FIC: echoes (sing me a love song & i'll sing it right back to you) [6/7]
Rating: M
Warning: language, sexuality.
Disclaimer: The names of all characters contained here-in are the property of Skins, Company Pictures, & Channel4. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.
Full notes in Part 1.
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Epilogue I || Epilogue II & Notes
She's answered with yet another shrug and a sigh from Naomi. Useless. She feels useless all over again. Emily shifts a little in her seat.
“Do you really not love her, or are you just afraid to let yourself love her?” she asks softly, prodding Naomi a little bit more.
Naomi scoffs immediately, as if the assertion is preposterous. In her eyes, it kind of is. Love can't be held back by pure will alone.
There's a small chuckle from the redhead and Naomi realises she must have said that last bit out loud. Her face flushes but Emily either doesn't notice, or pretends not to see. “Naoms, if you're anything, it's inhumanly wilful. You do get that right?” She pauses and bites down on her bottom lip briefly as she stares out at the street. “Especially when you're scared.” The sadness is all too clear in the comment. “Sometimes I think maybe your name should be one of the synonyms for 'repression' in the dictionary.”
Naomi turns to stare at Emily, who is still blankly gazing across the street. “Shut up.”
Emily shrugs, unconvinced by Naomi's obviously persuasive argument. “Think about it. I've never met anyone as scared to feel happiness as much as you. Not everything good causes pain, you know.” She pauses and shrugs again. “Most of it does. But you're so conflicted even now, it's...” She trails off and part of Naomi wants to hear the rest of Emily's impromptu psychoanalysis. The other half of her would rather not be made aware of yet another shortcoming of her personality, especially from an ex-girlfriend. She considers her mother: her lasting inability to really let them be a family, the fear of it falling to pieces again and how their happiness always seemed purposely placed just out of reach. Usually thanks to perpetual distractions and feeble, often false, justifications. Emily turns to her then, and offers a small smile.
“You've got to let it go.”
The snort that erupts from Naomi is sudden and loud enough to cause Emily to jump a little in her seat. “You're letting your Psychology course get to your head.”
Emily glances down and fiddles with her Coke can tab, refusing to respond to the comment. “See, wilful. Stubborn as an ass.”
The accusation silences Naomi's protests and she chews her lip in thought, looking across the street. She wants to pick Emily's brain about what is supposed to happen next. Is she supposed to try to get Michelle back? Should she take it as a learning experience and move on with new wisdom under her belt? Is Emily hinting at something else? Fucking hell. They sit in companionable silence for a few more minutes, with Naomi's thoughts cascading through her consciousness relentlessly before Emily sighs.
“I know you, Naomi. Better than you do, probably.” Naomi turns to meet Emily's imploring gaze. Her heart flutters, but for an odd reason she can't place. It feels like anxiety, as if she's predicted what's about to happen. “I've seen your honesty and I've seen your lies. So tell me, do you really not love Michelle?”
Naomi turns away first and focuses intently on picking fuzz off her leggings. She flicks away the invisible pieces of lint in a steady beat, as if it's a terribly oft practised habit. She wants to say no, she thinks; admit that she really could love Michelle. But then she's constantly reminded that it's Emily that she'd be admitting it to. Instead, she waffles about the subject.
“Do you think you can love two people at the same time?” Her eyes fix pointedly on Emily, and she witnesses those familiar brown eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It only takes a second for Emily to regain her admirable composure.
She takes a swig of her Coke before answering. “Sure. But I don't think it's really all that common. You have to differentiate.” She looks hard at the blonde, as if trying to give her some very important piece of advice. “Between what is now, and what was.”
Naomi bows her head in acceptance but doesn't say a word. Emily reaches down and takes Naomi's cold hand. “You shouldn't just think you love something cos it can't hurt you anymore, and pretend you don't love something else cos it still can.” She threads their fingers together and sighs. “I'll always love you too,” she admits softly after a long pause. “In a way. You broke me, stripped me completely helpless though. But you're my first love, Naoms. You'll always be. That doesn't change no matter how many people I love from now on.”
“Forever?” Naomi ventures hesitantly, remembering what she had asked so many years ago at the airport. Emily nods minutely and smiles a little wider. “And that's okay?” That's the real question Naomi wants answered, if everything she's feeling is allowed. It could change everything. She sees a glimmer of hope twinkling in what used to be a dark, chaotic tangle of frustration and indecision.
Emily laughs and looks up at the sky, before stealing a glance at Naomi's anxious face. She knocks their shoulders together jovially. “Of course it is, you stupid cow. It's love. It's always okay.” The blonde grins in response and squeezes Emily's hand tighter, leaning against her. After a moment of silence though, her mood darkens again.
“Ems... What if, hypothetically speaking yeah, I saw your face when I was fucking Chelle that night at Motion? What the fuck is that?”
