beginning, in her mind it had just been harmless fun until it was a nightly occurrence she started to get concerned.

It's like you've euthanized the person you used to be.

You can't even stand to be in a quiet room so you will it with nonsense conversation, hardly even words and laugh at your own jokes.

You used to glow. Back in middle school, you glowed like a candle that smelled of pumpkins and lattes, your love felt like sinking into a warm bath, comfort and security. In high school you glowed like the moon, no one could pry their wondering eyes away from your nerve-wracking beauty, gentle and empathetic.

Though now you do not glow, you burn. You burn like the end of a cigarette, the bud fluttering to the ground just to be crushed by the heel of muddy Converse. The spark of a lighter to ignite your stale menthol cigarette, slipped from bony fingers like clumsy matchsticks to the wilderness, to set what once was beautiful aflame.

Fire is only beautiful while it burns, I knew that soon you would smother yourself out to ashes.

I've been nourishing my withering body with 50-cent packets of ramen noodles.

I know that I'm not well, in fact, I think I've fallen off the rails.

When was the last time I got a full night of sleep? I'm not sure.

My days and nights bleed together and I can hardly differentiate the two. I hate everyone but I'm so starved for love I am searching everywhere for it, I look for it in dingy clubs and roadkill off the side of a highway, the bottom of a solo cup and the arms of one-night stands, I have even learned to lick it off silver knives. They have taken the rosery from my hand and replaced it with hard liquor.

I went out last night to forget like I do every single night. I look to the moon and pretend it is its being with thoughts and feelings, I act like I talk to it and it has said that it shines just for me.

Tonight, I will go out again. I smear glitter over my eyelids and slip into a silver sequin dress that doesn't even fall past my fingertips. I force my scabbed and bleeding feet into white stilettos that are sure to damage them even further. When I look in the mirror I feel a new sense of bitterness, like nicotine on the tip of my tongue, my face is thinning and my eyes are sunken in, dark bags hanging below the dull irisis. I cover it in concealer and bronze my face to help me look some sort of alive.

"Where are you going?" Dina asks me as I walk from my room and towards the front door, she has a tote bag packed up, her car keys in hand.

"The Monarch," I answer, it was a club on the main street, it tended to be the busiest also infamous for sketchy activity. My eyebrows furrow as I look at the tote bag in hand "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to Jesse's for the night, " She says, tonight her hair is loose and falling over her shoulders "Are you sure you wanna go out tonight?"

I nod, suddenly feeling vulnerable in my choice of clothing "Yeah," Sensing her judgement, I'm already getting defensive "I'm in college, all I do and go to work and school-

"Who's fault is that?" Dina cuts me off and my words fail me, I don't know what to say. She looks at me with disappointment glinting in her dark eyes.

My phone dings and I check the notification "My ride is here."

"Don't stay out too late."

"I won't," We both know that I am lying.

I have been many things over the years, a pirate, a cowboy, a warrior; over the past five months alone I have been a lonely girl and a saint, now I am a drunk who drowns out her worries in vodka and overly sweet cocktails.

"To being young, dumb, and broke!" Kayla raises her shot, and the rest of the group does the same. The small glasses clink together, and some of the vodka spills before we all swallow them back and slam them back onto the bar.

The central focal point was the expansive dance floor, alive with bodies moving in rhythmic unison. Multicoloured strobe lights cut through the haze, creating an otherworldly atmosphere.

The bar, a gleaming expanse of polished metal, beckoned with the promise of libations. Bartenders, clad in stylish attire, skillfully craft cocktails. The mirrored backdrop reflected the kaleidoscope of lights and the animated conversations that unfolded in this hub of social convergence.

Overhead, suspended fixtures resembling metallic sculptures add to the overstimulation.

"Welcome back," The bartender, Mitch, smiles at me, I know him by name now that I've been bouncing around from club to club almost every night. "Long Island ice tea?" He asks, to which I respond with a nod. He's memorized my drink too.

