the itchy glowbo blow.

vi’s hand smooths up the bare expanse of your back, your shirt and bra long-since discarded onto the bedroom floor. when her hand reaches the back of your neck, she hooks her thumb over your jaw to redirect your mouth to hers and slot your lips together. you sigh into the kiss, and when vi pulls back, blinking at you with an unmistakable hunger in her eyes, she murmurs something under her breath that you can’t parse.

“hm?” you hum, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“i said,” vi starts, nose nudging against yours, “i want you to fuck me.”

when she sees the smirk on your lips, you swear vi blushes redder. 

“oh, vi,” you coo, voice saccharine. “is that what’s got you all needy?”

you might be imagining it, but you swear you see vi’s eyes get glassy from embarrassment as she bites her lip, nodding her head in response to your question. 

she mutters quietly, “yeah, that’s…that’s it.”

what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t give her what she wants? no - what she needs?

you sit up on the mattress, hands finding the waistband of vi’s boxers again and pulling them slowly down her thighs. you toss them to the mixed pile of clothes on the floor, focusing instead on the way vi’s chest heaves when you pull her legs apart to reveal her center, where’s she’s already glistening with slickness. 

“bet you’ll take my fingers like nothing,” you muse, one hand reaching forward for you to dip your fingers in vi’s wetness. her abs flex when she feels you between her legs, your fingertips spreading her arousal until her whole cunt is shining with it. 

“don’t you think?” you ask vi, gaze flickering up to hers. when she nods, you smile and give her thigh a pat with your other hand. “good girl.” 

the hand between vi’s legs moves in closer until your fingers breach her entrance, your middle and index sinking into her warm, twitching walls. 

“oh god, mm,” vi moans. her eyes flutter shut and you watch her expression change with every thrust of your fingers; her brows wrinkle, her nostrils flare, her lips twitch. and every time she feels your thumb press against her clit, you’re rewarded with the sweet sound of vi’s needy whimpers. 

but it’s not long before your fingers aren’t enough. vi cants her hips upward, watching your hand work between her thighs, and her voice is all ragged and wrecked when she tells you, “more - i need more.”

so you give her more. you dig in the nightstand drawer for your harness, a purple silicon dildo hanging from the o-ring, and vi watches you adjust and fasten the strap, her hair beautifully disheveled as she lies in the center of the mattress, waiting for you to fuck her senseless. 

climbing back onto the bed, you slot yourself between the redhead’s spread thighs. 

“you look so beautiful like this, you know,” you tell her matter-of-factly, your eyes taking in every inch of her naked frame beneath you. vi’s cheeks have taken on a permanent shade of red, a flush that creeps down her neck and towards her chest. she laughs shallowly at your compliment.

“i mean it,” you say, voice a tinge firmer. “my beautiful girl, i can’t wait to stuff you full.”

“fuck,” vi curses. “you can’t just… say stuff like that.”

“of course i can, i’m the one wearing the strap, vi,” you remind her, wrapping a hand around the base of the dildo and moving your hips forward to smear the silicon tip through vi’s soaked folds. her reaction is immediate - she gasps, back arching prettily off the mattress. 

“see?” you smirk. “so beautiful.”

vi doesn’t have time to protest, because you push the head of the strap into her cunt and every thought in her head comes leaking out of her ears, gone. you watch with reverence as the strap sinks further and further into vi’s entrance, your hands finding purchase on her hips once again.

you move your hips in shallow strokes at first, slowly working up to a quicker pace. with every push and pull of your hips, vi falls apart further, her eyes squeezed shut as she hooks her leg around your waist to encourage you closer. 

you’ve only done this a handful of times - vi’s usually the one who likes to pound you into the mattress, but you’re not bothered by the change of roles. even if it’s not often, you love seeing your girlfriend like this - pliant and needy, clinging helplessly to you as you spear into her again and again. 

“so deep,” vi pants out, the blunt ends of her fingernails digging into your arms as she grips onto you for steadiness. “fuck, i might - i might come.”

“let me help you,” you respond, voice a little breathless. one hand leaves vi’s hip to snake between your bodies, fingers deftly searching for the place where she needs your touch the most. when your middle finger begins tracing circles on vi’s clit, she unleashes another punched-out moan, tears stinging in her eyes from all the stimulation. 

