FIC: echoes (sing me a love song & i'll sing it right back to you) [7/7]
echoes (sing me a love song & i'll sing it right back to you)
Author: Eskimo Jo
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
The wooden door slams shut. Michelle jumps and spins around to find the source of her interruption. She's grasping a clean top to her bra-clad torso. Naomi stands in her bedroom, surveying the sight with an odd detachment. She says nothing and waits for Michelle to relax, which she does not long after and continues sorting through her overnight bag for a more suitable vest, most likely. She pulls out something blue and sparkly and tosses it aside.
“Emily's nice,” she states, almost wistfully, whilst she ploughs through her mass of clothes.
Naomi takes a step forward. “Yeah. She is.”
“Really nice.” There's just a tinge of something else in the words, though Naomi knows Michelle is sincere enough.
“Michelle,” Naomi says carefully as she approaches. She takes the current choice of top from Michelle's hands and drops it to the floor. Michelle stares distractedly at the discarded clothing, gooseflesh rising along her arms. “I meant it, you know.” Michelle's lips form a small, shy smile, but her eyes seem to still hold some disbelief when she meets Naomi's insistent gaze.
“It's fine,” she says, trying her best to put on a brave face in light of her insecurity. It doesn't dissuade Naomi however, her own stubbornness gaining the upper-hand, and finally for the right reason. She reaches down and pulls up her own jumper, tossing it with carelessness towards Michelle's pile. The brunette is curious but not convinced. She allows Naomi to inch forward, run her fingers over the waistband of her jeans slowly, almost tortuously so before undoing them and sliding them over her hips. Michelle wriggles and steps out of them, her breath catching more often. It continues in a steady, slow pace, silently, until Naomi pushes Michelle back onto the bed, all their clothes shed on the floor.
“Everyone's outside waiting,” Michelle starts weakly.
Naomi chuckles, hovering over her, their skin almost grazing but not quite. “What for? Would you just let me prove...? I'm trying to be brave here.” She lowers herself until they're pressed together, skin to skin, combustible, every nerve slowly burning. Her lips find Michelle's with ease, moving languidly with the certainty of something true. Finding purpose. She can feel the heated trails like silent promises left behind in the wake of Michelle's fingertips along her spine, down across her waist, and back up again. They've been here many times before, but this time something is different and Naomi can't quite place it. Things are moving slowly, like they're underwater and not fighting against it.
Michelle tilts her head back as Naomi begins her descent along her defined jawline, over her earlobe, down again. Lips brushing and nipping along each inch of smooth skin offered to her. Her hands, commanded by something outside the scope of her brain, move in heavy, unhurried swirls over perfect breasts, tweaking nipples and further around, down. Michelle pushes up to meet Naomi. The renewed contact sends sparks straight through Naomi's body. The slow grinding rhythm of their hips together, against soft thighs, feels like dancing. The kind that happens in dark corners of clubs, in shadowed bedrooms, in love. The kind of hazy instinctual sway and twist that caused wars in Turkey and Shakespearean tragedies to erupt in Egypt, Greece and Rome; the kind that even the Bible couldn't ignore. Grasping and pulling, closer. What was steady breathing turns more ragged, hitching at touches and licks. Naomi finds an irresistible urge to bite down, a little harder as she moves her mouth along a collarbone. Michelle's gasp is unmistakable and her fingers clench around the younger girl's neck, momentarily stalling their sweep through blonde locks.
Every movement seems calculated and exact, but precision is the furthest thing from Naomi's mind. She moves only by instinct when she drags her flattened tongue lazily over a hard nipple. A moan boils up from within Michelle as manicured nails scrape lightly over Naomi's scalp. Naomi doesn't stop. Again, another sweep whilst her other hand massages her other breast without haste. Again. Michelle's hips smack up against her taut abdomen, an automatic, writhing response. The power drives Naomi a little bit mental, in a good way. She switches sides, inciting a whole new wave of responses. It's addicting in a completely new way than being with Michelle had been before. There's a lightness now, something akin to freedom. She grasps at the duvet cover as she pulls herself back up, towards Michelle's mouth. She nips and tugs on her bottom lip before sealing their lips together, immediately finding permission to let her tongue explore further. She feels two warm hands clutching at her ribcage as if to steady everything. Never fully disconnecting their lips, she slips a hand down, thumb sliding over hardened peaks and eliciting groans that vibrate into her own body.
When she finally breaks the kiss, Naomi hovers above, staring through unfocussed eyes at the girl beneath her. Michelle's green eyes, darkened perceptibly and bleary, peer back and Naomi smiles. It's fully honest this time. Her hand kneads harder, but not ungentle. Michelle sucks in a deep breath, her eyes squeezing shut again and almost growls then.
“Nome, I swear...” she trails off as Naomi leans down to run her tongue out behind her ear, and she stretches out. Her voice is strangled and breathy. Exactly how Naomi likes it. “I might just cum from this.”
The admission causes the blonde to pause momentarily. She hopes it's not too noticeable and kisses down further to compensate for her stalling. Naomi can't help but think about Tony and his merciless taunting over Michelle's supposed frigidity, how insecure and almost scared she had been when they had first fucked, in that sloppy, drunken almost-mistake. (It had been considered a mistake then, but no longer). She considers Michelle's own confession of it always being difficult, and now? Naomi isn't sure if she is just exaggerating her latest claim about how close she is already, but the smear of slick wetness on her leg from Michelle's movements indicates it just might be true. It feels good. It feels true. And Naomi knows that both of them had changed sometime in the last few days, if not hours. The trust has returned, easier than it should have maybe. Her mouth is already fluttering kisses on the inside of her girlfriend's thighs by the time she realises what she's doing. Michelle is wriggling almost impatiently but Naomi, ever stubborn, refuses to give in yet. She cups her with one hand, presses slightly, but nothing more.
A groan of frustration from the prone girl makes Naomi smile into her kisses. She nips lightly again at the tight thigh in front of her, grinning at the exasperation that is evident. She slowly curls a finger and gently delves into Michelle's folds, running a knuckle down her length. The resulting buck of hips make it obvious that she's a giant fucking tease. She does it again, with two fingers and continues to suck the inside of her thigh.
“You're going to--” A gasp. “Kill me,” Michelle finishes with barely veiled agitation. She attempts to grind her hips harder against Naomi's hand but is met with empty space... Until she feels Naomi's hot tongue against her. A most uncharacteristic whine escapes at the contact. Michelle'd never been particularly fond of or comfortable about this; again, some sort of unfortunate remnant of upbringing and Tony Stonem's teenage conditioning. So Naomi pauses, looks up over the plane of smooth skin and perfect fucking tits.
“You know, you're beautiful, Chelle,” she states, quieter than she had planned. Almost as if she was in awe having the words escape her lips. “Everywhere.” She watches curiously as Michelle's hands immediately go up to cover her face. She shakes her head.
“Don't, Naomi, please,” she mumbles, the request muffled by her hands. It doesn't matter however. Naomi can still hear how choked up the sound is. It doesn't make much sense. Michelle loved hearing how fit she is; she would always beam with pride and wrinkle her nose in pleasure with a cheeky grin. Naomi senses the movement before it happens and she's prepared. When Michelle moves to close her legs and roll over, a firm hand on her hip holds her on her back. Naomi's risen to a kneel for leverage. She wonders if it has anything to do with Sid's comments earlier.
