#simon x maddie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thepaintedlady00 · 1 year

Text

Nightshade

Chapter 3: Trigger

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Sorry all for the delayed posting! Yesterday got insane and so I didn't get any time to edit and whatnot. I hope you all enjoy this new chapter! 🥰

TW: general stress, Simone is condescending as always, some not-so-fun glimpses into Lena's past, feelings of betrayal, confrontations, drinking, smoking, mentions of drugs, threats of violence (nothing graphic), panic attacks

"Get in here and give your aunt a hug."

Yeah. That happened. I took in a deep breath of Aunt Maddie's faint perfume. Light florals with hints of dirt and peony. The smell alone made me go stiff in her arms. This was definitely happening.

"What the fuck?" Sasha mumbled, eyes wide and mouth hung open, earning a glare from Howard and a slap to the arm from Ari. Everyone looked the same as he did, even those that hid it in well. Shit.

Maddie pulled back and smiled at me. "It's been a long time." With a soft sigh, she brushed the hair away from my face. "You look just like your mother when she was your age."

My hands clenched at my sides as I forced a smile on my face. "It's good to see you again, Aunt Maddie."

She looked around the room a bit, calculating but enjoying the anxious and scrambled reaction her surprise visit elicited. "I seem to have disrupted your service prep." She turned back to Howard. "Think there's still time for a quick tasting?"

I could hear Scotts quiet groan behind me as Howard nodded. "For you, of course, Chef."

"Excellent!" Maddie said, giving my cheek a light pinch. "Are you ready to show me what you've got?"

The sentence, and implications that came with it, was one I was well versed in. I knew it from the years I spent in Aunt Maddie's kitchen cooking beside her every holiday and visit, as well as the years of studying beneath her that followed once I was old enough. Plate after plate. Dish after dish. "Come on kid, show me what you've got." I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. "Of course, Chef."

She smiled even wider and looked past me. "Simone, care to show me to my table?"

The blonde woman looked far more unhappy than I'd ever seen as she nodded. Her lips were stuck into a thin line as the stiff and poorly contained anger simmered in her eyes. That calculating mind of hers was no doubt having a field day with all the newfound information my aunt's visit was giving her. I almost felt bad that I wouldn't likely be around to witness the blow-up she was no doubt about to have. "Of course."

They walked out together, talking about wine and Howard gave me a sympathetic look before following them. He'd been new at the time, but he'd seen enough to know how complicated my relationship was with my aunt. Everyone around me remained frozen. Were they judging me? Were they all carefully preparing what malicious words they spew my way? Was tonight the last night these people would see me as their friend?

It was Scott that broke the silence. "We've got a tasting and service to prep for. If you're not kitchen staff get the fuck out and do your jobs!"

I remained glued to where I stood as they slowly funneled out of the kitchen, either sparing me a look or not even looking at all. God damn it all.

A hand settled on my shoulder. Warm and familiar, Isaac, but I stepped away from it anyway, the scar burning beneath my clothes. He understood, dropping his hand and leaning to catch my eyes. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," I answered. "I just…" I rubbed my shoulder, desperate to alleviate the uncomfortable sensation. "I just wasn't expecting that."

"I know."

Shaking my head I gestured to the stairs. "I'm gonna get dressed. Tell Scott not to start the tasting without me?"

Isaac looked worried, and maybe he had reason to be, but he nodded. "You got it."

The locker room felt like the only place with breathable air. I sat down on the couch and greedily sucked in everything I could of it. I don't care what they think of me, I reminded myself, smoothing my hands along the leather sleeves of my dad's jacket. All that matters is what I think of me. Following my normal routine I hung my jacket, tracing the letters for a short moment before buttoning up my shirt and pulling the cook's coat over it. All that matters is me.

I hurried down the stairs and stood in front of the kitchen with my back straight. "The kitchen is no place for soft people." Maddie's voice echoed in my ears. "Back straight, head high and get your shit together Lena."

Scott sighed when he saw me. “Fucking finally. I’m assuming you know what this shit show is all about?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Sorry about the unnecessary stress, Chef.”

“Maddie’s always stressful, but this… this is a whole new fucking thing.” He nodded to me. “So, what do we need to do?”

I smiled at him. “How would you feel about going off menu?”

His brows raised. “You serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“You know what she’s like when even the tiniest detail is changed right?”

“Yeah, I do.” I shrugged. “What do you say, Chef? Willing to trust me for an hour?”

Scott laughed quietly. “You’re crazy, but let's fucking do it.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take lead. It should keep you off the chopping block when she inevitably has an issue.”

