: drftngwy Fandom
: PG-13 for languageDisclaimer
: [insert quip explaining my claim to nothing here.]A/N
: Set around the beginning of s4. My first Skins fic. (Ooooh)
There was a limit to what she could hide.
An extent to which she could pretend.
This wall she's built is crumbling down and she doesn't know what she's going to do when it does because she's alone and terrified and absolutely hopeless. It's happening faster than she imagined and quicker than she can handle and the panic paralyzes her, Medusa and the innocent. Although she's not one to consider innocent.
She's had her share of fuck ups. Her deal of vices.
She built this fucking wall to hide from something she couldn't understand and now it's being torn apart and she doesn't know what to do. She's scrambling for something to hold on to but everything's crumbling. She gets her fingers on something stable and it crashes and burns right under her. The ground's giving in and she's only got one choice.
It's that leap of faith bullshit that's been shoved down her throat by the sitcoms and dramas and it's the last thing she'd expect herself to do because she knows that seventy-five percent of the time, the jumper ends up alone and broken and she can't handle that. She can't deal with that because it's why she's been so fucking distant with everyone. She can't handle these repercussions, taunting her as the floor starts to cave in.
But then she sees this quiet girl, lips curved into a hopeful smile, asking that she jump, because she's there, there
and she's not going to let her fall. She won't let her fall and break and find herself alone in the ruins of her own wall.
Because that's what the jump is for. That's what this leap is for.
Trust me. Leap. Jump. I have you. I love
you. Trust me.
But she doesn't know if she can because she's seen what it's done to her mates. Her parents. She's seen what it's done to the characters of those sitcoms and dramas. It's an overwhelming thought and suddenly, she can't even think properly, let alone move
because of all this being thrown at her.
She's got a girl on the other side extending her arm, ready and willing to catch her, but she can't fucking get herself to move. It's this Medusa thing again because her legs won't respond. (She may as well be stone.) Her knees buckle and her hands tremble, but she can't get herself to take the leap and the fact scares her shitless because she's beginning to take it as a sign. Like they shouldn't be together. Like Romeo and Juliet, Tristan and Isolde. Perhaps taking the jump takes them both down.
But what else is there?
Her walls are crashing and her floor is caving and all there is is this redheaded girl with her arm extended and her eyes begging for this leap. Trust me. Love me.
She doesn't understand why she can't move.
Since she was twelve she's found herself in this dilemma, this catastrophe that she knows can't end well because nothing ever does. But she's got her now. She's got who she's loved for five years with her hand ready to grab hers in a moment's notice. Why can't she move now?
She's got nothing steady, nothing firm going for her except for this girl and her arm and her eyes. Trust me.
But then she realizes that there's another choice because behind her is another arm, another person, another girl with puppy eyes and a sad smile saying nothing. Her walls are crumbling and she's got two choices.
She can take the leap and risk falling, crashing, breaking.
Or she can take this simple step back, and grab the sad girl's hand. It'd be too easy, too thoughtless.
But she sees her redhead's eyes, brilliant and so hopeful, begging, trust me. I love you. Trust me.
It's this disaster she's gotten herself into. The ground beneath her is gone and she can't find the stability to leap anymore. It's too late to take the jump, and so she falls back. Takes the sad girl's hand and fucks up like she does when she's too terrified to think.
Her walls are gone.