Fic: The Fabulous Life Of (Lilly, L/L, L/A, L/W, D/V) R
It’s the horrible……ohmygod……and then……oh my GOD.
Veronica.
Look, you’re Celeste’s embarrassment, and Logan’s goddess, and Neptune’s queen, but Veronica-
Veronica’s your best friend.
Was. Veronica was…
Oh my god.
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Funny thing about losing your best friend. (Except, you know, it’s so not funny.)
It rips you apart, eats you alive, then pukes you all over the place. Because you weren’t there, so your fabulousness couldn’t do anything. It’s all just nothing. You’re just nothing.
Mommy Dearest was right all along. Bitch.
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You were painting your nails when Keith came and told you. You were still wearing your pep squad uniform, because Celeste thought it was so stupid when you danced around in it, and because for the first while you could share the carwash with her precious carpet, sofa, chairs, bed, etc. The uniform was only just starting to really dry, and it was getting a little uncomfortable, but you had to wait until the nail polish dried before you did anything to fix the situation. And you looked fabulous in the uniform, anyway, even if the colours were just, like, blagh.
Your dad totally walked Keith in like he was this important guest, which you found funny because you know Daddy Dearest has been playing doctor with Keith’s wife for years now, so you asked your dad if he forgot about the butler. He just made this weird choking sound and you realized his eyes were red when he gestured for Duncan to sit down next to her, and then told both of them, “Lilly, Duncan-Keith has to-”
Keith looked, like, totally broken, but he shook his head at your dad. “I’ll-I’ll tell them.”
And you realized that something really, really sucked, but you didn’t realize it was going to break your world apart. Fabulous people are supposed to live fabulous lives.
Finding out your best friend is dead? So totally not fabulous.
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Veronica Mars stood you up that last day; you were going to tell her all about your spectacular hot secret when she got back from Logan’s-you aren’t really sure yet why she was there, but that’s not really something you’re worrying about anymore-but she didn’t show up. You thought, God, what a loser, and rolled your eyes and threw it all in Donut’s face only to feel a little guilty because he loved Veronica but eww. You sulked and left a message on her phone about how she, like, totally missed out, and you’ll never tell her now, because she’s obviously way too much of a loser. Like, hanging out with Logan instead of you? God.
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Duncan has the worst fit you’ve ever seen, when Keith is done. He totally flips-really. That fit after Celeste told him about Lianne and Jake doesn’t even come close. Your computer is totally thrown across the room and everything. Keith couldn’t stay to see that-he totally broke down and your dad helped him out. You caught a glimpse of Lianne around the corner. You think maybe she and your dad eyefucked, but even you know that Veronica’s parents-even if Keith might not be her biological dad-are different from yours. They care. So there’s no way Lianne leaned too close to your dad, or looked back once too many.
Duncan is freaked out. Celeste comes to try to help him, and he won’t listen to her, like you think Celeste thinks he always does. They have to call the hospital.
And no one looks at you. They probably think you, like, don’t care about your best friend being dead. They probably think you’re too much of a slut-bag to care about anyone but yourself.
You don’t say anything. Your jaw is locked shut because if it isn’t you’ll scream scream scream in a way that would make Duncan’s display pathetic, and there are these huge real, not-even-a-little-pretended tears pressed hard against your eyes and anywhere else they think they might escape. Your knuckles are white; you’re clutching your blanket way too hard.
They take Duncan out of the room, even though he’s still kicking and sobbing and screaming. They think your silence means you’re dealing, and you hate Celeste for leaving you, but you’re not sure you can really blame your dad. He lost his other daughter, the good one, and his son is having a breakdown, while the screw up’s just sitting there all quiet and blank. He leaves.
They’ll be back; Veronica Mars won’t.
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You were going to tell Veronica anyway. Your secret, that is. BFF, duh. You never meant the message you left.
“Hey, loser, so, you totally missed out. These lips are sealed tight, baby, and you can wheedle all you want, but I’m keeping all the fabulousness to myself. What’s with the whole Logan thing lately, anyway?”