“like that,” she gasps, voice desperate, “fuck me like that, oh god…”

it’s the combination of your punishing thrusts and the wet glide of your fingers on her clit that finally makes her come, her mouth opening in a silent scream as her vision goes white. pleasure explodes throughout her body, and though you don’t stop moving your hips, you slow down to admire the sight of vi when she reaches her peak - a sight you’ll never tire of.

only when you’re sure vi has rode out her orgasm do you pull out from her, your eyes rolling when you hear the filthy, slick noises of the silicon leaving vi’s abused cunt. you part your lips and you’re about to make a comment about how hot that was when you notice a wet spot beneath vi’s hips on the bed. 

you shoot a surprised glance at vi, then return your gaze to the wet spot. you knew vi was wet, but this… this is practically a puddle beneath her. 

“babe,” you say, finally, “i think you… squirted.”

exhausted from her orgasm, all vi can do is lift her head from the pillow to glance at the wet spot on the sheets. she turns red again. 

“never done that before,” she remarks. 

vi takes another swig of her drink, trying to ignore the wetness growing between her thighs. trying to just dance with you - holding your swaying hips as you move with the sea of bodies in various fashionable states of undress.

but when you turn to face her and pull her in for a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth and wet heat, the scent and taste and feel of you overwhelming her senses, the last bit of her resolve shatters. she rips away from the kiss, shoots back the rest of her drink, and curls a hand around your wrist as she turns on a booted heel to weave her way through the crowd with you close behind. 

there’s a long line to the bathroom, drunk and drugged-out clubbers waiting impatiently to take a piss or do another key when it’s their turn, but vi doesn’t take you to the back of the line. she leads you through the crowd of people up to the restroom doors, waiting just long enough for someone to leave before storming in after them with you in tow. the next person in line shouts some choice words at the two of you, bangs their fist against the door when vi slams it shut and clicks the lock into place, but it’s all just noise. she’s got a one-track mind right now. 

“what are you doing?” you question her when she whirls around to face you. you’re still holding your drink, brows pulled together in confusion as you look up at the redhead. the kohl liner rimming her eyes makes them pop, those gorgeous blue irises honed in on you. 

“it’s not obvious?” vi questions you right back, voice sharp. her eyes flicker to the drink in your hands and she snatches it away, tosses it along with her empty plastic cup into the garbage can in the corner of the bathroom. you make a noise of protest, but before you can snap at her about how you weren’t finished, vi’s strong arms are lifting you up and carrying you to the bathroom sink. you land on the porcelain with a grunt, back against the mirror. you shiver from the shock of cold against your bare skin.

“vi, what—” you’re cut off by a searing kiss, vi’s mouth hungry against yours, and your mind goes blank.

she kisses you like a woman starved, her rough hands wandering every inch of your skin as she crowds you against the sink. your legs spread just enough to fit her frame between them, miniskirt riding up to your hips as vi presses closer, closer. 

when the redhead dips her head into the crook of your neck to suck bruises into your skin, you keen high in your throat, head leaning back against the mirror to grant her more access. all the while, one calloused hand smooths over the soft, supple skin of your inner thigh, inching upward until her fingers find the soiled fabric of your panties. you feel her pause there, fingertips pushing against the warm, wet cotton, her mouth curling into a grin against your kiss-bitten neck. 

she trails wet, messy kisses up the column of your neck, her teeth sinking into the shell of your ear before she whispers, “knew i’d find you dripping.”

“shut up and fuck me,” you respond almost immediately, and it’s all the permission she needs.

vi yanks your ruined panties down your hips, letting them fall to your ankles, her hand instantly toying with your newly exposed cunt. you jump when her fingers play in the wetness pooled at your entrance, smearing it up and down your pretty pink folds until you’re practically shaking beneath her. 

“perfect little cunt,” she murmurs, thumb pressing against your clit. you gasp, hips jolting at the sudden pressure, and vi’s other forearm presses you back down against the sink to hold you in place. she gives you a look that says don’t fucking move, and two of her fingers slide without resistance into the waiting heat of your needy pussy. 

a deep, possessive groan vibrates in vi’s chest, only adding to the arousal that has your eyelids fluttering shut, the drag of your girlfriend’s fingers in your cunt tantalizing and mind-numbing. you moan, wanton and shameless, spreading your legs further as vi curls her fingers inside you, her palm pressed against your swollen clit. the wet, lewd sounds of her ministrations make you dizzy, as does the look on her face when you gaze up at her pleadingly, the knot in your lower belly already growing taut.

