Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship)
On a hot summer night in Greece, Lewis contemplates her "best friend" eating sorbet.
Notes: 2.1k, girlcedes, not beta-read, english is not my first language, title and references from a Studio Killers song of the same name, first time writing fanfiction, slightly suggestive at times, in true teenage girl fashion Lewis is going through it, there are too little fics where Lewis is just plainly weird about Nico
This is @sionisjaune's girlcedes anon from like 2 weeks ago. Girlcedes and girl!Nico especially have been haunted my brain an unhealthy amount and spilled out into this foul beast. I swear this was supposed to be a drabble idk how we got to 2k. Once again shoutout to @sionisjaune, I wish (not really) i was joking when i said that their girl!Nico fics have quite literally fundamentally changed the way i see my own femininity and relationship to the concept of womanhood.
It was uncommon for Lewis to ignore a cone of soft serve in front of her, it really was. The view before her, Nico licking so methodically at the strawberry sorbet perched gracelessly on the cone in her hand as if it was a corner she was analysing, had her letting the sticky liquid melt from her own cone gently down her hand.
In truth, she hated calling her “friend”, but she had no other word for what was between them. A bond so strong, forged over the many years they perfected the art of knowing each other, first as strangers, then friends, then karting teammates, and now vacationeers together in Greece. A bond seemingly so unbreakable that they swore it would survive any rivalries that came from competition, but so stupidly fragile when Lewis thought of words to describe it other than “friends”.
Nico glanced at her, and wordlessly placed one of the paper napkins from her lap onto hers while gently grabbing Lewis’ ice cream cone. Lewis only took her eyes off of mindlessly rubbing at her hands when Nico spoke. “It's a shame. Cream colours look good on you”. “Better like this. My hands are all sticky”
The air was hot, even at night. She could still smell the night market, two streets down from the sea promenade where they were sitting on the rocks. The heavy spices and oil from their street food dinner had made the air in the market sticky as well, and whether by the wind or them channelling it to come with, the air around them now was sticky too. Lewis knew the napkins were ultimately futile to erase the feeling. While she had spoken, another droplet had escaped Lewis’ cone, and Nico gently tilted her head to lick at it with the tip of her tongue, so as to not get it on her nail. The polish perfectly matched the colour of her sorbet. Lewis wondered if it would taste like it too if placed in her mouth.
The only way to stop this stickiness might be to drown herself in the sea across from them. Lewis didn't know if she wanted to.
She carelessly stuffed the napkin into the back pocket of her jean shorts and took back her cone without making eye contact.
“I should paint your nails cream when we get back. We could match. I'm getting tired of this colour” Nico scrunched up her face as she scratched her left thumb across her ring finger. She had only painted her nails two days ago, sat on the sunny balcony floor of their shared room, hunched over and looked like the most beautiful girl on earth Lewis had ever seen.
“I like it. It suits you, and it matches your ice cream”
“Sorbet”
“It matches your Sorbet”
Nico frowned. “No, you're saying it wrong. Sorr-be”
“That's exactly what I’m saying”
“No you're saying sour-bee. Put your tongue more forward in your mouth like-” Her face froze as she tried to think of a proper comparison. Lewis had never possessed the ease Nico seemingly had when it came to picking up languages. Her tongue stubbornly stuck to only moulding itself around the gentle sloping and stopping of the English accent she was born into. Around the proper way, how she would tease Nico about her German lilt.
Suddenly Nico snapped out of her trance, and looked at Lewis with that look that told her whatever came next was not a suggestion but a demand. “Open your mouth”
Lewis obeyed without thinking.
Carefully, like she could shatter Lewis like glass, she stuck her index and middle finger in her mouth and up to her gum, pushing at the space right behind Lewis ́ front teeth.
To any passerby, it must have looked like she was giving her some sort of dental examination. She was so helplessly but willingly at her mercy with two fingers down her mouth. Who would willingly subject themselves to this, she thought, if not for the nauseating agony that toothaches born of avoidance give you? Nobody would so obediently open their mouth, and keep it open, if sweetness would not melt into cavities.
Lewis could only watch as her friend slowly removed her fingers from the mouth she desperately willed to behave from spilling everything sticky she tried to wipe away. In doing so, Nicos nails grazed her tongue. She tasted the sweet flavour of strawberry.
“Put your tongue there. Say it.”
Nicos looked like a spilled bottle of perfume, so intense and penetrating was her look. All Lewis could do was hold it with wide eyes.
“Sorr-be.”
“Good”
“I think I´d like to taste yours, actually” Lewis reached over to take her cone from her and she immediately retorted by taking hers. She had no desire to taste the strawberry in particular, but if she didn't keep her mouth busy it might start telling Nico all its acronyms for their “friendship”. There was a dent in the sorbet where Nico had last licked at it, no bigger than her thumbpad.
When they found the small ice cream vendor at the end of the market, she had initially hoped to get coconut flavour. They had ventured into the building just on the last street corner from the bustling food stalls like they owned the place, and just for a second Lewis stood back to watch Nico gawk at the spread of flavours before them with such unashamed desire that she so fiercely guarded in public. Desire that was sadly not focused on Lewis.
Stepping into Nicos personal space was always a full sensory experience. For her at least. It occurred to her that when her father only looked at her confused when she once mentioned she could often smell Nico before she entered the room that maybe other people just were not as fixated on everything Nico. God, she needed to get more normal.
