CHAPTER 23
The days that followed were weirdly… soft.
Not soft in a romantic movie kind of way.
We didn’t sit across from each other in candlelight or hold hands in the rain or any of that nonsense.
It was more like… existing next to each other without needing a reason.
Quiet company. Shared space. It felt unsteady but weirdly safe.
Like a wolf and a feral cat deciding not to eat each other, but instead lying in the same sunbeam.
Misfit stuck around mostly, ignoring the constant phone calls from Seffy asking her to come home.
When she did eventually answer, Misfit would mimic a talking hand motion while rolling her eyes.
I’d bite my bottom lip, holding back laughter, trying not to distract and throwing the occasional cushion in her direction for good measure.
What? I said I tried. Didn’t say I didn’t falter on it.
We ended up back on that rooftop a couple of days later.
Don’t ask me how, or even why we would scale that fucking building for a second time.
My legs were killing, but the fresh bottle of vodka in her hand made it bearable.
Misfit sporting my hoodie again, which I pretended not to notice, but I couldn’t help recalling her scent now stained into the fabric whenever I managed to get it back off her.
“Remind me again why we’re back up here?” The howling wind whipping past me, my shoulders hunching to the chill. “It’s fucking freezing. What’s wrong with a bar? Or drinking at home?”
She glanced back at me, giving a dry chuckle, holding out the bottle towards me. “It’s a good view.”
I scoffed, taking a deep swig of the vodka, hoping it would offer some warmth in my chest. “You don’t give a fuck about the view.
” My back slid down the wall as I kept my knees close to me.
A deep orange hue tinted the skyline as the sun began to set.
She slumped beside me, face void of emotion as she drifted off deep within her thoughts.
I could practically see the cogs turning as her lip twitched in some invisible battle she was having within herself.
“Something's wrong.”
She quickly turned, frowning at me, as if I’d just snapped her back from the brink.
“What?”
“You.” I studied her features closer, “You haven’t called me a prick or anything close once today.” Her gaze lingered a moment before falling to the city below.
“Just don’t feel very well.” Did she honestly think I’d believe that shit excuse? We had just scaled this bloody building, bottle in hand, for her to fob me off with a “I don’t feel well”. Nice try cupcake.
“Liar.”
If she didn’t want to tell me, then fine. Seemed to be how we did things anyway. I shifted, pulling out a cigarette, cupping the flame with my hand as the smoke filled my lungs—the rush of something resembling comfort washing over me.
I offered her my lifeline, holding the cigarette between us. My eyes fell on her as she almost weighed up the consequences of taking it.
Her surprisingly warm fingers brushed mine for a second, and my chest did this stupid skip.
Really need to get a handle on that. Her body shifted with intent to face me; her eyes locked onto mine.
Her jaw dropped for a split second as if words were just about to come spilling from her lips, rerunning a practised script in her mind before deciding otherwise.
She looked annoyed with herself, looking away from me as my brows furrowed in confusion.
Her voice was barely a whisper, muttering to herself now, “Shut up.”
“Are you losing it?” My laughter disguising my genuine concern. I’d caught her before, muttering to herself. I just figured I’d pissed her off and she was chanting some witchy curse, hoping I’d trip over my own foot and break my neck or something.
Her signature cold ass glare shot my way, “Fuck you,” her fingers jabbing into my upper arm.
“What?! This isn’t the first time I’ve seen you talking to yourself lately.” I didn’t expect her reply, taking me off guard.
“And what if I was losing it?”
“Then, enjoy the psych ward again.” My amusement took over as I lifted the bottle towards my lips. Her hand was quick as lightning, snatching it from my grasp, my eyes widening in surprise.
“You better hope I’m not losing it, talking to me like that?” A mocking smirk touched my lips as I continued my taunting.
“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”
“Because I’d leave you to bleed out up here by yourself. No one would find you for ages.” My smirk grew; even if I believed the lie of her not feeling well, it would never dull her fierce comebacks. Something I had always appreciated about her.
I mockingly pouted towards her, “Aww, you wouldn’t even stay with me until the bitter end?” She was struggling to keep face; hints of a smile started to crack through before she broke into one entirely.
“You know what? I think I’d actually like to watch the light leave your eyes.” Her voice was clear with the conviction of snuffing me out.
