If I Agreed With You, We Would Both Be Wrong.

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Trish didn't like empty houses. It wasn't as if she wasn't used to the scent of stagnant air, or the sound of her own breaths that always felt a little louder than usual whenever she was alone. When it just used to be her and her mother against the world, she would often stay cooped up in the large queen sized bed in the master bedroom. The muted colors and boundless blankets that had the faint scent of her mother's citrus shampoo were a comfort that carried her through many quiet nights. But now in this house so much farther and so much more lively than her own, she was spoiled with the gift of friendship and dependence.

Chaos seeped into her life, and she bathed in it, in the glory of company, in the gentle promise that she wouldn't have to be alone. But there she sat, lingering like a memory at the edge of the driveway. The chirps of birds and rush of waves a little ways away didn't do much to fill the quiet void that loomed over her like a heavy smog, worry and fear clouding her every thought.

Trish really didn't have time for this. She was a pop star, a rising influence whose hit debut sent her into the top 100. It was stressful, but the work reminded her of her mother arriving late into the night after hours of rehearsals to greet her little girl with a tired smile that no acting could mask. She kind of got it, that one thing to look forward to whenever you got home. But it wasn't a kid, It was (Y/N). Even if the others were busy, she was always there, lounging around or scavenging in the kitchen. And when she wasn't, she would be back soon, and she always had a few of the boys to catch up with, help Narcy with schooling, or hang out with Mista, or do Giorno's hair, but not this time.

They left in a rush, wordless but hurried. They didn't say a word, nor glance at her, but she knew. Not a few hours earlier (Y/N) had disappeared on the bus for a trip that they couldn't tell her about. She knew what that meant, it was some stupid, dangerous mafia mission. She knew why they didn't include her. She was a public figure now, and they wanted to keep her out of any scandals or misunderstandings, but it still hurt. (Y/n) was her friend. Why didn't anyone tell her about this? "It's unfair..."

Maybe (Y/N) would say that she is being silly, that she shouldn't worry so much, since nothing can kill her. But she's still human. She's still the girl that was so warm in the closet with her, with a touch that felt so gentle she could cry, and she wants to feel it again.

Perhaps that's how she found the energy to stand up, not bothering to brush off the grime and pebbles that stuck to her leggings. Her movements were robotic, driven to the one place that she could look for comfort, and she found it in (Y/N)'s bed. The sheets smelled like peaches, and if she closed her eyes, she could imagine the blankets as the jacket (Y/N) had thrown over her body when she mentioned the chill, the same one used to wipe her hands off days prior.

Closing her eyes, she stood there again. Right by the sea, no one else in sight as (Y/N) balanced on the fence with carefree wonder. Unlike their first meeting, (Y/N) didn't wear an eyepatch. Sneakers shuffled along the iron bars in quick succession, her face blurred by the sun just past. "(Y/N), don't fall off."

"It's okay." She replied, turning around to face her. The smile she sported was so... her. So loving and kind and soft that her heart melted. "It's not too bad."

"I don't want you to hurt yourself." Her body inched closer, unable to reach. Ah, this must be a dream. No wonder. No matter what she says, the real (Y/N) wouldn't hear, would she? "I just want you to be safe. Can't you come back? I don't want to lose you. You're my best friend and my kindest companion, and... and I really, really L-"

Wind roared, a burst throwing both of them to tumble over the edge. The ground looked miles away, but that wasn't her focus. A touch so warm her heart bloomed embraced her, even as the world around them spun. "Trish? Whatcha doing here?"

"Mmmh...?" Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, the pinkette glanced at the hand on her own, following its appendage up to the owner, (Y/N). She almost believed it was still afternoon if not for the darkness outside. Yellow light bathed them from the lamp on her desk, circling a large, weathered book that wasn't there before. But her attention was on (Y/N) who stood right above her, glowing just like a dream. A relief flooded her and she let out a breathy laugh as if it was silly of her to ever think she was incapable of handling herself. Leaping up from the bed, she threw herself onto the girl, both of them tumbling off the bed in a heap of blankets. "(Y/N)...! You're back!"

"Oof! Y-Yea, I'm back, did you have a nightmare or something?" (Y/N) gave her a crooked grin, mostly because of the pain on her tailbone.

"No, it was a pretty good dream." She reassured, lifting herself off the older teen. Maybe it was a dream, but maybe (Y/N) really did hear her wishes.

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Double update to make up for my lack of-

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