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Ava, Chapter 45: Phoebe

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Posted to Fanfiction.net June 27, 2004


     She left.  She's gone, why is she gone?  How can she, how, how can she leave me with this, with all this and me… I'm not ready!  She can't she's my home, my life, my stability.  It's not fair!  I'm just working myself out.  I need time, just a little time, please, Piper, please come back.  I can't believe it.  She's going to come back, it was just a joke, it was a

     She's missing a week.  She's missing the week I was missing her.  She's not coming back.  I don't know why I know, but she's not.  That week.  I remember seeing her at meals, at school, and she was happy, she was so happy.  Then the week after she was hard again.  Sullen, cynical, hard and miserable, she was.  Did I ask?  Did I care?  Did I even really notice?  Or was I too wrapped up in my high-school reverie to give a damn.

     What do I have now?  What do I have but a bunch of people who need looking out for?  What do I have but her, the one who won't meet my eyes?  Paige slides her hand over my elbow; she looks at the group.

     "Let's clear up.

     People start moving, start working, start going on with their lives.

     "She'll be back, come on," Paige whispers to me.  But she won't, I know she wont.  Life wasn't enough for her here.  She's dreaming again,

     But everyone leaves me, right?  No one really cares.  I'm worth nothing.  She told me that.  I'm not even together enough to organize cleaning up after lunch.

     I carry my plate into the kitchen.  She's in there, her hands in the dishwater.  I stare at her for a while, watching the bounce of her pigtails and the movement of her body.

     "Kylie?

     She turns.  I step into her, my arm sliding around her waist, and I press my lips against her surprised mouth.  In her mouth I can taste her laughter, her sweat, her innocence and her liquid.  I remember days where we forgot the world encased in each other's arms.  And I can feel her hands slowly and carefully detaching me.  She doesn't want this, I can tell.  I slide to her shoulder and cling in the manner of a limpet.

     "Idiot," she whispers softly in my ear.  "Come on, Phoebe.

     I push away and rub my face.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.

     "Yes you did.  You just wanted a little comfort.  Come on, don't be ashamed.

     But I'm embarrassed, and sorry, and I want to do it again.  I look away.

     "Phoebe.  I glance at her.  She looks almost as worried and embarrassed as I feel.  "I'm here for a week.  Do you want to go for coffee and talk sometime?

     "Yes.  It would always be yes.  My eyes caress her face.  She's all I want, but I might not get her.  Do I want her for more of a reason than tangling my body into hers and the sheets?  I want to remember how she feels.  I want to have this again, the way she slips her hand into mine when I'm feeling bad, how it sent shocks into me that chase away the loneliness.  I want the honesty that we didn't have last time.  I want to tell her that I love her.  I don't want to pretend that when I'm sad and need to be held that all I want is to be pressed against the bed and ravished.  That's a good word, ravished.  I'm not sure about its application here, but I want to ravish her again, and have her not be mad at me.  But coffee.  That's good.  I can do coffee.

Continue to Chapter 46

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