“Not just on the outside either,” she says to the covered face of her girlfriend.
“Naomi.” Another muffled, choked sound, like a half-caught sob. Naomi rises more and quickly clambers up the bed and pulls Michelle's hands roughly from her face. She pins them beside her head, glowering at the other girl. She kisses hard, sucking the air right out of the brunette's lungs in the process. It's much harsher than everything up to this point. Michelle struggles out of the kiss, gasping for air.
“You're beautiful,” Naomi repeats, much more assuredly this time. Not quite menacing, but serious all the same. “And I love you.”
Michelle's eyes widen at the statement, said with such surety. She attempts to free her wrists but the feeble struggle is futile. “I love you,” she says, almost like a concession and Naomi's not sure she likes the tone. “But can you just -fuck...”
Naomi considers the option, but finds the demand rather rude considering. Michelle wants it to mean nothing? When has she ever wanted anything to mean nothing? She shakes her head and Michelle stares at her, like a scared bird. “No.” She releases Michelle's wrists but doesn't move from her position straddling her. Thankfully Michelle isn't in the mood for a power struggle today. She leans down, laying soft kisses in a path towards her earlobe. “I want us to do it proper, like make love, okay?”
As Michelle's arms snake up around her shoulders, she knows she's winning. She's pulled down, their bodies flush once again, the heat still radiating strongly.
“We haven't before?” Michelle asks, curious, slightly confused. “Why not?”
Naomi wants to scoff because to her, the answer is plainly obvious. She settles for kissing the older girl slowly before answering. “Cos I didn't love you. At least not properly. Not like I should have.” It's a painful thing to hear likely, so Naomi distracts them both with another searing kiss. She feels Michelle's hips gyrate upwards slightly, building a subtle rhythm. When she pulls back, Michelle is staring. She has moisture building around the corners of her eyes.
“Say it once more, please.”
Naomi pauses, not sure which words to recite. She stares down at waiting green eyes. It strikes her that Michelle is upset, not because she doesn't want to hear these things, but because she doesn't believe them. Thinks they're just platitudes. She's just so desperate to be loved properly and fully, and used to such disappointment that it's impossible to see when it's really there. Naomi has the overwhelming urge to pummel Tony, and maybe herself in the process. What a scrap that would be. She's struck too with the realisation that Michelle is nothing like Emily, with her calm and constant, if well-hidden, confidence. The comparison is useless now. And she feels relieved with the knowledge that they are such different girls.
“You're beautiful,” she breathes out, a tremble persistent in her voice now, pushing chestnut fringe back with her free hand. Michelle sniffles, lets out a long, wavering sigh, and breaks the gaze as a small, shy small breaks across her face. Naomi places a soft kiss on her cheek, wondering when she turned into such a sap. “Just be, Chelle.” She offers the older girl a smirk that would make Effy proud.
Green eyes blaze once again, darker as two strong hands grip the sides of Naomi's face and pull her into yet another long kiss. It's far more insistent, far more confident, like the Michelle she'd snogged on the Stonem's settee all those months ago. It makes the warmth spiral straight to her core in anticipation. If Emily had been a sleek panther in the sack, Michelle, when she truly wanted to, was a fucking lioness. The thought is thrilling, if a little irrelevant at the moment because Naomi's insistent on picking up where they'd left off. Not feral fucking. Not like at Motion last night. This is supposed to be different. It's going to be. Naomi wriggles from the grasp and travels once again, agonizingly slowly down Michelle's body until, without much preamble, she slides her tongue out and down through Michelle's folds, evoking a guttural sort of sound. Even slower then, she flattens her tongue does a sweep back up, twirling the tip softly over the other girl's clit. She's rewarded with a slight push into her mouth. It's all the encouragement she needs. She continues her task, knowing by now, exactly what to do, lapping, licking, sucking, teasing; trying to convey her previous words with a reaffirmation through touch. She speaks everything she's wanted to say through fingertips and soft palms, through grazing lips and a stroking tongue, through the warm puff of breath on hot skin. There are fingers in her hair, holding on tightly, pulling insistently. Despite that, she's acutely aware that somewhere above, Michelle is breathing so heavily she sounds like she's drowning almost. She deftly slides two fingers inside to elicit a very satisfied moan. Michelle's actually pretty easy to please and she's constantly amazed at how shit Tony must have been in bed. Her fingers curl forward, seeking that spot she knows is going to bring the stars crashing down from heaven. When Michelle's gasps loudly, she knows she's had success.
The brunette is no longer quiet. Her breaths are coming out in little, frenetic moans. Her whole body seems to be absolutely pulsating, grinding her hips towards her, and Naomi tries to match its inner rhythm, stroking, tapping and allowing her tongue to dance to the beat. Michelle is really fucking close but it's not close enough. Naomi shifts again, laying kisses back up towards her breasts, over the sheen of sweat that has emerged. The heaving effort of Michelle's breathing is unmistakable from this vantage point. She props herself up slightly, their bodies close and parallel, still moving inside Michelle with practised ease. It's like the swimming in the ocean as the tide begins to come in. There's the ebb and flow of the waves, slowly growing stronger and stronger. When she pushes and pulls, her body lithe and smooth in the action, Michelle's follows like she being swept up in the waves. It's not enough to feel it though. She wants to see her face.
Michelle on the other hand seems to be suddenly bashful, she turns from Naomi's gaze. Careful plying may work so Naomi sucks hard on Michelle's pulse point, earning a groan punctuated with a sharp gasp as she flicks a thumb over her clit deliberately, in time with her other movements.
She leans in close, stretching as best as she can, to get close to Michelle's ear. “Look at me, Chelle.” It may be a quiet demand, but it is still a demand.
Michelle turns but clenches her eyes shut. Maybe it's a game, Naomi thinks. So she twists and strokes harder, causing the older girl's eyes to snap open and immediately lock on to her own imploring blue ones, yet still glazed, relinquishing control to Naomi alone. The fists she had clenched around innocent bedsheets are suddenly free again to grab ahold of Naomi's body. Michelle's head tilts back as Naomi herself prepares. She knows what is going to happen but she's not sure if Michelle does. It's even better that way, she reckons.
“Naomi.” Her name escapes as a shaky plea and the blonde obliges finally.
“Just be.”
It takes only a few seconds before she feels the rigid tension of Michelle's body, head thrown back, the wave of clenching of muscles around her fingers and the hot liquid drenching her hand. There is a cry that breaks free from Michelle's normally fairly reserved mouth. It sounds like fucking ecstasy and Naomi's quite sure she never wants to forget it. She just can't stop staring though. Michelle, gorgeously splayed out on her bed, heaving and trembling, luminescent almost with the afternoon sun glinting off her slick skin. Naomi's not sure if she's ever felt as simultaneously proud, turned-on and in love in her entire life. She waits until the contractions subside somewhat, lingering in the pleasure of what just occurred, before pulling out and crawling up to lay beside her girlfriend.