Kayla is beside me while the others have dispersed to dance or converse, she sips a dirty martini. Her beautiful copper hair is styled into loose curls, she is clad in all black, a tube top, a mini skirt and tall boots as well as a slightly oversized leather jacket thrown overtop. She looks like the definition of a cool girl.

Everyone liked her.

"So how are things with the roommates?" She asks me, her green eyes piercing mine, she has a slight smile on her perfect lips.

"It's fine," I lied, again. I knew Dina was getting tired of taking care of me when I was too drunk to make my own way home, all of the girls that Ellie brought over hated me. I haven't been seeing much of Abby but Cat and I were actually good.

I can tell that Kayla doubts my words but she carries on to another topic "Are you ready to get fucked up tonight?"

"Yes, ma'am," I giggle. Around the curved bar, I see a woman, she's in a red top and black jeans, her hair in a mousy brown shag cut. Obviously, she caught my eye. "Do you think she's gay?"

Kayla discreetly turns to look at the woman, she turns back to me grinning "No shit."

The woman catches me staring at her and smiles at me, of course, she has perfectly straight white teeth and a pretty smile. I sheepishly smile back "Hey, Mitch?" I wait for the bartender to give me his attention "Two shots of Everclear?"

That's how the majority of my night plays out; I dance for a minute, swaying to- not really swaying, I was dancing in a way that became a hazard to those around me then return to the bar to down more drinks.

"Hey," I hear a voice beside me, it isn't one I recognize, and when I face it, I feel my heartbeat pick up. It was the woman I had been eyeing, now that she's this close I can see the freckles scattered on her face. "Do you wanna dance?"

I can't help when my face splits into a smile, "For sure," I slip off the barstool and follow her onto the dancefloor, the lights are orange and hazy or maybe the haziness is caused by my drunken state. The woman says something to me but it's drowned out by the overwhelmingly loud music "What?"

"I'm Karris," She repeats, smiling down at me.

"Cool!" I say. I followed Karris' lead with the dancing, she had a certain confidence in her.

I swayed with each ungraceful movement. Karris, the opposite of me is attuned to the music, moved with a confident fluidity that balanced out my careless stumbles. She laughs at my dancing "Here, I'll help you out." She shouts, trying to be heard over the Rhianna song blasting in my ears.

She comes up behind me, snaking her hands down my torso until they find a resting spot on my hips. With a firm grip, she slows me down, and now I'm moving with her, as one.

My sequin dress shimmered with every twist and move, like a mirrorball, I too might hang. As the light shifts I could've sworn I saw Ellie in the face of Karris.

I felt the liquor hit me all at once and my body became loose, melting into Karris, I'm almost limp against her touch. She's in front of me now and my arms are hooked around her neck while her slim hands lay on her midriff.

Her eyebrows furrow as she says something to me but once again it it lost in all of the noise, I just laugh, pretending like I heard what she was saying and hoping that it wasn't something about her dog dying.

The pop song changes into some song in French, I can't make out the words. Wait, I aced every French test in high school, I step away from Karris, squinting my eyes as I stand still in the middle of the dancefloor trying to process the lyrics.

Je veux te voir- I need you, no, that doesn't sound right. I want to see you, that's it.

je veux t'avoir- I want to hold you.

I want to hold you? Is that it? When did my French get so rough? I can't even think straight.

I swear on every god I was so drunk that I forgot I was in the middle of a dancefloor, it had slipped from my mind that I was dancing with someone, and all I could think about was my French classes from high school.

Age fifteen - Grade 10

The French lesson seemed to be even more boring than usual that day. Monsieur Cargin was babbling on and on about how there could be a room full of women but if there was one male rat you would refer to them using ils instead of elles. It was the same lesson I had learned every single year in French.

