“Look,” I said, my voice quieter but firmer. “You’ve got your past, I’ve got mine. Mine’s not clean. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Worked for people I shouldn’t have. Let myself become someone else’s to survive. That’s what I meant by bought.”
She didn’t respond at first, and for a second, I thought maybe she’d let it go. Then she sat up straighter on the bed, her voice a little colder now.
“Did she hurt you?” At this point, I questioned if she was looking for any similarity in our pasts. But I wasn’t ready. I don’t think I will ever be ready to expose that part of myself.
“No.” Another blatant lie.
Thoughts flashed in my mind of when I first met Selene. I was fourteen, dumped on her doorstep with nothing but a“Do as you're told”by Danny. When I stepped into her place the first time, it wasn’t like I imagined. It almost had a sterile feel, like emotions didn’t belong there. She was sitting perfectly still in a chair too large for her frame, legs crossed, chin tilted like she’d been expecting me long before I ever arrived. Eyes the colour of storm-wrecked skies. Calm and patient, with an odd warmth to her mannerisms. Every time I saw her after that, she peeled something off me.
A layer of innocence.
A piece of doubt.
A truth I thought I still had the right to hold onto. It wasn’t always pain. Sometimes it was worse than that. She’d touch my cheek like I was her favourite and whisper in my ear like a mother consoling a child. And then she’d remind me what she could take from me if I ever forgot who I belonged to.
By the time I was fifteen, I didn’t know who I was when I wasn’t in her presence. Or what parts of me were mine anymore. Until Juvie, that is. I thought I’d broken the chains that I could somehow return the favour with interest. Didn’t take her long to turn the tables back again. That fucking car, her perfume permanently soaked into my senses. It made me sick.
I shook my head, walking over to the bed as Misfit's eyes followed me. I clutched the bottle of vodka from the nightstand and slumped my body down next to her. My head leaned back against the wall. I could see the cogs turning in her mind as she watched me take a long draw from the bottle, baring teeth at the burn. I wanted us to move from the subject; my walls were up on the topic. Tall and unshifting.
“So, got your music with you?” My lips pressed together as she stayed quiet. “Hello, earth to misfit?” I waved my hand in front of her face.
“Your nose flares when you lie by the way,” I couldn’t help the chuckle that came from me at her statement.
“Noted.”
Her fingers toyed with the edge of my hoodie; the sleeves swallowed halfway over her hands. She looked like she was trying to make herself smaller, disappear into the fabric. She shifted to her jacket, pulling out her earbuds from her soaked pocket, a heavy thud as it fell back to the floor. She reached across, handing one to me and placing the other in her ear, the tiny plastic shape glinting in the low light.
“Didn’t think you’d want to listen to my sad girl playlist,” she said.
“Sounds like exactly the vibe we’ve got going on right now.”
She gave me a look, that signature Misfit deadpan glance with just a hint of mockery under it.
“You don’t get to call it sad when you’ve just trauma-dumped and slammed vodka like it’s holy water.” I tilted my head, smiling.
“Fair.”
I stood up briefly, walked over to the switch, and clicked off the light. Darkness wrapped around the room like a blanket. The kind that left just the outline of things, soft breaths, and the faint city hum beyond the windows.
I slipped back into bed beside her, careful not to brush too close. The mattress dipped under my weight as I leaned back against the wall again, stretching my legs out in front of me. She turned onto her side, back to me. I stayed still, watching the way the fabric of the hoodie shifted with her movements, the way her shoulders slowly eased into the mattress.
I wanted to reach out and apologise for everything that had turned into tonight. Instead, shifted further down the bed, eyes wide in the dark, bottle still clutched loosely in my hand, and tried to convince myself that I hadn’t already ruined this.
The morning was bright, as if everything that had been said last night had removed a curse over the city. Sunlight spilled into the room through the slit in the curtains. The radiator had finally kicked in sometime in the early hours, humming low and steady, warming the once-bitter air. I stirred in that sluggish, half-lucid way you do after a night of restless thoughts and heavier sleep than expected. Mind still fogged from the vodka, but the burn had long since faded. It wasn’t until I shifted slightly that I realised my arm was tucked around her. My forearm rested across her middle; my hand curled loosely near her ribs. And my face, fuck, my face was far too close to hers. Mere inches frommine. I blinked a few times, adjusting to the pale light as the image of her slowly came into focus.
Misfit’s face was soft in sleep, the furrow she usually carried between her brows smoothed out. Her lips parted just slightly, a slow, rhythmic breath escaping. There was something in my chest, not panic exactly, but something akin to it. A flutter of something I wasn’t used to, like it had crawled in while I wasn’t paying attention. I watched her for a moment longer than I should have, trying to make sense of the feeling rising in me.
It wasn’t lust. Not exactly. It wasn’t the raw, hungry thing I was used to feeling in moments like that. No, this was strange. I watched her nose twitch slightly in her sleep, watched her chest rise and fall beneath my hoodie. Felt the heat of her on my skin. My fingers twitched against her side.
I shifted carefully, trying not to wake her. My arm sliding back from around her waist, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of my hoodie still clinging to her frame. She stirred but didn’t wake. I waited a beat longer, then peeled myself out from under the blanket.
The floor was cold underfoot, even through the soft glow of the morning. I snagged a cigarette from the crumpled packet on the windowsill and tucked it behind my ear. Then, as quietly as I could manage, I opened the bedroom door. And walked right into Squeeks.
She was standing in the hallway, hoodie sleeves half over her hands, a mug of something steaming in her grip. Her brow lifted instantly, eyes narrowing with a look that already had conclusions forming behind them. I flinched and stepped out, pulling the door behind me with a soft click.
“Morning,” I croaked, raking a hand through my messy hair, trying to look casual, like I hadn’t just spent the night wrapped around someone I swore I wasn’t letting close. Squeeks didn’tsay anything at first. She just stared at the closed door, then at me, then back to the door. She tilted her head slightly.
“Uh-huh,” she said finally, taking a sip from her mug. “So… who’s in there?”
