I recognize the fact that I have been promising to upload the latest chapters for Wide Awake and Kids That I Once Knew soon, but you have to understand that I am struggling with severe writer's block right now. Not to mention I actually gave myself a concussion this weekend. It wasn't anything severe, but it meant that I had pounding headaches - I couldn't take any pain killers - and a serious lack of sleep - you have to wake up at least once every hour to make sure you haven't gone into a coma.
I've been having some issues.
Please bear with me, I know I've been dragging my feet on those and for that I apologize, but I promise you, they're coming. Next chapter of Wide Awake is about half-way written and I have an idea of what Kids is going to look like next. It's just a matter of forcing my brain to cooperate with my fingers and the stories to work themselves out in my head, like they usually do.
They're just being a little slow this time around.
I don't want to give an exact date, but I'm shooting for the end of the week with those. Just so you know.
Anyways, I started this after I got my concussion, since I was lying around and watching movies (did anyone else see Perks of Being a Wallflower? Jesus, I cried like a baby). I intended to upload it with the other new chapters, but like I just said I'm struggling with those and I feel bad keeping you guys waiting. This is the second story I've written in second person, and I hope this is as well-received as the first.
Thank you guys for sticking with me. I'm getting there, one step at a time.
I don't own Danny Phantom, or the title of this piece which happens to be a line from a popular song (Ho Hey by the Lumineers).
I Belong With You, You Belong With Me
February 26, 2013
You let yourself fall backwards, huffing a little as your body hits the plush cushions of Sam's theater couch. You feel the tension in your muscles slowly begin to recede as your eyes drift to Sam, on the opposite side of the room, where she is loading a movie into her BluRay player. Years of training and ghost hunting have you finely tuned to every little movement in your surroundings, so from the corner of your eye you watch Tucker fiddle with his PDA half-heartedly on the other couch. But your attention stays with Sam, as usual.
The movie seems to be loaded, for she turns back toward you with this small, easy grin on her face. You notice her gait is slightly off, so slight that it would be completely imperceptible to anyone that spent any less time with her than you do. You blink and behind your eyelids her face crumples in pain and her scream echoes in your ears.
She notices your slip and her smile falls into a frown. You force a smile, hoping she understands, and even though she keeps up her frown, she falls into the cushion beside you. You see her wince from the corner of your eye.
The lights go out and the movie starts, but you're far too lost in her to pay attention. She is so close to you that you can feel her body heat, reaching out and caressing your frozen core. Her scent rises up like tendrils to your nose, and for whatever reason you feel yourself salivate ever so slightly. You swallow hard.
She tries to stay still, but you can see it when she reaches for her bottle of water. Her movements are jerky, choppy, like she worked out too hard and was now sore in every inch of her body. Her eyes flutter close and her mouth pulls into a grimace. For a second time, you hear her screams echo in your ears. And even though you've been running from this very thing for the last four days, you close your eyes and you let yourself relive those horrible, gut-wrenching twenty-six minutes.
The fight started off normal enough. You noticed screams coming from the general direction of the park, and luckily, you were already with Tucker and Sam. Without having to say much of anything at all, the three of you set off in that direction. You muttered your usual line about being careful and sticking together, and they ignored it as they usually do. You even spotted Sam rolling her eyes as she jogged, which for some unknown reason made your heart swell and a smile tug at your mouth.
Walker, along with at least a dozen of his goons, was terrorizing the few citizens still left in the park. You made a bee-line toward him, distinctly aware of Tucker and Sam going after the goons, and for ten minutes you give chase to Walker. He teased you, racing around the tree trunks and diving through the bushes. From the corner of your eye you saw Sam blasted backwards by a goon, but she landed on her side and rolled gracefully into a crouch, before lunging forward again. Her face was set in a determined snarl and for a moment you were so overcome by a sudden surge of lust for her that you almost gave up on chasing Walker to give up on being hopelessly clueless with Sam.
You were so distracted by her beauty that you literally flew head first into Walker's fist, and then the world was black.
After what felt like an eternity, you woke on the floor of Walker's prison. You groaned, lifted your head, and let it fall back against the ground. The room was spinning.
It was the tiniest feminine gasp that reminded you what you were doing before you went to sleep. Suddenly, you were more awake than you had ever been in your entire life. You leapt up, landed in a defensive crouch, eyes blazing and growl rumbling in your chest. You took in the scene so quickly it made you nauseous.
