Drabble: softest grass turns to concrete (Skins, Cassie, R)
Title: softest grass turns to concrete
Author: aphrodite_mine
Info: Skins, Cassie, R, written for i_am_may
She doesn't even how good the shit is until years - and fuck, she means years - later when someone, probably Chris, pulls out a baggie from his left pocket and she recognizes the label on the top and that's the last thing before going under. It's probably the best shit she's ever done, and really, it was crazy for Sean to waste it on her, some scrawny little primary schooler with eyes and ears that didn't quite fit her face.
Sean said he liked her little arms, that he could wrap his hand around them without even straining. Made him feel closer to her, he said. Like brother and sister. And would she like some of his good shit, it would make her feel like the world were finally coming alive.
And since she'd been waiting for the world to finally come alive for years - and fuck, she means years - she nods, hair flopping over her shoulders in a mess of curls and pins and braided bits and beads.
He holds it out and when she shrugs, Sean laughs, does a hit himself first, showing her how. She's careful to follow his directions, keeping the powder neat. It comes, fast, and then she goes - she doesn't know where. But she's on her back and her eyes roll back and she's staring hard at the inside of her head and she can see more than she ever has before.
"Good shit," Sean says, a thousand kilometers away, under fathoms of water. His big hands touch her tiny arms but she can't even feel it, she doesn't even register the bruising though she knows the fountains of blood flowing through her body better than she ever has before. Breathe in, out - pumping. She can feel it, connected. Toes curl.
"Oh wow," she whispers, her mouth around the words, swathed in sin. She's wading in it, makes the movements slower. Everything's made of decades, and she's ancient by the time it's over, by the time he lowers her grandma's dress back to her knees and collapses, breathing, on the davenport next to her. Her hand flies to her stockings, gripping and ungripping. "I'm like, a virgin, you know," even slower now, the words are wobbly. Her eyes are starting to come back and now she can see a little at a time, some lights, the fern in the corner. Saying hello.
Sean's groping on the table for a bottled water. "Meetcha here next week, try something new?" he mumbles, tugging at his trousers.
"Yeah," Cassie tries out, stretching her lips with her tongue. She'd get up to go, but her legs don't work yet. Eyes roll back again. Fingers grip fabric and she sighs. "Oh wow."
Author: aphrodite_mine
Info: Skins, Cassie, R, written for i_am_may
She doesn't even how good the shit is until years - and fuck, she means years - later when someone, probably Chris, pulls out a baggie from his left pocket and she recognizes the label on the top and that's the last thing before going under. It's probably the best shit she's ever done, and really, it was crazy for Sean to waste it on her, some scrawny little primary schooler with eyes and ears that didn't quite fit her face.
Sean said he liked her little arms, that he could wrap his hand around them without even straining. Made him feel closer to her, he said. Like brother and sister. And would she like some of his good shit, it would make her feel like the world were finally coming alive.
And since she'd been waiting for the world to finally come alive for years - and fuck, she means years - she nods, hair flopping over her shoulders in a mess of curls and pins and braided bits and beads.
He holds it out and when she shrugs, Sean laughs, does a hit himself first, showing her how. She's careful to follow his directions, keeping the powder neat. It comes, fast, and then she goes - she doesn't know where. But she's on her back and her eyes roll back and she's staring hard at the inside of her head and she can see more than she ever has before.
"Good shit," Sean says, a thousand kilometers away, under fathoms of water. His big hands touch her tiny arms but she can't even feel it, she doesn't even register the bruising though she knows the fountains of blood flowing through her body better than she ever has before. Breathe in, out - pumping. She can feel it, connected. Toes curl.
"Oh wow," she whispers, her mouth around the words, swathed in sin. She's wading in it, makes the movements slower. Everything's made of decades, and she's ancient by the time it's over, by the time he lowers her grandma's dress back to her knees and collapses, breathing, on the davenport next to her. Her hand flies to her stockings, gripping and ungripping. "I'm like, a virgin, you know," even slower now, the words are wobbly. Her eyes are starting to come back and now she can see a little at a time, some lights, the fern in the corner. Saying hello.
Sean's groping on the table for a bottled water. "Meetcha here next week, try something new?" he mumbles, tugging at his trousers.
"Yeah," Cassie tries out, stretching her lips with her tongue. She'd get up to go, but her legs don't work yet. Eyes roll back again. Fingers grip fabric and she sighs. "Oh wow."