maybe i was born to hold you in these arms
We're not married, you know. Yeah, well, whatever. [Emily/Naomi, Skins, PG-13, companion piece to through it all i'll be looking for better days with you, dedicated to aprettywastex3]
maybe i was born to hold you in these arms
1. & if you could see
In the days just before the end of college and the beginning of summer, before Emily and her bright orange moped, before the party and the drugs and Cook, before Emily and Jenna fought and Emily moved in, before Naomi’s hair was still just a tad too short to pull back, before the open day that ruined them all, before Sophia -
This was their life:
Sheets smelling of the ocean. Damp. Salt on Emily’s skin. Roaring in her ears.
Naomi always tasted like candy-canes.
Long fingers twisting through red hair. Stark contrast. Short of breath. Irregular pounding of a heart. (She lists symptoms like love is a medical disease.)
Late-night movies. Trapped in pubs. Pulsing lights; colour, sound, movement. Too fast to track. Rain pounding against windows; sun casting shadows against curtains; and stars, twinkling -
(You know, Naomi says, many of the stars we see are already gone. It just takes years for us to catch up with the universe.
Oh, Emily replies, don’t fucking ruin it for me.
Sorry.
Ever the cynic, she says, kissing the corner of Naomi’s mouth. Well. You had to have a flaw.)
- and everything is beautiful, all of a sudden; everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.
2. history repeating
What a terrible book, Emily says, pulling Doomed Love by Virgil off of Naomi’s shelf.
She flips through the pages.
How horrible would it be, she wonders out loud, to know that your love was destined to fail?
3. remember when we first met?
Emily has to hold on to things when she sleeps.
It’s probably the most endearing quality about her.
Naomi wakes in the middle of the night and finds Emily’s fingers wrapped around her arm; sometimes they’re buried in the blankets, or clutching the sides of her pillow.
I can’t sleep otherwise, she’d said. I need something to touch. When Katie and I stopped sharing a bed - years ago - I had to pretend she was still there. I don’t like being alone.
Naomi feels her throat close unexpectedly. It makes her wish she had been friends with Emily when they were children; they’d known each other, yes, obviously - Emily had kissed her, long before college - but Naomi wishes she’d known this side of Emily’s innocence, untouched by growing up and her own harsh reality.
Emily shifts in her sleep, curling herself halfway around Naomi’s body. Her arm falls across Naomi’s stomach, her hand automatically molding the spot just above Naomi’s hip.
Naomi moves her own hand on top of Emily’s, linking their fingers together.
You’re not alone anymore, she whispers. And I won’t leave you ever again.
She dreams of cinnamon rolls and chalk dust and strawberries that night, and the smell of home.
4. the big picture
It’s two forty-six in the afternoon when Emily calls.
I’m sick, she says. I have swine flu.
So?
My mum’s put me in solitary confinement.
Oh, your fucking mum.
Yeah. And James won’t stop singing High School Musical at me. I can hear him through the walls.
Don’t worry, Naomi says. In sickness and in health, right?
We’re not married, you know.
Yeah, well, whatever.
She hangs up the phone.
Emily hears a tap at her window at nine thirty-two that evening.
She opens it and rolls her eyes, because the only other option is to kiss Naomi until neither of them can breathe, and she doesn’t want to get Naomi sick. Instead, they lie in bed eating garibaldis (because Emily actually does feel rather horrible) and Emily falls asleep listening to the low, soft tones of Naomi’s voice rambling on about her mum and their fucking politics teacher and the state of overpopulation in China and global warming.
Naomi tucks the covers around Emily’s feet because she knows all about Emily’s strange habits and fears and smoothes Emily’s bangs away from her face and kisses her forehead and lays awake listening to the sound of Emily’s steady breathing.
Outside, the cars rumble along in a continuous hum, and she begins to think of Emily as a constant.
It’s not so bad.
5. it's the room, the sun, the sky
Emily sprays her with the hose.
She’s gardening. Naomi’s sitting beside her, occasionally pulling a weed or two. Her back is burning, the sun beating down on them incessantly. Her palms are grass-stained and raw. She doesn’t like gloves.
“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Emily says, reaching for the faucet that controls the water pressure. “I’ll be done soon. You can go inside, if you want.”
Naomi smiles, falling backwards, flinging her arm over her eyes. “No thanks,” she responds. “In there, with Katie? I think I’m doing fine out here, yeah?”
What she really means is, anywhere with you is better than anywhere without you.
Emily turns the water up a bit too high, her thumb partially covering the spout, and a stream shoots out like a jet, soaking half of Naomi’s body.
She’s so hot, that after the initial shock of being drenched, she grins.
“Sorry,” Emily says, turning it down to the appropriate power level. Her eyes glitter dangerously. “I guess we’ll have to get you out of these wet clothes, won’t we?”
Naomi’s mouth goes dry.
However wet she thought she was before, it doesn’t compare to how wet she is now.
6. luna riviera
They go out to some club and get monumentally fucked up, to the point where it’s hard to remember what’s appropriate to do in public and what isn’t.
It turns out like this -
Emily has her up against the wall in the corner, her knee between Naomi’s thighs, fingertips digging into her hips, mouth hot and furious. They’re in plain view of all of twenty people, not like anybody else cares what the hell they’re getting up to. Emily finds the hem of Naomi’s dress, her fingers skimming the inside of her thigh -
Emily fucks her against the club wall.
It’s probably the hottest thing she’s ever done.
They don’t quite remember everything the next day, but for the first hour after waking up, Naomi blushes each time she meets Emily’s eyes. She can’t figure out why, until:
Oh.
Shit.
“Emily-” she begins -
Emily’s smirking at her dangerously.
“Yeah?” She asks, satisfaction building under her voice like a wave.
Naomi licks her lips.
“Nevermind,” she says, her throat burning. “Nevermind.”
7. caught a ride with the moon
(You’re really lucky, Katie says, swaying slightly on her feet. Emily grabs her arm to keep her from toppling over. You’re really fucking lucky.
Emily doesn’t understand.
Katie looks at her - not angrily, not as if she’s stupid, not like a child. Katie just looks at her, empty and honest and vulnerable.
You’re lucky, she says again. Everyone wants what you have.
What do I have? Emily asks, bewildered.
You know, Katie suggests, leaning heavily on her. Love. Everyone wants to be in love. It’s the most wonderful thing on the planet. That’s why we’re all either in love or looking for love, isn’t it? Something everyone on earth is searching for - it’s got to be pretty fucking wonderful.
It’s not that great, Emily says, lying to her. It’s what Katie needs to hear.
It’s not that great.
…You’re a terrible liar, Katie tells her, and passes out.)
Emily tells this story to Naomi later on, her eyes closed and her head in her arms, her voice a light murmur blending into the cool stillness of the night.
Katie’s right, you know, Naomi says afterwards, pressing light kisses against the crook of Emily’s neck.
Emily smiles, and burns the feeling of Naomi’s lips into her memory forever.