jesycouture replied to your post:im so confused... is that really jesy's dad in the gif? like in the pic she points out or was she joking? is he really int he mafia?? lol im really confused
what did her brother do?? i know her dad is like a killer…. i feel like jesy never posts anything with her family, like not even her sisters
her brother got caught in a cocaine deal. like i think it was the sun or some other tabloid went under cover and like bought cocaine off him. that was a while ago though, and that's what was said. basically he's a drug dealer d'ah
you've got a pocket full of reasons why you're here tonight→
pairing: Leigh-Anne/Perrie
word count: 1.5k
a/n: this is the first part of katie's super duper late birthday fic, i am sorry baby please forgive me d'ah ):
-
Leigh-Anne remembers the stories her mum used to tell her, about the spotty galaxies shifting over them, the heavens moving the sky, right in front of her eyes.
She used to be little then, her eyes were still bright and her head was filled with dusty old fairy tales and the big promises they used to make her.
Now, the sky is overcast, heavy and dragging down with the rain the heavens have promised, a last good bye cry for her mother. The whole world is mourning, Leigh-Anne stopped crying days ago.
Her mom is nothing but decomposing skin and bones, breaking down into the dirt that held her up. The priest is saying his prayers, holding is umbrella even when no tears come, even when the sun starts to break through the coiling clouds.
Her dad doesn't show his face, her sisters are not welcomed, there's rows of chairs, metal and cool in the cold day, but they're empty, Leigh-Anne stands next to where her mum is laying in her coffin, eyes closed and arms crossed, over the empty ribcage that once held a heart.
The cold runs under her skin, up her veins, all through her body, an impatient twitch, and tick in her knee, the ghost of a movement.
Her heart feels like it's aching, a searing pain scorching the inside of her chest. She's worn her hair out, in the curls her mother used to love so much.
It takes over her, it lifts her up. The priest barely utters the last amen before Leigh-Anne starts running.
-
The dust sticks to her, it clings to her desperately as she drives down the road. It's hot, it's been in the triple digits and Leigh-Anne misses home desperately. The states have some wicked weather, hell bound and boiling over. Her hair frizzes out all over her, a halo of dark curls that keep getting pushed back with the warm wind.
The radio station she's playing is breaking up, mostly static but Leigh-Anne catches the report of wild fires in South California, a drought and no chances of rain. She clicks her tongue and fiddles with the knobs until she finds a station playing music.
I'd walk through hell for you,
let it burn right through my shoes
these soles are useless without you
Leigh-Anne taps her fingers along the steering wheel, tensing up when the engine lets out of a groan. The van is rickety and old as fuck. But it was cheap and it was all Leigh-Anne could afford when she landed in the states with 400 dollars in her pocket and the clothes in her book bag.
The guy at the lot had been a proper creep, trying to put his grubby hands all over Leigh-Anne. It had riled her up, had made her slap him across the face, a loud ringing sound as he stumbled backwards, blood breaking over where her rings have caught his face.
The paint job was peeling and the seats were spotty and smelled like sweat and dirt, the blinds on the windows dusty and of old velvet, limp and pushed back to filter sunlight in.
“I'll give 300 for it,” she had said, the guy still cupping his cheek, cigar dropped on the floor.
“If it'll get yah out of my face then yeah,” he had grumbled, looking at his giant key holder, fat fingers going to the hundred of keys before he found the one for Leigh-Anne.
“Take it yah little fuck,” he had said, throwing the key at her, hand holding out for the money.
The miles slide off the roof of the van, blurring and left behind as she steps on the accelerator, windows cracked open to let in the hot air and grainy dust.
-
Dusk is just creeping up on her, the air cooling down to a warmness rather than the scorching feeling of it at the peak hours of the sun. There's no town to pull in, not that Leigh-Anne minds, she rather go through the night, pull an all nighter and get farther away from home.
She turns the headlights on, shifts in her seat and tries to find a station that plays something besides static.
That's when Leigh-Anne sees her, hand sticking out, book bag over her shoulder and hair loose. Her pale skin contrasts almost comically with the falling night and Leigh-Anne can feel the low bubble of what she thinks is laughter in the pit of her belly. It confuses her for a second, before she realizes the girl on the side of the road has seen her, waving her hands up and down, hey hey hey! she says, eyes bright and mouth set into a grin.