“Christ,” is all Michelle says after a while, and giggles slightly. Maybe she's a little embarrassed now that she's coming down. She rolls over, out of the wet spot, and towards Naomi's warm body. “I got pins and needles in my hands, Nome. Everything just...” She doesn't finish her sentence, but she's simply glowing and trying valiantly to hold back a satisfied smile. “Fucking freezing now.” Naomi laughs and crawls off the bed, pulling up the duvet from where it had been tossed to the floor. She drapes it over them both and Michelle is instantly wrapped around her. She certainly doesn't feel chilly to the touch, but Naomi recognises the after-effect well.
They lie in silence for minutes on end, Michelle's breathing slowly evening out to the point that Naomi has to make sure she's still awake. She is, but just barely, it seems. She feels lips press against her neck. “Bloody hell, Nome.”
Naomi smirks, and chuckles. “I know.”
“I'm going to... I mean, I want to...” she trails off and Naomi nods, amused.
“Right, Chelle. Sure.”
She should have known Michelle by now. The flippant “Sure” was taken as a challenge and suddenly there is an inspired if slightly dazed and tired brunette glaring down at her. “I am,” she states with such authority and certainty that Naomi is, once again, a little aroused. It's more than a promise; it's like a sexual prophecy.
“Ok, Rambo. Just fucking relax,” Naomi says, but not without humour. She feels fingers flex around her hip and Michelle's body seems to ripple head to toe as she presses their bodies together. Naomi turns slightly and finds soft, persistent lips on her own immediately, probing and promising. Her body kickstarts back into gear. The moment is brief however because there's a rumble of a mobile vibrating against a hard surface. She wants to ignore it, and does so until there's a knock on her bedroom door. Michelle pulls back and burrows into the duvet, still grinning in post-orgasmic bliss as Naomi calls out for the visitor to enter.
Tony pokes his head around the door. “Good, you're decent.” Naomi stares at him impassively, trying not to focus on how indecent they actually are under the cover of the blankets. “You didn't answer your texts.”
“You didn't consider that a sign perhaps?” she asks.
He smirks at them both. “I knocked, didn't I? Baby steps, Moany.” He shrugs then. “Anyway, Effy wants to know if you're going to catch this memorial or just, you know, wait for the next one?”
Both girls look instantly to the digital bedside clock. It's already half 3. The service is in half an hour. Her blue eyes widen in surprise and she almost leaps out of bed before she realises the state she's in. She catches herself in the nick of time and Tony is just grinning, staring at her like a pervy tomcat. Michelle makes a snorting sound and rolls her eyes at his continued presence.
“Oh please continue,” he implores with restrained glee. “I can guarantee you don't have anything I haven't seen many, many times before.”
“Fuck's sake, Tone,” Michelle admonishes, pulling the duvet up around them both, obviously feeling a prick of either irritation or possessiveness. Jealousy? Protectiveness? Naomi's heart flutters a little. She grudgingly admits that she likes belonging to someone.
Naomi finds it all rather amusing for about 10 seconds. “Piss off, yeah?” she adds. “And tell your sister to keep her knickers on, I'll be ready.”
Tony chuckles at them both. “You must have chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star,” he mentions almost flippantly, gazing first at Michelle for a split second then focussing on Naomi. There's that look again. He's known all along how everything would go. Him and Effy both. She catches only the briefest flicker in his eye but she knows she saw it all the same. It's the same thing she saw months ago when he told her how messy beginnings were: the normally heavily-shrouded tenderness, the faith. Trust. Now it all makes a little more sense. Chaos begets opportunity, but that doesn't make it any less confusing at first. Luckily she had her captain and his first mate. And then there's a wink, this time distinctly Effy-like and pleasant, as he yanks the bedroom door closed behind him.
It feels a little familiar, being here with these people, standing around a grave. Emily is on one side of her and Effy the other, their hands intertwined. Effy's grip is so tight that her knuckles are white but Naomi says nothing. Eventually it will loosen; eventually the pressure will subside. She knows from experience. The last time she was in this position neither Cook nor Effy were here. This is the first time ever that Effy has stepped foot into this cemetery. (Cook, she's sure, is a frequent visitor however. The determined way he had led them without hesitation to this spot gave it away.) Mr. Mclair and Karen, who had arranged this, are off to the side. JJ is noticeably absent. No one has heard from him in over a year. Tony and Michelle have fucked off to Sid's for a few hours, feeling it was unnecessary for them to be present. Naomi takes a long, hard look at Effy and berates Tony in her mind. She's not exactly pleased with Michelle either for that matter. She just knows how much better she'd feel with her girlfriend here.
There are no long, regret-filled speeches. Karen says a few long sentences that sound suspiciously like muddled up quotes from a Disney film and a Cheryl Cole song. Mr. Mclair says nothing, he just stares blankly at the two headstones, two Mclairs side by side. Effy trembles the entire time, silently. Cook remains eerily still, like a statue, even when Katie runs a comforting hand over his shoulders. The pattering of the rain bounces off leaves and umbrellas, drowning the silence in nature's own white noise. Karen turns to leave then when she's done, barely acknowledging anyone else, leading her father away with a gentle pull. They're not dead, but they might as well be ghosts. Naomi glances around at everyone, all her friends, and thinks the same.
There's no life left here. They've all fallen apart along the way and no one has taken up the task of fitting them all back together again. It's only starting to come together maybe, the glue provided by two people who aren't even present. As if reading her mind, Effy shakes harder, crumbling even as the rain begins to clear and the sun peaks out.
This was a fucking bad idea.
Where the fuck is Tony? She's about to reach into her pocket for her mobile when Effy abruptly ceases her shivering, her grip loosening slightly. And Cook, at that moment, breaks his own stoicism to look over at Effy.
“You all right, cupcake?” he ventures and everyone's eyes fall heavily on Effy. She nods and it's not really all that convincing honestly but she does it twice more, each one becoming more sure than the last. Effy's hand falls away and Naomi stretches out her knuckles allowing the blood to flow back. She can't let Effy go though, and she grabs her arm, loops her own through the crook and holds tight. The brunette glances up, questioningly, just for a second and catches Naomi's own penetrating gaze. In it together, just like old times.
“She's fine,” Naomi eventually supplies, hoping it will be enough assurance for Cook. Katie raises an eyebrow at the scene before yawning. Loudly. Emily whispers fiercely at her sister, likely something about respect but no one's really that concerned. Katie protests with a groan and something about it being boring standing in the wet in a graveyard for the millionth time. A bit of an exaggeration, Naomi hopes. Emily elbows her roughly.
Effy sighs. “What now?” It's not clear who she's speaking to.
Whatever bickering Emily and Katie were doing ends quickly and everyone is quiet again. The brunette looks around at these people she knows for an answer but none seem to be forthcoming. The question needles Naomi's conscience and annoys her with its lack of a concrete resolution. Knowing what happens now feels somewhat like knowing why it all happened in the first place, and Naomi can't, still even after 2 years, make head nor tail of the whole purpose of this. All of it. Freddie's brutal murder, Cook's prison time, she and Emily's breakup, Effy's mental breakdown. It seems like too much, too many things to have happened and the numerous events have just clouded what may have been a simple answer at one point.
No one has a clue; even Cook lacks a cheeky response. He kicks at the sod with a toe of his worn out plimsoll. Katie finally sighs again, quite loudly. “Well, we're all here, yeah? So whatever. That's it.”
“That's it?” Effy echoes, almost indignantly if she had any intonation left in her voice.
