firecracker // rodrick heffley

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sylvia's head spun. She sat in the driver's seat of her car, palms tingling, body set aflame by his touch. He was always doing that to her. She missed him terribly, despite having been in his presence mere minutes ago. She ached to see him again, remembering something he had said the week before.

---

"What are you doing Halloween night?" he asked quietly.

"I don't- don't know," Sylvia tried to answer, but her words came out breathy and weak.

"I want you to spend it with me," Rodrick murmured into her ear. "Do you want to?"

"Y-yes," she shuddered, Rodrick's hand on her neck. Her breathing was shaky as Rodrick pulled away, a grin on his face.

"Perfect."

---

She smiled at the thought of his fingers on her throat. Somehow, despite her life being fully in his hands, she never felt unsafe with him. Never uncomfortable, never defensive, never insufficient. She was happy with him - he never took advantage of her, and she trusted him more than she had trusted anyone in her life before. Sylvia almost felt guilty admitting this - her closest relationship was her high school boyfriend? First high school boyfriend, at that. 

But it felt right. It felt like she was made for him when the shape of her body fit like a puzzle piece underneath him. It must have been chemical when he touched her for the first time. She couldn't imagine life without him, couldn't remember how she had lived without him, couldn't go more than a few minutes without thinking of him.

Which is why she was so dumbfounded when he disappeared. 

---

Halloween night was a blur. She was with Rodrick in a car (not his), when suddenly there was smoke, throttling her lungs, suffocating her, stealing her breath, painfully stripping the oxygen from her respiratory system- 

"Sylvia!" she heard Rodrick hiss. And she was back in the car with him, her gaze unfocused as they sped down the highway, the distant sirens of fire trucks and emergency vehicles sounding. The tires of the car squealed to a stop in front of her house. He looked at her expectedly, a manic glint in his eyes. 

"Rodrick..." she started, not knowing what exactly she was going to ask.

Reluctantly, he opened his mouth. "Goodnight, Sylvia," his voice caught in his throat as he spoke - it was almost imperceptible, but Sylvia noticed.

She didn't know what to do. So she got out of the car. "Bye, Rodrick," she whispered back to him, closing the door and watching him drive off.

---

November came and went. Sylvia hadn't seen him. She had tried to fill the void with various pastimes - usually, those pastimes were new guys. Sometimes she would suck them off, or let them get to second with her, but she never slept with them - it felt sacrilegious to her. 

Her latest guy was Dallon - a guitarist for a band he told people was untitled, to preserve its artistic integrity (or something like that - Sylvia tried to tune out his hyper-obscure bullshit).

She sat on Dallon's bed. Her gaze traveled around his room. Bare walls except for two posters - The Smiths and Radiohead. His guitar was in the corner, seeming to be collecting dust. 

"Wanna take off your shirt?" Dallon asked as he put out a cigarette in the ashtray on his nightstand. 

"Sure." Unenthusiastically, Sylvia lifted her top above her head.

"Weird tits." Dallon's stare was fixed on her chest.

"What?" Sylvia's tone took on an annoyed inflection.

"You have weird tits," he repeated, as though he hadn't a clue that he was acting like a dick.

She thought of Rodrick, running his hands over her body, his care for her evident in the way he touched her. She remembered how his eyes would flutter closed in ecstasy, and how his grasp on her waist was firm, his eyes meeting hers as he made her come.

With a sigh, she picked up her tee. "Fuck off." She pushed her arms through both holes, her head poking out the top of the shirt. 

"What? Babe, what the fuck did I do?"

"Let's not hang out anymore," she said as she shut his bedroom door behind her, walking out to her car. From the driver's seat, she tried to call Rodrick for what must have been the millionth time since Halloween. No response - just the outgoing voicemail message.

"We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel this is in error, please check the number dialed, and please try again."

11/17/2011

I miss him.

-XOX, S.R. Melnik

a/n

l m a o sorry for short update and for not updating in like a month i got rlly busy with school so i couldn't really work on this fic but try not to be too mad at me haha i am on fall break so i should have another short update out by the end of the week or so!!!!