“You sure you want to take the heat?” He questioned. “I know Howard won’t fire my ass over a dash of salt, but you're still the newbie.”

Aunt Maddie wouldn’t fire me, but that certainly didn’t save me from whatever harsh punishment she’d dish out to send a message. “I’ll be fine Chef, I’m used to her moods.”

“Yeah, I guess you are, huh?” He noted working beside me as I got the image of what I was cooking in mind. “What’s the story behind that?”

“Save it for after service,” I reminded gathering the last of the ingredients together and smiling up at him. “You ready to get in trouble?”

Scott looked around the kitchen, “We ready?”

“Yes, Chef!”

I explained the dish quickly, everyone already knew exactly what was expected of them which made it easy for me to work beside Scott as we insured all the components of the dish were perfect. If we were going to break the sacred rules Aunt Maddie placed, we may as well do it right.

The dish I had in mind was simple, something we’d had on the menu for years but was rarely ordered anymore. I changed practically everything about it, elevating it to the new standards of the time but keeping enough components that it was still something she’d recognize. Simone stood in front of me as I plated the final product, the annoying feeling of her critical stare boring into the top of my head until I finally slid the plate toward her. “The chefs tasting.”

Her lips were pursed together as she took the plate. “This is… Interesting.”

Scott leaned back, watching the door with me while the rest of the kitchen prepared for tonight's service. “So what’s the point of this?

"Think of it like a game," I told him, my eyes still locked onto the doors.

"You ever win?"

"No."

“I don’t understand,” I said quietly, looking down at the plate of food Aunt Maddie shoveled into the garbage. “I did everything exactly like you did.”

She looked up at me and sighed. “That’s the problem, kid. I asked you to show me what YOU could do, not what I could do.”

That couldn’t be right. Aunt Maddie was strictly against anyone changing her dishes. “So, you want me to make something new?”

“I want you to showcase your talent. I want you to show me you understand the food.” She shook her head. “Maybe that’s just too much for you.”

“It’s not!” I insisted. “I can do it.”

I never did, at least not to her. The constant feeling of disappointment and failure was one of the many reasons I never finished studying under her. Howard entered gracefully, drawing in a deep breath before looking up and meeting my gaze. "You're off the line tonight. The owner suggested that you back wait at the bar." He looked at Scott. "She's cooking tonight. I trust you’ll be able to handle it."

Scott scoffed but nodded. "That'll be interesting."

"Best behavior everyone."

He nudged me. "You're off line? What the fuck does that mean?"

I shrugged my cook's coat off and sighed. "It means I win."

It didn’t feel as good as I’d wanted it to. There was no huge release of the weight that I’d been shouldering ever since I left her program. No feeling of accomplishment… there was practically nothing. I left my coat off to the side and walked out to the bar, moving behind it and jumping into work. Nicky looked over at me a smiled. “You out here tonight?”

“Looks like it.”

He nodded, refocusing on his task. “Well, hopefully, that means we’ll actually have the bar stocked tonight.”

I forced a smile. “I’m an excellent back waiter, Nic. You’ll have plenty of ice.”

Jake set the shot glass in front of me with a grin as I finished folding the napkins. “You look like you need it.”

“Thanks,” I said quietly, accepting the glass and downing the burning liquid inside quickly.

“So…”

“Save it for after service,” I reminded him, just as I did Scott.

“Do I need to save all my questions for later?”

I gave him a look. “Depends on the questions.”

He nodded, stacking a glass. “Why don’t we play twenty questions again?”

“Four.”

The sight of his wide smile made me feel a little more at ease, or maybe the shot was just starting to kick in. “That’s two more than last time.”

“Yeah, I’m in a generous mood today.”

“Alright,” he polished another glass as he thought. “Last night you said Leanin Lena was a boxing thing. Do you box?”

“Sometimes,” I answered. “I used to a lot, but just kind of stopped having time for it after a while.”

Jake nodded. “You any good?”

I smirked. “Is that your next question?”

“Again? Fine. You said you moved in with your dad and brother when you were fifteen. Where’d you live before?”

This question was one I’d always tread with caution. “A bit of everywhere. My mom traveled a lot for work and after my parents divorced she took me with her.”

“Where was your favorite?”

“Japan,” I replied with a smile. “Last question, better make it a good one.”

He nodded, looking very pleased with the answers I’d shared with him. “A good one, okay let’s see… Here’s one. How’d you get that scar on your shoulder?”

I froze entirely as my mind pulled up the faint smell of copper and distant shouting. “Ask something else.”

“What?”

“Ask something else,” I repeated coldly.

Whether or not he sensed the shift in the conversation or not didn’t matter, Jake thought for a minute longer before quietly asking, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow.”