“fuck, vi,” you pant out, eyes falling to watch her hand work between your thighs. she thrusts her fingers quickly, middle finger brushing against the spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars. you bite your lip, whining low and needy, and vi seems to take that as encouragement, because she slides her ring finger in to join her middle and index. 

you mewl and pant and mewl some more, letting her splay you open on the bathroom sink. your cunt twitches with an oncoming orgasm and vi curses under her breath, feeling you gush wetter around her fingers. 

“need to come, pretty?” vi coos down at you, a smirk playing at her scarred lips, pupils blown out with lust. you nod and she scoffs, a cruel little sound. “why should i let you?”

she doesn’t stop the dizzying pace of her finger-fucking, the wet schlicks of your sex ringing out in the filthy club bathroom. you croak out a strangled please and that seems to help convince her, because her thumb finds your clit again, tracing wet circles against the sensitive nub. 

“please what?” she prompts. 

you swallow and try to speak again. “please let me come,” you breathe. “i’ll do… i’ll do anything.”

vi quirks a brow at you, that smug smirk pulling at her lips again as she fucks you within an inch of your life. her thumb is still circling your clit, fingers pushing unforgivingly into your messy cunt, and you’re hurtling towards the edge so fast you’re not even sure you can wait for permission to gush all over her hand. 

“anything, huh?” 

you nod frantically, stomach tensing. “anything, vi, i’ll do anything, please—"

“come for me, then, doll.”

truth be told, you would’ve come anyway. you’re just glad she’d expressed her permission before your orgasm crashed into you, your walls clamping down around vi’s thick fingers.

“that’s it.” she talks you through it, calls you every pet name under the sun as you twitch and writhe in her arms, tits nearly falling out of your tube top. “that’s my girl, fuck, good job, baby.”

when your high has passed and vi’s touch teeters on overstimulation, you push at her hand weakly, chest heaving, and she finally pulls out of you. her fingers are starting to prune, but before you can stare at them too long, vi brings them to your parted lips.

“taste yourself,” she mutters, forehead lowering to press against yours. you oblige obediently, tongue laving over vi’s fingers in your mouth to taste the wetness from between your legs. it’s sweet and musky, heavy and sedating on your tongue, and you moan indulgently just to see the way vi’s expression darkens with want. no, with need.

her gaze snaps to the door when someone pounds on it a few times, yelling something from the other side. you straighten your back against the mirror, lifting your leg to try to grab your panties from their place around your ankle. vi fixes you with her gaze again and shakes her head, yanking your panties from your ankle and stuffing them into her pocket.

“i’m not done with you,” she says, voice raspy, her hands moving to unbuckle her belt and unzip her distressed jeans.

Ellie remembers things about you. 

It isn’t the first time you’ve been pressed under her with this much scrutiny: hand on the back of your neck, fingernails dug into the end of your scalp while the other, the non-destroyed, batters you so deeply. She came to you angered at 17; freshly dumped and isolated and detached and craving death. She didn’t have the capacity to elaborate what had her so twisted, mainly for her own protection, but she had you, pushed into the wall with a hand twisted tight in your hair, craning your throat for her to stain blue and red before leaving you there, teary-eyed, needy, and stupid. She hardly knew you at the time, but you were around, and you didn’t argue. One trait she appreciated, and still does.

Her memory is shot, but she’ll always think about that desperate look in your eye before that door slammed shut years ago. It still hits like a shock through the spine after all these years. 

She was always encouraged to find an outlet as a kid. By him, by Tommy, by Dina… Write, sketch, murder… she did it all. Still finds herself caught in that loop, but it never sticks the way it should. Not anymore. She’s still suicidal, impulsive, hurt down to her marrow…

Just when she thought her time on Earth had come to a close, the universe begged her to stay through the eyes of a hopeless admirer. 

Ellie doesn’t know much, but she knows you, has learned you; carries that little crush you’ve always had on her everywhere you go like a ditzy schoolgirl. When she’s hurting, bruised and beaten to hell, agitated, heartbroken, desperate to leave her body for a time—she finds you. Not like a lover—nothing close to that. Like an addict to a needle. Bloody and destructive, but it bonds you, reshapes the cells that rush through your veins so that you crave her. You never complained when she treated you like something disposable. Never asked questions, never demanded—unless it was for more. Hurt you more, make you cry some more, make you come some more. When you’re like this, you’re unrecognizable; no longer sweet or misguided or impressionable. 