It took Monsieur Cargin thirty minutes to announce the project. "Pour ce devoir, vous écrirez une lettre à un camarade de classe sur vous-même, vous pourrez inclure des informations sur votre famille, vos passe-temps, vos sujets préférés et peut-être un bon souvenir. Si vous êtes ami avec votre partenaire, vous pouvez écrire avec lui sur quelque chose que vous attendez avec impatience. La lettre fera au minimum un paragraphe, je viserais plus haut si vous voulez une bonne note." Easy enough, a letter to a classmate about your self. "Avant de demander, vous pouvez choisir vos propres partenaires."

I look right over to Ellie from across the room after he mentions choosing our own partners, she doesn't meet my gaze though, she looks as lost as ever, rifling through some papers in her binder and I'm not even sure she understood a word of what the teacher said.

Monsieur Cargin lets us begin our project, everyone gets up from their seat to search for a partner; Ellie, seeing that everyone is standing up, gets up as well. I wave her down to my desk, she crouches beside it and asks "What the fuck are we supposed to be doing?"

I explain the project to her while she hangs off my desk and nods at everything I'm saying, giving me her full attention "Do you get it now?"

"Yes."

The next day we finished writing the letters and had to give them to each other before we turned it in, I gave Ellie my letter first.

Ellie,

Je suis heureux que nous soyons amis, non seulement parce que nos parents nous ont forcés à l'être, mais parce que tu es mon âme sœur dans chaque vie. J'aimerais te parler de moi, mais tu me connais déjà mieux que moi-même, alors je vais juste dire certaines choses que je sais sur toi. Vous avez lu chaque couverture de la bande dessinée Savage Starlight, plus d'une fois. Je sais que vous aimez faire du shopping dans la section hommes des magasins parce que vous pensez que c'est plus confortable même si vous finissez par ressembler à Adam Sandler. Vous détestez les mathématiques même si vous êtes vraiment bon dans ce domaine et vous aimez l'anglais même si vous détestez les études romanesques. Vous parlez à toute vitesse parce que vous avez tellement de choses à dire et pas assez de temps pour le dire, vous chantez comme une église avec une chorale et chaque fois que je vous vois entrer dans une pièce, je ne peux m'empêcher de sourire. J'ai hâte d'entrer à l'université, nous pouvons être colocataires et décorer la maison exactement comme nous le voulons, merci de toujours me supporter.

(Translation)

Ellie,

I'm glad that we're friends, not just because our parents forced us to be but because you are my soulmate in every single life. I would like to tell you about me, but you already know me better than I know myself so instead I will just say some things I know about you. You have read every Savage Starlight comic cover to cover, more than once. I know that you like to shop in the men's section at stores because you think it's more comfortable even if you end up looking like Adam Sandler. You hate math even though you are really good at it and you love English even though you hate novel studies. You talk at a mile a minute because you have so much to say and not enough time to say it, you sing like a church with a choir in it and every time I see you walk into a room I can't help but smile. I can't wait for college, we can be roommates and decorate the house exactly how we want it, thank you for always putting up with me.

I bent the rubric a little bit, talking about Ellie rather than myself but we were really getting graded on our French comprehension, not the subject matter of the letter. Ellie read it through, over and over, nodding her head along and pretending that it made perfect sense but I can tell by the way she squints her eyes and furrows her eyebrows that it doesn't make sense. She hand hers to me next, pride clear across her face.

Ton père est toujours en colère et je pense que c'est pour ça que nous sommes mariés. J'apprécie quand tu dors dans ma chambre et que nous nous battons avec des pistolets à eau. Mon film préféré à regarder est Star Wars, mais j'apprécie aussi Hunger Games parce que vous en êtes témoin. J'attends avec impatience une soirée cinéma ce vendredi avec vous. Tu es très cool, merci d'être mon ami.

(Translation)

Your dad is always mad and I think that is why we are married. I enjoy when you sleep at my room and we fight with guns of water. My favourite movie to watch is Star Wars but I also enjoy Hunger games because you witness it. I look forward to night movie this Friday because with you. You are very cool, thank for being my friend.

I can't help but giggle when I read it over, this causes panic in Ellie "Why are you laughing, what's wrong with it?"

"I love you but you are definitely failing."