Emily chokes on the sip of Coke she'd taken in and coughs for a second, patting herself on the chest. She pins Naomi with an intense glare. “That... was probably a drunken panic attack. Christ, Naomi. I don't know. It obviously wasn't something you wanted to see or else everything wouldn't have gone to pot like it did, yeah?” She pauses. “You are such a twat. I thought it was just a college phase.”
“So it's not--?”
“No!” Emily interrupts. “Not everything has a great, deep meaning. Sometimes you're just fucked up and overwhelmed.” She smirks again, “And you seem quite... prone to that.”
Naomi leans back against the fence and considers Emily's arguments. They seem reasonable, possible even. More than possible, really. Most likely. She looks down, rejoins their hands and wonders if maybe things are just always going to be strange and backwards, like she's watching her own life through a mirror. She twists their palms together tighter as a warmth settles into her body. But she realises that Emily's right again because that love they had in college, she doesn't feel that anymore. Something else resides there, a sort of lingering comfort, an understanding. It replaces doubt and fear. Her heartbeat doesn't speed up or flutter when they touch and there are none of those pleasant butterflies flitting about in her stomach. She doesn't feel that heat pooling deep inside her. None of that anxiety. But even so, there's the magnetism, like she never wants to let Emily go. It's just nice. Right. It's just Naomi and Emily, how maybe they had always been meant to be after all.
“You'd better get an A in Psychology,” Naomi muses with a smile.
Emily's lips spread into a contented smile. “You'd better get your girlfriend back.”
“Yeah,” Naomi sighs, unsure about the potential for that. They sit there, each gazing just beyond. Content in silence and companionship, until a scuffling of feet causes them both to turn.
Sid Jenkins is shuffling past them and towards Gina's front door. Naomi quickly stands up, letting go of Emily's hand and reaches out to grab ahold of Sid's windbreaker.
“Sid, what the fuck?” Her tone is supposed to be hard and demanding, but she really just sounds scared. “Where's Michelle?”
The boy wrings his jacket from Naomi's grasp and looks between the two younger girls, shaking his head. “I always get stuck doing this.” He gazes imploringly at the blonde. “Can you please just let me get Michelle's things? I'm just the messenger, yeah?”
“It's my house,” Naomi states. This time it does come out like a threat. Sid's never been anything but a friend, but today is different because Naomi only views him as interference between what she has and what she wants.
He shifts his weight a few times, obviously uncomfortable with the confrontation. “C'mon,” he moans but the feeble request falls on uncaring ears. Naomi puts out an arm, barring him from going further into the garden. “This is naff,” he sulks.
Naomi's had enough of whiny boys and beating around the bush. Emily still inspires a peculiar sort of confidence in her. “Ring Michelle,” she demands. “Ring her and tell her to come get her own things.” Sid half-heartedly searches for his mobile in his cargo pockets. It's making Naomi immensely more impatient. “Now, Sid!”
He stutters something unintelligible as he finally retrieves his mobile. Naomi watches him intently as if she's expecting him to bolt at any second. He never gets the chance to speak to Michelle however because a distinctive ringtone echoes from somewhere nearby and Naomi looks up to see the older girl walking towards the house, a distinctly unpleasant look on her face. Naomi knows it's not going to be easy. She glances quickly at Emily who remains seated on the wall, nonchalantly sipping her Coke and watching the situation unfold. It's not her battle any longer.
When Michelle is about four feet away, Naomi's breath hitches in her chest. It catches for a moment and when she releases it, a tide of something else crashes down on her. There's a flash that only lasts a moment but leaves her breathless. Sid fades away from her vision, and Emily too, but somehow they both remain, like the way one feels the stars watching them from above. Naomi feels the ache first, like she's been hit but Michelle has stopped and remains standing well out of reach. It's all there at once: the heat, the butterflies, the beat of her heart taking on a life of its own within the confines of her fragile chest. In there, she's aware of a shuddering sort of feeling, as if her heart itself is trembling in excitement. She thinks that maybe her soul itself is vibrating. But it vanishes almost as quickly as it came, leaving a throbbing sort of electricity in its wake that spreads out to her fingertips and Naomi is finally sure.
“I love you.” It comes out louder than she expected and the real world comes cascading down around her, crashing against her senses. She always had been fond of dramatic, sudden displays of emotion. She's aware suddenly of Sid standing a little dumbfounded by her side, aware of the sound of Emily sucking up the last of her soft drink through the straw. Aware of Michelle's ragged breathing. “That's what you need to hear, right?”
Michelle sets her lips in a grim smile as she looks back and forth suspiciously between Naomi and the redhead behind her. “Don't just say things because you can.” Her eyes narrow at Naomi, in accusation or disbelief possibly. Fuck, it hurts. “Sid, go grab my bag.”
