My Mythic Bitch In Red

Chapter Forty-Two

(y/n)'s POV

I snuggled deeper into Heather's body tiredly. We were cuddling for a couple hours now after doing... that, and I got the feeling she had fallen asleep whilst spooning me. She hadn't talked in what I think was two hours, and her breathing against my back was gentle and steady.

I felt good, and loved. She was really good at making sure you knew she cared, even when being more dominant and aggressive. And the goal had been achieved, since both of us were much less tense than before.

I glanced down at the t-shirt I was wearing. It was bright red, Heather's signature color. I used to think everything she owned was red because it was her color, but it was actually the opposite. She really just loved the color and decided to take it for herself once Mac suggested the idea of color coding.

Wow, I said color so many times in that one train of thought.

I decided I might as well get up and find a book to read or something, so I gently lifted Heather's arm off me and wiggled my way off of her fluffy bed to prevent waking her. I glanced back and saw that she was fully asleep, with her eyes delicately closed. She looked a lot less intimidating when she was asleep, and way more pretty. And that was saying something, because she was known to be absolutely breath-taking 24/7.

My thighs were sore and my neck hurt a bit, definitely decorated in love bites and cherry red lipstick.

I found my shorts on the floor, having only put on a t-shirt and panties afterward just in case somebody walked in. They were thrown in the corner, so I walked over to pick them up and put them on, noticing that there was also lipstick on my exposed thighs, so I tried to rub it off.

I didn't exactly succeed, but it was good enough, leaving only faint pink smears.

I opened the door gently, glancing back. She was stirring, going to hold one of her pillows tightly. I smiled softly at her. Whatever she did, she was so adorable. She wouldn't call herself adorable in a million years, she'd (at least publicly) rather call herself "sexy" or "hot" but she was adorable and sweet and an absolute cinnamon roll.

I made my way down the stairs to get a glass of water, ankles a bit sore from my run here earlier. My footsteps were hesitant and nearly silent as I was practically a ghost walking through an old haunted mansion.

I wondered if this place was haunted. Apparently it was as old as the town we lived in itself, and it had a dark, creepy vibe to it. It seemed like prime real estate for someone to get murdered and walk these halls for the rest of eternity.

With that thought, I went into the kitchen and found a glass, filling it up with water and turning on the kitchen tv.

It opened to the news that made me nearly drop the glass in my hand, shakily setting it on the counter behind me.

"Two football stars found dead at the local graveyard, and revealed as gay" was displayed across the screen, showing a picture of Kurt and Ram together, smiling into the camera in their letterman jackets.

"It was determined that this was a double suicide, with the two teens having written a suicide note about their gay romance. One had a gunshot through the heart, and one through the head. The gun was left next to the note, that was pinned to a tree near where their bodies were found two hours ago," the reporter said without a tinge of sympathy.

How? I'd seen them, alive and well just that day. And why was he so angry and cruel to me when he was in the exact same boat? Something didn't add up.

I shakily took a sip of my water and with wide, glassy eyes, bolted upstairs and back into Heather's room.

I shook her awake, body filled with adrenaline and confusion and fear at the things that didn't make sense. She blinked, looking at me.

"(y/n), baby, what's wrong?" She asked groggily.

"I saw it on the news, Kurt and Ram are dead and it says it's a suicide but I don't think-" she cut me off by kissing me softly, wrapping my body in a gentle, loving hug.

"Hey, I'm sure everything's fine. Now tell me exactly what they're saying,"

"They said it was a suicide, and that they were in a gay relationship. But that can't be true, Ram got offended that we were dating this morning and I really don't think it's true," I told her, breathing in deeply.

"Then what do you think is true?" She prompted.

"I... I think they were murdered," I whispered, as if the killer would come for me next. She must have seen the fear on my face because she pulled me into a fierce, protective hug.

"Whoever it is isn't coming after us, okay? And if they dare, I'll protect you," she assured me, whispering in my ear. I just pulled her closer, paranoid that whoever it was would be watching me and stabbing me the second I left the embrace.

"But why would anyone kill them? It's... it doesn't make sense. They clearly meant to do it, since they were both shot," I whispered weakly. She stroked the back of my head comfortingly.

"Just like they made a lot of friends, they had tons of enemies. Plenty of people in and out of the school dislike them and their families, it could have been anyone,"

Then, I realized something horrific.

"What if people think it's me who killed them? I bolted out of the school and I clearly had motive, since he publicly embarrassed me and slapped me."

"Calm down, love. I don't think anybody else even pieced it together. They probably just think that Ram was deflecting the attention onto you to stay further in the closet until the big 'suicide', so you should be fine." She assured gently. I gave up speaking and just let myself melt into her embrace and just hope for the best.

(1053 words)