Service was quiet. Everyone was on their best behavior trying to avoid getting caught by the feared owner. This was the first time the restaurant felt as smothering as it had back in the day. The feeling didn’t lessen even after the guests had gone home and everyone began to filter out to the main room for drinks and answers. Aunt Maddie was still here, that was the reason all of them spoke softer and hadn’t touched any of the alcohol yet.

Howard exited the kitchen and stood beside the bar. “She wants to talk to you before she goes.”

“Wish me luck,” I grumbled as I passed him and walked into the kitchen.

She was sitting at the table, eating off a plate of leftovers or something she’d made to pass the time. “Sit down, I made enough for both of us.”

I pulled a chair up beside her and sat, quietly reaching over to take a piece of what she had. “It’s delicious.”

“A classic,” she replied. “One you’re no doubt familiar with by now.”

“I don’t think there’s a lot left I’m not familiar with.”

“You went off menu.”

There it is. "You told me to show you what I had, not what you did."

Aunt Maddie chuckled at the memory. "I guess I'm just… Disappointed. You had so much potential Lena, so much drive to be the best."

"People change."

"I didn't expect you to be the same little girl that cooked with me at Christmas, especially not after what happened. But this… This isn't you."

Isn’t me? I wanted to scream at her, wanted to tell her that she didn’t know me… that she hadn’t for a long while now. But over that anger was my old self, timid and desperate for the approval of my aunt and the woman who had been my mentor since before I could remember. “Like I said, people change.”

Aunt Maddie nodded, with a thin and sad smile. “I trust you’ll be sticking to the menu from here on out?”

That’s all? That’s all you have to say to me after all that? “Of course, Chef.”

She stood, raising her hand to hesitantly brush my hair behind my ear. “Take care of yourself, kid. The last thing I wanna do on my next visit is see you in the hospital again.”

“I’ll be fine, Aunt Maddie,” I assured her, holding in all the hateful words I wanted to spew at the mention of the painful memory. They weren't for her, not a lot of them at least.

And just as quickly as she’d come, Aunt Maddie was gone. The kitchen was quiet and the crowd of waiting co-workers outside the doors steadily grew louder once they’d felt comfortable that she wasn’t around to hear them. I finished the plate of food and washed the dish before heading upstairs to the locker room. If I was going to face everyone I wanted to do it looking like me.

“So, Lena Glover?”

I nearly groaned at the sound of Simone’s soft voice coming from the doorway. “I was never an official Glover.” I shoved my shirt into the locker and straightened the straps of my tank top.

She only hummed, clearly disinterested in the technical side. “Still, Maddie and I have known each other for a long time. I’m surprised you never came up.”

“Maybe you weren’t as close as you thought,” I replied harshly.

“I think it made her sad,” she responded. “It seems like the two of you were close once. Having you resent her so much now was probably a lot to handle.”

Taking a deep breath and trying my best to keep from lashing out I replied, “You don’t know anything about what happened.”

Simone stepped into the room, quietly changing her clothes. “She talked about you a lot today. You are right though, I don’t know what happened, but it’s obvious that she cares about you.”

If she cared about me she would have defended me… She would have looked past herself and seen what was going on right in front of her. She would have done something. I shook my head to keep the malicious voices from taking root. “Do you want something from me?”

“Of course not.” Simone sighed and stood next to me. “I just want you to know since it looks like you’re here to stay for a while, that I’m not your enemy. You and I got off to a rocky start, but I do truly believe we could be friends.”

I looked over my shoulder at her. “You want to be friends?”

“Is that such a ridiculous thing to want?” This sounded too familiar. Simone smiled, smoothing her hand over my hair and down the scar on my shoulder. “Maybe it’s the boxer mentality that makes you think I’m out to get you, but I want nothing but the best for you and this restaurant.”

Boxer mentality? I pulled my shoulder away from her and turned back to my locker to finish getting dressed. “I have nothing against you, Simone. I just know you and I aren’t compatible to be friends.”

She nodded. “If you insist. Have a good night, Lena.”

My mind was racing as I walked down the stairs and out to the crowd of people waiting for me. Sasha smiled, clapping his hands. “How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence, your Majesty!”

I shook my head, moving behind the bar and pouring myself a drink. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

To my surprise everyone was quiet. Scott was the one that spoke first. “So, Maddie Glover, the owner is your aunt. I’m guessing that's where you learned most of the shit you know.”

“Spot on, Chef.”

“So, if you would have stayed with it you would have my job right now?”

I shrugged. “Probably.”

He nodded with a fraction of a smile. “Thank fuck you quit then.”