Naomi's arm flies out and latches onto his arm. “No, Sid.” As a result, he looks completely annoyed to be stuck in this fucking position again. Naomi meets Michelle's glare straight on, a challenge accepted. A darkness settles over the brunette's features, as if preparing for something much worse.
She shrugs in a very calculated way. “Fine. I'll get it myself.” She takes a step towards Naomi's human barrier when a small hand stops her. They all refocus on Emily, standing between the 3 friends, one hand blocking Michelle's progress.
She looks at both girls. “I'll get it.” Naomi is speechless at this apparent betrayal. Sid merely shrugs and slips out from the battleground he's previously been stood in the centre of. Emily moves inside the house without complaint from Naomi or Michelle. The moment the door closes behind her, Naomi's blue eyes flicker back to Michelle's face.
“Please, Chelle.”
There it is again. Her heart is literally trembling. Fluttering, trying to break free. Or maybe it's dancing. Laughing. It's distracting in its intensity. She takes a deep breath to no effect. The twisting pain in her stomach is no match for her heartbeats thudding away, demanding her full attention, reminding her not to forget what's important. The fear and anxiety cramp her, but the resounding thump-thump overwhelm it all.
“I'm sorry,” she tries again. “I was...” Stupid, confused, ignorant, pathetic, fucked up. She groans. “Shit.”
There's something that softens in Michelle's face and she cocks an eyebrow in disbelief.
“I needed...” She searches for the bloody words and isn't surprised to find that once again, she's helpless in their absence. Her heart is still going wild, and it's spreading this strange kind of excitement throughout her chest now. Like warm water dripping down, pooling in crevasses, draining. Naomi gives up trying to grab ahold of words. They obviously want nothing to do with her.
“You have no idea what I'm feeling,” she manages to whisper, feeling utterly defeated.
There's a second crash; this one far more palpable then the previous. It too only lasts a moment however. Lips pressed hard and then empty air. An ephemeral tease. Naomi thinks that maybe Michelle has pulled back but she realises then they she had. Her hands are still tangled in chestnut brown hair, but there's space between them. It seems to have ended far too soon and Naomi can't understand why since the feeling in her body has not receded whatsoever. It's thrumming away, stronger than ever.
“You don't think I do too?” Michelle asks finally, the first promising words she's said to the blonde since last night. Her voice wavers as she forces the question out. It's plainly obvious that the insinuation hurts her. “You're the only one, Nome?” Her lips turn upwards in a minuscule grimace. Naomi realises yet another one of her many mistakes today. But she doesn't beg, doesn't over-dramatize the moment. She's not 17 anymore. They're not children fumbling around the minefield. She doesn't even cry. There's a sort of strange effectiveness in the boldness of simple actions. They lack pretence and misinterpretation and make up for flair with tenacity. So she moves forward, placing a soft kiss on Michelle's lips, lingers much longer than needed, before returning again with slightly more vigour, as if to drive her point home.
It's not demanding, merely persistent. Stubborn, perhaps. That is, after all, something Naomi excels at. She feels the part of Michelle's lips who seems to finally be learning Naomi's own language, and an overwhelming relief surges through her veins, pumping it furiously outward. The kiss deepens of its own will almost and the feel of Michelle's hands on her body - resting one in the curve of her waist, the other gripping her bicep rather tightly - reverberates pleasantly to her toes. There's a kind of settling feeling, as if she's found her place and can finally rest.
Pulling back, she avoids eye contact for a moment, gathering her senses together before facing whatever may come. She's used to losing things just as she finds them. But when she finally does look up, Michelle isn't gazing at her like she expected. The other girl, still so full of uncertainty after everything, is feeling it too. So it rests with Naomi, the decision about the next step. She has to lead, even if she's not sure how or where it will take them. It would be so easy to say goodbye, in one sense. It may hurt but that seems less terrifying than continuing forward.
Habits. She closes her eyes for a moment again. “Chelle?” she asks, her voice no louder than a whisper.
Green eyes meet hers, pupils dilated yet focussed. She tries to hide a grimace as she struggles for the right words. Finally she releases the one that she knows for certain is the thing she's always wanted to say.
“Stay.”
Michelle looks mildly surprised, hopeful even. She tilts and dips her head slightly and presses her lips together in that unique way of hers when she's trying to withhold a smile, when she's happy. Her eyes crinkle a little at the sides. That was so much easier and more painless than Naomi had ever thought it could be. Seems silly now that it took this long. Michelle fingers the lapels of her jacket. “I need to change,” she says with a small shrug. “Got ketchup down my vest this morning. I was a little... distracted.” She pulls her coat open to reveal a smear of dried ketchup on her white, and well-fitting, top and chuckles. Naomi grins then. It's as good as a promise, perhaps. She meets Michelle's stare then and the older girl's own smile fully emerges.
