Mature. Viewer Discretion is advised.
*The people inside of this work are FACE-CLAIMS. This has no correlation to any IRL individual.*
*This is messy plot. Made when I was a teen. Beware.*
The story of a young woman who finds her style, self worth...
"I been working all night and now I need to hear you call my name. Where you at? On the way..." ♫ On The Way by TWENTY88.
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"Let me get this straight — you told him you loved him on accident in the car, didn't realize it for eight fucking hours, and then when he said 'I love you too', you didn't suck the soul out of his dick?"
"I didn't!"
"No!" Arthur gasped, propped up on my messy bed in my messy bedroom with Morris, a pillow, and a margarita in his lap. His wide blue eyes tracked my every step as I paced around the room in my pajamas, sipping on my own cocktail through a swirly straw.
"Yes! Yes!" I yelled with panic, gulping down the tequila as fast as I could and collapsing into my bean bag chair with a worried frown the size of a Cadillac. I bounced my knee impatiently on the floor and tugged on the roots of my hair, "And it gets worse! I-I didn't even kiss him, or say something corny or funny or adorable—"
"What'd you do?"
"I fucking... laughed!"
"Nooooooooo!" Arthur slapped a hand over his mouth, making Morris's ears twitch and his head lift in shock too.
I could just tell he was thinking: 'you dirty' heartbreaker bitch.' And I deserved it.
The thought of Harlow's awkward laugh of confusion made me want to scoop my eyeballs out n' pop 'em on a skewer to roast over a fire.
Death to me, now, now, now.
"I did!" I exclaimed, covering my face with my hands and whimpering into them, "I laughed a-and then I hugged him like, silently. Si—lent—ly. He just stood there for a minute and you know what, probably contemplated suicide now that I think about it—"
"How did you not realize you'd said 'I love you?'"
"My mind was on other things, Artie..." I whined, standing back up on my jittery, anxious legs, "I was worried about him, and worried about the trial with Axel, I wasn't thinking about the words I was saying? I guess..." I scratched my head, "I guess I've just known for so long that it felt so natural. 'Cause I love him, I do."
"Then why aren't you at his house, like I said, sucking the soul out of his dick and saying it until your lips fall off?"
"'Cause — I don't know. I felt bad and..." I walked toward the bed and crawled on, sitting next to Morris and laying my legs across Arthur's, "Maybe in a way, I feel like once I say it, it'll get too real, and then, he'll get scared?"
"And what? Leave you? Come on."
"You don't know him like I do" I sighed.
"Harlow can't handle a billion things on his plate at once. He doesn't compartmentalize things well and with Bella passing, with Cosette treating him like a punching bag, and with me bringing up all of these very real, very committal feelings, he's the type to run off if he feels boxed in."
