friends (rick riley and scott holland)(INDEFINITE HIATUS)

chapter eleven

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chapter eleven: homecoming part one (the reckoning)

a/n:

tw(s) — br*dy, emetephobia (marked by ✥ !)

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Gwen woke up the morning of the homecoming game with the premonition that something bad was going to happen.

It was the kind of feeling that sat heavy in her stomach and made it hard to get enough oxygen from each breath, one that carried—— no, haunted—— her through the whole day. The kind of internal ache that had her on her toes, waiting for some kid to have a heart attack during gym or for that rickety fan in her last-period class to finally rock its screws loose from the plaster. She waited, anxiously, for the other shoe to drop, for something to happen and explain why she felt so terrible, but nothing did. Nothing bad happened. No one dropped dead in the middle of Ted Orion's bootcamp-esque physical education class and the fan stayed bolted to the ceiling. Which leaves Gwen here, sitting in the passenger seat of Rachel's sedan, the beginnings of a headache throbbing in the base of her skull as Rachel does her best to rally them for the upcoming event in the most Rachel way possible.

"Which one: Like a Prayer or Like a Virgin?"

Somehow, though, the question feels more like the end-of-world event Gwen's body prepared for than something meant to cheer them up and Gwen, who's in the middle of unbuckling her seatbelt, looks up from the latch to look at the brunette with furrowed brows.

Any person who knows Rachel knows that she takes her Madonna very seriously. So, as she gestures wildly with the two CD cases and blows a bubble with her Juicy Fruit, Gwen hesitates.

Behind them, in the backseat, Alexa and Laney exchange a glance.

"I don't mind either of them." Laney says the safe answer, shifting her bookbag as it sits on her feet.

"Do you have her newest album?" Alexa asks. "Bedtime Stories? I've heard that was good."

Rachel leans across Gwen's lap to open the glove compartment and Gwen watches her shoulders sag.

"Nope. I don't."

"What about the Beastie Boys?"

"No. None of that, either."

"Oh," Laney finally speaks up, "what about Alanis Morissette?"

"Okay, guys, I have you two Madonna options. Pick from one or I'll kick you out of my car."

Gwen almost laughs as her thumb sinks into the button on the latch and her seatbelt comes undone. She bites her tongue, though, because even the thought of laughing makes her head hurt even more.

"Just go with Like a Virgin. I like more of the songs on that one."

"Thank you. That's how you answer questions."

As Rachel pops the CD case open, Gwen opens the door and stares up at her house with a strange expression. Then, she turns back to them and leans into the vehicle.