You’re fucked up. She prefers you like that, it makes her feel less lonely. 

Her wrist almost snaps when your thighs lock her in place, wetness surging to soak the dirtied blanket under your waist. That’s your third and Ellie bets it’s the nastiest. That pillow trapped between your teeth hides nothing; you’re so fucking loud and you move too much and you curse like you despise her very existence. And all Ellie does is snort, scoff at you like you’re pathetic. It gets you tighter. Sue her. 

“That was a good one, huh? Want some more, you slut?” 

“I can’t, baby, no, no, fuck—“

She ignores your pleas. Pushes in deeper. “You’re sucking me in. You can take it.” 

You’re too sweet to not take it. 

And when she goes, your hand catches her wrist so tight that your thumbprints leave indents. You sob and kick against where she sits on the backs of your thighs, all while pushing your hips back to meet her rough jabs. Her hand snags tight at your scalp to crane your neck, some strands ripped from the follicle. The tension in your body loosens for a split second and she shudders. 

She spits against your ear. “You want me off? Then move me.” 

But you won’t. You can’t. She loves that you can’t. 

The pillowcase drags off your tongue before you beg and beg for everything, nothing, all that rests in between, spit-filled, like your tongue weighs a ton in your mouth. She hardly understands you but that’s what she wants. You’re almost there, right at that pinnacle, right where she needs you. That state that you sink into gives her purpose. She needs it, especially after today. Emptying your brain will reset hers; she needs you to need her, fall into her completely, understand her—see her in a light that no one will ever see her in again, not after everything. A healer, someone gentle after destruction. A necessity. 

You need her—you need more from her and you’ll drop, and she’ll catch you. Her mind races a million miles, all with the same mantra. 

Give it, give it, give it to me.

“‘m so messy, ‘m yours, fuck me, please, please, yes—“

“Shhh, I know. My messy girl. Show me how dirty I make this pussy.” 

“can’t, ngh—can’t!—“

“Yes you can. Just like I trained you to, c’mon.” 

She feeds your head with verbiage for you to repeat, calling yourself sloppy, calling yourself dumb and stupid and a whore, and it’s all for her. You clamp so tight on her fingers that she nearly sobs. You’re all snotty and tear-soaked, and she hisses curses in your ear. All you can manage are garbled gasps and begs for a kiss. Her heart cracks in a way she wishes it didn’t. 

She doesn’t give you one. You’ll earn it like you’ve earned everything else from her. 

Her thoughts jumble and bleed into one; from excitement to anguish to desperation—the need to satisfy her itch, washes over her when you suddenly go quiet. That’s what she needs, your brain so warped in pleasure that you lose control of your voice, of every part of your body. You’re so close, you’re so fucking close. 

“It’s right there, baby, I feel it. Just give it to me, yeah?” She slurs, drool left on your cheek from when she licked your tears. You cry so good. Fuck you for being so fucking good. “‘M right here, just give it to me, please, dirty fucking bitch.” She whispers that last part with so much conviction. 

When you scream, Ellie’s ears ring, a venomous grin blooming across her face, eyes spaced out and crazed, infatuated. 

Her hand shoves your face into the pillow once more to hush you, all while she relishes in the feeling of you pulsing, borderline strangling her, leaving her fingers white and dripping. She watches your body fight between pain and pleasure, savors the red lines and blood that crest over your back, hair matted. You’re a sight when you’re like this—you’re a fucking sight, you’re everything, but you’ll never understand. 

You cry and cry and it’s music, even when your nails dig into her, beg her to move, to stop. Ellie hushes you, lifts her shirt and bra enough so your skin can cling to hers. Clumsy hands reach for more of her weight on your spine until she subdues, falling flat into you. Your breaths match.

“You did so good. I’m sorry. You did so good,” she sounds equally as exhausted as you feel, “you did so good. I’m sorry.” Her fingers rest inside you, feeling the last bits of your spasms. Any movement, she fears, will send you spiraling all over again. She can’t give you anything but cheap apologies; it sinks into her, that guilt. She’ll never be able to shake it. Her limbs don’t feel like hers when she shifts, moving the hand in your hair to the one near your side to interlock her middle finger with your pinky. 

When you don’t provide that reassuring squeeze, something wobbles with uncertainty in her chest. Her brain, how quickly it convinces that you hate her, that you despise her turmoil, that you never want to see her again. She shifts away, slightly, a sharp inhale brushes against your neck. You must feel her incoming dread, she earns a twitch. Not a squeeze, but enough for her to breathe like normal. To recenter. Her head falls against your back once more. 

