Alex/Mitchie-ness. Yay. (:
This is my first try with these two. Actually, I lied, this is like my fifth try, because I have several oneshot-ish type things written of them, but none of them are finished or even close to being finished. And then this popped into my head, which made me neglect everything else.
Anyway, have fun reading and let me know what you think. My first chapters are always much shorter than the following ones, so all the segments after this will be much longer.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Alex knows that everything seems, by default and common belief, darker and worse at night. But she's more than halfway convinced that the crescent, violet moons below this girl's eyes would look just as purple in the daylight. This nameless girl. This girl whose eyes have so much depth, they almost need a name of their own and Alex wants to know, she wants a name to call her, to soothe her.
Because she was unused to stumbling upon a broken and beaten body, so small and fragile, slumped against a concrete staircase on the sidewalks of ruthless New York city. Violence wasn't uncommon, no, but girls like this, this girl without a name, don't live on the receiving ends of fists and words so angry they almost bled. Girls like her have people that love them, even though Alex knew no more about her than what her quiet, strangled sobs sounded like past midnight. Girls like her don't bleed bruises. Girls like her smile real smiles that reach their eyes.
Alex couldn't understand why, then, was her skin paper thin with bruises infecting the pale pallets of her arms and legs, like splattered paint that was never meant to be spilled.
The streetlamp has an orange glow and an erratic flicker that seems almost deafening and Alex's ears don't hear the traffic of cars and footsteps because this broken girl is crying and Alex wants her to smile. She doesn't stop her knees from bending as she crouches down beside her, biting her lip while her heart rips into two separate chambers with different goals. One dead set on finding who did this to her and throttling them until they turned to colors so indistinguishable, it'd be impossible to find the start of one bruise and the end of a next. The other side of her is swayed by compassion and a concern that was tied like a drawstring from her chest to this girl. If she pulled too hard, the string would snap and she'd collapse.
So she stays close.
The girl isn't fully aware, isn't fully conscious. Alex can tell because they're making eye contact, but her head is lolling forward in a way that indicates she'll pass out any moment.
Alex pulls her phone out of her pocket, her thumb grazing familiar numbers quickly, frantically, as her other hand smoothes chestnut hair away from the other girl's face and she sees her tortured eyes momentarily slip shut. In a brief moment of panic, Alex lifts her chin and blurts a chain of fragmented words that she doesn't have time to think through.
"Hey, stay with me - eyes open, chin up," she says gently, but urgently.
She's got her cell phone cradled between her neck and shoulder and she could almost scream in anticipation because now is not the time for Harper to neglect a phone call. Just as she debates ending the call and dialing again, she hears the familiar click on the other end.
"Hello - ?" the voice is groggy, though not irritated.
"Harper, I need you to come get me." Alex's hands are cradling the stranger's face, her thumb brushing over bruises, new and old.
"Alex, do you have any idea what time it is -"
"I know, I know. I'll make this up to you, I promise," she knows she's saying it to Harper, but her eyes say it just as loudly to the girl in front of her. She wants to make it up to this torn soul, to wash away the blood on her skin and whisper away the scars she knows will be there. Alex doesn't know her, but that does nothing to extinguish the dire need to help her.
She hears Harper clamor out of bed and she couldn't ask for a better best friend. A sigh of relief heaves her shoulders up then down and she feels a little bit lighter. Her mystery charge twitches.
"I'm right outside the Westmont apartments," she adds, letting out a nervous hum as her companion coughs and drags in a breath like the oxygen is too thick.
"Westmont? I thought you were -"
" - it doesn't matter, just, get here quick, please?" Alex tactfully avoids explaining why she's near Westmont when she's supposed to be on the other side of town, with a boy. A boy she'd rather not think about, a boy that left her to walk home at nearly 1 a.m., a boy that she almost wants to thank, regardless of the way her jaw sets when she thinks about him, because if it weren't for his incredible ditching skills, Alex never would have found this girl. And she's not sure why she's grateful for that, but she is.
"Alright, ten minutes, tops," Harper answers, not questioning, and Alex appreciates it.
She means it.
"What am I here for?" she asks the rhetorical question, though Alex could sift for days through all the things Harper had done for her. Listing them would take even longer. "I'll see you in a few."
Alex mutters goodbye and slips the phone back into her pocket, her other hand staying occupied with the silken but tangled hair of the other girl.
"You're gonna be okay," Alex notices that she's no longer shying away, she's not startled by Alex's gentle touches and she takes that as a good sign. She also knows it could be because the girl is too tired to fight against anything. "I'm gonna get you out of here. I don't know who did this to you, but -" Alex pauses, dawning on the protective edge in her voice. Protective of a complete stranger. "-but, they aren't going to hurt you anymore. I promise."
Alex sees her lips twitch, like she was going to say something.
"My name is Alex," she says softly, hoping it would trigger an introduction from her.
The girl painted with bruises gave a small, crooked smile and Alex could do nothing to prepare herself for the tsunami that surged over her from the almost unnoticeable gesture. The smile was so slight, but it was meaningful and Alex felt like she'd just witnessed something rare, something mark-the-calendar worthy.
Because as soon as the smile had appeared it disappeared, along with her eyes as her lashes drew the curtain over them and her lips parted for her to breathe.
Alex moves from in front of her to sit beside her, sliding a hand into hers and linking their fingers one by one. The pull in her chest from before was there again and she felt twice as defensive. She can feel the other girl's dull pulse as her thumb grazes the inside of her wrist.
It's so quiet and scratchy that Alex almost doesn't hear, but she does, and the name is branded to all sides of her mind as her head snaps to look at the girl beginning to slump against her shoulder. The anxiety induced cold, steel walls of her stomach melt under the voice of the stranger and her body is a canvas for bruises but Alex can paint prettier pictures than whoever did this to her.