“What else do you want, Eff?” Katie volleys back. “It's called closure. Now, we can all stand here miserable for the rest of our lives or we can get on with it.” She pulls a pack of cigarettes from her purse and slides one out, dangling it momentarily between her lips. Emily tosses her a lighter and watches her sister fiddle with lighting up.
Effy narrows her eyes briefly. “Get on with it?”
Katie looks up, a little surprised. “Earth to Effy! Did they over-do it with the electro shocks or something? You're like a retarded parrot.” Emily growls under her breath at her sister, something about it being a more difficult time for some people over others. The older twin seems to absorb the chastising but shrugs it off afterwards and blows a surprisingly perfect smoke ring. There's something about Katie's dismissive attitude that seems to tickle Effy's resolve and as soon as she catches Katie's challenging, brown-eyed gaze, a smile breaks out. And then a giggle. Katie echoes the sound and within a minute Effy is laughing, like full-on laughing for what seems like the first time in years. She continues even once Katie has stopped and Naomi tightens her grip on the brunette.
In the midst of it, Tony appears solo, on Effy's other side and she sobers immediately. The respite and catharsis of the last few moments evaporates and they're thrown back down to reality. The whirl of emotions and her own confusion at the reasons behind everything, start to weigh on Naomi. Tony pries Effy's fingers from around Naomi's arm and they say nothing to each other, just stare. He forces Effy to stand on her own beside Freddie's grave. She seems unsure and there's a twitch as she withholds an attempt to reach out for her brother, or Naomi. It passes in a wave and then her spine straightens, and she lets out a deep breath. Only then does Tony take her hand.
Effy glances at all of them and then down at the grass. “That's it.” The words are final.
Naomi turns, peering over her shoulder in case Michelle is tagging along behind Tony somewhere but she's met only with manicured green grass and headstones. All her friends, they're all shifting around her, whispering and talking, moving closer. There are conversations happening and Effy's eyes are hard again, determined almost as she speaks to Cook. Is that really it? Whatever epiphany Effy had just been privy to has escaped Naomi's grasp; Effy merely smirks at Naomi as if they both know the secret. Emily places a hand on her forearm in support and she squeezes the twin's hand in gratitude. There's a little disbelief in those brown eyes as well. None of them really understand it at all probably. Maybe that's for the best.
She moves towards Cook and wraps her arms around him, kisses his cheek softly. There is still despair on his face, in his stance, but there is something new in his eyes. Something that is suspiciously like hope. She kisses him again, chastely on the lips before slipping away, nodding at Effy who merely blinks in recognition, the very smallest hint of smile.
That is it, she reckons, as she walks through the gates of the cemetery. They'll never do this again, not this way. They don't need to. But she needs to sort her head out alone, just for a little while.
The sun is dipping lower to the west as it casts a golden hue over the tops of trees and the River Avon. A dog darts around her for a moment before a whistle calls it away. She sighs and gazes at the houses of Hotwells on the other side of the channel. It's peaceful, finally. Thoughts of Freddie slip away just a little as she sees a small boat mosey down-current. As if meant to specifically interrupt this new-found calm, she vaguely hears foot steps drawing nearer, crinkling through the first fallen leaves of autumn.
“Effy said I'd find you here.”
A familiar voice floats over Naomi's shoulder. She doesn't have to double-check who it belongs to. She says nothing in response and Michelle doesn't wait for an invitation that she knows will never actually come; she takes a seat beside Naomi. There's a comfort even in such a small action. Naomi's instantly, yet silently, apologetic about just running off after the sorry excuse for a memorial. Michelle kicks at the grass at her feet momentarily to summon up courage to say something more but it doesn't seem to work immediately. They both stare out over the Avon for a moment before she speaks again.
“I never told you, doubt Tony did either,” she says thoughtfully, looking at the lethargic, brown river slipping past Clifton. “My mate died during college too. Different reason, but...” Her voice has dropped to almost a whisper. “It changes everything.”
Naomi glances over, squinting a little against the late afternoon sun. She's merely content to listen to wherever this story is going.
“We were all falling apart anyway before that. For a long time. But that was kind of it, you know?” She pauses, collecting her long-forgotten memories and bringing them back to the surface. She looks down at her fingers, picking at a nail and Naomi watches the movement with unnecessary attention. When she catches sight of Naomi observing her with such intensity, the brunette crosses her arms and lifts her gaze back across the Avon. “He was just there, and then one day, he wasn't. And neither were we. Not as we were before. It took me a really long time afterwards to understand what it all meant.”
“But you do now?” Naomi's curious. She can't imagine ever understanding why. She knows the hows and whens and the what happened afters, but the why still sticks to her, pallid and almost poisonous. It still prickles at her skin when she allows herself to think about it long enough.
Michelle gives an almost imperceptible nod of affirmation before peering over at her girlfriend with concern. Naomi shrugs casually, but it doesn't the loosen the burden she feels settling on her shoulders.
“I just...” Naomi begins to explain but the words get lost again, fluttering out of her before they fully form. Instead, she takes a deep breath. She wants to tell Michelle how Freddie wasn't really a good friend of hers, she barely knew the guy in the end but he meant something complicated and important to Effy, to Cook, to Katie even perhaps. And regardless, the whole day has been brutal on them all and she still, even after all these years, can't quite grasp why everything is so meaningful, why it happened, why it had to happen. “I ...don't understand. I've spent the better part of the last 2 years picking up the pieces, following around in the wake of it all, of Effy's disaster. My own. And I still have no fucking clue.”
Michelle smiles then, and it throws Naomi for a moment. “Well, it never really makes sense and that's what you have to understand.” She sighs. “Fuck it,” she breathes out and doesn't sound like she truly means the words. They seem like more of a mantra.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Fuck it, Naomi. It all brought you here. To this moment. With me. Brought me to you.” She smirks a little and gazes off again towards downtown Bristol. “It's good just like this, yeah?”
The blonde is studying Michelle now as she speaks and stares across the river. The sun is glowing on her, much like it did earlier in the day as they lay twisted in the sheets, quivering and gasping, happy and forgiven. Michelle, the girl who always seems to find meaning in everything, is letting it go, for a little while at least, trusting that time will do its work. And somehow that makes it easier for Naomi to do the same. She smiles too. So, they sit in silence, both watching the occasional boat pass by, the ripples, the wake. A few gulls circling above. A lorry rumbling along the road far beyond. The wind rustling the trees, leaving spinning and falling signalling the end of summer is coming soon. Life continues on without a hitch, totally oblivious to any existential angst that mortal humans may obsess over. All anyone really has is the moment, and even that has no guarantees. Maybe that's what Michelle's already realised. A barge lets loose a horn in the distance and the other girl seems to take it as a cue. She stands, brushes her jeans clean of invisible specks and gazes at Naomi for a moment, cocking her head to the side.
“Ready?”
A hand extends towards her, asking, welcoming, encouraging. Their eyes meet then and Naomi feels a surge within herself, almost can feel the roar of blood or of realisation, she isn't sure which anymore. She nods, feeling the truth of her agreement in every muscle. Reaching out, she grabs ahold of Michelle's hand, so steady, unwavering. “Fuck it,” she breathes. She's ready. Their fingers loop together; she swears she can feel the echo of a complimentary heartbeat through their connected palms as they walk in comfortable silence back through the park. She's so ready.
