𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 ℂ𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 ➶

𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: ℝ𝕦𝕟𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪

Valentina didn't know how long she spent bawling her eyes out. Strong emotions often made people lose track of time, and she was no exception to the rule.

The only thing that snapped her out of her depression fog was...

"Val?" A familiar masculine voice called out. Not Gomez's, thankfully. She turned to see none other than Deuce Petropolus, dressed in the most dashing emerald-green tuxedo, making his way over to her. "What are you doing out here? Gomez and Morticia are turning the Great Hall upside-down looking for you!" Then he stopped suddenly, only a few feet away. "You've been crying," he stated incredulously.

She wondered what gave her away --the swollen-shut eyes, the wobbly lower lip, the barely-suppressed sobs?-- before realizing that her mascara was probably running like a river down her cheeks.

Great. Terrific. Just awesome! She wished she were dead.

Not trusting her voice, she hid her hideous face in her hands and continued to cry.

She expected him to walk away, maybe go and grab the boy and girl she'd conned into liking her so that they could deal with her. But he didn't.

There was a beat of silence, followed by the sound of footsteps... Except they were approaching rather than hurrying away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Deuce asked as he shrugged out of his tux jacket and delicately draped it over her shoulders.

She hadn't realized how cold she was until the warmth of his coat enveloped her. She still almost gave it back... The combination of pink and green undoubtedly made her look like a frog... But found herself pulled it shut around herself instead.

"I-- I w-w-wanna..." She swallowed around a wail, breathing hard --in short little gasps-- until she thought she could trust her voice again. "I wanna--!"

She wanted to break up with Morticia and Gomez. She'd felt this way for a while, but this evening had brought all those feelings to a head.

Deuce was hardly the person to tell this to, however, so she eventually just shook her head and stared down at the ground between her feet, hiccuping up sobs every now and then.

"Don't want to talk about it, eh? Can't say I blame you," he sighed. "How about the next best thing? A distraction!" That had her glancing up again, although this time in confusion. And, when she did, he held out his hand to her, palm up, in offering. "Run away with me," he said.

Valentina looked at him and then over his shoulder at the exit she'd slipped out of. She couldn't stay here forever. Eventually her beaus' search area would widen to the point where they would find her. In fact, it already had. She couldn't avoid them forever. But she could postpone the inevitable.

So, with a nod of determination, she took Deuce's hand.

~~~

It turned out that, as a third-year, Deuce had a car on campus: a bright scarlet convertible. He put the hood down before starting the car, racing like a bat out of hell away from Nevermore and toward the only other civilization for miles: Jericho.

The breeze tousled Valentina's well-sculpted curls, undoubtedly ruining them. She didn't care at this point. The wind in her hair was a welcome change. It made her feel alive, aware of her every breath.

Not five minutes into the drive, she found herself playing with the radio, not settling on any channel too long until she found one dedicated to the late, great Hank Williams. "Settin' The Woods On Fire" came up first. It immediately raised her spirits.

"You have the musical tastes of a grandma," Deuce remarked dryly, but he didn't make her change the station.

She gave him a half-shrug. "I like what I like." This was one of the few facets of herself that she refused to be ashamed of.

Eventually, they arrived in the small town. It was surprisingly bustling considering the time of night. A lot of the foot traffic was from Nevermore students, too. She could tell by all the teenagers dressed to the nines.

"What's everyone doing here and not at the dance?" She asked with a curious tilt of her head.

"I think they're just looking for a breath of fresh air," he answered before throwing her a side-long look and a smirk. "Kinda like you and me."

Valentina loved it here. There was no gossiping about her behind raised hands. In fact, not a single soul gave her more than a passing glance. If they knew who she was or who she was dating, they didn't appear to care one bit. And honestly? She wouldn't have it any other way.

These high school politics were going to be the death of her.

Deuce parallel-parked the car outside Wicked Beauty, the same shop where she got her dress for the Rave'N. She should have just given up early in her dress search and decided not to go... But hindsight was twenty/twenty.

Once the top was up and the car locked, the two of them walked in silence to The Weathervane. The quiet was oppressive, but she didn't quite know yet how to break it in a way that wasn't awkward.

After they'd sat down with their coffees, Valentina decided to just go for it. "Deuce, have you ever broken up with someone before?" She blurted out, absolutely graceless.

He let out a huff of laughter. "With more girls than you can count... And a handful of guys too!" She really should have guessed that. He was known as the campus player, after all.

"How do you do it?" She sighed, shoulders dropping as a wave of hopelessness washed over her.

"Well, for starters, always do it in person. Even if they've been a shitty partner, they deserve that much. It should be someplace private too. Be honest about the fact it's not working out. You don't have to give them a reason why. You don't have to comfort them. In fact, you shouldn't. It'll just add insult to injury."

Valentina really should be writing all this down. With no pen and paper nearby, she just made a mental note to herself: in person, private, honest, hurt/no comfort.

Deuce didn't ask her why she was asking him this. Maybe he wasn't trying to be nosey. Maybe he'd already made his own assumptions. She hoped it wasn't the latter, despite the fact that he probably assumed right.

She wanted to break up with Gomez and Morticia.

She didn't want this, hadn't since the very beginning. She didn't want them. Sure, she yearned for something like what they had. But that didn't equate to wanting to be with them. It wasn't fair to anyone to continue this farce of a relationship.

But, even with Deuce's advice, she still wasn't sure how to do it.

He leaned back in his chair and just looked at her for the longest time, as if he could read her mind. "Do you wanna dance?" He asked suddenly.

Valentina blinked at him like he'd just grown a second head right before her very eyes. "Dance? Now?"

Another chuckle. "Yeah! Why not? You never got to dance at the Rave'N, did you? You're quite the wallflower, y'know."

She felt the blood rush up her neck to pool in her face... Which wasn't good. Her blush wasn't two cute pink spots on her cheeks like one out of a cartoon. Instead, it made her entire face, from her widow's peak to the tip of her chin, all red and splotchy.

"There's no music," she said. It was a weaksauce excuse, but an excuse nonetheless.

"I can slip the barista a handful of bills, get him to close up shop early and put something on over the speakers that you'll like. What do you say?" Then, when she still hesitated, he followed that up with, "You're only going to get four Rave'Ns --max-- in your life. Don't you want to make this one memorable? For a good reason?"

The boy made a strong case. In fact, this might be her only Rave'N if she was exposed as Cupid's envoy and expelled for meddling with students' affairs.

So instead of protesting any more, she gave him a watered-down smile and said, "I'd like that."