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When they’re gone, and the maids leave to gossip, you close the door (Veronica always locked it, and hid behind a closet when she changed; she was too sweet and innocent to smirk if someone walked in on her) and strip on your way to your bathroom.
It’s all slow-mo and dazed, and you wonder if you got high and forgot about it. It makes more sense than Veronica-
Except it wouldn’t hurt this much if you were high. So. There is so, so much alcohol in your future. A fitting tribute to the BFF who died before she could be as totally openly awesome as you know she was.
Oh god.
You’re pulling off that pep squad uniform, the caricature of the last time you saw your best friend, and now things are getting faster faster faster until you can hear your blood pounding and the goddamned maids keep whispering gossiping hovering like goddamned vultures and you can’t stop any of it Veronica such a loser why didn’t she show up what happened why would anyone want to-
And then you blast the hot water in your shower and you’re under it and screaming screaming into the pounding water that isn’t as loud as the shrieks clawing their way up your throat or even the blood racing through you.
Veronica Mars is dead, she’s dead, your sister best friend is dead, you’re supposed to be way too extraordinary to deal with death because your awesomeness should be enough to protect everyone you care about. You’re Lilly Kane, for god’s sake.
And you’re breaking to pieces while your brother shatters in a hospital and you don’t know if anyone else knows, and if you’ll have to tell them but you don’t want to ever have to say it because that’ll make it real.
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“So guess what, Veronica,” you’d say. “Guess who my newest lover is?”
Because she’s the good one, Veronica Mars would be all, “Lilly! What about Logan?”
“Logan and I are so over,” you’d tell her-again-with a roll of your eyes. “Like, totally. He keeps clinging and following me around like a puppy, and it’s driving me crazy. Not to mention the whole Yolanda incident. But guess. It’s fabulous.”
Veronica Mars would never guess. She couldn’t even imagine, you know. It’s too much fabulous for anyone to realize that Lilly Kane can fuck Aaron freakin’ Echolls whenever she wants. But you would have-you wanted to-share it with Veronica.
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You’re completely drunk by the time you stumble out the door. The driver is sloppily commanded to take you to the Echolls’ place. He’s such a nice boy, you think, and you didn’t even have to screw him more than once to make him nice. It’s nice, especially when you’re…so very, very drunk, like you are.
You’re drunk, by the way, really drunk. In case you, like, missed that somehow. It’s totally by design, and therefore the totally fabulous way to deal with grief. Duh.
Somehow-though you aren’t really sure how, especially since you’re way past just drunk-Logan and Veronica became thick as thieves. They were friends before, but in the past couple months? You had been waiting for some kind of triangle, even though Logan still totally worships you as appropriate and Veronica was dating then mooning over Duncan-who-secretly-might-be-her-half-brother. But, well, you don’t think Keith is in any shape to tell Logan that Veronica’s-that Veronica is-well, you know-and you’re drunk enough to think it’s a good idea for you to tell him. Like, you can totally be all dignified and solemn while you woefully and poetically tell your ex-boyfriend that his friend, your best friend, was found dead in her bed.
Obviously, you’re totally trashed.
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So Veronica would be all, “Oh my God, Lilly,” when you told her, but you’d roll your eyes and grin.
“I know,” you’d say back, then laugh when she looked wide-eyed and repelled and fascinated and worried and-sick? Okay, so there’d be the eww, Lilly reaction there because she’s Veronica, but, c’mon. Aaron freakin’ Echolls.
You could totally be on Entertainment Tonight because of it. By then, you’ll own him just like you own Logan, and it’ll be totally awesome. You’ll own him the way not even Lynn could possess him with her super annoying voice and plastic surgery and bad tan and worse movies.
“But Lilly,” Veronica would say. “What about Logan?”
“Duh, it’s so over with Logan.”
But Veronica would frown and say, “But he loves you and you’re-you know-his dad…”
Yes, Veronica, you’re fucking his dad. That’s right. Isn’t it way too much awesome?