After a beat, she asks, “can I pull out?” 

Another twitch against her finger. 

When she does, you make a noise so nasally, she’s sure you’ll start sobbing again. She lifts your head gently, by your jaw this time, to stuff her sopping fingers into your mouth. She glides on your tongue with ease, the soft, pleased noises that you make twisting something sharp in her stomach. 

“Thank you.”

“You did so good.” 

“I’m so sorry.”  

You garble something between each robotic statement before she shushes you gently. 

Minutes pass like hours while she cleans you, tidies your bed, drips water into your mouth, ices where she'd hit too hard. In these moments, her veins refill with something pure, no longer the dark pools of sludge that block her spirit. Blood flows easier, making her vigilant in caretaking. The second your head hits the fresh pillow case, you’re out cold. 

Ellie’s fully dressed where she stands over you, fingers tapping aimlessly against her thigh. She’s nervous… about what? You’re peaceful, hydrated. You’re safe. She’ll lock your door before she leaves like always. There’s no threat. Why are her ears ringing?  

It’s the quickest she’s ever left your home, the mat that hides your key sloppy thrown near your front door. Her body shakes like it senses a threat. The greatest one. 

She never gave you that kiss. 

one new message from hinge.

ash: are we still on for saturday? xx

“What’s got you smiling so much?” Sevika speaks the question loudly in the lull of silence between songs at. The buzz of the bar loud enough to drown the other side of the table, but the sharp edges of Vi’s jaw clenches underneath the lowlight.

“Nothing—I don’t know. It could be something. Possibly.”

Ash has been trying despite when you gift her soft rejection.

She’s cute, fun, and she makes you laugh on facetime every night she calls. More importantly, Ash is just your type. A bit more cocky than you would go for but she’s sweet. Always sending goodnight messages after you hang up followed up with a good morning text, leaving you with a gracious smile and heated skin.

It’s easy.

After your last relationship, easy sounds like a soft day bathed in spring, and you welcome the bloom with open roots. Hoping to have something far brighter planted in you; the vessel of a soul that doesn’t leave scars.

Caitlyn being as nosy as ever, reaches beneath and grabs your phone which really steals Vi’s attention. She doesn't speak a word. Only watches.

“Definitely your type. It’s good for you to get back out there.”

“She wants to go out on a date. Saturday.” You release a breath of air you hadn’t realized you'd been holding.

“C’mon, you have to go! Wasn't that the point of this when we made your profile months ago?”

“I guess I didn't expect someone to be interested so soon.”

Vi lightly chuckles but you’re the only one to catch it. If they do, nobody even acknowledges it.

The next fifteen minutes is everyone coaxing you into accepting before Caitlyn takes matters into her own hands and accepts for you, before your own decision can be made. Her perfectly-manicured fingers type away on your phone.

“There.” Cait hands your phone back whispering with an arc of her blue-raven eyebrow. “You can thank me later.”

The group is entirely gone by midnight. Mel and Sevika head home after they had another drink. Ekko leaves with Powder after she's had one too many. Maddie is making another move on Caitlyn. You wonder if it will work this time around.

In the same way you’re wondering about Vi. She hasn't spoken much at all tonight. She’s been more reserved the last few times you’ve hung out but this time it was only the two of you. How it always used to be. But she won’t speak more than a few words.

“What’s up with you tonight?”

“Nothing is up with me.”

Pausing, you look at her across the booth. Vi shrinks underneath your gaze.

“See—that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re acting like I’m gonna crawl over this table and shun you.”

“Maybe I want to be shunned.”

She takes another sip of her beer, finding the bright-red neon sign far more interesting. Peeling the wet label on the side with the blunt of her nails.

“I can’t help if you don’t let me. Seriously, what is it?” Leaning forward, your elbows perched on the wooden table, both of your hands palming your face. “New girlfriend? Is it work? ‘Cause if Sev is giving you a hard time at your new position I can talk—”

“No-no, it’s nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

Vi wants this conversation to be over. She can’t speak the truth. Then it would make it true. This growing, god-awful thing inside of her could be materialized by your empathy, your beautiful warm smile, and she couldn’t have that. Not when you’re filled with so much joy.

You deserve it.

She would hate nothing more than to be the person to crush it.