“So, you’ll stay?” Tucking myself closer to her. “Least you can do if you’re the one to end me.”
She paused, planting a tension as she came to her conclusion. “Fine.”
“Promise?” My eyes flittered over hers, “Dying alone seems like a shitty way to go.”
She gave a swift nod, “Promise.” A beat of silence sat between us, just the sound of the wind and the occasional burning sip, until she handed me one of her knives.
“What’s this?”
“To sign the contract,” I raised an eyebrow as she tilted her chin towards the wall, “Something that stays after we’re gone.”
I moved myself, taking the knife from her hand, gripping it tightly in mine. My eyes passed over the blade as I laid the tip into my other hand. Inspecting its surface as it glinted in the dying sunlight. It was lightweight and meticulous.
I carved an 'S' and 'M' into the concrete, jagged and lopsided. She tilted her head, inspecting the blade as I passed it back to her. “There. Now we’ve signed it. No dying alone.”
She scoffed, “Guess that’s binding.”
I pressed my lips into a small smile, looking to her. “Now, can we please get the fuck off this rooftop. I’m fucking freezing.”
Her smile grew as she pulled herself to her feet, “Come on then, you pussy.”
My body was still trembling as I pushed through the front door, and Misfit was already halfway through another bottle.
I’d noticed her movements had started to slur, the effects of the alcohol now taking over her.
I slumped onto the couch, thankful to be somewhere warmer as she began to peruse through Chester’s old CD collection.
Pulling out one after the other with disapproving grunts before she found one she liked.
Slamming the lid to the battered player as music filled the room, my eyes never leaving her as she started to sway to the tune.
I’d never seen her fully drunk before, tipsy sure, but it seemed to be hitting her fast. Her unfocused eyes found me through the haze, pointing in front of her as she ordered me to dance. Absolutely fucking not my love!
I slowly shook my head, rejecting her proposal, and was met with the same pouting expression I had given her just mere hours before.
She stumbled forward, her hands dropping to my thighs with a lazy force.
I couldn’t help feeling my pulse quicken just from her touch, her eyes burrowing into mine, her face inches away.
“You’re being very boring.” Her warm breath hitting my skin.
I held a small smile, “I don’t dance.”
Her melodic mimicry was hard not to burst out laughing at. This was entertainment enough; we didn’t need my Bambi-like movements adding to the humour.
“C’mon,” she whined, her weight now fully leaning into me. “One song, no one’s watching.”
“Except you.” My eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, but I already know you’re embarrassing.” A cheeky grin spread across her face.
A short, sharp laugh escaped me, “Not happening.”
Her head lolled down her body, unsteady and swaying; she was so wasted. Laughter erupted from me as her balance faltered, falling full force into my lap. She didn’t fight back, just remained crumpled against me.
“I don’t think you need dancing, you need bed.” Chuckles slipped into my tone as she rested her head against my chest.
Her eyes rolled closed, “Maybe.”
Letting out a sigh, I could feel her falling asleep right there, relaxing into me more and more.
Part of me wanted to leave her there, accepting the fact that I was enjoying her closeness.
But I wasn’t one for taking advantage of the intoxicated; she was making it hard, though, as I glanced down at the boozed-up Misfit.
A pained expression shifted over her features as her hand rose to her head, “You can shut up.” Tapping it against her temple.
Confusion seeped in as I looked down at her.
“Always fucking talking.” She continued.
I didn’t say anything
Shrugging it off with a chuckle, I slid my arms under hers, effortlessly pulling her to her feet, “Come on, you. Bed.”
She soon began her protests, “No, no. I wanna get changed.”
“Misfit, you can barely stand.” My smile remained as I guided her down the hallway. My body jolted as she reached out, gripping the doorway to the bathroom, “What are you doing? The bedrooms that way.”
“I need to change.” Her tone whining as she staggered from my grasp, almost falling face-first, my laughter grew with her movements.
“Need any help?” Sarcasm laced within my tone.
She slumped her body down, sitting on the toilet lid, her ice-cold glare staring back at me. I playfully held my hands up, “I’m just saying.”
I pulled the door too, listening to her stumbling around as I leaned against the wall. But when the crash happened, I flew through the door quicker than I think my mind could understand.
My expression turned from one of concern to outright amusement as I doubled over in laughter. There she was, down to her underwear, tangled within my shower curtain. Her stupidly tight jeans still locked around her ankles, the culprit of her demise.