And it is good, just like this.
EPILOGUE >>
Author: Eskimo Jo
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
The wooden door slams shut. Michelle jumps and spins around to find the source of her interruption. She's grasping a clean top to her bra-clad torso. Naomi stands in her bedroom, surveying the sight with an odd detachment. She says nothing and waits for Michelle to relax, which she does not long after and continues sorting through her overnight bag for a more suitable vest, most likely. She pulls out something blue and sparkly and tosses it aside.
“Emily's nice,” she states, almost wistfully, whilst she ploughs through her mass of clothes.
Naomi takes a step forward. “Yeah. She is.”
“Really nice.” There's just a tinge of something else in the words, though Naomi knows Michelle is sincere enough.
“Michelle,” Naomi says carefully as she approaches. She takes the current choice of top from Michelle's hands and drops it to the floor. Michelle stares distractedly at the discarded clothing, gooseflesh rising along her arms. “I meant it, you know.” Michelle's lips form a small, shy smile, but her eyes seem to still hold some disbelief when she meets Naomi's insistent gaze.
“It's fine,” she says, trying her best to put on a brave face in light of her insecurity. It doesn't dissuade Naomi however, her own stubbornness gaining the upper-hand, and finally for the right reason. She reaches down and pulls up her own jumper, tossing it with carelessness towards Michelle's pile. The brunette is curious but not convinced. She allows Naomi to inch forward, run her fingers over the waistband of her jeans slowly, almost tortuously so before undoing them and sliding them over her hips. Michelle wriggles and steps out of them, her breath catching more often. It continues in a steady, slow pace, silently, until Naomi pushes Michelle back onto the bed, all their clothes shed on the floor.
“Everyone's outside waiting,” Michelle starts weakly.
Naomi chuckles, hovering over her, their skin almost grazing but not quite. “What for? Would you just let me prove...? I'm trying to be brave here.” She lowers herself until they're pressed together, skin to skin, combustible, every nerve slowly burning. Her lips find Michelle's with ease, moving languidly with the certainty of something true. Finding purpose. She can feel the heated trails like silent promises left behind in the wake of Michelle's fingertips along her spine, down across her waist, and back up again. They've been here many times before, but this time something is different and Naomi can't quite place it. Things are moving slowly, like they're underwater and not fighting against it.
Michelle tilts her head back as Naomi begins her descent along her defined jawline, over her earlobe, down again. Lips brushing and nipping along each inch of smooth skin offered to her. Her hands, commanded by something outside the scope of her brain, move in heavy, unhurried swirls over perfect breasts, tweaking nipples and further around, down. Michelle pushes up to meet Naomi. The renewed contact sends sparks straight through Naomi's body. The slow grinding rhythm of their hips together, against soft thighs, feels like dancing. The kind that happens in dark corners of clubs, in shadowed bedrooms, in love. The kind of hazy instinctual sway and twist that caused wars in Turkey and Shakespearean tragedies to erupt in Egypt, Greece and Rome; the kind that even the Bible couldn't ignore. Grasping and pulling, closer. What was steady breathing turns more ragged, hitching at touches and licks. Naomi finds an irresistible urge to bite down, a little harder as she moves her mouth along a collarbone. Michelle's gasp is unmistakable and her fingers clench around the younger girl's neck, momentarily stalling their sweep through blonde locks.
Every movement seems calculated and exact, but precision is the furthest thing from Naomi's mind. She moves only by instinct when she drags her flattened tongue lazily over a hard nipple. A moan boils up from within Michelle as manicured nails scrape lightly over Naomi's scalp. Naomi doesn't stop. Again, another sweep whilst her other hand massages her other breast without haste. Again. Michelle's hips smack up against her taut abdomen, an automatic, writhing response. The power drives Naomi a little bit mental, in a good way. She switches sides, inciting a whole new wave of responses. It's addicting in a completely new way than being with Michelle had been before. There's a lightness now, something akin to freedom. She grasps at the duvet cover as she pulls herself back up, towards Michelle's mouth. She nips and tugs on her bottom lip before sealing their lips together, immediately finding permission to let her tongue explore further. She feels two warm hands clutching at her ribcage as if to steady everything. Never fully disconnecting their lips, she slips a hand down, thumb sliding over hardened peaks and eliciting groans that vibrate into her own body.
When she finally breaks the kiss, Naomi hovers above, staring through unfocussed eyes at the girl beneath her. Michelle's green eyes, darkened perceptibly and bleary, peer back and Naomi smiles. It's fully honest this time. Her hand kneads harder, but not ungentle. Michelle sucks in a deep breath, her eyes squeezing shut again and almost growls then.
“Nome, I swear...” she trails off as Naomi leans down to run her tongue out behind her ear, and she stretches out. Her voice is strangled and breathy. Exactly how Naomi likes it. “I might just cum from this.”
The admission causes the blonde to pause momentarily. She hopes it's not too noticeable and kisses down further to compensate for her stalling. Naomi can't help but think about Tony and his merciless taunting over Michelle's supposed frigidity, how insecure and almost scared she had been when they had first fucked, in that sloppy, drunken almost-mistake. (It had been considered a mistake then, but no longer). She considers Michelle's own confession of it always being difficult, and now? Naomi isn't sure if she is just exaggerating her latest claim about how close she is already, but the smear of slick wetness on her leg from Michelle's movements indicates it just might be true. It feels good. It feels true. And Naomi knows that both of them had changed sometime in the last few days, if not hours. The trust has returned, easier than it should have maybe. Her mouth is already fluttering kisses on the inside of her girlfriend's thighs by the time she realises what she's doing. Michelle is wriggling almost impatiently but Naomi, ever stubborn, refuses to give in yet. She cups her with one hand, presses slightly, but nothing more.
A groan of frustration from the prone girl makes Naomi smile into her kisses. She nips lightly again at the tight thigh in front of her, grinning at the exasperation that is evident. She slowly curls a finger and gently delves into Michelle's folds, running a knuckle down her length. The resulting buck of hips make it obvious that she's a giant fucking tease. She does it again, with two fingers and continues to suck the inside of her thigh.
“You're going to--” A gasp. “Kill me,” Michelle finishes with barely veiled agitation. She attempts to grind her hips harder against Naomi's hand but is met with empty space... Until she feels Naomi's hot tongue against her. A most uncharacteristic whine escapes at the contact. Michelle'd never been particularly fond of or comfortable about this; again, some sort of unfortunate remnant of upbringing and Tony Stonem's teenage conditioning. So Naomi pauses, looks up over the plane of smooth skin and perfect fucking tits.
“You know, you're beautiful, Chelle,” she states, quieter than she had planned. Almost as if she was in awe having the words escape her lips. “Everywhere.” She watches curiously as Michelle's hands immediately go up to cover her face. She shakes her head.
“Don't, Naomi, please,” she mumbles, the request muffled by her hands. It doesn't matter however. Naomi can still hear how choked up the sound is. It doesn't make much sense. Michelle loved hearing how fit she is; she would always beam with pride and wrinkle her nose in pleasure with a cheeky grin. Naomi senses the movement before it happens and she's prepared. When Michelle moves to close her legs and roll over, a firm hand on her hip holds her on her back. Naomi's risen to a kneel for leverage. She wonders if it has anything to do with Sid's comments earlier.