She doesn't plan on stopping, but the girls steps right in front of her path, hands wide open and standing over her toes, trying to make herself bigger than she really is (and she's so tiny, Leigh-Anne notices).
“Hey!” she says again, once Leigh-Anne hurriedly goes for the break, screeching to a stop, her heart leaping to her throat when she thinks the car isn't going to stop in time. Running over a girl wasn't part of Leigh-Anne's plan.
The girl puts her palm on the hood of the van, sticking her hip out under her long maxi skirt, tap tapping away with her fingers before Leigh-Anne finally says “What?”
“Where yah going?” she asks, her accent is from back home, and Leigh-Anne's stomach flops at the sound of her.
“To the coast,” Leigh-Anne shrugs, squinting at the girl. The lights of her car bounce off the girl's skin, blinding Leigh-Anne momentarily before the girl goes up to her window, forearms leaning on the open window, her hair getting into Leigh-Anne's personal space.
“You think you can give me a lift?” the girl asks, her hand going up to push her up, “I ain't go no place to go, but I sure as hell know I don’t want to be here.”
Leigh-Anne looks at her, at the peach stains of her lips, the way her eyelashes are dark over her blue eyes.
“Ain't gonna let a stranger in my car,” Leigh-Anne says slowly.
The girl smiles at her, sticks her hand out and says, “I'm Perrie Edwards, nice to meet yah.”
Leigh-Anne stays quiet for a while, there's small warm breeze that ruffles the stray hairs on Perrie's head, and then her eyes flicker to her outstretched hand, the way her fingers are thin and long.
She reaches slowly for it, gives it a small shake, “I'm Leigh-Anne,” she says.
Perrie's hand is warm in hers, she looks at the way their hands slot together, the soft smile Perrie is giving her. Her judgment must have left her along with the miles, she says, “well come on in.”
-
“My momma was kinda like a hippy,” Perrie says, her feet on the dashboard, toenails painted a seafoam green, “she left home for the states before I was even born,” she goes on, “she's gone now, I've been trying to find my way home for a while now.”
Leigh-Anne keeps her eyes on the road, it's dark and she doesn't want an accident, no matter what they're talking about, “Gone?” she asks, her throat going funny when she thinks about her mum.
“Yeah,” Perrie nods, “left back home, I stayed behind.”
“Oh,” Leigh-Anne says, lowers her eyes for a second, “that's cool.”
Perrie shrugs, suddenly gone serious, “Ain't the radio work?” she finally asks.
Leigh-Anne lets go of a breath, shakes her head and tries to smile (she knows it comes out watery and unsure), “nah, but you're free to try to find a station that isn't crappy.”
-
Perrie finds a station that plays top 40 hits and bubble gum pop, Leigh-Anne grimaces at it, the sun is out now, over the horizon, the long spaces of sand and road.
Perrie bops her head to the music, hums along to familiar tunes and chords.
“Do yah need a break?” Perrie asks out of nowhere, “I can drive if you want a nap.”
Leigh-Anne's eyes are burning, she feels sluggish and like she's moving underwater, but she shakes her head and keeps her eyes on the road.
“C'mon,” Perrie says, her finger prodding Leigh-Anne's thighs. The contact has her locking up, a swell of hot feelings going over her insides.
“Yeah,” she says then, feels dizzy, “maybe I do need to lay down.”
Perrie grins at her, watches her pull up on the side of the road before she undoes her seat belt, opening the door on her side.
Leigh-Anne takes her time, Perrie waits patiently by her door before Leigh-Anne climbs to the back, to the moldy seats, burying her face into the crook of her arms and taking a deep breath.
-
Her name had been Jesy, Leigh-Anne remembers how nice she had been, how pretty and bigger than life she was. It was a crush, Leigh-Anne remembers the fluttery feeling in her stomach, the heat on her cheeks, the loud sound of her heart.
She feels it now, when she's sitting and the sun is hitting Perrie, her eyes glinting under the stream of it, the soft look of her skin, the way her shirt droops over her flat chest.
She's not wearing a bra, Leigh-Anne realizes and her mouth feels like it's been filled with cotton.
"you belong with me" is about feeling uncool and left out and it uses traditional high school archetypes to display its point it does not condemn those stereotypes nor does it say that its portrayal of high school is absolute it also is one specific instance & storyline to illustrate a ROMANTIC PLOTLINE which is not an allegory for larger scale highschool situations :~)
