The City | GirlxGirl

two ➳

She liked to watch the lights in the apartments surrounding the bar subsequently shut off after midnight. It was when she took her break. Alcohol was sticky on the palm of her hands, but despite it, she ran her fingers through the dark brunette hair, and checked the time on her phone.

12:06AM.

There was enough time to make it there and back before her break ended. And Jon was lenient, especially if she brought up the reason for returning late to her shift. But she wouldn't bring it up. To anyone. Ever.

Toronto didn't scare her like it scared Blair. Her best friend of four years locked herself inside of her apartment as soon as the sun set. But Skylar liked walking at night, especially alone. With her hands turning cold in the pockets of her coat, she strode quickly along the street the bar sat upon, which always seemed to suddenly transition into the cemetery.

Second row, fourth grave from the left. She knew it like the back of the hand she had only known a year, but had loved like it was half her soul. And now she stood, converse sinking slowly into the damp grass, light snow falling, falling, falling, and gently resting upon her shoulders. Half her soul buried in the ground beneath her. Dead.

"Four years." Skylar's voice, a whisper, was drowned out by the traffic that passed the busy street that seemed so inappropriate for a cemetery to be built on. If it was up to her, Logan wouldn't have been buried in Toronto. She would've been laid to rest somewhere quiet; far away from the cars that killed her.

But then she couldn't come visit. Not every year, on the anniversary of the accident. Not whenever she felt like she had no one, because she didn't, except for Blair. And that was complicated. She just wanted Logan back.

Her phone rang. That seemed inappropriate, too. Nonetheless, she answered it.

"Hi."

"Hey, Sky."

"Blair, don't-"

"Right," the girl on the other end of the call said quickly, "sorry. Skylar. Sorry. Where are you? It's loud."

"Cemetery."

Blair sighed, her voice turning softer than usual. Skylar felt her heart rate, which had seemed so slow throughout her shift, pick up.

"Skylar," she said, and the way she said it gave rise to heat on Skylar's skin, protecting her from the frigid air and the snow that was beginning to fall faster.

Skylar turned from Logan's grave. A part of her would always feel like she was cheating.

"It's been four years, Blair. I had to come and see her," said Skylar.

"I know, Skylar, I know. I just don't think it's good for you. How are you doing, though? You upset?"

Skylar bit her lip. Not one to cry, even when thinking of or being with Logan, she felt the unfamiliar lump in her throat, and tried to swallow it down. She lied, "I'm alright. Just like to visit every now and then. You understand."

"Of course." An awkward pause. Then, "Come over after your shift tonight, okay?"

"It'll be late."

"It's okay. You shouldn't be alone tonight, and I'll be up. Give me a call when you're coming, okay, Skylar?"

It was only because the voice on the phone eased the tear in her heart that she agreed, albeit guilty. She got off the phone as quickly as possible, looked at the time, and bid goodbye to Logan. She knew, every time she stood here, and said goodbye to the grave, that it would not be her last time visiting.