The chatter picked up a bit after that, but it was mostly jokes. They asked if I was rich and made disappointed noised when I said no, but then they went about the night as if nothing had happened. “That’s it?”

Ari smiled at me. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Sasha reached over and squeezed my hand. “Who gives a shit what your last name is? You’re still our sexy and fierce Tiger Bitch!”

Isaac wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Told you they wouldn’t give a shit.”

“Shut up,” I joked, pushing him.

Shift drinks went on as usual from there, everyone laughed and bitched about service and Maddie’s visit and then they all funneled out to head to Home Bar. Isaac stayed behind to put up all the chairs and make sure the linens got washed while Nicky, Jake, and I cleaned up the bar. Now that the majority of my stress was gone, Simone’s words in the locker room rattled around in my head as I put the glasses away.

“So, should I start calling you Glover now?” Jake teased giving me a sideways glance. Maybe another night I would have written it off as his normal jackass behavior, but his words mirrored Simone’s in a way that made it obvious I was right to be suspicious.

Simone had used information from last night to try and bring my guard down in the locker room, information only Jake could have given her. “No. I wasn’t ever an official Glover.”

His head tilted a bit as he wiped down the bar. “Why not?”

“Did you tell Simone about last night at The Ring?” I asked, brushing his prodding question aside.

“I probably mentioned it.” His demeanor barely shifted, no guilt or fear, just a plain look as if it were obvious that he’d tell her something like this. “Why was I not supposed to?”

Every inch of me was vibrating with everything the night had brought. Every inch of me wanted to lash out and tear him apart. ��I just don’t see how that has anything to do with her.”

Jake shrugged. “I just figured she’d be able to help out is all.”

“Help with what?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Just kinda seemed like there was a lot of unresolved stuff there. Simone’s good with that kind of thing, she makes things like that better.”

Oh, I’m sure she does. I shook my head. “Look, I don’t know what your deal with her is and honestly I don’t care. Friends, siblings, lovers whatever, just keep my business out of it. If I need help I’d ask for it.”

He looked at me, light eyes filled with a sarcastic glimmer, and chuckled. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yes. Friends don't share each other's shit behind their backs.”

“Jesus, it was just an old boxing place.”

“I know it seems like nothing to you, but that old boxing place means a lot. It’s more than gloves and punching bags and sweaty guys Jake, and I trusted you with that piece of me. You. Not Sasha or Ari or Heather. And sure as fuck, not Simone. YOU.” The sarcasm vanished from his eyes, but what replaced it was something I couldn’t put my finger on. “I could have told you to go out front to smoke but I didn't. Hell, I could have let Dom's boys beat your ass. And you immediately went behind my back to share what you learned like it was some interesting shit you saw on the news. Either you're my friend or you're an idiotic little bird that tweets information in Simone's ear." I shook my head and grabbed my stuff, not bothering to wait for his shitty response. “Friends don’t do that.”

The banging on my bedroom door was what woke me from my deep sleep, but it was the two masses flopping down on top of my bed that made me open my eyes and glare at Prue and Quinn as they made themselves comfortable in my bed. “Good morning?”

“Good morning!” Quinn cheered, far too loudly.

“What the fuck are you two doing here at…” I checked my clock and groaned. “Eight.”

Prue sat up. “Isaac filled us in on what happened last night. So we figured you’d need you two badass bitches to help cheer you up!”

“I’m not upset,” I replied silently. It wasn’t a full lie, but that mattered very little when the two of them were concerned.

“Just shut up and come with us to breakfast!”

I looked between the two of them and sighed, sitting up. “Pancakes, mountains of bacon, and booze?”

Quinn nodded. “Plus a day of shopping and shit-talking.”

“I’m in.”

Prue squealed. “Go shower, I’ll pick out your outfit!”

“Nothing crazy!”

She crossed her finger over her heart and nodded, hopping over to my closet and rummaging through my clothes. Quinn waved me toward the bathroom. “Go, I’ll make sure she picks something good.”

Together my friends picked out a suitable outfit and walked a few blocks to the breakfast spot we always went to and sat down in our usual booth. They didn’t ask questions about last night, nor did they make comments about how I was still shaken by the whole thing. They knew me better than that and so they talked about anything and everything else.

Quinn went on about a few guys she’d gone on dates with a few weeks ago, while Prue prodded me for information on Will. “As much as I’d love to help you get into my co-worker's pants, I don’t know him that well.”

She whined. “Give me something Lena!”

“Why Will?” Quin signed with a shake of her head. “He looks vanilla as hell.”

“He looks like a total cutie!” Prue argued. “And I wanna jump on that massive d-”

I ran my hands down my face and groaned. “Oh my god, you two need to chill out!”

