[ another dead mogul. another fucking ceo, gone in yet another mysterious way. why the fuck should she care? she's not here for them. she's here for the same stupid reason she comes out here every week. the same stupid bitch as ever.
(she's the only stupid bitch here. she knows that already.) ]
Jessie. [ cold. not as cold as she'd like. she doesn't bother to put out the lit cig, still held between two slender fingers. ] What a surprise.
[ they met here every week to go out on dates. they still meet here every week ever since she got dumped. truly, a tragic heroine. ]
[hair prickles at the back of her neck like antibodies waking up. it happens every week; she's used to the sensation by now. she's gotten good at quelling Her protestations. this is normal, she thinks. they aren't together anymore, she thinks. let her have this.]
Audrey. [she's stopped fighting; the nickname doesn't even register anymore.] You know what "broken up" means, don't you?
[she slides to one end of the bench. there's no need to glance upward even to imply the invitation anymore.]
One of us won't show up, someday. What will you do then?
[blythe takes her bony fingers and forms a circle around audrey's wrist on the hand that's holding the cigarette. holding her ex steady, she leans forward and wraps her lips around the end, taking a long, slow drag like she's done too many times before. she leans back, lets audrey go, and plumes the smoke out above her, and for a moment she could swear it has a yellower tint to it as it leaves her body.]
Don't kill yourself. Cigarettes are so expensive. I'd go broke. [she rests her lunch on the bench and keeps her head tilted upward; even with the grey sky, it hurts her eyes.] I don't understand what keeps you coming back.
[ they've done this a hundred times before, shared cigs through puffs and passes and shotguns and kisses. doesn't make it any less intimate; there's a faint flush on audrey's face, a tension to her thighs as blythe leans away. ]
At least I'm worth a pack. Guess that's something. [ she breathes in the tar, tries not to think about blythe's thin and chapped lips against the filter. ] Can't believe the clinic still lets you smoke. Or did they just give up after the third time you outlasted the prognosis?
[she smiles with her flat, human teeth and closes her thin, human eyelids and tries to think of how she'd gotten away with keeping so many things secret from audrey for so long. maybe this week she'll tell her, she thinks. maybe this week, She won't choke the words from her throat.]
They can deliver me as many prognoses as they want. They'll always be wrong. I've been very good at living ever since I turned 18. [finally, she sits back up properly and looks at her ex. the thoughts that come to mind are only pleasant memories, but She tempers them with a wave of revulsion, a bolt of sudden nausea. blythe does not let it show on her face.]
I hope it won't be a surprise to learn that I regret it, on some days.
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(she's the only stupid bitch here. she knows that already.) ]
Jessie. [ cold. not as cold as she'd like. she doesn't bother to put out the lit cig, still held between two slender fingers. ] What a surprise.
[ they met here every week to go out on dates. they still meet here every week ever since she got dumped. truly, a tragic heroine. ]
no subject
Audrey. [she's stopped fighting; the nickname doesn't even register anymore.] You know what "broken up" means, don't you?
[she slides to one end of the bench. there's no need to glance upward even to imply the invitation anymore.]
One of us won't show up, someday. What will you do then?
no subject
[ she drops down onto the proffered seat without a question, taking a drag as she stares at nothing in particular. ]
Iunno. Haven't really thought about it. Kill myself, maybe?
[ ha. as if. the idea's too boring to even put up with. ]
no subject
Don't kill yourself. Cigarettes are so expensive. I'd go broke. [she rests her lunch on the bench and keeps her head tilted upward; even with the grey sky, it hurts her eyes.] I don't understand what keeps you coming back.
no subject
At least I'm worth a pack. Guess that's something. [ she breathes in the tar, tries not to think about blythe's thin and chapped lips against the filter. ] Can't believe the clinic still lets you smoke. Or did they just give up after the third time you outlasted the prognosis?
no subject
They can deliver me as many prognoses as they want. They'll always be wrong. I've been very good at living ever since I turned 18. [finally, she sits back up properly and looks at her ex. the thoughts that come to mind are only pleasant memories, but She tempers them with a wave of revulsion, a bolt of sudden nausea. blythe does not let it show on her face.]
I hope it won't be a surprise to learn that I regret it, on some days.