I quickly helped her rewrite it before we turned it in, and she ended up getting a B with my revisions.

"Are you okay?" I hear Karris, she looks a little on edge, probably because I went nonverbal and froze for a solid minute or two.

"She's fine," Kayla puts her hands on either of my arms which are currently plastered to my side "I'm just gonna snag her for a minute if you don't mind." Kayla didn't wait for a response she was already dragging me away, guiding me through the sea of people and into the bathroom.

I always hated the bathroom here. The walls were black tile with white grout and there was graffiti all over the stalls and ceiling, apparently, it added to the effect, I just thought it was fugly; not to mention how dimly lit it was, there were red LED strips behind the mirrors but that was about the only light source. If you were trying to fix your eyeliner, you

"What is going on with you?" Kayla leans against the counter with the sinks, I'm right in front of her with my arms crossed.

"Nothing-

"I just saw you glitch in real life," She raises her eyebrows "You literally froze, I thought you were having a stroke."

I wipe some sweat off my brow "My head hurts," I mutter, I've already had too much to drink and we really hadn't been there that long. My thoughts didn't seem to process. Now keep in mind that I was so insanely plastered that night that I don't remember everything verbatim, I had to take others' words for what happened.

"Do you want an aspirin?" Kayla asks to which I nod and she begins digging through her purse, she pulls out a little bottle and I hear the rattling of pills. It's so dark that I can only make out the vague shape of the bottle. She places a little pill into my hand and gives me a half-drunk bottle of Fiji water in my free hand.

I don't need the water though, I dry swallow it.

She tucks the bottle back into her purse and feels something, I see her eyes go wide and that alone begins to stress me out. "What?" I ask, with no answer. She dumps her purse onto the counter behind her and turns on her phone flash to look at each item, she snatches a bottle of Tylenol and takes the cap off just for her hand to fly over her mouth. "Is something wrong?"

"I didn't give you aspirin," She's fighting back laughter but her dainty features are etched with concern.

"So?" I say, "It's just Tylenol, it won't kill me," My speech is slurred from the alcohol in my system.

"Honey, it's not Tylenol," She lowers her hand from her mouth, pressing her lips together tight. "It's MDMA."

"What?"

"Ecstasy," She corrects herself, making it easier for me to understand.

"WHAT?" My eyes go wide and my jaw drops "WHAT?" I repeat, running over to one of the nasty graffiti-covered stalls and kneeling in front of it, sticking my fingers down my throat to try and throw up to get it out of my system before it sets in. "Say something gross to make me throw up!"

"Uhh," Kayla stood behind me "Think of your dad getting off with your grandma!"

"EW!" I shout, turning to look at her with disgust on my face. "Why would you say that?"

"You told me to say something gross!"

"Not that!" I cry, slouching against the stall. I wish I had a time machine, I wouldn't just go back four hours, I would go back four years and make sure I play everything right. Maybe then I wouldn't be drunk and high in the bathroom of a dingy nightclub and I would still have Ellie.

"It's okay, honey, It's clean," Kayla walks closer to me, the heels of her boots clacking on the tile "I promise," She offers me a little rub on the shoulder "I promise I'll take good care of you tonight and make sure you're safe."

She was lying through her teeth, and just an hour later I was face down on the bar, lulling in and out of consciousness. That is the exact moment I started to think it wasn't clean like Kayla had said. My high didn't feel like what I was told rolling was like.

At first, I felt fine and then everything started to feel off. You know when you spin around a bunch super fast and your world spins under your feet? It was like that.

Before I retired to the bar, I tried to get back on the dancefloor just for my body to betray me and collapse onto the ground, people around me had stopped to watch me stagger back onto my feet and wordlessly stumble away.

After I lift my head off the spruce bartop and don't see Kayla anywhere in sight for the seventh time, I reach for my phone that I had stuffed into my bra and dial up Dina.

I hear the hum of the tone before it clicks and I hear her static voice on the other end. "Hello?" Her voice crackles.