“Go on then,” Naomi says, unable to will her smile away even if she had tried. Michelle brushes past her, purposely close Naomi reckons, because she has to repress a very telling shudder of anticipation. She's not even concerned that Emily hasn't returned and the two girls are likely to run into each other. Really, she doesn't have much time to dwell on it before the car Tony's hired comes to a screeching halt outside the house and Tony leaps out. In a matter of seconds, he's towering over Naomi and Sid. Effy slides carefully from the passenger side and approaches with much greater caution.
“Where is she?” Tony demands, as if he has any sort of claim to Michelle. Sid shrugs, obviously. And Naomi stands firm, blocking Tony's way.
“It's settled,” she assures him but his face morphs into a sneer anyway.
He pulls out his mobile and waves it at Naomi. “I get this fucking text from Sid here, telling me to get down here ASAP cos Chelle's wrecked up. So what's the deal, Moany?”
Naomi rolls her eyes at the question and the use of her nickname at such an inappropriate time. “Leave it, Tony. It's sorted, I told you.” She glares at him.
Sid pipes up beside her. “Yeah, it's over.”
Tony shakes his head at the two of them. “You retard, Sid. Why'd you do that?” Effy materializes at Tony's side and places a hand on his arm. It pulls him from whatever weird, angry place he was in. Naomi stares at Effy momentarily, trying to figure out why she is even here but Effy merely winks at her and tosses her hair over her shoulder. There's a flash of the old Effy briefly. Emily's steps echo across the garden path as she exits the house, though she comes to an abrupt stop halfway when she sees the small crowd gathered.
Tony studies her for a second. “Hey there, Red,” he greets in a condescending sort of way, but it's layered with something else. Pleasure almost? Emily raises an unaffected eyebrow and continues her walk towards them. She sidles up between Effy and Naomi, and gives Effy a tight smile. It's a strange sort of reunion. The brunette tilts her head to the side and just plasters on that vacant yet knowing sort of smile she had employed so often in college. Like she's already completely certain of all the events that had preceded her arrival, just from glancing at faces. Naomi smirks.
“You're such morons,” Tony finally says disdainfully, backing up slightly, shaking his head. The accusation hangs in the air and neither Sid nor Naomi seem willing to challenge it immediately. Emily just peers wide-eyed at the group of them, thrown head-first into this strange other reality where the past collides in disaster. Finally Sid's fists ball up at his sides.
“No, Tone, you're all such bloody morons!” he bursts out and everyone except Effy looks at least mildly surprised.
He points towards Naomi's house. “I've just spent all morning with her and she's spent the whole fucking time crying her sodding heart out to me. Cos, oh Sid, you're such a great friend,” he mimics angrily. “Bollocks. You've been here, what, a day?” He pins Tony with an accusatory glare, that despite his smaller stature is quite effective. “Got everything all fucked already.”
Tony shrugs, like it's all just water over his back. “I'm not the one who made her cry.” He looks at Naomi with that insufferable smirk of superiority. She rolls her eyes back at him.
“You don't get it? Neither of you.” Sid shakes his head with emphasis. “You know what she asked me? She said, 'Why is so hard for people to love me back? What's wrong with me?' Yeah. Cos she's so bursting with it and you twats just prance about like sodding untouchable wankers and stomp all over her.”
Naomi steps forward. “Sid-”
He holds up both his sleeve-covered hands in protest, waving them about. “It's not a fucking game to her. She just wants to feel really special for once. She doesn't want to be loved for what she looks like,” he spits, gesturing first to Tony. “Or what she represents,” he continues and points at Naomi. “She never has. Just loved for herself. Why is it that I can see that and you brilliant sodding geniuses are such soggy dildos?” He takes a deep breath. “So, no Tone, you two are the morons.”
Sid's eyes widen in shock at his own outburst and he stumbles back a step, wiping a hand over his face. Tony is silent for a moment. “But I don't love her anymore, Sid. She knows that. She doesn't love me either.” His tone is even and blatantly cocksure. He forces that insufferable smile again. Like he's blameless and invincible. Always.
Sid narrows his eyes and glares, but he says nothing. He doesn't need to remind Tony of all the damage he had already inflicted for years on end. He knows it. Sid knows it. Naomi knows it. Everyone knows it. He shakes his head, ignoring Tony and turns fully to Naomi. “She, like, loves you. If you don't-.”
“Shut up, Sid,” Effy's rarely heard voice cuts through Sid's advice. She offers Naomi a small smile. “Naomi knows.” She raises an eyebrow. “Doesn't she?” Naomi presses her lips together and stares for a moment, debating, wondering. Effy smirks wider. “Just be, Naomi.”
Finally the blonde turns on her heel and leaves the small crowd in her garden. She hears Tony coming onto Emily as she closes the front door behind her and she smiles at his audacity. He really is a moron.