“Not just on the outside either,” she says to the covered face of her girlfriend.
“Naomi.” Another muffled, choked sound, like a half-caught sob. Naomi rises more and quickly clambers up the bed and pulls Michelle's hands roughly from her face. She pins them beside her head, glowering at the other girl. She kisses hard, sucking the air right out of the brunette's lungs in the process. It's much harsher than everything up to this point. Michelle struggles out of the kiss, gasping for air.
“You're beautiful,” Naomi repeats, much more assuredly this time. Not quite menacing, but serious all the same. “And I love you.”
Michelle's eyes widen at the statement, said with such surety. She attempts to free her wrists but the feeble struggle is futile. “I love you,” she says, almost like a concession and Naomi's not sure she likes the tone. “But can you just -fuck...”
Naomi considers the option, but finds the demand rather rude considering. Michelle wants it to mean nothing? When has she ever wanted anything to mean nothing? She shakes her head and Michelle stares at her, like a scared bird. “No.” She releases Michelle's wrists but doesn't move from her position straddling her. Thankfully Michelle isn't in the mood for a power struggle today. She leans down, laying soft kisses in a path towards her earlobe. “I want us to do it proper, like make love, okay?”
As Michelle's arms snake up around her shoulders, she knows she's winning. She's pulled down, their bodies flush once again, the heat still radiating strongly.
“We haven't before?” Michelle asks, curious, slightly confused. “Why not?”
Naomi wants to scoff because to her, the answer is plainly obvious. She settles for kissing the older girl slowly before answering. “Cos I didn't love you. At least not properly. Not like I should have.” It's a painful thing to hear likely, so Naomi distracts them both with another searing kiss. She feels Michelle's hips gyrate upwards slightly, building a subtle rhythm. When she pulls back, Michelle is staring. She has moisture building around the corners of her eyes.
“Say it once more, please.”
Naomi pauses, not sure which words to recite. She stares down at waiting green eyes. It strikes her that Michelle is upset, not because she doesn't want to hear these things, but because she doesn't believe them. Thinks they're just platitudes. She's just so desperate to be loved properly and fully, and used to such disappointment that it's impossible to see when it's really there. Naomi has the overwhelming urge to pummel Tony, and maybe herself in the process. What a scrap that would be. She's struck too with the realisation that Michelle is nothing like Emily, with her calm and constant, if well-hidden, confidence. The comparison is useless now. And she feels relieved with the knowledge that they are such different girls.
“You're beautiful,” she breathes out, a tremble persistent in her voice now, pushing chestnut fringe back with her free hand. Michelle sniffles, lets out a long, wavering sigh, and breaks the gaze as a small, shy small breaks across her face. Naomi places a soft kiss on her cheek, wondering when she turned into such a sap. “Just be, Chelle.” She offers the older girl a smirk that would make Effy proud.
Green eyes blaze once again, darker as two strong hands grip the sides of Naomi's face and pull her into yet another long kiss. It's far more insistent, far more confident, like the Michelle she'd snogged on the Stonem's settee all those months ago. It makes the warmth spiral straight to her core in anticipation. If Emily had been a sleek panther in the sack, Michelle, when she truly wanted to, was a fucking lioness. The thought is thrilling, if a little irrelevant at the moment because Naomi's insistent on picking up where they'd left off. Not feral fucking. Not like at Motion last night. This is supposed to be different. It's going to be. Naomi wriggles from the grasp and travels once again, agonizingly slowly down Michelle's body until, without much preamble, she slides her tongue out and down through Michelle's folds, evoking a guttural sort of sound. Even slower then, she flattens her tongue does a sweep back up, twirling the tip softly over the other girl's clit. She's rewarded with a slight push into her mouth. It's all the encouragement she needs. She continues her task, knowing by now, exactly what to do, lapping, licking, sucking, teasing; trying to convey her previous words with a reaffirmation through touch. She speaks everything she's wanted to say through fingertips and soft palms, through grazing lips and a stroking tongue, through the warm puff of breath on hot skin. There are fingers in her hair, holding on tightly, pulling insistently. Despite that, she's acutely aware that somewhere above, Michelle is breathing so heavily she sounds like she's drowning almost. She deftly slides two fingers inside to elicit a very satisfied moan. Michelle's actually pretty easy to please and she's constantly amazed at how shit Tony must have been in bed. Her fingers curl forward, seeking that spot she knows is going to bring the stars crashing down from heaven. When Michelle's gasps loudly, she knows she's had success.
The brunette is no longer quiet. Her breaths are coming out in little, frenetic moans. Her whole body seems to be absolutely pulsating, grinding her hips towards her, and Naomi tries to match its inner rhythm, stroking, tapping and allowing her tongue to dance to the beat. Michelle is really fucking close but it's not close enough. Naomi shifts again, laying kisses back up towards her breasts, over the sheen of sweat that has emerged. The heaving effort of Michelle's breathing is unmistakable from this vantage point. She props herself up slightly, their bodies close and parallel, still moving inside Michelle with practised ease. It's like the swimming in the ocean as the tide begins to come in. There's the ebb and flow of the waves, slowly growing stronger and stronger. When she pushes and pulls, her body lithe and smooth in the action, Michelle's follows like she being swept up in the waves. It's not enough to feel it though. She wants to see her face.
Michelle on the other hand seems to be suddenly bashful, she turns from Naomi's gaze. Careful plying may work so Naomi sucks hard on Michelle's pulse point, earning a groan punctuated with a sharp gasp as she flicks a thumb over her clit deliberately, in time with her other movements.
She leans in close, stretching as best as she can, to get close to Michelle's ear. “Look at me, Chelle.” It may be a quiet demand, but it is still a demand.
Michelle turns but clenches her eyes shut. Maybe it's a game, Naomi thinks. So she twists and strokes harder, causing the older girl's eyes to snap open and immediately lock on to her own imploring blue ones, yet still glazed, relinquishing control to Naomi alone. The fists she had clenched around innocent bedsheets are suddenly free again to grab ahold of Naomi's body. Michelle's head tilts back as Naomi herself prepares. She knows what is going to happen but she's not sure if Michelle does. It's even better that way, she reckons.
“Naomi.” Her name escapes as a shaky plea and the blonde obliges finally.
“Just be.”
It takes only a few seconds before she feels the rigid tension of Michelle's body, head thrown back, the wave of clenching of muscles around her fingers and the hot liquid drenching her hand. There is a cry that breaks free from Michelle's normally fairly reserved mouth. It sounds like fucking ecstasy and Naomi's quite sure she never wants to forget it. She just can't stop staring though. Michelle, gorgeously splayed out on her bed, heaving and trembling, luminescent almost with the afternoon sun glinting off her slick skin. Naomi's not sure if she's ever felt as simultaneously proud, turned-on and in love in her entire life. She waits until the contractions subside somewhat, lingering in the pleasure of what just occurred, before pulling out and crawling up to lay beside her girlfriend.
“Christ,” is all Michelle says after a while, and giggles slightly. Maybe she's a little embarrassed now that she's coming down. She rolls over, out of the wet spot, and towards Naomi's warm body. “I got pins and needles in my hands, Nome. Everything just...” She doesn't finish her sentence, but she's simply glowing and trying valiantly to hold back a satisfied smile. “Fucking freezing now.” Naomi laughs and crawls off the bed, pulling up the duvet from where it had been tossed to the floor. She drapes it over them both and Michelle is instantly wrapped around her. She certainly doesn't feel chilly to the touch, but Naomi recognises the after-effect well.
