Stars, Hide Your Fires

"It's all right," he whispers in her ear, his unsteady voice betraying him. Despite what he says, he's lost control of this. She can't guess what his plan was after this, but she can bet it wasn't hiding behind a hedge until the cops disappear.

She doesn't know if he even had a plan to begin with. Everything she thought she knew about him is gone now. The boy whose hands are wrapped around her arms isn't her boyfriend. He's not the same boy who walked her to Heather Chandler's house and who held her as she cried in the hall.

He can't be.

"It's going to be okay," he tells her again, like he's willing her to believe it. Like he can change her mind with just his words, make her believe his reality.

Well, he can, she realises with a shudder. He's done it before. Pushed her and moulded her and lied to her, and she swallowed every little thing without blinking.

Not again, she thinks as she grits her teeth. He's not getting inside her like that again.

"No... it's not." She forces the words out of her tight throat, choking on a sob as she spits them out. She wrenches herself out of his arms and falls forwards onto the grass, her palms pushing into the ground and fingers digging into the soil. Her whole body shakes, a cough rattles through her, and she's treated to the image of something thick and white dropping onto the ground beneath her. The taste is foul and hangs around in her mouth, making her gag eve more as the tears stinging her eyes and blurring the cemetery around her.

She turns her head, slowly, slightly, and sees the fuzzy outline of a cop shining a torch on Ram's body. Maybe Kurt's. She can't see. All she can see is the torchlight on the grass, and the blood that almost looks black, and she retches again.

She doesn't even feel him pull her back against him. She doesn't even know how long they've been sitting like this. Doesn't know how long it takes for the shaking to settle, for her stomach to stop twisting. The world just comes back into focus at one point, and she realises that she's sitting with her back against JD's chest and his hand over her mouth. His cheek his against her hair, his head turned, no doubt watching the cops until it's safe for them to leave.

Holy shit, leave. After all this, she's meant to just go home. Alone. And she'll come into school tomorrow and it'll be Heather Chandler all over again.

Her little remaining strength flees her body, and she sinks right into JD.

She feels, rather than sees, his smile, and then his lips are pressed to her head.

"It's okay, baby."

Out of instinct, she melts a little at the pet name.

Then she remembers where they are and her skin crawls even more.

“None of this is fucking okay, JD.” She wriggles out of his embrace just enough to look at him, her eyes burning into his. “Nothing about this is okay, we just killed two people!”

“Shush!” He holds up one hand and peeks over the hedge again. A flash of indigence runs through her, and she has to wonder where he got the fucking nerve. 

“Do not tell me to shush,” she hisses. But given the circumstances, she keeps her voice low and her body down, pressing herself into the ground until her handprints are borne into it.

Seconds, minutes, hours pass. Days could pass and she wouldn’t even notice. Kurt and Ram’s bodies would rot and decay just yards away from her, their cheeks would turn white, then blue, the abs they proudly showed off in locker rooms deflating like old balloons. Their eyes would leak, puss and blood and God knows what spilling down their faces. And they’d crap themselves too, that happens to corpses. The jeans they picked out specially for tonight would be covered in their own shit.

Back in kindergarten, Kurt had crapped himself. Veronica liked to say he was still full of shit for years afterwards.

The picture in her mind sharpens, turning from a painting to a photograph, and she retches behind the hedge. Her back arches and her fingers curl into the grass, the picture blurs before her. Dimly, she’s aware of a hand on her back, fingers in her hair, but she can barely focus on anything beyond the ringing in her ears and the sting in her mouth.

The sky looks different when they finally stand up. The clouds that were once a heavy dark grey have faded to a pale silver, patches of blue between them. The sun as well, higher in the sky and casting a faint, watery light on the cemetery. It won’t be long before school starts. Oh God, she has a math test today, how the hell can she focus when-

What the hell is wrong with her?