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You own Logan Echolls. You own his body and his soul and all his pretty worship and his heart, too, even if you’re not sure you ever wanted him to go all Dawson on you. He’s your loser ex now, sure, and his dad’s a hotter fuck, and he can be such a clingy leech, but he’s yours. That’s what you know. He’ll never find another girl unless you want him to, because he’s too wrapped up in you to see straight, and it’s just the way you like it.
That’s what you know when you go to tell him about Veronica Mars.
But that’ll change, because Veronica deserved a marvellous elegy or some other crap like that, but you’re drunk and even if everything is fabulous in your head, the words aren’t coming out of your mouth properly and you blurt it out: Veronica’s dead. They found her lain out on her bed with twisted limbs and signs of a struggle and they don’t know what happened yet, but, Logan, someone killed Veronica Mars.
You’ve always known you owned Logan Echolls’ soul like you’re his goddess, but he doesn’t try to hold you and comfort you tonight like you thought he would. You knew he’d be upset about Veronica, but you still thought he’d be all Lilly-Lilly-Lilly and he isn’t.
He stares at you, and you think an abandoned puppy that just got kicked between the eyes would look less wounded. He’s staring at you and twisting his shirt sleeves in his fingers and now he’s making this weird choking-laugh sound and you know he believes you but he doesn’t believe you at all. He thinks his goddess is just a lying bitch.
(Maybe he’s right, but you wouldn’t lie about this.)
He doesn’t say, oh god, Lilly, or ask if you’re alright, or what’s wrong with the world that someone would kill pretty-in-pink-and-secretly-sleeveless-red-satin Veronica Mars. Logan doesn’t even seem to realize you’re there.
He laugh-chokes again, then staggers and then he’s crying-crying in that quiet, miserable way that you know means he’s too broken to cry out loud. And then he’s whispering, Oh, god, Ronnie, in a way that tells you that maybe you played too many games with Logan, and you aren’t the only one he cared about.
And you know that he’ll never ever leave you after this, but tonight he’s all Veronica’s.
You aren’t nearly drunk enough for tonight.
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So what if one of the men you’re fucking is your ex-boyfriend’s dad? You fucked Weevil in his car and in Celeste’s bed and on your dad’s desk while Logan was still leeching and saying he was your boyfriend. Weevil got all, like, Lilly I love you, leave Echolls, and she didn’t say, Which one, but obviously Weevil had to go. It wasn’t for Logan, though, so what would it matter if you’re done with the loser? So you’re screwing a guy who plays rough and plays games and makes you scream, so what? So what if he happens to be your ex’s dad? God.
Logan wasn’t the first, he won’t be your forever-and-always, and you’ll move on way before you let Logan go. Even if Veronica was here to say, “He loves you, Lilly, this’ll break his heart.”
You’d still do it.
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You can hold your liquor, and you flush the rest out of your system quickly for your age; it’s a problem, considering your game plan for surviving tonight. You left Logan a couple of hours ago, while he was still crying in his room. If Veronica didn’t die several hours ago, you would probably call him a little girl for crying, a dick for ignoring you, and a pathetic loser for not moving from the same spot in hours.
Veronica died several hours ago.
Initially you stick around the Echolls’ estate because they always have the best booze. The hard stuff, because Lynn’s a miserable drunk and Aaron is, like, such a dick sometimes. You’ve known where Lynn keeps her liquor for years, but hers has a key that she never remembers to leave in the same place; usually you’d have Veronica pick it, but Veronica isn’t here, and you just thought she’d always be there.
But she’s gone, so you’re the loser, Lilly Bitch Fabulous Kane.
You can’t get into Lynn’s booze, and you don’t know where Aaron’s is, but you don’t want to go home. Instead, you play Logan’s Game Boy really badly and pretend you don’t almost cry every time you kill something.
You’re not crying when Aaron shows up. You are, after all, the all-too-amazing Lilly Kane. Your hair is a little messy, but it’s like that after sex, too, and you’re still wearing the little tee and skirt (no underwear, no bra) you left the house in, because you thought that maybe if you were drunk and spent the night fucking Logan until his brain exploded you might not be able to think about Veronica.