“Shut up!” Quinn kicked me from beneath the table. “Like you’re any better!”

“Don’t fuckin start with this!”

She threw herself dramatically back into the seat causing Prue to go into a fit of giggles. “He’s so tall!”

“Shut up!”

“That earring!” Prue joined in.

“The tattoos!”

“All that leather and those chains!”

I grabbed Prue’s hands and glared at Quinn. “You two are the worst.”

“Hey, you said it, not us.”

“I was drunk.”

Quinn smirked. “Doesn't mean you didn’t mean it.”

“We all know you get honest when you drink too much.”

I leaned back in my seat and rolled my eyes as our food came. “Fine. He’s hot. Sue me.”

“I don’t know why you don’t just sleep with him,” Quinn said as she drown her pancakes in syrup. “It’d be fun.”

“He looks like he’d be into some freaky shit.”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” I insisted. “He’s a co-worker and a massive asshole so I will not be sleeping with him.”

“Fine,” Quinn grumbled. “Leaves more time for me to talk about who I’m fucking.”

We spent the day walking around and occasionally trying on some clothes. It was nice, to have something else to do and think about instead of my Aunt or Simone, or Jake. When it got late we headed to the bar where we were met with a huge crowd of people and the bar practically smothered in bodies. I hurried over to help out while the girls did their best to keep people's spirits up. Ozzy sighed when he saw me. “Thank god you’re here!”

“What’s going on?” I asked grabbing a large tray of glasses.

“Ian’s late,” he answered. “Started fine but then we got hit with a wave of people. That friend of yours’ band is drawing in a crowd when they play!”

With me, Ozzy, and Max behind the bar the crowd slowly started to die down and people were finally back to their dancing and drunken rants. Quinn and Prue sat down on the stools and made light conversation with me while I worked. Quinn flirted with Max, as she always did, and Prue kept her eyes peeled for Will. Just as Ari’s band took the stage Sasha and the others filed in and shoved themselves into place by the bar. Prue smoothed her hair down and smiled at Will, doing her best to have a conversation with him with the limited knowledge of sign language he knew.

I smirked at the sight of Will’s blush as I moved in front of Sasha. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“I would never miss my lovely Ari’s show!” Sahsa proclaimed loudly cheering for the girl.

“What can I get you guys to drink?”

Will was the only one that bothered to answer me as the rest of them pranced off toward the dancefloor. “Just beers. Thanks, Lena.”

Prue offered to help Will carry the drinks and find a table. She winked at me as the two of them disappeared into the crowd. I served the next line of drinks and then turned to find Jake leaning against the bar watching me. “Didn’t know you came with them.”

He shrugged. “You working?”

“Kind of, one of the bartenders was late so I jumped in to help.”

“Truly inspiring acts of kindness.”

Just as I was about to ask him what he wanted Ian slid behind the bar, hood up and face down. “Fucking finally! You’re two hours late Ian!”

“Sorry, Lena,” he mumbled quietly.

I grabbed his arm when he tried to move past me. “What’s going on?” When he finally looked up to reveal his face, beaten and bruised and covered in deep scratches I yanked his hood down and began looking over his head for any signs of injuries. “What happened?” I demanded, looking over Ian’s face gently.

“I got jumped in the alley last night. One of Dom's new guys thought I was causing trouble or something.”

I stood up straighter. “Which one?”

Ian shook his head. “It’s okay Lena, I’m alright.”

“Like hell you are,” Quinn said, leaning over to look at his face. “You’re gonna need at least three stitches.”

“Which one, Ian?”

He nodded toward the table Dom and the bikers usually sat at. “Red bandana.”

I looked over at Quinn. “You and Prue get him cleaned up.”

“On it!”

Knocking on Ozzy’s office door I hollered. “OZ, I need you to help Max cover the bar for a minute!”

Once I heard him respond I moved quickly, brushing past Jake and making my way toward the table of bikers. Isaac called out to me to wait and Patrick was on his feet in an instant. Grabbing their small tray of drinks I tipped it over right into the man in the red bandana's lap. He shot up. “What the hell?”

“Stay the fuck away from the bartenders.”

With a loud chuckle, he moved closer toward me, nostrils flaring and eyes wide. “I don’t take orders from little fucking cunts.”

I stood my ground, hands burning as I tightened them into fists. “Well if you want to keep your teeth I suggest you make an exception.”

Just as he took another step toward me, one that would have put us chest to chest Dom’s hand shot out and pushed against his chest. “That’s enough, Malcolm.”

“She’s the one you gotta tell,” he insisted. “Crazy cunt wants a fight.”

