wannabe somebodies

hey guys! vicky has been moved to a multimuse blog with other horror ocs which you can find here

“ Oh-  Yeah. ”  The bottles were placed back inside the bag;  a stiff drink certainly would have taken the edge off of her nerves,  but she didn’t want to make Tate uncomfortable.  A pack of cigarettes comes out next and she pulls the top open,  then offers it to him to pick one out.  “ --Are you like...  a ghost or something?  Or have I finally fucking lost it?  ”  Her last question is accompanied by a chuckle,  albeit a humorless one.

As Tate moved to sit down,  Vicky reclaimed her spot on the floor,  her stomach in knots.  “ It’s Vicky.  Bridges.  I’m from Utah,  on vacation with my family.  ”  She reached for her messenger bag and pulled it into her lap,  glass bottles tinkling together inside.  A hand reached in and pulled out a couple tiny bottles of liquor snatched from the mini bar at the hotel.  “ Do you drink? ”

“ I know. ”  Vicky breathed a stuttered breath,  eyes gliding over the dirty floor she had just been sitting on.  Hands ran over mascara-streaked cheeks,  wiping away the mess of her sorrow;  they weren’t all tears for Tate,  they were tears for herself.  “ Look,  I’m sorry you found me like this.  I didn’t know you’d be here... ”  Or anywhere,  because he was supposed to be dead.  “ But I just made an ass of myself because I’m a fucking human disaster. ”  Eyes rose to the ceiling as she let out a heavy sigh,  trying to calm herself.  Don’t get heated,  Vicky.  “ I wanted to come here because I’m drawn to your story and I relate to you and I-  I just wanted to see where you lived because it felt important to me. ”

“No, that’s not what I want!” A part of her did love him- or the version of him that she felt she knew through the documentaries and the things she had read. She felt a deep connection with him, but it wasn’t like she was trying to be his girlfriend or anything. There was a list of things she had always wanted to ask him and discuss with him and she believed she would never have this opportunity. “I just want to talk. Please.” A desperation clung to her words, to her gaze. Please, don’t send her away.