PART 7 >>
Warning: language, sexuality.
Disclaimer: The names of all characters contained here-in are the property of Skins, Company Pictures, & Channel4. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.
Full notes in Part 1.
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Epilogue I || Epilogue II & Notes
She's answered with yet another shrug and a sigh from Naomi. Useless. She feels useless all over again. Emily shifts a little in her seat.
“Do you really not love her, or are you just afraid to let yourself love her?” she asks softly, prodding Naomi a little bit more.
Naomi scoffs immediately, as if the assertion is preposterous. In her eyes, it kind of is. Love can't be held back by pure will alone.
There's a small chuckle from the redhead and Naomi realises she must have said that last bit out loud. Her face flushes but Emily either doesn't notice, or pretends not to see. “Naoms, if you're anything, it's inhumanly wilful. You do get that right?” She pauses and bites down on her bottom lip briefly as she stares out at the street. “Especially when you're scared.” The sadness is all too clear in the comment. “Sometimes I think maybe your name should be one of the synonyms for 'repression' in the dictionary.”
Naomi turns to stare at Emily, who is still blankly gazing across the street. “Shut up.”
Emily shrugs, unconvinced by Naomi's obviously persuasive argument. “Think about it. I've never met anyone as scared to feel happiness as much as you. Not everything good causes pain, you know.” She pauses and shrugs again. “Most of it does. But you're so conflicted even now, it's...” She trails off and part of Naomi wants to hear the rest of Emily's impromptu psychoanalysis. The other half of her would rather not be made aware of yet another shortcoming of her personality, especially from an ex-girlfriend. She considers her mother: her lasting inability to really let them be a family, the fear of it falling to pieces again and how their happiness always seemed purposely placed just out of reach. Usually thanks to perpetual distractions and feeble, often false, justifications. Emily turns to her then, and offers a small smile.
“You've got to let it go.”
The snort that erupts from Naomi is sudden and loud enough to cause Emily to jump a little in her seat. “You're letting your Psychology course get to your head.”
Emily glances down and fiddles with her Coke can tab, refusing to respond to the comment. “See, wilful. Stubborn as an ass.”
The accusation silences Naomi's protests and she chews her lip in thought, looking across the street. She wants to pick Emily's brain about what is supposed to happen next. Is she supposed to try to get Michelle back? Should she take it as a learning experience and move on with new wisdom under her belt? Is Emily hinting at something else? Fucking hell. They sit in companionable silence for a few more minutes, with Naomi's thoughts cascading through her consciousness relentlessly before Emily sighs.
“I know you, Naomi. Better than you do, probably.” Naomi turns to meet Emily's imploring gaze. Her heart flutters, but for an odd reason she can't place. It feels like anxiety, as if she's predicted what's about to happen. “I've seen your honesty and I've seen your lies. So tell me, do you really not love Michelle?”
Naomi turns away first and focuses intently on picking fuzz off her leggings. She flicks away the invisible pieces of lint in a steady beat, as if it's a terribly oft practised habit. She wants to say no, she thinks; admit that she really could love Michelle. But then she's constantly reminded that it's Emily that she'd be admitting it to. Instead, she waffles about the subject.
“Do you think you can love two people at the same time?” Her eyes fix pointedly on Emily, and she witnesses those familiar brown eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It only takes a second for Emily to regain her admirable composure.
She takes a swig of her Coke before answering. “Sure. But I don't think it's really all that common. You have to differentiate.” She looks hard at the blonde, as if trying to give her some very important piece of advice. “Between what is now, and what was.”
Naomi bows her head in acceptance but doesn't say a word. Emily reaches down and takes Naomi's cold hand. “You shouldn't just think you love something cos it can't hurt you anymore, and pretend you don't love something else cos it still can.” She threads their fingers together and sighs. “I'll always love you too,” she admits softly after a long pause. “In a way. You broke me, stripped me completely helpless though. But you're my first love, Naoms. You'll always be. That doesn't change no matter how many people I love from now on.”
“Forever?” Naomi ventures hesitantly, remembering what she had asked so many years ago at the airport. Emily nods minutely and smiles a little wider. “And that's okay?” That's the real question Naomi wants answered, if everything she's feeling is allowed. It could change everything. She sees a glimmer of hope twinkling in what used to be a dark, chaotic tangle of frustration and indecision.
Emily laughs and looks up at the sky, before stealing a glance at Naomi's anxious face. She knocks their shoulders together jovially. “Of course it is, you stupid cow. It's love. It's always okay.” The blonde grins in response and squeezes Emily's hand tighter, leaning against her. After a moment of silence though, her mood darkens again.
“Ems... What if, hypothetically speaking yeah, I saw your face when I was fucking Chelle that night at Motion? What the fuck is that?”
