The yet to be titled, part 3 of my Skins fic :)
Title: Untitled. Still.
Warning: Language, mostly, but i reckon you'll cope.
Disclaimer: Shocking as it is, Skins is still not mine.
Author's Notes: Very short, i'm sorry. The next one will be a lot better, i promise ;)
Chapter 3
She was confused. I saw hurt flicker in her eyes.
"Wh- but.. i thought you liked me." She said quietly, emotion, rejection quaking her voice, but instantly putting all her walls up.
"I do. You know I do. But I need more than this. I need to hear it - what you want." I looked into her eyes, begging for an answer. She looked down at her hands. She didn't have one.
"Exactly." I sighed and stood up. "I'm not a toy, Naomi. You can't just pick me up and put me down whenever you feel like being gay." She flinched at my words. I don't know if it was because the truth was hard to hear, or if it was because I had just called her gay.
"Goodbye, Naomi." I picked up my bag, and walked out, leaving her sitting on her bed, still holding hot chocolate and asprin.
***
Naomi Campbell, don't you dare cry. Do not cry. Fuck's sake, stop it you pathetic fucking le-
Fuck me, that's it.
Naomi stood up, and looked at herself in the mirror, determined.
Just say it.
She stared herself hard in the eyes.
Just say it. You can say it. You can say it.
It was right there. My lips were ready. My tongue wanted to roll off those words so easily. But as I stared into my own face, I just couldn't. How could I?
"Fucks SAKE." I hit my fist on the wall next to my mirror. What is wrong with me?
I know it.
She knows it.
Everyone knows it.
Why can't i just say it?
***
Emily Fitch sat on her bed, staring blankly at the wall. It was only around 1pm. It felt like such a long day. Probably just the hang over. Really, she should get some sleep before Katie comes home from college, but she can't. She can't possibly lay her head down, rest her mind while things are this way. Why does nothing ever get sorted? Why are people so scared, why do people lie? Who lies to themself anyway? What's the point? Who are they trying to kid?
Who is she trying to kid.
This thinking is not helping Emily, but what else can she do? Sleeping is definitely out of the question. The only person she likes spending time with is having a crisis of her own, which is mostly Emily's fault anyway... Jesus. At these thoughts, Emily starts to feel a bit sad.
"Fuck it." She mutters, pulling her cardigan off. "Thinking can fuck off." She carried on as she pulled her shoes off. "People can fuck off, gay can fuck off, Naomi fucking Campbell can fuck off." She finished, feeling exposed.
"Or.." Emily slid under the covers. "Naomi Campbell can fuck me."
Well, a girl could dream.