Underneath the shitty lighting of The Last Drop, a place that doesn’t highlight anyone, you’re another level of perfection she compares every girl she’s with. It’s why she stopped even trying. You asking about her dating life is a punch to gut. There’s been a couple flings, here and there, when she’s drunk and lonely trying her best not to call.

By now, the courage should have found her. But you had always been with someone. One person in particular. In all honesty she thought you would be with her forever. Until your ex-girlfriend blew up your entire future, pushed you past the point of control, and you snapped.

Vi was the first person you called. She was the one who tried to do everything only to make you smile. Who cared if her heart was being crushed in the process? She grew up in the Lanes. Another piece of her soul chipped away is just another day.

Every day.

However you want to look at it.

But you’re looking at her with hope. Hope she can’t afford to have.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Her chuckle bitter once it's out on display, but even then Vi can taste it without swallowing it down.

Her lies, the smiles that never quite reach her eyes, and it terrifies her tonight when you see right through it. She feels raw in the absolution of a lie. Vi knows you'll call her out on it.

You will dig, dragging your feet into the dirt, until she gives you a reason not to. If you look at her any harder, the truth will be broadcasted in the moonlight and it will be brighter than the goddamn sun.

“You don’t have to take everything on by yourself.” Your grip reaches over the table, drawing inconceivable patterns into her palm that opens for you. “The world doesn’t have to exist on your shoulders alone.”

“But then my traps would be ridiculously small. That wouldn’t be any fun.”

Your laugh is contagious, and you’re smiling so big.

Vi hopes nothing on this world would ever contain your shine.

“C’mon, enough about me. Tell me about her—Ash. She must be special if she’s caught your attention.”

Vi will be the best friend, the wall for you to lean on, and the shoulder to cry on when it all goes wrong. She’ll shape her heart into whatever you want her to be. In high hopes that one day you would see her and not look away.

Ash walks slowly, like the idea of having to kiss you would be too much for her to bear. Caitlyn had continued to push you to be here tonight—and in all honesty? You need someone with a strong will to perpel you forward. Dating wasn’t comfortable for you. When you meet the love of your life, or so you thought, there wasn’t a date or small talk conversation you sucked at.

There was only forever.

That was the thing. Seeing your future with one person, for years on end, you never think there’s going to be an after. The next person. A new possibility. There’s only now. And on this fateful Tuesday night, you’re in a then you never thought you would reach. A future you never planned for.

As for first dates go, there wasn’t much for you to compare it to. Ash dressed nice in a white-button up and black slacks hugging her in all the right places. Her build was strong, sturdy, and her smile incredibly infectious. The restaurant was nice. She was really good at talking, but even better at listening. Maybe it didn’t mean much to someone else, but she was kind.

Sweet to the bone. After being nearly emotionally bullied in your own for so long, it felt nice to be on a date with some who operates like kindness is second nature.

Ash did all the right things. Had the same sense of humor as you. Brought you a bouqet of red roses. You feel charmed the entire night.

When she stood tall next to you, caressing your jaw gently, her lip brushing gently against yours before they made for a heavenly purchase on your lips.

Instead of fireworks, or a swarm of butterflies making home in your chest bringing your broken heart to life—you feel nothing.

Maybe you were expecting too much.

Like everyone says, lightning doesn’t strike twice.

Ash takes you on a few more dates. You keep searching for a feeling that can’t be spawned purely because you will it. The fondness doesn’t come. You don’t want to be the person to lead her on. Guilt presses against your ribs at night, making it hard to sleep. You know what you need to do.

That’s why you had come here. Vander’s bar always had felt like a second home to you. A place of comfort. Vi always told you not to bring anyone you ever liked her but you adored the charm it offers. Even if she couldn’t see it.

There was a lot of different obstacles you had accounted for. Most of them being your own emotional capacity to dump someone. When you brought it up to Sevika, she suggested you simply ghost. Mel playfully slapped her on the bicep for being so dismissive.

Could you really do this?

You’ve never dumped someone before. Maybe that was the forutunate thing of your last relationship. But Ash was new. She didn’t love you. This could be a clean break. Nobody’s feelings would get hurt. There was just no spark—and you couldn’t change it no matter how much you wanted to.

What you didn’t expect was Vi to be here, playing pool with the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

The secretive woman you had no idea about, leaning over the table as Vi assists on linkng up her cue, her ass seeminly permantely glued to the front of Vi’s body. She has one of those smiles you couldn’t forget. The woman’s raven hair glides along her olive-skin, smiling over her shoulder as Vi smirks.