Well, Logan’s probably either still crying or so drunk (and it takes a lot to make Lynn Echolls’ son drunk, but you think he’ll make it tonight) that he can’t see straight or get it up without some serious work from you. You don’t want to-can’t-work for it tonight. You want it hard, fast, sharp and guttural. It’s not like you want to be made love to-your mind will slip too many ways if you get bored.
But Aaron Echolls comes through that door and he’s not wearing a shirt because he just came out of the shower. He looks hard, maybe a little perturbed, more than a little mean, and like he could make you break you apart and still make you scream for him please please more god please until you’re mindless with your dirty addiction.
It’s exactly what you need.
You tell him to fuck you and he does it ‘til you pass out.
In the morning you’ll be hung over and hit so hard by the grief that you’ll go blind, but Aaron’s last gift was to finger you too hard, and you still came, even if your pussy will hurt like a bitch for a week.
Aaron freakin’ Echolls did that, and gave you more of the big O than you think should be possible while the guy was maul-fucking you.
But it’ll be a long time before you let him bleed you again. Someone else will do it right outside the church that holds Veronica’s funeral. Someone safer. Weevil.
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You’re a slut, you know. One who’ll make a guy make you think you could bleed. You’re pretty sure that your night with Aaron would make Veronica horrified. She’d probably either not believe you, or think it was rape and tell her dad to arrest Aaron.
But Veronica was the good one, and she already left you, and that’s way, way worse than what you told Aaron to do.
You were a cheating girlfriend before, you suppose, and maybe you took that to new levels when you should have cooled it, but that was just because you were bored and/or annoyed with Logan.
Now you’re a slut, and you won’t be able to wear white ever again.
You don’t care. Veronica wore a lot of white. You’re not Veronica, and she’s not here to balance you out anymore. She won’t be horrified and fascinated, and she won’t try to patch things up between you and Logan.
But you get back together with Logan anyway because he cried when Veronica died and he really does love you, like you made him. You need someone to keep you grounded with your BFF gone, and if you think Logan isn’t always seeing you, what of it? Your awesomeness would blind him if he always looked at you.
Please R&R
Veronica.
Look, you’re Celeste’s embarrassment, and Logan’s goddess, and Neptune’s queen, but Veronica-
Veronica’s your best friend.
Was. Veronica was…
Oh my god.
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Funny thing about losing your best friend. (Except, you know, it’s so not funny.)
It rips you apart, eats you alive, then pukes you all over the place. Because you weren’t there, so your fabulousness couldn’t do anything. It’s all just nothing. You’re just nothing.
Mommy Dearest was right all along. Bitch.
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You were painting your nails when Keith came and told you. You were still wearing your pep squad uniform, because Celeste thought it was so stupid when you danced around in it, and because for the first while you could share the carwash with her precious carpet, sofa, chairs, bed, etc. The uniform was only just starting to really dry, and it was getting a little uncomfortable, but you had to wait until the nail polish dried before you did anything to fix the situation. And you looked fabulous in the uniform, anyway, even if the colours were just, like, blagh.
Your dad totally walked Keith in like he was this important guest, which you found funny because you know Daddy Dearest has been playing doctor with Keith’s wife for years now, so you asked your dad if he forgot about the butler. He just made this weird choking sound and you realized his eyes were red when he gestured for Duncan to sit down next to her, and then told both of them, “Lilly, Duncan-Keith has to-”
Keith looked, like, totally broken, but he shook his head at your dad. “I’ll-I’ll tell them.”
And you realized that something really, really sucked, but you didn’t realize it was going to break your world apart. Fabulous people are supposed to live fabulous lives.
Finding out your best friend is dead? So totally not fabulous.
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Veronica Mars stood you up that last day; you were going to tell her all about your spectacular hot secret when she got back from Logan’s-you aren’t really sure yet why she was there, but that’s not really something you’re worrying about anymore-but she didn’t show up. You thought, God, what a loser, and rolled your eyes and threw it all in Donut’s face only to feel a little guilty because he loved Veronica but eww. You sulked and left a message on her phone about how she, like, totally missed out, and you’ll never tell her now, because she’s obviously way too much of a loser. Like, hanging out with Logan instead of you? God.