“Are you okay?” JD’s hands are still on her shoulders, concern shining in his dark eyes. The same eyes that were empty not too long ago. How do they go from nothingness to the gentle worry she sees now? How are they the same eyes? How is this the same person, now carefully stroking her cheek and asking if he should get her some water. It’s like forcing a round peg through a square hole.

He frowns when she steps away from him, and a laugh bubbles up inside her. Jesus Christ, how is she laughing.

“Stay the hell away from me,” she hears herself say. Her voice is strained and tight, like she’d screamed herself hoarse before. She had, just not out loud. She wraps her arms around herself, trembling hands around trembling arms. “Just stay the hell away from me JD.”

“Veronica-”

“No, I mean it!” He stumbles backwards, as if her words are one of his Ich Luge bullets, confusing creasing his face. She doesn’t know where that came from when she can barely keep herself upright, but she’s glad it did. She holds a weak hand up, pushing against the air between them. “Do not come near me, JD. Not after....”

After you lied to me. After you just killed someone. You lied to me and made me kill them.

“Not after this.”

“Where are you even going?” he asks when she turns around.

“Home!”

“Seriously?” he asks. “School starts in an hour.”

“I’m taking a sick day.” That might not be a lie, given the puddle of her puke that sits on the grass. She’ll probably take a shower too to take out the dirt caking her hands and legs. Maybe if she turns the heat up high enough, it’ll wash the blood off her.

“No you’re not.” She turns slightly and sees him behind her. Part of her wants to turn around and slap him until he leaves her alone, but that doesn’t work with JD.

“And you’re going to stop me?” she asks. The cemetery gate is within sight. Bile rises again at the sight of the cop car, but the police are down at the murder scene, far too busy with the tragic gay suicide pact to notice two dishevelled teenagers leaving.

She got away with murder. Again.

“Look, Veronica.” He appears in front of her then, his hand on her elbow. She wrenches it out of his grip, much to his surprise, but he doesn’t press on it for now. “You’re in no state to go home now. And if you do, your parents will just ask where you were and what you were doing and why you’re not in school right now. Are those questions you want to answer?”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“Look, you’re exhausted. I’m exhausted. We were up before dawn to do this. I parked the car a little down the street. Why don’t we hide out in there and catch up on beauty sleep, then we can sort this out.” He squeezes her hand and gives her the crooked, dimpled smile she fell so hard for. God damn butterflies manage to flutter even now. How they survive in there, she doesn’t know.

“Come on, Ronnie.”

“Don’t call me that,” she mumbles. 

“Oh I lost Ronnie privileges?” he teases. She shakes her head, wincing at the pain in her skull. For a moment, she has to wonder if this was all a terrible dream, and the real reason she’s mad at JD is because he didn’t buy her a coffee this morning. Only something so trivial can match the cheeky grin on his face, or the way he plays with her fingers. Only something so trivial could be the reason for her melting heart, or how her fingers curl around his without a second thought.

But it’s not a dream. Two boys lie dead in a  cemetery.

“I’m going home,” she says again, but when she pushes past him, the realisation slams into her that she doesn’t actually want to go home. Because he’s right. The words are sick to think, but he’s right, her parents ask a dozen questions at the best of times, and all the rest in the world wouldn’t make her think of a good lie. And her not being in school the day Kurt and Ram are found dead is an open door to anyone who wants to push it. And... she doesn’t want to be alone.

Her legs move before she can think, and her back hits JD’s chest. All at once, her exhaustion rushes to meet her, and she suddenly feels the shadows beneath her eyes. JD’s arms around her are both a welcome and unwelcome presence. His lips on the back of her head less unwelcome. He murmurs “come on baby” into her ear and she’s too tired to be disgusted. All she can operate on is her instincts, and her instincts are pink cheeks and the urge to smile.

They climb into the car together, JD in the front seat. He pulls her down and she lets him, so that her head sits in his lap and her legs are curled up in the passenger seat. His hand lays gently on her stomach, fingertips tickling the skin, and in her half-conscious state, it actually feels... nice.