"Dina, I'm on drugs."

"What?" I hear some shuffling in the background then what sounds like the click of a door "What drugs? are you okay?"

"I don't know," My voice drags out "Kayla took it out of her purse, said it was MMA and I'm not-" I hiccup "I'm not doing well."

"What the hell is MMA? Isn't that mixed martial arts?"

"Dina, I'm not doing martial arts, I'm doing drugs."

She sighs and I can feel her disappointment through the phone "Are you still at Monarch?"

"Yes."

"Hang on," Something shifts in the background.

"I'm kind of scared."

"Please just stay where you are-

"I love you, Dina."

"I lo- CLICK

My phone dies, and the screen turns black. I click some buttons for a moment to ensure that it's dead before I tuck it back into my bra and let myself lull back onto the bar, I rest my head on my arms and look at the displays of liquor surrounding me.

I lose track of the time that passes, in my head I am just about the win the 72nd Hunger Games, it's down to me and another tribute. There's an intense fight, I wind up underneath her and she presses a blade to my throat, I get a good look at her face and see Ellie but her face doesn't stay the same. It morphs through every version of her I had ever known. When we were seven, her grunge phase, when she let me do her makeup. This is when I give up, I know I don't have it in me to kill her so I lay limp and await my fate-

"Hey," A man sits next to me, his presence stood out effortlessly. With a strong, chiselled jawline and well-defined features, his face carried an air of that old-money elegance. His hazel eyes were softened by something (alcohol, probably), drawing others into their captivating gaze. Dark, tousled hair framed his face, adding an intriguing touch of ruggedness. He is clad in a white button-up and dress pants, I can well he's a blue-collar man just from the way he sits.

"What?" I squint my eyes at him.

"You're really pretty, I thought I would introduce myself," He smiles "I'm Emmet."

"Okay," I answer turning my attention to look ahead at the liquor display, watching the way the lights shone through them. Right now I don't care to make conversation, even if he looks like Henry Cavell, I'm fighting to stay awake.

One of his bulky hands reaches for my necklace, four of his fingers are beneath the cross, pressed against it while his thumb rubs it "You're religious."

I look down where he cradles my cross and try to jerk away but my body feels too heavy "Not anymore," I mutter. I put one of my hands over his to move it off me, he takes this as an invitation to hold my hand.

Emmet brings his head next to mine to whisper in my ear "So does that mean you're a good girl or a bad girl-

"It means she's leaving, actually," Ellie pushes him away abruptly, he looks taken aback while she doesn't give a shit. She begins to gingerly help me off the stool "Do you have everything?"

"Why are you here?" I ask "I called Abby."

"You called Dina and she's on the other side of town with her boyfriend so she sent me." Ellie slings one arm around me and I sink into her immediately.

"I hate you so much," I murmur under my breath.

"Yeah, I bet you do," She is gentle with me, she's treating me like I'm made of porcelain and I'll shatter at the slightest bit of harm.

Emmet looks crazily offended, his hands up in defence "Hey, we were having a conversation-

"Borderline harassment doesn't constitute a conversation." Ellie looks like she rolled out of bed, she is in her grey sweatpants and field hockey hoodie, her hair in the low ponytail she always wore to sleep. "Are you okay?" She asks, her tone shifting from harsh to soft.

"Mhm," I ball my fist up and rub my eye, smearing my mascara when I do so, I look down at my hand and see the remnants of my telescopic mascara and silver glitter smudged on it.

I am killing myself slowly and it is no crucifixion.

As Ellie helps me into the back seat of her car I feel like mold is growing on my bones just to way me down to the concrete where I will surely rot. "I don't write enough," I mumble "And I'm so lonely I'm searching for god everywhere but I can't find him."

Ellie gives me a little hum of acknowledgment her eyes briefly shooting to me in the rearview mirror before looking back to the road.

"Don't worry, I'm not in love with you anymore," I say nonchalantly as I'm sprawled out in her back seat, watching the light from neon signs pass us by.

