Theirs was an impossible task. To make sense out of their complicated emotions, to wrangle the demons that raged from within the cages of their chests. Knowing that despite all the things that they had done, the sinning and the beauty of it, the making out in quiet spaces and finding privacy within the madness of the Southside... his involvement in the Serpents and her own state of impermanence made things seem so transient, and in some ways, impossible. His own home situation untenable, and strange. A mother that haunted most, if not all moments between them, drifting to the doorframe, and there in the aftermaths of whatever joint they’d been smoking, looking at them in silence from up high, wherever she was situated within herself. Bitch. But they were words that never left her mouth, only ever exchanging glances his way, and knowing that she’d need to leave soon enough, lest she spark another fight.
But now, more than ever, she felt like fighting. Felt that confusion, brewing from within herself, around what to do about what had transpired down in the locker rooms within Riverdale High, with his hands on her and the telltale bruises leaving a reminder that this hadn’t been a dream. And Troy, lovely, little, Troy, not knowing what to do with his words in the aftermath as she’d laughed against his shoulder and let her head thunk back against the tiles, with him slipping out of her and splattering against the floor with what he’d left behind in haste, and the both of them left to go outside, to grab a bite, to smoke a cigarette, as if nothing were remiss. Though, was that fair? Things were different. As much as she liked to think herself above such things, these things, always changed them.
You couldn’t exactly rewind naked, after all.
So she stood outside his place, nervous hands not knowing what to do with themselves. In pockets, fumbling with her lighter, eventually climbing a tree and smoking a quick one, waiting to look down at him for when he arrived, that grin on her face more at ease as she called down to him, so he’d find where she was. “Hey stranger!” calling out with apparent glee and laughter tracing on her tongue, the easiest way to fake a calm that ratcheted with false claims within her. “I never got to ask what you were looking for me for. So I thought I’d play detective and come root you out myself. What’s up? Other than me.” that laugh, a familiar smile, all things meant to trap him down with a lulled sense of security - the unspoken things there, beneath the twisting of her tongue. What do you want with me, why did you do that? though the simple truth was that it could be nothing, nothing, and that they were caught up, and they were crazy and young and that was it.
Knowing far too well, not every story had a happy ending.