Nico matched all of her hygiene products, her body wash, her lotion, her shampoo, down to deodorant and perfume to a scent, and that one scent completely enveloped her entire being.
Well, two scents actually, roses for special occasions, like the celebratory dinner after their last 1-2 finish, and coconut at all other times.
Whenever she knew they would share a room, she made sure to conveniently forget her body wash, or lotion, only to shamefully buy a cheap one in a corner store a few days later to eventually chuck it in the trash when she got home from that particular trip.
The first time showering with Nicos stuff was always like the first time again. Nico would consume her in shockwaves, penetrate her senses and skin in a way that made her almost feel dirtier than before stepping in the shower, and leave her staring at her murky silhouette in the foggy mirror to get a grip and not pounce her “friend” the second she stepped out of their shared bathroom.
It made her nauseous the fourth or fifth time, always. She could not handle it, being so filled and surrounded by something she then had to pretend was her friend, but she could never resist lathering her skin just a couple seconds extra with hands that smelled like Nico. She would buy the other body wash then.
Nico never commented on how often she would forget hers in the first place, or when she would buy the second, or when Lewis never gave her back the shirts she would steal from her.
When she was back in Stevenage, she used them as her pillowcase, just the white back without a print to keep it her secret, so Anthony would think his daughter was normal, and bury her face into them and scream.
She needed to microdose this way, she would lash out and convulse and bloom like a werewolf into something hideous if she indulged on her “best friend” in the way she wanted to.
Maybe that is why she always borrowed her lip gloss only after Nico used it first, or why she wanted coconut ice cream. She could not have the real thing, but something sticky and wet on her lips that she knew was to some degree her “best friends” saliva was all she could allow herself.
She looked at the indent on Nicos sorbet in her hands that glistened in the moonlight. She flattened her tongue against it while closing her eyes. Just a little indulgence. When she looked up again Nico was staring at her, soft serve untouched.
“I'd let you paint my nails. But keep yours. I like them. Plus you painted them like yesterday.”
“No. I want us to match.”
Lewis popped the last of the sorbets cone in her mouth and took Nicos free hand in hers. She closely examined her still pristine nails.
“And that wouldn’t look good on me or what?”
She gently caressed the nail bed of her elegant pointer finger. Nico, suddenly, as if she remembered she was alive, or as if Lewis had rubbed the death out of her, she grabbed Lewis’ wrist.
The motion was so sudden it almost scared Lewis if it wasn’t her “friend”. Her hand slowly travelled up her arm and she began to slowly whisper. “No.”
Her hand brushed past the strap of her top as Lewis’ hand came to join hers, “No”.
It tangled itself firmly on the back of Lewis’ neck and Nico pulled her down, down, down, until her forehead was pressed to the sticky expanse of Nicos sweaty naked shoulder and she closed her eyes. "No."
This close she could almost pretend she crawled inside Nicos skin, deep underneath the surface like she was her lungs, or brain, or heart if she wanted to be vulgar. Something precious that would kill Nico to get rid of.
All her senses were assaulted by coconut, but this was the first time that under it she smelled the faint mechanical, almost animalistic floral scent buried deep beneath it. It reminded Lewis of speed walking past the alleyway on her way back from school where everyone knew the cokeheads gathered after 3 p.m. and it made Nico seem just as dangerous.
“Talk to me Lewis”, her best friend for years said above her.
“You terrify me. Paint me every colour you want. Please.”
Nico pulled her up by the scuff of her neck, even when her hands went just shy of jerking upwards and grabbing her hair. There was no place to hide from the other now, nowhere to put yourself except for your lips to move except against each other with restrained obsession against each other. Neither girl could guess how many kisses the other had, even as they refused to break eye contact over the kiss, blue eyes staring in deeply, deeply unsure brown ones.
The string of spit that emerged when they finally broke fell into both their laps at once, where brown legs had tangled with tan ones. Neither made a move to kiss each other again or touch the other further, they just swayed in each other's orbit, like a snake and a flute, panting each others air that was laced with something as sick as devotion.
“I'm scared.” Lewis finally admitted. “I was scared. You’re my best friend. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship”
At this Nico finally moved, head cocked to the side, eyes wide not in surprise but laser focus, and pressed her soft chest into Lewis’
“Ruin it.” She gripped Lewis’ upper arms with a bruising grip, her flesh spilling out between her fingers, “Do it.”
She feverishly pecked at Lewis’ cheek, “Destroy it. Wreck it. Break our friendship.”
Her hands finally found the courage to angrily weave into Lewis’ hair and she pressed their faces so close that their noses were touching and speaking became awkward. “I don’t want it anymore. We are more than friends. I will follow you to the end, Lewis.”
Lewis’ hands had raked themselves around her shoulders and waist, more leverage to never, ever, let her go, and she needed to restrain her teeth to not make Nico an even bigger part of her than she already was when she crashed them together to kiss again.
“Take me back to the hotel.” Nico said with crazy eyes and her usual restrained voice. “I will paint your nails and never let you use another body wash.”
And the only things that proved two friends were ever there in the first place were an abandoned cone of sticky, melted vanilla soft serve, and the constellations they had given new names that night.