Patrick tapped my arm. “Come on Lena, let security handle this clown.”

"Put your bitch on a leash Dom or I'll do it for you,” I spat as I brushed past him.

Quinn cleared out a booth and shoved Ian into the seat, setting down the glass and filling it to the brim with tequila. “You’re gonna want to drink that.”

Prue had already donned the gloves from the first aid kit and was preparing everything she needed to take care of Ian’s injuries. Sasha blew his smoke toward me with a smile. “How glad I am to not be on the other side of the claws!”

“The night’s still young,” I replied, only half paying attention to him. Ozzy stood behind the bar, watching me with a careful gaze, one I usually saw right before he scolded me for being reckless. I got Prue’s attention with a gentle touch to her shoulder and signed, “You got this?”

“Of course I do,” she responded. “I am a professional.”

With the knowledge that Ian was safely in the hands of Quinn and Prue, I quickly excused myself to escape the overwhelming noise and Ozzy’s concerned gaze. The back hall that led to the bathrooms was always a bit crowded, but the noise was usually manageable. I just needed a minute, one quick minute to clear my head. Jake’s familiar voice called out down the hall, “Hey, you alright?”

I looked up to see him making his way through the mess of bodies, either sharing whatever drugs Dom had sold them or nearly tearing each other's clothes off. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look like it,” he insisted.

“If I need your help, I’ll ask for it.” I reminded him coldly.

Jake shook his head. “Come on, Lena, I thought you wanted to be friends.”

Rolling my eyes I leaned back against the wall. “I don’t like people that gossip about my life.”

“It wasn’t gossip.”

“You were talking about me behind my back with someone I think I’ve made it pretty clear I don’t trust.” I shrugged. “That sounds an awful lot like gossip to me.”

“I know Simone comes off strong, but I think you’d like her if you gave her a chance.”

“I don’t need to give her a chance, I already know everything I need to.”

He looked upset at my response, more so at my implication that I didn't trust her, and shook his head in frustration, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag before speaking again, “Well, she's all I had for a long time. We tell each other everything.”

It was like talking to a wall. A really dumb, really pretty wall. “If you can’t keep my shit out of your little honesty pow-wows then just say it and move on Jake.”

"You don't get it," he said, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth.

"Let me guess, no one does?" I finished with a scoff. "That might make a good argument against innocent little doe-eyed girls that don’t know better, but it won't cut it with me."

Jake scoffed a dark, venomous smirk spread on his lips. "You don't know anything about what we went through."

"Do you really think you're the only ones that got dealt a shitty hand?" I demanded all that rage, all that fire burning hot inside my lungs. "Cause newsflash you aren't." The floodgates opened in an instant, memories of all I'd endured… All I'd given… All I'd lost filled every inch of my being. "You weren't the only ones that got neglected or beaten or starved or that lost someone you loved. You weren't the only ones thrown off the deep end and told to sink or swim…" my voice faltered as tears stung my eyes. Jake's anger was gone, replaced by that hideous and all too familiar look. Pity. I shoved myself off the wall and pushed past him. "Go home, Jake."

His hand moved quickly, wrapping around my arm and causing a chill to run up my spine followed by the instinctual flinch I'd thought I put behind me. "Lena -"

I pulled my arm free and glared at him. "Go. Home."

Thankfully he didn't try to follow me as I made my way out the back door and across the dark alley. The Ring was quiet tonight, most of the regulars were at home sleeping to prepare for the coming fights. I moved to the back locker, dinged and dented and covered in old stickers and graffiti, and nearly ripped it open to grab the old boxing gloves with Dad and Peter's names sewn into the leather. I wrapped my hands tightly and shoved them into the gloves.

Chains created and groaned as my fists collided with the dense bag in front of me. Old faces blurred my vision. Pain ignited in my chest as my breaths grew uneven and my punches hit harder.

"Show me what you've got."

"So, Lena Glover?”

"I guess I'm just disappointed."

"Should I be calling you Glover now?"

"This isn't you."

"Come on little one! I don’t have all day!"

Two arms wrapped around me, pulling me gently back into the familiar smell of Patrick's cheap cologne and Irish whiskey. "Breathe Lena. You need to breathe."

I could feel the water pulling me down, could feel the cold biting at my limbs, and taste the bitterness of the water on my tongue. As my vision blurred more I could see the outline of the boat, and the figure that stood on it. "Sink or swim."

“Just breathe.”

Sink or swim.

30 notes · View notes

whoopsyeahokay · 1 month

Text

October Sun

summary: your mother had warned you. Don't let them know, she'd said, her nails digging angry crescents into the flesh of your upper arms, eyes wild and imploring, don't let them know you can see. you'd listened, all these years, you'd lived your life by that rule. until you couldn't.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.1

Like most things, it started with a look.

