#cheernerds

vic's eyes narrow. she opens her mouth, fully intending to say something like the fuck you mean by that? - what comes out instead?

"oh, so we're just sayin' words now, huh?"

she used to call herself a tomboy. [ y'know, back before she realized what she actually meant was masc lesbian, ] it was that classic, tragic, internalized kind of shit . . . the kind that made paris think they were superior to other girls because while they were learning how to do winged eyeliner, she was ankle - deep in some creek looking for frogs. it doesn't matter 'cause she's not proud of it. and because nowadays, she doesn't know the difference between concealer and foundation. paris is also a year out of high school and on the road with no one but their dog to talk to. makeup [ or wanting / needing to wear it ] doesn't come up very often. maybe prim's the kind of person who likes a challenge / rather than the kind of girl who would've bullied her out of sitting with her at lunch.

it's not like he's had any fucking time to process what he's seeing in front of him. his girlfriend with more blood on her than necessary. this wasn't just a papercut. no, this wasn't just a slip up in the kitchen. whenever he had walked into the apartment after finishing up his apprenticeship at the tattoo shop, he had not expected to see prim attempting to clean up her own wound. a stab wound, at that.

he can't help but grin, a small amount of blood still lingered in his mouth from getting hit in the jaw an hour prior. prim had been working on gently cleaning the wounds on his face. a split lip, a split eyebrow. he'd no doubt end up with a black eye. he could tell with the way his cheek throbbed that he'd have a shiner. a cackle leaves him as she brushes some hair from his eyes to dab at his injured eyebrow.

                        ❝ why not? come on, just give it a try. i'm sure you'll be a natural! ❞ her voice bounces off the walls of her personal dance studio, inhabited by only the two. ❝ it's not as complicated as it first looks — come, take hold off the bar and i'll show you. ❞ the blonde encourages, taking hold of the dance bar herself and taking up first position.

𝐻𝐸𝐼𝐺𝐻𝑇 𝐶𝑂𝑀𝑃𝐴𝑅𝐼𝑆𝑂𝑁𝑆 .

it's raining cats & dogs as her mama might say -- fat droplets falling in heavy , rhythmic pitter - patters on pavement glowing beneath pale moonlight . much like herself , the sight has a simple beauty to it . her daddy would have said during cruelly arid summers that the rainfall was a blessing from the lord -- replenishing their withered crops & the green in their grass ; back when there was nothing more beautiful than a gift from god .

for all her work & devotion , he'd never bestowed such things unto her .

the real divinity now as rain falls around the two girls is that it just is . no man , holy or otherwise , had made it so ; no permission for the clouds to release the waters within , just nature taking its course .