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Duncan has the worst fit you’ve ever seen, when Keith is done. He totally flips-really. That fit after Celeste told him about Lianne and Jake doesn’t even come close. Your computer is totally thrown across the room and everything. Keith couldn’t stay to see that-he totally broke down and your dad helped him out. You caught a glimpse of Lianne around the corner. You think maybe she and your dad eyefucked, but even you know that Veronica’s parents-even if Keith might not be her biological dad-are different from yours. They care. So there’s no way Lianne leaned too close to your dad, or looked back once too many.
Duncan is freaked out. Celeste comes to try to help him, and he won’t listen to her, like you think Celeste thinks he always does. They have to call the hospital.
And no one looks at you. They probably think you, like, don’t care about your best friend being dead. They probably think you’re too much of a slut-bag to care about anyone but yourself.
You don’t say anything. Your jaw is locked shut because if it isn’t you’ll scream scream scream in a way that would make Duncan’s display pathetic, and there are these huge real, not-even-a-little-pretended tears pressed hard against your eyes and anywhere else they think they might escape. Your knuckles are white; you’re clutching your blanket way too hard.
They take Duncan out of the room, even though he’s still kicking and sobbing and screaming. They think your silence means you’re dealing, and you hate Celeste for leaving you, but you’re not sure you can really blame your dad. He lost his other daughter, the good one, and his son is having a breakdown, while the screw up’s just sitting there all quiet and blank. He leaves.
They’ll be back; Veronica Mars won’t.
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You were going to tell Veronica anyway. Your secret, that is. BFF, duh. You never meant the message you left.
“Hey, loser, so, you totally missed out. These lips are sealed tight, baby, and you can wheedle all you want, but I’m keeping all the fabulousness to myself. What’s with the whole Logan thing lately, anyway?”
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When they’re gone, and the maids leave to gossip, you close the door (Veronica always locked it, and hid behind a closet when she changed; she was too sweet and innocent to smirk if someone walked in on her) and strip on your way to your bathroom.
It’s all slow-mo and dazed, and you wonder if you got high and forgot about it. It makes more sense than Veronica-
Except it wouldn’t hurt this much if you were high. So. There is so, so much alcohol in your future. A fitting tribute to the BFF who died before she could be as totally openly awesome as you know she was.
Oh god.
You’re pulling off that pep squad uniform, the caricature of the last time you saw your best friend, and now things are getting faster faster faster until you can hear your blood pounding and the goddamned maids keep whispering gossiping hovering like goddamned vultures and you can’t stop any of it Veronica such a loser why didn’t she show up what happened why would anyone want to-
And then you blast the hot water in your shower and you’re under it and screaming screaming into the pounding water that isn’t as loud as the shrieks clawing their way up your throat or even the blood racing through you.
Veronica Mars is dead, she’s dead, your sister best friend is dead, you’re supposed to be way too extraordinary to deal with death because your awesomeness should be enough to protect everyone you care about. You’re Lilly Kane, for god’s sake.
And you’re breaking to pieces while your brother shatters in a hospital and you don’t know if anyone else knows, and if you’ll have to tell them but you don’t want to ever have to say it because that’ll make it real.
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“So guess what, Veronica,” you’d say. “Guess who my newest lover is?”
Because she’s the good one, Veronica Mars would be all, “Lilly! What about Logan?”
“Logan and I are so over,” you’d tell her-again-with a roll of your eyes. “Like, totally. He keeps clinging and following me around like a puppy, and it’s driving me crazy. Not to mention the whole Yolanda incident. But guess. It’s fabulous.”
Veronica Mars would never guess. She couldn’t even imagine, you know. It’s too much fabulous for anyone to realize that Lilly Kane can fuck Aaron freakin’ Echolls whenever she wants. But you would have-you wanted to-share it with Veronica.