The goons formed a ring around the room. Two of them were supporting Tucker by his upper arms. You absorbed the fact that he was injured, bleeding, and barely conscious, but movement elsewhere in the room drew your attention away before you could investigate further. Walker was in the center of the room, a smirk on his arrogant face. His left hand was on his hip, his left foot tapping, and in his right hand was Sam.
Or, rather, Sam's neck. She was shivering, her arms bound behind her back, and you could see the physical toll the time you spent unconscious took on her. Her injuries were so extensive and the blood so plentiful on her skin that you had a hard time keeping your vision from swimming. As it was, the edges tinged with red and you were fairly certain steam streamed out of your nostrils.
A quiet cough jolts you back to the present. You turn to your left and smile a little at Sam. She's absorbed in the movie, her brow furrowed slightly as she tries to follow the storyline. You watch her chest rise and fall in a delicate rhythm with her breathing. You watch her throat work as she swallows. You flush as she glances at you and smiles. But then her scream echoes in your head and you almost whine at the memory. You throw your arm around her shoulders and pull her closer, completely abandoning your shy cluelessness, and she lets you because she senses that you need this. On some level, you like to think that she needs it, too.
Her hair is so soft on your arm, and for a few minutes you are content to stare at it and wonder how exactly she got it to lay so smoothly against her head. She readjusts herself and winces, sending a fresh wave of guilt and self-loathing through your system.
"Let them go," Your voice was low, dangerous, warning Walker not to cross the line. He was toeing it as it was, and he knew it; you could see his grip on Sam's neck tightening as his ghostly mouth twisted into a grin.
"That would be against the rules." He said, his voice almost dancing with perverse pleasure. He forced Sam down to her knees. Her kneecaps hit the cobbled floor so hard the thumps echoed through the room, and you made a strange high-pitched keening sound that you had never heard yourself make before. She winced, but kept her head down and eyes closed. You were slightly grateful because you weren't sure if you wanted to see the pain in her eyes at that moment. "I would be willing to negotiate a bargain, if you're willing," Walker said, his grin growing ever more taunting.
"Anything. Name your price." You said hoarsely.
"You serving an eternity in my jail for their freedom."
"No!" Sam gasped. Her head snapped up and her eyes found yours and you felt your heart stop. "Danny, you can't!"
"I..." Your words were inexplicably missing, and your heart felt as if it was about to burst through your chest. "Sam..."
"You can't." She said, her voice wavering ever-so-slightly.
You continued gaping at her like a fish out of water. You sensed Walker losing patience, but you could not bring yourself to answer. The choice was obvious, of course you would give yourself up to save them, but the look on her face, the pain in her voice, on top of the fact that she was practically begging you to say no momentarily clouded your judgement.
"Too slow." Walker spat. In a flash, he shoved Sam down toward the ground just as a six-inch razor-sharp glowing green blade protruded from the ground. You scrambled forward, only fractionally aware of the hideous sounds you made as all of your attention was focused on the blood-curdling scream ripping through Sam's throat. Her body was rigid, trembling with the effort it took to hold herself up, as Walker's hand held her face just millimeters from the tip of the blade.
You distantly felt two goons restraining you from coming to her aid. You tremble and quake and whimper, letting out a string of nonsensical words that might have been a bargain or a plea to release her, or at least to not hurt her any further. Walker ignored you.
"I will as you one more time," He said dangerously. "Do you hear me? One more time, or else this blade goes straight through her forehead and comes out the other side. Understand?" You nodded so fast you could feel your neck straining and blubbered more nonsense and clawed at the goons holding you away from her. Tears stung at your face but you had never cared any less.
You could see him opening his mouth, that arrogant smirk twisting his ghostly features, but before the words could form a distant boom resounded in the air. Every being, both living and dead, froze on the spot. Another boom, and you felt the floors vibrate beneath your feet.
A third boom, this one louder than the last, sent a wave of dust cascading down from the ceiling that caked your wet face and settled in your hair. You see that everyone else in the room is staring at the wall to your right, but you could not draw your eyes away from Sam. It was because of this that when the wall blew apart and hundreds of ghostly prisoners stormed in, you were able to keep track of where Sam landed as Walker threw her out of his way. You dove forward, ignoring the shouts from the goons and the ensuing chaos of the uprising, seizing her upper arms and pulling her as far away from that blade as possible. She cowered into you, burying her face in your neck as you sliced through the ectoplasmic bonds holding her wrists.
You clenched your jaw and tucked her into your side, racing forward into the fight to seek Tucker out. He was curled into the fetal position against the opposite wall, flinching at each screaming prisoner that raced by him. You grabbed his hand and dragged him into the next room, away from the chaos. All together, it took you exactly twenty-six minutes and thirteen seconds - from the time you first heard the screams in the park to the moment the three of you passed through the wall of Walker's prison to safety - to nearly lose everything.