They lie in silence for minutes on end, Michelle's breathing slowly evening out to the point that Naomi has to make sure she's still awake. She is, but just barely, it seems. She feels lips press against her neck. “Bloody hell, Nome.”
Naomi smirks, and chuckles. “I know.”
“I'm going to... I mean, I want to...” she trails off and Naomi nods, amused.
“Right, Chelle. Sure.”
She should have known Michelle by now. The flippant “Sure” was taken as a challenge and suddenly there is an inspired if slightly dazed and tired brunette glaring down at her. “I am,” she states with such authority and certainty that Naomi is, once again, a little aroused. It's more than a promise; it's like a sexual prophecy.
“Ok, Rambo. Just fucking relax,” Naomi says, but not without humour. She feels fingers flex around her hip and Michelle's body seems to ripple head to toe as she presses their bodies together. Naomi turns slightly and finds soft, persistent lips on her own immediately, probing and promising. Her body kickstarts back into gear. The moment is brief however because there's a rumble of a mobile vibrating against a hard surface. She wants to ignore it, and does so until there's a knock on her bedroom door. Michelle pulls back and burrows into the duvet, still grinning in post-orgasmic bliss as Naomi calls out for the visitor to enter.
Tony pokes his head around the door. “Good, you're decent.” Naomi stares at him impassively, trying not to focus on how indecent they actually are under the cover of the blankets. “You didn't answer your texts.”
“You didn't consider that a sign perhaps?” she asks.
He smirks at them both. “I knocked, didn't I? Baby steps, Moany.” He shrugs then. “Anyway, Effy wants to know if you're going to catch this memorial or just, you know, wait for the next one?”
Both girls look instantly to the digital bedside clock. It's already half 3. The service is in half an hour. Her blue eyes widen in surprise and she almost leaps out of bed before she realises the state she's in. She catches herself in the nick of time and Tony is just grinning, staring at her like a pervy tomcat. Michelle makes a snorting sound and rolls her eyes at his continued presence.
“Oh please continue,” he implores with restrained glee. “I can guarantee you don't have anything I haven't seen many, many times before.”
“Fuck's sake, Tone,” Michelle admonishes, pulling the duvet up around them both, obviously feeling a prick of either irritation or possessiveness. Jealousy? Protectiveness? Naomi's heart flutters a little. She grudgingly admits that she likes belonging to someone.
Naomi finds it all rather amusing for about 10 seconds. “Piss off, yeah?” she adds. “And tell your sister to keep her knickers on, I'll be ready.”
Tony chuckles at them both. “You must have chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star,” he mentions almost flippantly, gazing first at Michelle for a split second then focussing on Naomi. There's that look again. He's known all along how everything would go. Him and Effy both. She catches only the briefest flicker in his eye but she knows she saw it all the same. It's the same thing she saw months ago when he told her how messy beginnings were: the normally heavily-shrouded tenderness, the faith. Trust. Now it all makes a little more sense. Chaos begets opportunity, but that doesn't make it any less confusing at first. Luckily she had her captain and his first mate. And then there's a wink, this time distinctly Effy-like and pleasant, as he yanks the bedroom door closed behind him.
It feels a little familiar, being here with these people, standing around a grave. Emily is on one side of her and Effy the other, their hands intertwined. Effy's grip is so tight that her knuckles are white but Naomi says nothing. Eventually it will loosen; eventually the pressure will subside. She knows from experience. The last time she was in this position neither Cook nor Effy were here. This is the first time ever that Effy has stepped foot into this cemetery. (Cook, she's sure, is a frequent visitor however. The determined way he had led them without hesitation to this spot gave it away.) Mr. Mclair and Karen, who had arranged this, are off to the side. JJ is noticeably absent. No one has heard from him in over a year. Tony and Michelle have fucked off to Sid's for a few hours, feeling it was unnecessary for them to be present. Naomi takes a long, hard look at Effy and berates Tony in her mind. She's not exactly pleased with Michelle either for that matter. She just knows how much better she'd feel with her girlfriend here.
There are no long, regret-filled speeches. Karen says a few long sentences that sound suspiciously like muddled up quotes from a Disney film and a Cheryl Cole song. Mr. Mclair says nothing, he just stares blankly at the two headstones, two Mclairs side by side. Effy trembles the entire time, silently. Cook remains eerily still, like a statue, even when Katie runs a comforting hand over his shoulders. The pattering of the rain bounces off leaves and umbrellas, drowning the silence in nature's own white noise. Karen turns to leave then when she's done, barely acknowledging anyone else, leading her father away with a gentle pull. They're not dead, but they might as well be ghosts. Naomi glances around at everyone, all her friends, and thinks the same.
There's no life left here. They've all fallen apart along the way and no one has taken up the task of fitting them all back together again. It's only starting to come together maybe, the glue provided by two people who aren't even present. As if reading her mind, Effy shakes harder, crumbling even as the rain begins to clear and the sun peaks out.
This was a fucking bad idea.
Where the fuck is Tony? She's about to reach into her pocket for her mobile when Effy abruptly ceases her shivering, her grip loosening slightly. And Cook, at that moment, breaks his own stoicism to look over at Effy.
“You all right, cupcake?” he ventures and everyone's eyes fall heavily on Effy. She nods and it's not really all that convincing honestly but she does it twice more, each one becoming more sure than the last. Effy's hand falls away and Naomi stretches out her knuckles allowing the blood to flow back. She can't let Effy go though, and she grabs her arm, loops her own through the crook and holds tight. The brunette glances up, questioningly, just for a second and catches Naomi's own penetrating gaze. In it together, just like old times.
“She's fine,” Naomi eventually supplies, hoping it will be enough assurance for Cook. Katie raises an eyebrow at the scene before yawning. Loudly. Emily whispers fiercely at her sister, likely something about respect but no one's really that concerned. Katie protests with a groan and something about it being boring standing in the wet in a graveyard for the millionth time. A bit of an exaggeration, Naomi hopes. Emily elbows her roughly.
Effy sighs. “What now?” It's not clear who she's speaking to.
Whatever bickering Emily and Katie were doing ends quickly and everyone is quiet again. The brunette looks around at these people she knows for an answer but none seem to be forthcoming. The question needles Naomi's conscience and annoys her with its lack of a concrete resolution. Knowing what happens now feels somewhat like knowing why it all happened in the first place, and Naomi can't, still even after 2 years, make head nor tail of the whole purpose of this. All of it. Freddie's brutal murder, Cook's prison time, she and Emily's breakup, Effy's mental breakdown. It seems like too much, too many things to have happened and the numerous events have just clouded what may have been a simple answer at one point.
No one has a clue; even Cook lacks a cheeky response. He kicks at the sod with a toe of his worn out plimsoll. Katie finally sighs again, quite loudly. “Well, we're all here, yeah? So whatever. That's it.”
“That's it?” Effy echoes, almost indignantly if she had any intonation left in her voice.