A boy. A girl. A crowded place; a friend talking—their voice muted as if heard through a motel wall. Time slows. People filter in and out of the space between, chatting, laughing, in frame just long enough to emphasize the weight behind something that, in any other context, would be utterly unimportant.

Simon had urged you outside at lunch, pulled you away from your table, tone frayed in desperation as he interrogated you about things you're certain you'd made seem the expression of a morbidly quirky imagination.

"Well," He said, like jabbing the eraser-end of a pencil into your sternum, "Can you?"

You hesitated, gaze lifting away from his to skirt the middle-distance behind him.

And then—

It happened molasses-slow. Your eyes caught his; lingered a beat too long to be played off as anything other than what it was. Acknowledgment.

Those sweet-sultry cow eyes widened a fraction.

Oh no.

Then time rushed back in and snapped into the correct rhythm. You didn't have a chance to process what had just happened because Simon sighed with the weight of the world, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and pulling. Quickly, you arranged your expression into something slightly put-off.

"Si, what are you talking about?"

Simon groaned and took a few steps back then forward again. He reminded you of a caged animal being forced to perform. Lately, his mannerisms had been erratic, a little unhinged. You'd caught him talking to himself a couple of times, in classrooms or the cafeteria. The last couple of days he'd been glued to his phone, taking spontaneous calls that he'd never received before. Initially, you'd assumed he was in touch with Maddie; the only one she'd trusted enough to keep in the loop. However, the more you'd observed, the more you'd doubted the assumption.

You'd watched him unravel from a distance, of course. Nicole had turned inward, Simon was bursting at the seams, and you, as the casual friend with a life separate to theirs, stayed away out of a sense of insecurity.

You and Maddie hadn't been as close as she and Simon and Nicole. You shared interests in the macabre and spooky, but that's where it ended. Event Buddies who became familiar through exposure, lacking that profound connection that would give you a reason to call about something other than the next horror film release date.

You didn't feel right about asking to share their grief. It felt intrusive.

Simon paced the length of the bus shelter once more before stopping in front of you. He was clearly nervous, frustrated, avoiding your gaze for a second while he collected his thoughts.

Finally, he took a deep breath, glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, and said, low and secret, "You talked about the ghosts here—" You folded your arms and tilted your head in what you hoped came across as confused. "—Last year," Simon grabbed your arm and pulled you in closer when a group of younger girls walked by, "Last year, you told us about the crush you had on your mom's dead boyfriend, remember? The guy who died during the '83 homecoming game?"

"They never dated." You corrected, fighting the urge to chew your lip. A giveaway that you were about to choose your words very carefully. "But, look, Simon, I talked about that stuff because I thought it was fun. Not because I can commune with the dead."

"But your mom—"

"Is a fraud and you know it." Then you frowned, genuinely intrigued, "What's going on?"

Simon shot you a dazed look, "Huh?"

"Why are you suddenly into this Sixth Sense shit? You've never believed in it before. A stance you've made very clear you take." Every time you joked about reaching out to the Other Side, Simon would scoff and roast you endlessly. Something that you found endearing. Like a prickly inside joke. It was your thing.

Suddenly, Simon got that look on his face, the one he got in class when your teachers outlined your homework. As if he were listening to someone. Except there was no one else close enough to hear.

The silence stretched into a thin static between you until, at last, Simon said, "Never mind." He sounded equal parts defeated and aggravated.

Taking a cautious step forward, you placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry about Maddie, Si, I—" Have no idea how to put into words how fucked up it all is, "—I wish there was something, anything, I could do to help."

Simon pressed his lips together and nodded. From the corner of your eye, you saw a figure approaching the bus shelter. Tall, broad, donning the unmistakable colors of the Split River Bandits, née Devils. You had to get out of there before you irrevocably fucked up and found yourself at the center of what your mother warned you would be a swarm.

"Look," You dropped your hand to Simon's, squeezing supportively. You might not have been able to tell the whole truth but you could try to offer some comfort. Whether or not he believed you was up to him. "Maddie's okay, Simon. Wherever she is. Whatever happened to her..." You paused, considering your next words, "She can't be so far gone that we won't get her back."

You said it with all the conviction you had in you, believed it to your core.

You'd seen the beatnik with her lollipops, the shy boy with the glasses; you'd seen the young man in the outdated suit, and the modest, Sally Olsson lookalike, and the girl with the daydream eyes. You'd seen the myspace emo punk, the lanky autoshop geek, the dark-skinned disco queen; the marching band, and the theater kid...and him. The charming, high-on-life football star currently stood outside the bus shelter, his hands cupped around his eyes as he peeked through the glass against the glare of the sun.