You brought them back to your house and Jazz mended Tucker easily, since he was really only suffering from a few medium-grade burns from a taser-like device the goons used to subdue him. Sam, on the other hand, was a little worse-off. She seemed to take the brunt of the beating while you were under, and the green and purple bruises that mingled with stray cuts and burns similar to Tucker's on her skin proved it. She flinched and winced as your sister worked over her, crying out only once when Jazz found a slightly infected gash on the inside of her left thigh, which is what caused her to walk with a slight limp. You felt the urge to run from the room or to be sick, but you pushed those urges away and stayed by Sam's side, holding her hand and letting her squeeze your fingers to the verge of breaking them when she started to hurt. Eventually, Jazz finished. She made sure their more substantial injuries were well-hidden by their clothing and warned them to take it easy for the next few days and that is exactly what they have done. Today is the first day the three of you have been back together since then and instead of going to the Nasty Burger or the Skulk and Lurk as you usually would you all agree to relax in Sam's parent's home theater and watch some mindless romantic comedy nominated for some low-grade award.
You snap out of your trance again when Sam sighs and lets her head fall against your shoulder. You turn your head into hers immediately, letting your lips rest against the crown of her head and her hair tickle the end of your nose. The movie is already half-way over, but you don't care.
She yawns and rubs her eyes with her left hand, and you can feel the muscles on that side of her body twitching as she moves. Absently, your left hand drifts up to her head and tangles in her raven black locks. She stills, her body relaxed but alert, and suddenly you feel the need to let her understand exactly how you feel about her. It could have something to do with the scent of her shampoo making you feel positively drunk, or that she's been leaning into you so heavily for nearly twenty minutes now, but you are beyond caring.
You pull your head back slightly, reaching up to trace her jaw with your right hand. She's turned her head toward yours and is staring at you, a look of confusion in her eyes, as you have never been this forward before and if you're being honest you're even freaking yourself out a bit. You feel that usual tick in the back of your mind that warns you that you are going too far, that you've crossed the friendship line and if you continue you're risking losing her forever, but for the first time ever you ignore it and blast forward into the unknown darkness of more-than-friends.
You lean forward and kiss her, directly on her mouth. Her lips are soft and full and she tastes like everything you've ever imagined she would and more. You can feel her stiffening in shock beneath you and you're about to pull away and quietly apologize when it happens.
Her scream echoes in your head and you release some strangled hybrid of a growl and a moan from the center of your chest and you pull her even closer. Your lips become hard and demanding against hers and in the back of your mind you think she might be kissing you back. But she releases a muffled squeak against your mouth and you hear a distant click and then it's over.
Tucker snickers from the other side of the room, but you can't bring yourself to look away from her. Her eyes are wide, her lips parted slightly, still shining from where they were sealed with yours. You watch her swallow hard, and you realize you're holding your breath. You exhale shakily, fully prepared for her hand to connect with the side of your face in a powerful slap.
What you are not expecting is for her to yank your face back toward hers, or for her lips to crash against yours. Your shocked (albeit muffled) gasp mingles with Tucker's, but then feelings of ecstasy explode in your chest and you lose yourself in the moment. You forget where you are and what you're doing and the fact that you have an audience until Tucker pointedly clears his throat and you both jump apart. She blushes a brilliant shade of maroon and you feel your own face and neck heat up but you still can't look away from her.
She ducks her head down to your chest and her thin arms snake around your waist and you rest your head on the crown of her head. Finally, finally, you feel at peace, and it's all because of her. You smile.
And that smile quickly falls into a frown when your phone vibrates with a picture - from Tucker, of course - of you and Sam kissing rather passionately on her couch.
Alright. That's that. Hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Actually, strike that. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it infinitely more than I enjoyed writing it because I hated writing it. I thought my head going t0 physically implode as I wrote.
Since I know some of you are going to ask, I wasn't in any kind of accident or anything when I gave myself a concussion. My bathroom door doesn't lock, but it's set up so that if you pull one of the drawers by the sink out you can actually block the door from opening, so that's how we lock the door. Long story short,I had the drawe pulled out and I dropped something. Bent down too fast, and whack. My forehead took a direct hit from the (very sharp) corner of the drawer.
I literally gave myself a concussion.
Thanks for reading, my pretties. (:
PS. Jessica, if you're reading this, comment. Or text me. Dang it. You know who you are.