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You’re completely drunk by the time you stumble out the door. The driver is sloppily commanded to take you to the Echolls’ place. He’s such a nice boy, you think, and you didn’t even have to screw him more than once to make him nice. It’s nice, especially when you’re…so very, very drunk, like you are.
You’re drunk, by the way, really drunk. In case you, like, missed that somehow. It’s totally by design, and therefore the totally fabulous way to deal with grief. Duh.
Somehow-though you aren’t really sure how, especially since you’re way past just drunk-Logan and Veronica became thick as thieves. They were friends before, but in the past couple months? You had been waiting for some kind of triangle, even though Logan still totally worships you as appropriate and Veronica was dating then mooning over Duncan-who-secretly-might-be-her-half-brother. But, well, you don’t think Keith is in any shape to tell Logan that Veronica’s-that Veronica is-well, you know-and you’re drunk enough to think it’s a good idea for you to tell him. Like, you can totally be all dignified and solemn while you woefully and poetically tell your ex-boyfriend that his friend, your best friend, was found dead in her bed.
Obviously, you’re totally trashed.
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So Veronica would be all, “Oh my God, Lilly,” when you told her, but you’d roll your eyes and grin.
“I know,” you’d say back, then laugh when she looked wide-eyed and repelled and fascinated and worried and-sick? Okay, so there’d be the eww, Lilly reaction there because she’s Veronica, but, c’mon. Aaron freakin’ Echolls.
You could totally be on Entertainment Tonight because of it. By then, you’ll own him just like you own Logan, and it’ll be totally awesome. You’ll own him the way not even Lynn could possess him with her super annoying voice and plastic surgery and bad tan and worse movies.
“But Lilly,” Veronica would say. “What about Logan?”
“Duh, it’s so over with Logan.”
But Veronica would frown and say, “But he loves you and you’re-you know-his dad…”
Yes, Veronica, you’re fucking his dad. That’s right. Isn’t it way too much awesome?
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You own Logan Echolls. You own his body and his soul and all his pretty worship and his heart, too, even if you’re not sure you ever wanted him to go all Dawson on you. He’s your loser ex now, sure, and his dad’s a hotter fuck, and he can be such a clingy leech, but he’s yours. That’s what you know. He’ll never find another girl unless you want him to, because he’s too wrapped up in you to see straight, and it’s just the way you like it.
That’s what you know when you go to tell him about Veronica Mars.
But that’ll change, because Veronica deserved a marvellous elegy or some other crap like that, but you’re drunk and even if everything is fabulous in your head, the words aren’t coming out of your mouth properly and you blurt it out: Veronica’s dead. They found her lain out on her bed with twisted limbs and signs of a struggle and they don’t know what happened yet, but, Logan, someone killed Veronica Mars.
You’ve always known you owned Logan Echolls’ soul like you’re his goddess, but he doesn’t try to hold you and comfort you tonight like you thought he would. You knew he’d be upset about Veronica, but you still thought he’d be all Lilly-Lilly-Lilly and he isn’t.
He stares at you, and you think an abandoned puppy that just got kicked between the eyes would look less wounded. He’s staring at you and twisting his shirt sleeves in his fingers and now he’s making this weird choking-laugh sound and you know he believes you but he doesn’t believe you at all. He thinks his goddess is just a lying bitch.
(Maybe he’s right, but you wouldn’t lie about this.)
He doesn’t say, oh god, Lilly, or ask if you’re alright, or what’s wrong with the world that someone would kill pretty-in-pink-and-secretly-sleeveless-red-satin Veronica Mars. Logan doesn’t even seem to realize you’re there.
He laugh-chokes again, then staggers and then he’s crying-crying in that quiet, miserable way that you know means he’s too broken to cry out loud. And then he’s whispering, Oh, god, Ronnie, in a way that tells you that maybe you played too many games with Logan, and you aren’t the only one he cared about.
And you know that he’ll never ever leave you after this, but tonight he’s all Veronica’s.
You aren’t nearly drunk enough for tonight.