"I didn't know you ever were." She says softly, hands on the steering wheel, she steals glances at me. The towering skyscrapers loomed like sentinels, their reflective glass surfaces capturing the myriad colours of neon signs that adorned the streets.

"I hate you," I add on. The mix of liquor and whatever drug Kayla gave me was doing me justice, I couldn't hold back any thought, they all fell from my lips in a jumbled mess. "I hope you die, I hope we both die." Ellie doesn't have anything to say to that. I think to myself that if I die in this moment, I would not be afraid, I would greet death like an old friend with a bright smile and warm hug. "I don't love anyone the way I love you," My head lulls against the window "And your girls, they all hate me."

"So which is it?" She asks, feeding into my tangent "Do you love me or do you hate me?"

"I-" I think about it for a brief moment "I hope if I killed myself everyone who was ever mean to me felt responsible." I look up slightly, using the car seats to help me steady myself "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you home," She says, biting the inside of her cheek "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for god to call me back."

I ramble on and on, it's a miracle that she didn't stop at the side of the road and dump me onto a curb. The traffic lights painted the road in hues of red and green, and the city lights flickered like stars, helping us find our way home.

"Ellie," I say, a building up ahead catches my eyes "Ellie, pull over!" She thinks I'm going to throw up so she pulls her gray sedan over, as swiftly as possible. I stumble out of the car, my stiletto heel catches the ground in a weird way, my ankle goes sideways and I fall with it.

"Shit," Ellie rushes from the driver's seat to help me sit up straight. I use her as support to pull myself off the concrete sidewalk completely and walk towards the church up ahead like a zombie "Where are you going?"

"To clean myself from sin," I approach the church and force the heavy doors open; I knew for a fact even in my state that this church had its chapel open twenty-four hours from all of the Google pins my mom sent me when I first moved here.

The chapel's interior was bathed in a soft, ethereal moonlight that filtered through stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colours upon the polished wooden pews below.

Smooth, cool stone formed the foundation of the chapel. The high, arched ceilings reached towards the heavens, adorned with wooden beams that seemed to cradle the sacred space below. The acoustics, shaped by the architecture, lent an echo to the moonlight whisper as if the very walls absorbed and magnified the prayers of the faithful.

Rows of meticulously arranged pews lined either side of a central aisle, leading towards the altar bathed in a soft glow. Carved with intricate detail, the altar served as the focal point, adorned with candles, floral arrangements, and sacred symbols. The air was scented with the subtle fragrance of incense, a sensory companion to the spiritual journey within.

Throughout the chapel, unlit candles are spread throughout. Above the altar, a crucifix hung solemnly, a symbol of sacrifice and redemption. Rays of moonlight seemed to converge upon it, imbuing the sacred symbol with a profound sense of grace.

I try to compose myself the way you would a song or a speech and fall to my knees before the altar, clasping my hands together tightly. "My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us. I wake young but feel as though my bones have resided on this earth for centuries."

I am at his altar but I don't feel him around me, where is his steady hand which used to guide me?

My hands grasp together even tighter "I am filthy, I'm disgusting," I choke out "I'm all used up and I need you to help me get better," I break my hands away from their position to wipe my eyes free of any oncoming tears before putting them right back "Fill me with your purity, I will be waterboarded by your sacred hand until holy water leaks from my pores."

Ellie hangs around by the entrance, sketched out by not only the creepy church but also my off-putting behaviour. She flinches at every shadow she sees, believing it to be a homeless person who was residing there for the night. I'm kneeling over in my sequin dress, one of the straps slips down my shoulder and my dress rides up, this is the most sinful I have ever been, synthetic sunshine coursing through my system.

"Make me love myself so I have room to love you," I feel so repulsive and dirty, soap and water won't make me feel clean so I'll try bleach and matches instead "I ask for Your mercy and grace to cleanse me from all unrighteousness. Create in me a clean heart, God, and renew a right spirit within me, return my family to my side."

