[1] skins
quick skins character studies as i procrastinate on some dbsk!gift!fic:
for those of you who don't know this pairing: a clip of them here.
emily fitch is gay.
she thinks about writing the sentiment on a nametag, putting it over the hand-me-down blouse from katie and wearing it to breakfast. she can imagine their reactions: her mother’s incredulous stare, the laughter from her brother and father, katie reaching across the butter dish to rip the nametag from her clothes and tell everyone that she’s a liar.
she sets down the blouse and picks up a dress - one of the ones katie has claim over - and slips it over her head.
naomi kisses the same way she fucks, like she’s got something to prove. and in the moments between, words are tumbling out of emily’s mouth: a tangled series of it’s okay’s and i’m sorry’s. they can’t stop it - naomi can’t stop it - for every time she tries to distance herself from - this - she just ends up back here: with emily close and soft; terrified.
and for all the times naomi’s been willing to say ‘fuck you’ to the world, this is the one time that she can’t say it to herself and when emily gets a little too close - she balks, pulls away.
‘can’t do this,’ she says. the flicker of confusion across emily’s face nearly stops her - the ‘why can’t-? we’ve already-’ but it’s easy enough to shut off; they’re already gone too far.
but emily is everywhere. she’s in her house, in her bed, in her class - she can’t get rid of her; they’re opposite magnetic poles always pushing for each other and it’s driving naomi crazy. because when emily finally leaves, finally gives her a moment’s peace, katie is there with her stares and her jabs and her identical face, like breathing proof: naomi can't escape her.
and the worse thing is: she doesn't even really want to.
for those of you who don't know this pairing: a clip of them here.
emily fitch is gay.
she thinks about writing the sentiment on a nametag, putting it over the hand-me-down blouse from katie and wearing it to breakfast. she can imagine their reactions: her mother’s incredulous stare, the laughter from her brother and father, katie reaching across the butter dish to rip the nametag from her clothes and tell everyone that she’s a liar.
she sets down the blouse and picks up a dress - one of the ones katie has claim over - and slips it over her head.
naomi kisses the same way she fucks, like she’s got something to prove. and in the moments between, words are tumbling out of emily’s mouth: a tangled series of it’s okay’s and i’m sorry’s. they can’t stop it - naomi can’t stop it - for every time she tries to distance herself from - this - she just ends up back here: with emily close and soft; terrified.
and for all the times naomi’s been willing to say ‘fuck you’ to the world, this is the one time that she can’t say it to herself and when emily gets a little too close - she balks, pulls away.
‘can’t do this,’ she says. the flicker of confusion across emily’s face nearly stops her - the ‘why can’t-? we’ve already-’ but it’s easy enough to shut off; they’re already gone too far.
but emily is everywhere. she’s in her house, in her bed, in her class - she can’t get rid of her; they’re opposite magnetic poles always pushing for each other and it’s driving naomi crazy. because when emily finally leaves, finally gives her a moment’s peace, katie is there with her stares and her jabs and her identical face, like breathing proof: naomi can't escape her.
and the worse thing is: she doesn't even really want to.