Emily chokes on the sip of Coke she'd taken in and coughs for a second, patting herself on the chest. She pins Naomi with an intense glare. “That... was probably a drunken panic attack. Christ, Naomi. I don't know. It obviously wasn't something you wanted to see or else everything wouldn't have gone to pot like it did, yeah?” She pauses. “You are such a twat. I thought it was just a college phase.”
“So it's not--?”
“No!” Emily interrupts. “Not everything has a great, deep meaning. Sometimes you're just fucked up and overwhelmed.” She smirks again, “And you seem quite... prone to that.”
Naomi leans back against the fence and considers Emily's arguments. They seem reasonable, possible even. More than possible, really. Most likely. She looks down, rejoins their hands and wonders if maybe things are just always going to be strange and backwards, like she's watching her own life through a mirror. She twists their palms together tighter as a warmth settles into her body. But she realises that Emily's right again because that love they had in college, she doesn't feel that anymore. Something else resides there, a sort of lingering comfort, an understanding. It replaces doubt and fear. Her heartbeat doesn't speed up or flutter when they touch and there are none of those pleasant butterflies flitting about in her stomach. She doesn't feel that heat pooling deep inside her. None of that anxiety. But even so, there's the magnetism, like she never wants to let Emily go. It's just nice. Right. It's just Naomi and Emily, how maybe they had always been meant to be after all.
“You'd better get an A in Psychology,” Naomi muses with a smile.
Emily's lips spread into a contented smile. “You'd better get your girlfriend back.”
“Yeah,” Naomi sighs, unsure about the potential for that. They sit there, each gazing just beyond. Content in silence and companionship, until a scuffling of feet causes them both to turn.
Sid Jenkins is shuffling past them and towards Gina's front door. Naomi quickly stands up, letting go of Emily's hand and reaches out to grab ahold of Sid's windbreaker.
“Sid, what the fuck?” Her tone is supposed to be hard and demanding, but she really just sounds scared. “Where's Michelle?”
The boy wrings his jacket from Naomi's grasp and looks between the two younger girls, shaking his head. “I always get stuck doing this.” He gazes imploringly at the blonde. “Can you please just let me get Michelle's things? I'm just the messenger, yeah?”
“It's my house,” Naomi states. This time it does come out like a threat. Sid's never been anything but a friend, but today is different because Naomi only views him as interference between what she has and what she wants.
He shifts his weight a few times, obviously uncomfortable with the confrontation. “C'mon,” he moans but the feeble request falls on uncaring ears. Naomi puts out an arm, barring him from going further into the garden. “This is naff,” he sulks.
Naomi's had enough of whiny boys and beating around the bush. Emily still inspires a peculiar sort of confidence in her. “Ring Michelle,” she demands. “Ring her and tell her to come get her own things.” Sid half-heartedly searches for his mobile in his cargo pockets. It's making Naomi immensely more impatient. “Now, Sid!”
He stutters something unintelligible as he finally retrieves his mobile. Naomi watches him intently as if she's expecting him to bolt at any second. He never gets the chance to speak to Michelle however because a distinctive ringtone echoes from somewhere nearby and Naomi looks up to see the older girl walking towards the house, a distinctly unpleasant look on her face. Naomi knows it's not going to be easy. She glances quickly at Emily who remains seated on the wall, nonchalantly sipping her Coke and watching the situation unfold. It's not her battle any longer.
When Michelle is about four feet away, Naomi's breath hitches in her chest. It catches for a moment and when she releases it, a tide of something else crashes down on her. There's a flash that only lasts a moment but leaves her breathless. Sid fades away from her vision, and Emily too, but somehow they both remain, like the way one feels the stars watching them from above. Naomi feels the ache first, like she's been hit but Michelle has stopped and remains standing well out of reach. It's all there at once: the heat, the butterflies, the beat of her heart taking on a life of its own within the confines of her fragile chest. In there, she's aware of a shuddering sort of feeling, as if her heart itself is trembling in excitement. She thinks that maybe her soul itself is vibrating. But it vanishes almost as quickly as it came, leaving a throbbing sort of electricity in its wake that spreads out to her fingertips and Naomi is finally sure.
“I love you.” It comes out louder than she expected and the real world comes cascading down around her, crashing against her senses. She always had been fond of dramatic, sudden displays of emotion. She's aware suddenly of Sid standing a little dumbfounded by her side, aware of the sound of Emily sucking up the last of her soft drink through the straw. Aware of Michelle's ragged breathing. “That's what you need to hear, right?”
Michelle sets her lips in a grim smile as she looks back and forth suspiciously between Naomi and the redhead behind her. “Don't just say things because you can.” Her eyes narrow at Naomi, in accusation or disbelief possibly. Fuck, it hurts. “Sid, go grab my bag.”