I search for some sort of sign that he is watching over me.

Nothing.

No sign that he is here.

The priest at my old church in my hometown had said that without doubt there was no room for faith. It wasn't doubt, it was absolution, he is not here and so I unclasped my golden cross necklace and discarded it on the ground before the altar, never again will I be haunted by a man who has failed to ever show me mercy.

Ellie washes the grime off me with the detachable shower head. My hair is clipped up and I am hugging my knees, facing away from her in the bathtub. I feel a profound sense of shame and embarrassment all over again despite everything within me that is helping to take the edge off.

She holds the shower head but looks away to give me some false sense of dignity, I cried the whole way home from the church about being filthy but with how many times I had fallen over, she didn't want me to hit my head in the shower so we settled on this.

"I'm done," I mutter and right away Ellie turns the shower off and grabs my house robe from one of the hooks on the door, she holds it up and waits for me to stand, still averting her eyes. I stand slowly, gripping onto the rim of the tub for dear life. When I slip into it, Ellie helps me move out of the bathtub and into my bedroom.

She lifts me onto the bed and tucks me in beneath my satin duvet cover. Ellie leaves for a moment but when she returns she has a bowl in case I need to vomit, a class of water, a sleeve of saltines and a bottle of actual aspirin.

"Goodnight," She begins to shut the door but I stop her.

"Ellie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay with me?" My voice breaks as I say it "Just for tonight, I don't want to be alone." Wordlessly, she shuts the door and comes around the right side of my bed; Ellie is careful keep her distance from me but unlike Christmas, we face each other. "I don't hate you." I tell her because that is all I could recall saying in the car ride.

"I know."

"Do you hate me?"

"Of course not."

I don’t think I’m a whole person anymore, I think I’m made up from a dozen different perceptions of me. This version of me, born that night was anything but pure.

I am unlovely, so please, hold me gently and do not wreck me any further.

A/N: The drinking age in Canada is nineteen! They go to school in the true north strong and free. Also one more part left to go 👀

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wynnyfryd · 2 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 52

part 1 | part 51 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobia, canon-typical violence, blood

"I'm just saying!" Eddie laughs as he swings himself around the slender base of a young tree, cigarette dangling from his lips. "I could absolutely rock the blue eyeshadow look the main chick was wearing."

Steve doesn't disagree. They're in a dark alcove on the side of the movie theater, Eddie's hair all lit up from behind, a frizzy halo of pinks and blues from the neon radiating off the front of the building, and he looks fucking gorgeous, and he smells like menthol and strawberry shake, and he's been tapping Steve's wrist so much tonight that he might as well be drumming up a new song just for them.

"Can't argue with that," Steve murmurs as he steps up onto the concrete planter. Gets up in Eddie's space; borrows his cigarette, his words floating out on a thin wisp of smoke. "You look beautiful."

"Beautiful," Eddie mimics, tasting the word, looking unbelievably pleased with the flavor that he finds. His eyes go hooded, and there's a sly tilt to his mouth as his tongue slips out to tease the edge. "You tryin' to start somethin', Harrington?"

Steve's answering hum rumbles deep in his chest. His cock aches in his jeans. God, he wants him; wants to back him up a good ten feet until his body scrapes the bricks. Wants to rough him up a little, like Eddie did to him the first time they kissed — make his breath hitch and his skin buzz and his back arch under his touch.

"Oh, you are," Eddie purrs. He takes the cigarette back, their fingers brushing on the exchange, and they're standing so close now, nothing but this skinny tree between them, just a twig of a thing, really, the toes of their shoes touching on either side of the base.

Steve looks down at the snowy soil. Taps Eddie's wrist. Desperately. Frantically. Take me home right now, so help me—

A low whoop echoes off the pavement.

A predatory jeer, and Steve looks up to see three men approaching — three boys, about their age, and drunk, by the looks of it. He grits his teeth.