“Fuck off, this is your fault!” She spat, attempting to pull herself free of the plastic curtain.
My ribs roared in pain as I was unable to hold back my laughter, tears beading at the corners of my eyes.
“How?!” My words more breath than anything.
“This bathroom is a mess! Tripping over everything.”
I took a step closer, shaking my head as I tried to dull my amusement at her misfortune.
“I don’t think it’s the bathroom Misfit.” Placing my hands either side of her clamped ankles. “Want help?”
She was stuck, and she knew it; there was no way she could free herself from this position without some assistance.
“Yes.” She murmured, taking this opportunity to mock her further. “Yes, what?”
“Aw, Screech, don’t start.” Her head tilted back against the tile. Forcing a breath through my nose, I pulled myself up, “Well, I hope you enjoy sleeping in the tub.” Turning and heading for the door.
“No! Ok, ok.”
I returned, leaning down to her, “Come on, you can do it. Yes Screech.”
She rolled her eyes, giving in to her predicament. “Fine, Yes, Screech.”
My smile widened as I lowered my arm, my fingertips brushing against her side as she flinched away from my touch. I paused, cautious of her boundaries. “If you want me to help, I’ve got to touch you.” She searched my face; all past amusement had melted away in that moment.
“Okay.”
Sliding my arms beneath her, I could feel her hesitation. Tensing against me as I pulled her from the bath, holding her close to my chest. My smile quickly returned as she blocked my vision with her hand, “I think it’s a bit late for that.”
“I don’t care.” Keeping her hand firmly in place. Well, this was going to be interesting, the hazy drunk leading the blind. Nothing could go wrong.
She tried, bless her, guiding my every movement, that was until we smacked into the doorframe of the bedroom.
“Ow! You’re the worst co-pilot ever.” My smile never left my face as my shins hit the softness of the bed, lowering her down until I knew she was safe to let go of.
My eyes remained clamped shut as I fumbled the bed, feeling for a nearby blanket, pulling it over her.
Only then did I open them, glancing at her, seeing the jeans still holding her ankles together.
My fingers slipped under the hem of her ankle and pulled, freeing her legs. “Happy now?”
“Maybe.”
I gave a soft smile as I turned, leaving her in the bedroom, her slight frame hugged by the blanket now cascading over her.
She was going to regret everything in the morning, a part of me chuckling to myself, knowing how she would react—burying all knowledge of her drunken state and playing ignorant to her incident in the bathroom.
Even still, she couldn’t take them from me, so more ammo, I guess.
Darkness had fallen, and I could feel the strain behind my eyes, aching for sleep.
I killed the music before pulling my shirt off over my head as I headed back towards the bedroom.
She was already drifting, but the stupid creak of the door awoke her to my presence.
The blanket quickly covered her face as she gave out a frustrated groan; my brows furrowed.
“What’s wrong?” Her muffled reply shot back quicker than I expected.
“Nothing.” Then silence.
I shook my head, rolling my eyes as I turned off the light, my weight shifting her body slightly as I lay down. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to relax deeper into the mattress.
Her voice split into the stillness, “…Screech?”
“Yeah?”
“What if I did lose it?”
I hesitated, searching to find the right answer.
“I can’t let that happen.”
“…Why?” She asked softly.
I lolled my head towards her, her soft curves catching the dim streetlight outside. A snicker sounded from me, “Because it’s my death if I do, apparently.”
I saw the glint in her orbs as she turned to face me, remaining quiet. The cogs turning as she searched for the words.
“You might lose it too if you knew what I knew,” The words stumped me as she continued. “Everything we know is wrong.”
Did she honestly think she was losing herself to her own mind? I mean, I harbour a darker voice who turns up from time to time, but she was talking in a way like she already knew it was going to happen.
What do you say to that? It was probably the booze talking.
I shifted, pulling myself up onto my elbows. “What’s wrong, Misfit?”
Another pause as she turned from me, “Nothing, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just promise me you won’t let me lose it.”
Letting out a deep breath, sensing her mood shift in her tone.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to make sure I drag you back from the brink,” I said, lying back down beside her.
“Even if I’m kicking and screaming?”
I gave a dry laugh, “Even kicking and screaming.”
“You promise?”
“Promise.”