Naomi's arm flies out and latches onto his arm. “No, Sid.” As a result, he looks completely annoyed to be stuck in this fucking position again. Naomi meets Michelle's glare straight on, a challenge accepted. A darkness settles over the brunette's features, as if preparing for something much worse.
She shrugs in a very calculated way. “Fine. I'll get it myself.” She takes a step towards Naomi's human barrier when a small hand stops her. They all refocus on Emily, standing between the 3 friends, one hand blocking Michelle's progress.
She looks at both girls. “I'll get it.” Naomi is speechless at this apparent betrayal. Sid merely shrugs and slips out from the battleground he's previously been stood in the centre of. Emily moves inside the house without complaint from Naomi or Michelle. The moment the door closes behind her, Naomi's blue eyes flicker back to Michelle's face.
“Please, Chelle.”
There it is again. Her heart is literally trembling. Fluttering, trying to break free. Or maybe it's dancing. Laughing. It's distracting in its intensity. She takes a deep breath to no effect. The twisting pain in her stomach is no match for her heartbeats thudding away, demanding her full attention, reminding her not to forget what's important. The fear and anxiety cramp her, but the resounding thump-thump overwhelm it all.
“I'm sorry,” she tries again. “I was...” Stupid, confused, ignorant, pathetic, fucked up. She groans. “Shit.”
There's something that softens in Michelle's face and she cocks an eyebrow in disbelief.
“I needed...” She searches for the bloody words and isn't surprised to find that once again, she's helpless in their absence. Her heart is still going wild, and it's spreading this strange kind of excitement throughout her chest now. Like warm water dripping down, pooling in crevasses, draining. Naomi gives up trying to grab ahold of words. They obviously want nothing to do with her.
“You have no idea what I'm feeling,” she manages to whisper, feeling utterly defeated.
There's a second crash; this one far more palpable then the previous. It too only lasts a moment however. Lips pressed hard and then empty air. An ephemeral tease. Naomi thinks that maybe Michelle has pulled back but she realises then they she had. Her hands are still tangled in chestnut brown hair, but there's space between them. It seems to have ended far too soon and Naomi can't understand why since the feeling in her body has not receded whatsoever. It's thrumming away, stronger than ever.
“You don't think I do too?” Michelle asks finally, the first promising words she's said to the blonde since last night. Her voice wavers as she forces the question out. It's plainly obvious that the insinuation hurts her. “You're the only one, Nome?” Her lips turn upwards in a minuscule grimace. Naomi realises yet another one of her many mistakes today. But she doesn't beg, doesn't over-dramatize the moment. She's not 17 anymore. They're not children fumbling around the minefield. She doesn't even cry. There's a sort of strange effectiveness in the boldness of simple actions. They lack pretence and misinterpretation and make up for flair with tenacity. So she moves forward, placing a soft kiss on Michelle's lips, lingers much longer than needed, before returning again with slightly more vigour, as if to drive her point home.
It's not demanding, merely persistent. Stubborn, perhaps. That is, after all, something Naomi excels at. She feels the part of Michelle's lips who seems to finally be learning Naomi's own language, and an overwhelming relief surges through her veins, pumping it furiously outward. The kiss deepens of its own will almost and the feel of Michelle's hands on her body - resting one in the curve of her waist, the other gripping her bicep rather tightly - reverberates pleasantly to her toes. There's a kind of settling feeling, as if she's found her place and can finally rest.
Pulling back, she avoids eye contact for a moment, gathering her senses together before facing whatever may come. She's used to losing things just as she finds them. But when she finally does look up, Michelle isn't gazing at her like she expected. The other girl, still so full of uncertainty after everything, is feeling it too. So it rests with Naomi, the decision about the next step. She has to lead, even if she's not sure how or where it will take them. It would be so easy to say goodbye, in one sense. It may hurt but that seems less terrifying than continuing forward.
Habits. She closes her eyes for a moment again. “Chelle?” she asks, her voice no louder than a whisper.
Green eyes meet hers, pupils dilated yet focussed. She tries to hide a grimace as she struggles for the right words. Finally she releases the one that she knows for certain is the thing she's always wanted to say.
“Stay.”
Michelle looks mildly surprised, hopeful even. She tilts and dips her head slightly and presses her lips together in that unique way of hers when she's trying to withhold a smile, when she's happy. Her eyes crinkle a little at the sides. That was so much easier and more painless than Naomi had ever thought it could be. Seems silly now that it took this long. Michelle fingers the lapels of her jacket. “I need to change,” she says with a small shrug. “Got ketchup down my vest this morning. I was a little... distracted.” She pulls her coat open to reveal a smear of dried ketchup on her white, and well-fitting, top and chuckles. Naomi grins then. It's as good as a promise, perhaps. She meets Michelle's stare then and the older girl's own smile fully emerges.