Amusmement reaching her eyes. Far more than you’d gotten from her in weeks.

Ever since that night at the bar, she’s been dodging all of your calls. Clipping her responses in texts to minimal answers or even one worded replies. Treating you like a friend she’s trying to shake. Vi’s been apart of your every day life for as long as you can remember. She’s just been there.

A safe corner you can turn to.

Why does this feel like such a blow? Vi is only on a date.

Like you.

“Could you order me a rum and coke? Gonna go freshin’ up.” You leave Ash with a kiss on the cheek, walking over to the washroom to center yourself enough to get through this night.

It’s only a matter of time before Vi sees you, ignores you just as she’s been doing all week, and you’re not sure how much you can take.

We’re supposed to be friends, best friends, but overnight you’ve turned to a person she looks through—not looks for.

The choker necklace clinging to your throat feels too constricting. It’s suffocating you with every intake of breath. Your lungs compressed with your growing nerves. I don’t need her. Clearly, she doesn’t need me. Vi is learning how to mend whatever the fuck is going on with her with someone else.

You want to speak with her. Confess to her why you’re so nervous. She would know exactly what to say. Well, your Vi would know what to say. The one who likes speaking to you, responding to your text messages, answering your calls. Not the imposter outside who can’t even notice you for a single second.

Ripping the choker off your neck, the gold chain breaks but you feel like you can finally breathe.

Gripping onto the countertop with a force you didn’t even know you possessed—you aren’t ready for this.

It’s too soon.

This is entirely too much.

And the one person you need can’t be reached.

You hadn’t even realize you were crouched on the greasy floors, or how long you had been there, until Vi comes in liplocked with the woman from the pool table. The midnight goddess moaning into Vi’s mouth, her acrylic, manicured hand placed firmly underneath her shirt. There’s nowhere to go. You’re frozen in time, begging for them to go to a stall.

Why is the fire of a thousand sins burning in my chest watching Vi with someone else?

She’s my friend.

She’s my friend.

She’s m—

A sweet voice, feather-soft, adorned in all the shapes of her attention washes over you. Your name falls from her scarred lips, one stained in someone else’s lipstick. A darkened-patch blooming on her neck shouldn’t bother you as much as it does. None of this should phase you. Vi’s eyes are panicked, in complete disbelief, her shoulders growing tighter with each second expanding into hours.

You didn’t expect yourself to run.

But you do.

There’s enough space for you to fit in the doorway. Ignoring when Vi tells you to wait. You hope whatever questions the woman has for her is enough for you to get out of here. You don’t feel great about it, not in this kind of circumstance, but you run out before Ash can see you. It works out in your favor that her back is turned away from you.

Just keep going.

Don’t stop.

A few minutes and some change, that's how long it takes before she’s outpacing you, right on your tail.

“Would you stop running?” Vi? How did she get here so quickly? “It’s not safe out here.”

You stop and her body collides full force, but she twists you by your waist, cushioning your fall. She doesn’t smell like herself. The perfume is all wrong. This night feels wrong. Each action a misstep you hadn’t meant to take.

“Why couldn’t you leave me alone? You've been doing a marvelous job of pretending I don’t exist.”

Vi grimaces, “Alright—I deserved that.”

“You think?” You persecute her but really it’s you out here on a limb. You know it’s only a matter of seconds before Vi decides to ask you questions on a reaction you’re not even sure you understand.

You hadn’t gotten off of her, pushing her weight off you when you glimpse at her lips, the sight of the mauve lipstick pissing you off—again. The hickey on her neck nearly fully formed.

“Please stop looking at me like I’ve wounded you.”

“Wounded?”

“Like me kissing another woman is unheard of.”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“You said plenty running out of the bathroom—crying.”

“I was already crying, for your information.” With your hands on your hips, with all the venom you can muster, “Why do you even care? You’ve been ignoring me for weeks. Pretending to be busy when I know you’re not. All because of what?”

“You can’t seriously be asking me this—” Vi punches the bridge of her nose between her fingers. She has no right to be angry. You’re the one losing a friend.

“Go back, Violet. I’m sure your presence is being severely missed. Or your mouth for that matter.”

Vi normally has so much patience for you. But you’ve exhausted every ounce of it. She's tired of chasing you, and you running in the other direction not looking back. She’s always looking at you—waiting for you to sneak a look back and notice.

Just once.