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So what if one of the men you’re fucking is your ex-boyfriend’s dad? You fucked Weevil in his car and in Celeste’s bed and on your dad’s desk while Logan was still leeching and saying he was your boyfriend. Weevil got all, like, Lilly I love you, leave Echolls, and she didn’t say, Which one, but obviously Weevil had to go. It wasn’t for Logan, though, so what would it matter if you’re done with the loser? So you’re screwing a guy who plays rough and plays games and makes you scream, so what? So what if he happens to be your ex’s dad? God.
Logan wasn’t the first, he won’t be your forever-and-always, and you’ll move on way before you let Logan go. Even if Veronica was here to say, “He loves you, Lilly, this’ll break his heart.”
You’d still do it.
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You can hold your liquor, and you flush the rest out of your system quickly for your age; it’s a problem, considering your game plan for surviving tonight. You left Logan a couple of hours ago, while he was still crying in his room. If Veronica didn’t die several hours ago, you would probably call him a little girl for crying, a dick for ignoring you, and a pathetic loser for not moving from the same spot in hours.
Veronica died several hours ago.
Initially you stick around the Echolls’ estate because they always have the best booze. The hard stuff, because Lynn’s a miserable drunk and Aaron is, like, such a dick sometimes. You’ve known where Lynn keeps her liquor for years, but hers has a key that she never remembers to leave in the same place; usually you’d have Veronica pick it, but Veronica isn’t here, and you just thought she’d always be there.
But she’s gone, so you’re the loser, Lilly Bitch Fabulous Kane.
You can’t get into Lynn’s booze, and you don’t know where Aaron’s is, but you don’t want to go home. Instead, you play Logan’s Game Boy really badly and pretend you don’t almost cry every time you kill something.
You’re not crying when Aaron shows up. You are, after all, the all-too-amazing Lilly Kane. Your hair is a little messy, but it’s like that after sex, too, and you’re still wearing the little tee and skirt (no underwear, no bra) you left the house in, because you thought that maybe if you were drunk and spent the night fucking Logan until his brain exploded you might not be able to think about Veronica.
Well, Logan’s probably either still crying or so drunk (and it takes a lot to make Lynn Echolls’ son drunk, but you think he’ll make it tonight) that he can’t see straight or get it up without some serious work from you. You don’t want to-can’t-work for it tonight. You want it hard, fast, sharp and guttural. It’s not like you want to be made love to-your mind will slip too many ways if you get bored.
But Aaron Echolls comes through that door and he’s not wearing a shirt because he just came out of the shower. He looks hard, maybe a little perturbed, more than a little mean, and like he could make you break you apart and still make you scream for him please please more god please until you’re mindless with your dirty addiction.
It’s exactly what you need.
You tell him to fuck you and he does it ‘til you pass out.
In the morning you’ll be hung over and hit so hard by the grief that you’ll go blind, but Aaron’s last gift was to finger you too hard, and you still came, even if your pussy will hurt like a bitch for a week.
Aaron freakin’ Echolls did that, and gave you more of the big O than you think should be possible while the guy was maul-fucking you.
But it’ll be a long time before you let him bleed you again. Someone else will do it right outside the church that holds Veronica’s funeral. Someone safer. Weevil.
-------------------------------------------
You’re a slut, you know. One who’ll make a guy make you think you could bleed. You’re pretty sure that your night with Aaron would make Veronica horrified. She’d probably either not believe you, or think it was rape and tell her dad to arrest Aaron.
But Veronica was the good one, and she already left you, and that’s way, way worse than what you told Aaron to do.
You were a cheating girlfriend before, you suppose, and maybe you took that to new levels when you should have cooled it, but that was just because you were bored and/or annoyed with Logan.
Now you’re a slut, and you won’t be able to wear white ever again.
You don’t care. Veronica wore a lot of white. You’re not Veronica, and she’s not here to balance you out anymore. She won’t be horrified and fascinated, and she won’t try to patch things up between you and Logan.
But you get back together with Logan anyway because he cried when Veronica died and he really does love you, like you made him. You need someone to keep you grounded with your BFF gone, and if you think Logan isn’t always seeing you, what of it? Your awesomeness would blind him if he always looked at you.
Please R&R