“Go on then,” Naomi says, unable to will her smile away even if she had tried. Michelle brushes past her, purposely close Naomi reckons, because she has to repress a very telling shudder of anticipation. She's not even concerned that Emily hasn't returned and the two girls are likely to run into each other. Really, she doesn't have much time to dwell on it before the car Tony's hired comes to a screeching halt outside the house and Tony leaps out. In a matter of seconds, he's towering over Naomi and Sid. Effy slides carefully from the passenger side and approaches with much greater caution.
“Where is she?” Tony demands, as if he has any sort of claim to Michelle. Sid shrugs, obviously. And Naomi stands firm, blocking Tony's way.
“It's settled,” she assures him but his face morphs into a sneer anyway.
He pulls out his mobile and waves it at Naomi. “I get this fucking text from Sid here, telling me to get down here ASAP cos Chelle's wrecked up. So what's the deal, Moany?”
Naomi rolls her eyes at the question and the use of her nickname at such an inappropriate time. “Leave it, Tony. It's sorted, I told you.” She glares at him.
Sid pipes up beside her. “Yeah, it's over.”
Tony shakes his head at the two of them. “You retard, Sid. Why'd you do that?” Effy materializes at Tony's side and places a hand on his arm. It pulls him from whatever weird, angry place he was in. Naomi stares at Effy momentarily, trying to figure out why she is even here but Effy merely winks at her and tosses her hair over her shoulder. There's a flash of the old Effy briefly. Emily's steps echo across the garden path as she exits the house, though she comes to an abrupt stop halfway when she sees the small crowd gathered.
Tony studies her for a second. “Hey there, Red,” he greets in a condescending sort of way, but it's layered with something else. Pleasure almost? Emily raises an unaffected eyebrow and continues her walk towards them. She sidles up between Effy and Naomi, and gives Effy a tight smile. It's a strange sort of reunion. The brunette tilts her head to the side and just plasters on that vacant yet knowing sort of smile she had employed so often in college. Like she's already completely certain of all the events that had preceded her arrival, just from glancing at faces. Naomi smirks.
“You're such morons,” Tony finally says disdainfully, backing up slightly, shaking his head. The accusation hangs in the air and neither Sid nor Naomi seem willing to challenge it immediately. Emily just peers wide-eyed at the group of them, thrown head-first into this strange other reality where the past collides in disaster. Finally Sid's fists ball up at his sides.
“No, Tone, you're all such bloody morons!” he bursts out and everyone except Effy looks at least mildly surprised.
He points towards Naomi's house. “I've just spent all morning with her and she's spent the whole fucking time crying her sodding heart out to me. Cos, oh Sid, you're such a great friend,” he mimics angrily. “Bollocks. You've been here, what, a day?” He pins Tony with an accusatory glare, that despite his smaller stature is quite effective. “Got everything all fucked already.”
Tony shrugs, like it's all just water over his back. “I'm not the one who made her cry.” He looks at Naomi with that insufferable smirk of superiority. She rolls her eyes back at him.
“You don't get it? Neither of you.” Sid shakes his head with emphasis. “You know what she asked me? She said, 'Why is so hard for people to love me back? What's wrong with me?' Yeah. Cos she's so bursting with it and you twats just prance about like sodding untouchable wankers and stomp all over her.”
Naomi steps forward. “Sid-”
He holds up both his sleeve-covered hands in protest, waving them about. “It's not a fucking game to her. She just wants to feel really special for once. She doesn't want to be loved for what she looks like,” he spits, gesturing first to Tony. “Or what she represents,” he continues and points at Naomi. “She never has. Just loved for herself. Why is it that I can see that and you brilliant sodding geniuses are such soggy dildos?” He takes a deep breath. “So, no Tone, you two are the morons.”
Sid's eyes widen in shock at his own outburst and he stumbles back a step, wiping a hand over his face. Tony is silent for a moment. “But I don't love her anymore, Sid. She knows that. She doesn't love me either.” His tone is even and blatantly cocksure. He forces that insufferable smile again. Like he's blameless and invincible. Always.
Sid narrows his eyes and glares, but he says nothing. He doesn't need to remind Tony of all the damage he had already inflicted for years on end. He knows it. Sid knows it. Naomi knows it. Everyone knows it. He shakes his head, ignoring Tony and turns fully to Naomi. “She, like, loves you. If you don't-.”
“Shut up, Sid,” Effy's rarely heard voice cuts through Sid's advice. She offers Naomi a small smile. “Naomi knows.” She raises an eyebrow. “Doesn't she?” Naomi presses her lips together and stares for a moment, debating, wondering. Effy smirks wider. “Just be, Naomi.”
Finally the blonde turns on her heel and leaves the small crowd in her garden. She hears Tony coming onto Emily as she closes the front door behind her and she smiles at his audacity. He really is a moron.
PART 7 >>