“You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what?” You ask her. Your eyes enraged as Vi stands up, dusting the dirt off her trousers.

“Live in this fantasy where I would rather be making out with strangers than be with you.”

She laughs and there's so much love in her smile, but there's more distance. You'd love nothing more than to run in the other direction. Running was your go to. Trusting your instincts had gotten your heart broken in the first place. By the same person, repeatedly, until there was nothing left to give. All the good bits of yourself have been possesed by guilty hands. How much more would you have to offer—even if it would be for the right person?

She’s not just anyone, and you’re reminded of that fact when she dances around her hurt. Your own pain taking precedent above her own.

Vi would always be right here—chasing you down and pulling you where you didn’t want to be.

God, maybe it’s where you need to be.

Every part of her petrifies your bones. The details you notice about her. The scarred lip, the cut in her eyebrow that never quite healed right. Eyes so full of anguish, even the ocean couldn’t replicate such a vivid blue. The soft curves of her chin, her jaw, and her feather-soft pink hair she somehow maintains.

“You’ve always known, princess. The truth is, it was easier never seeing it. We could be friends, the same as always, and you wouldn’t ever have to look me in eyes and put me down nicely, right?”

“I can’t—” Incoherent mumbles continue to tumble from your lips. “I can’t do this right now.”

The weight of your heart crushes beneath the somber of her gaze. Vi cracks and so do you.

“Okay. Then you can’t.” Vi accepts it. You being jealous. Pulling her away from a woman who does want her. Even a stranger’s lips feels nicer than your abstinence. For however fleeting it might have been, at least Vi would have had something to hold onto, even if it was for only one night. “Let's just get you back, okay?”

Vi walks on the sidewalk closest to the street, while you walk inside of it between her and the bars in Lanes. There’s only silence. Lots of it. All that can be heard is her slight breath in the winter wind.

It takes a good fifteen minutes before you're at her truck, the paint polished, and she’s reaching for the door to let you through the passenger side before you stop her.

“You probably think I was here on a date.”

“Haven’t you been dating her?”

There’s so many things you want to say—more importantly you want to lie. You want to tell her she has no business chasing you down after she decided to ignore you for weeks. The petty thing, the god-awful thing, is dangling right in front of you. Part of you wants to make her feel hurt and let her have it. How could she hide how she feels from you? When you’ve always given her so much of yourself. Not once, have you ever hid anything from Vi. Even when it embarassed you to bits, you told her everything.

You never stopped, so why start now?

“I have, yeah.”

“Then why do you sound so sad about it?”

This—it’s all you wanted for the last few weeks.

Wanting Violet in every shade.

“Because I brought her here to break up, if there is anything to even seperate. A-And I was nervous because I’ve never done this sort of thing. Ended things and all I wanted was to talk to you about it. I wanted to tell you how I didn’t understand why I couldn’t feel very much for Ash, and when she kissed me, I was like kissing a friend. There was no heart in it.”

Vi’s jaw slightly drops, before she picks it right back up.

“I was so confused, because she’s what I should like or my type or whatever.”

She doesn’t know what you’re about to do, and maybe it's reckless and stupid, but you’ve never denied either of those qualities.

“You can like whoever you want to. It doesn’t have to be because it’s what other people want or expect you to want. It can just be because it feels good.”

Because it feels good.

You don’t allow yourself to think. Grabbing Vi by the leather wrapped around her shoulders, you pull her forward, her weight pressing you against the cool metal door of her truck. It’s selfish. Hell, it may be the most self-centered act of your life. Considering her blooming feelings underneath her loud confession, but you kiss her.

You kiss her like she’s the first to know your lips.

The second she kisses back, you know it's all been wrong before. Every cherry-balmed or glossy lip. Nothing could compare to the your body being electrocuted by her affection. How soft her pink-feathered hair feels in your hands. The soft moans that pour when you pull on her roots.

Her hips press you into the steel door. You follow her lead, the velvet touch of her tongue slips inside your mouth. You let it happen. Vi could do whatever she wants if the end result made you feel like this—head in the clouds and your heart in her hands.

She’s the first to pull away, her lips littering a path of her touch along your jaw, down the side of your neck. Her breath feels heavy when you try to contain your own. She’s looking up at you; watching the utter confusion and bliss gloss over the light in your gaze.

Vi knows she’s got you with just one kiss.

“Did that clear some confusion for you, princess?”

She deserves a playful shove for that comment but kissing her sounds so much better.