“What else do you want, Eff?” Katie volleys back. “It's called closure. Now, we can all stand here miserable for the rest of our lives or we can get on with it.” She pulls a pack of cigarettes from her purse and slides one out, dangling it momentarily between her lips. Emily tosses her a lighter and watches her sister fiddle with lighting up.
Effy narrows her eyes briefly. “Get on with it?”
Katie looks up, a little surprised. “Earth to Effy! Did they over-do it with the electro shocks or something? You're like a retarded parrot.” Emily growls under her breath at her sister, something about it being a more difficult time for some people over others. The older twin seems to absorb the chastising but shrugs it off afterwards and blows a surprisingly perfect smoke ring. There's something about Katie's dismissive attitude that seems to tickle Effy's resolve and as soon as she catches Katie's challenging, brown-eyed gaze, a smile breaks out. And then a giggle. Katie echoes the sound and within a minute Effy is laughing, like full-on laughing for what seems like the first time in years. She continues even once Katie has stopped and Naomi tightens her grip on the brunette.
In the midst of it, Tony appears solo, on Effy's other side and she sobers immediately. The respite and catharsis of the last few moments evaporates and they're thrown back down to reality. The whirl of emotions and her own confusion at the reasons behind everything, start to weigh on Naomi. Tony pries Effy's fingers from around Naomi's arm and they say nothing to each other, just stare. He forces Effy to stand on her own beside Freddie's grave. She seems unsure and there's a twitch as she withholds an attempt to reach out for her brother, or Naomi. It passes in a wave and then her spine straightens, and she lets out a deep breath. Only then does Tony take her hand.
Effy glances at all of them and then down at the grass. “That's it.” The words are final.
Naomi turns, peering over her shoulder in case Michelle is tagging along behind Tony somewhere but she's met only with manicured green grass and headstones. All her friends, they're all shifting around her, whispering and talking, moving closer. There are conversations happening and Effy's eyes are hard again, determined almost as she speaks to Cook. Is that really it? Whatever epiphany Effy had just been privy to has escaped Naomi's grasp; Effy merely smirks at Naomi as if they both know the secret. Emily places a hand on her forearm in support and she squeezes the twin's hand in gratitude. There's a little disbelief in those brown eyes as well. None of them really understand it at all probably. Maybe that's for the best.
She moves towards Cook and wraps her arms around him, kisses his cheek softly. There is still despair on his face, in his stance, but there is something new in his eyes. Something that is suspiciously like hope. She kisses him again, chastely on the lips before slipping away, nodding at Effy who merely blinks in recognition, the very smallest hint of smile.
That is it, she reckons, as she walks through the gates of the cemetery. They'll never do this again, not this way. They don't need to. But she needs to sort her head out alone, just for a little while.
The sun is dipping lower to the west as it casts a golden hue over the tops of trees and the River Avon. A dog darts around her for a moment before a whistle calls it away. She sighs and gazes at the houses of Hotwells on the other side of the channel. It's peaceful, finally. Thoughts of Freddie slip away just a little as she sees a small boat mosey down-current. As if meant to specifically interrupt this new-found calm, she vaguely hears foot steps drawing nearer, crinkling through the first fallen leaves of autumn.
“Effy said I'd find you here.”
A familiar voice floats over Naomi's shoulder. She doesn't have to double-check who it belongs to. She says nothing in response and Michelle doesn't wait for an invitation that she knows will never actually come; she takes a seat beside Naomi. There's a comfort even in such a small action. Naomi's instantly, yet silently, apologetic about just running off after the sorry excuse for a memorial. Michelle kicks at the grass at her feet momentarily to summon up courage to say something more but it doesn't seem to work immediately. They both stare out over the Avon for a moment before she speaks again.
“I never told you, doubt Tony did either,” she says thoughtfully, looking at the lethargic, brown river slipping past Clifton. “My mate died during college too. Different reason, but...” Her voice has dropped to almost a whisper. “It changes everything.”
Naomi glances over, squinting a little against the late afternoon sun. She's merely content to listen to wherever this story is going.
“We were all falling apart anyway before that. For a long time. But that was kind of it, you know?” She pauses, collecting her long-forgotten memories and bringing them back to the surface. She looks down at her fingers, picking at a nail and Naomi watches the movement with unnecessary attention. When she catches sight of Naomi observing her with such intensity, the brunette crosses her arms and lifts her gaze back across the Avon. “He was just there, and then one day, he wasn't. And neither were we. Not as we were before. It took me a really long time afterwards to understand what it all meant.”
“But you do now?” Naomi's curious. She can't imagine ever understanding why. She knows the hows and whens and the what happened afters, but the why still sticks to her, pallid and almost poisonous. It still prickles at her skin when she allows herself to think about it long enough.
Michelle gives an almost imperceptible nod of affirmation before peering over at her girlfriend with concern. Naomi shrugs casually, but it doesn't the loosen the burden she feels settling on her shoulders.
“I just...” Naomi begins to explain but the words get lost again, fluttering out of her before they fully form. Instead, she takes a deep breath. She wants to tell Michelle how Freddie wasn't really a good friend of hers, she barely knew the guy in the end but he meant something complicated and important to Effy, to Cook, to Katie even perhaps. And regardless, the whole day has been brutal on them all and she still, even after all these years, can't quite grasp why everything is so meaningful, why it happened, why it had to happen. “I ...don't understand. I've spent the better part of the last 2 years picking up the pieces, following around in the wake of it all, of Effy's disaster. My own. And I still have no fucking clue.”
Michelle smiles then, and it throws Naomi for a moment. “Well, it never really makes sense and that's what you have to understand.” She sighs. “Fuck it,” she breathes out and doesn't sound like she truly means the words. They seem like more of a mantra.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Fuck it, Naomi. It all brought you here. To this moment. With me. Brought me to you.” She smirks a little and gazes off again towards downtown Bristol. “It's good just like this, yeah?”
The blonde is studying Michelle now as she speaks and stares across the river. The sun is glowing on her, much like it did earlier in the day as they lay twisted in the sheets, quivering and gasping, happy and forgiven. Michelle, the girl who always seems to find meaning in everything, is letting it go, for a little while at least, trusting that time will do its work. And somehow that makes it easier for Naomi to do the same. She smiles too. So, they sit in silence, both watching the occasional boat pass by, the ripples, the wake. A few gulls circling above. A lorry rumbling along the road far beyond. The wind rustling the trees, leaving spinning and falling signalling the end of summer is coming soon. Life continues on without a hitch, totally oblivious to any existential angst that mortal humans may obsess over. All anyone really has is the moment, and even that has no guarantees. Maybe that's what Michelle's already realised. A barge lets loose a horn in the distance and the other girl seems to take it as a cue. She stands, brushes her jeans clean of invisible specks and gazes at Naomi for a moment, cocking her head to the side.
“Ready?”
A hand extends towards her, asking, welcoming, encouraging. Their eyes meet then and Naomi feels a surge within herself, almost can feel the roar of blood or of realisation, she isn't sure which anymore. She nods, feeling the truth of her agreement in every muscle. Reaching out, she grabs ahold of Michelle's hand, so steady, unwavering. “Fuck it,” she breathes. She's ready. Their fingers loop together; she swears she can feel the echo of a complimentary heartbeat through their connected palms as they walk in comfortable silence back through the park. She's so ready.
And it is good, just like this.
EPILOGUE >>