You hadn't seen Maddie. Not a glimmer or a shadow or the impression that she'd been and gone. Nothing. And you'd done your due diligence as soon as you'd heard about the blood in the boiler room. You'd scoured the town after dark, before school, whenever you could get away without raising suspicion. Her old haunts and favorite places had been empty.

Minus a couple of exceptions, but they hadn't been Maddie, so you didn't see the harm in continuing to keep the truth from Simon.

"Yeah." Simon said. He didn't sound convinced. "Thanks. For that."

You deflated, released his hand with an affirming squeeze, and made your excuse, "I gotta get ready for next period."

He didn't meet your eyes, simply pulled his phone out and put it to his ear. "See you later." The smile he gave you was tight, quick, insincere.

Taking that as your cue to leave, you turned and exited the bus shelter, tall dark 'n' handsome keeping pace as you made your way back into the school, his gaze a warm weight on the side of your face.

All you had to do was pretend he wasn't there. You'd done it countless times in the past, were well-versed in how to cover your mistakes.

You stopped briefly, reached out to open the door, and in that second, you felt a tingle up your spine and the closeness of a body behind you. His voice, low and teasing, spoke directly into your ear, the parody of soft breath tickling the hairs on your neck.

"I know you can see me."

You forced yourself not to react, perhaps stood a second too long before yanking the door open and marching inside, but you kept your eyes forward, and relaxed your jaw and shoulders. To the students milling about the hall, you were the picture of normal.

"Do what you want but I'm not going anywhere until you admit it." He said lightly, a step behind you as you maneuvered toward your locker.

Once again, you had to stop, twisting in the combination to open your lock. You fumbled, missing a number, had to start again. He leaned his shoulder against the locker beside yours, watched you through his lashes, a smirk pulling one side of his mouth upward.

You'd always been attracted to him. Had to suppress the urge to stare at him when he appeared in the same classroom or hallway you happened to be in. Having him interact with you, intentionally, made your heart quicken and the ability to think critically dissolve.

Oh God, not again...

Your brain fired a thousand synapses in every direction as you willed yourself to hurry before you accidentally did something stupid; steadied your hand to input the combination correctly. You tugged the lock. It stayed stubbornly latched. And then he leaned in, too close, the tip of his nose practically grazing your temple.

"You missed the 3."

The air was syrupy thick, fuzzy. In an effort to concentrate, you closed your eyes, repeating a mantra your mother had taught you to center yourself.

You sensed his body shift, tilted further toward you like a bracket, then the sensation of blunt nails traveling up up up your back, catching in the material of your shirt as if the touch were real. Goosebumps erupted over your arms, your breath hitched, and you found your head slanting in his direction.

Fuck. You needed to—BANG—Jesus Christ!

Your eyes snapped open at the abrupt noise, your friend cackling wickedly as she took in your shock.

"Hey, silly." Mathilda Grace—of The Split River Graces, not that she'd ever say it like that—grinned proudly at the reaction she'd gotten out of you. "You ready to fail this test with me?"

You could still feel him hovering, but it seemed he'd put an appropriate amount of distance between you. Shaking your head to clear the last of the muzziness from a moment ago, you plastered on your most natural smile and responded, "Let's go disappoint our parents."

You managed to undo the lock and grab the right textbooks, transferring what you didn't need from your bag into your locker while Mathilda regaled you with what you'd missed after Simon had dragged you outside.

"What did he want, anyway?" Mathilda asked, more concerned than curious.

"To talk about Maddie." You replied as close to the truth as you dared. It had the added benefit of making Mathilda feel awkward enough to change the subject immediately.

"K, c'mon, bell's about to go and I need to grab my book, too."

Shutting and locking your locker, you chanced a sideways glance and were relieved to find that it was just you and Mathilda and the regular stream of other alive-and-well students making their way to their next class.

Still, as you and Mathilda walked toward Ms. Fields' class, you felt the tingle of his gaze on the back of your neck.

The next couple of days would be white-knuckle hard, but you'd dealt with it before and could do it again. Had to do it again.

What you didn't anticipate—and probably should've, given what you knew about him—was Wally Clark's steadfast determination and his refusal to let sleeping dogs lie for a second time.

💀___________________________

PART TWO

note: i'll just leave this here for now :) i have a whole idea, fully fleshed out, but am also developing an actual Series Compliant fic that uses some of the same elements as this story 😅

if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please join the tag list!

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits

227 notes · View notes