Their ringleader looks like a caricature; classic bad boy who thinks too highly of himself, some cheap knock-off mash up of Billy Hargrove and Rob Lowe. Steve eyes the shaggy mullet, the dangly earring skimming the lapel of his black jacket, the silver flask and the stupid swagger, and his blood runs hot. Thrums with the promise of a fight.

“Well shit, boys,” the guy grins to his sidekicks, taking a long swig and wiping his mouth. Gleeful malice in green eyes. Little asshole gets close enough for Steve to make out the color; gets right up in Steve’s face and sneers, “Looks like we got ourselves a couple of queers to smear.”

Really? Steve thinks. We’re doing playground games right now? He folds his arms over his chest, flattens his voice; disinterested. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

Eddie smokes his cigarette, and the smoke curls around them in short, unsteady puffs.

The guy snarls, “Do you?”

Beside him, his friend’s hands ball up in fists. A vicious voice in Steve’s head whispers: plant your fucking feet.

“Nah,” Steve answers. He takes a step in front of Eddie; widens his stance, digs his heels into the mulch. Slight crouch; deep breath. “Think I’m right where I need to be.”

“Fuckin’ freak,” the guy spits at the ground. He sways and pivots just a little, like maybe he’s about to slither back off to wherever he came from. Or maybe he’s about to throw his full weight into a swing.

Eddie’s breath whistles. His nose still healing from the break. “Seriously, man,” he tries as he drops the cigarette, crushing the butt under his boot. His voice is thin; hands up; don’t shoot. “Just- just fuck off, alright? We don’t want any—”

The first punch is slow. Sloppy. Steve sees it coming and dips low to dodge, and the jab cracks against the tree, spraying ice and splintered bark, the sound sharp in his good ear. It’s a plate over his head; it’s Billy cackling while the world dims, and Steve sees fucking red. Tastes metal and acid and rot, and all his ghosts are with him; all of Eddie’s, too. Hargrove, and Andy, and Jason fucking Carver; all the faceless specters of whoever pummeled him that night at the bar, whoever dared to lay a finger on him when Steve wasn’t there to be a shield.

But he’s here now, and his answering punch lands hard — sickening crunch as his uppercut connects with the kid’s ribs, knocks the wind out of him. The guy grunts and doubles over, but he gets in a good swing on the way down.

Steve tastes blood at the edge of his lip.

Someone grabs him by the collar.

One of the guy’s friends, freezing fingers pawing at his shoulder, at his throat, and he pulls back hard until his shirt rips at the neckline and frees him from the hold. Ducks again to dodge a blow, swivels and pops discount Rob Lowe right under the chin.

The kid’s teeth clack together as he bites his own tongue. Steve watches his head fly back like it’s about to fall off — like a ragdoll, like a bobblehead, like it’s happening in slow motion. He collapses on the sidewalk and cracks his head against the bricks, and he's down, he's out, but there’s two more still coming, one in front and one on Steve's right, and that one looks tall and broad enough to do some real damage.

Steve squares his shoulders; braces himself for another concussion, because this is— fuck, is the guy on the ground bleeding?

This is bad.

This is really bad.

And then he hears it.

A familiar thwick, a metallic slice through the sudden stillness in the air as Eddie pulls his knife out of his boot and flicks it open.

"Back the fuck off!" he growls; lunges forward with the blade and stabs at empty air, the metal gleaming like an oath. His expression is wild, sweat on his lip and at his temples, bangs sticking to his brow.

Steve spits blood onto the concrete.

Everyone backs the fuck off.

—

"Holy shit," Eddie pants as they haul ass out of the lot. Fingers trembling on the steering wheel, knee jiggling so badly it jangles all his pins and chains. His whole body is shaking. The radio is off.

In the rearview, Steve gets a glimpse of their attackers dragging their limp friend by the armpits through a snowy flowerbed. He thinks he sees a streak of blood.

“Did you know them?” he asks, his eyes glued to the reflection.

Eddie rolls the next three stop signs.

“No,” he finally says. Swallows hard in the simmering quiet. “They were just some guys.”

—

part 53

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