Rating: PG-15 for language mostly
Disclaimer: I don't own Skins.
Pairing: Naomi/Emily, Emily/Cook
Summary: AU-ish. At a certain point you have to face the decisions you've made and figure out that sometimes there's no going back. (I'm really sucky at the summaries, but please read!)
Spoilers: AU of JJ episode, where Katie didn't stop Em from dancing with Cook. Also makes some ambiguous statements surrounding the Cook/Naomi 'friendship'.
A/N: It's my first Skins fic, so I'm not sure how I did capturing the voices. I'm kinda a fan of the angst, so be prepared. This sort of implies that Cook and Naomi may have slept together in "Naomi" or since then they've at least spent more time together. If you like it, I might be inclined to write a sequel. Just let me know what you think! Also, I know I switch from third to first person about a half of the way through. What can I say-- I'm not good with the grammar tools?
She dances with him. Moves her body with such wild abandon that for a moment, she forgets how much she hates the skeezer. She dances with him and then she lets him fuck her. If he was good enough for Naomi to keep fawning over, then he must be good enough for her first shag. Afterwards she feels grimier than the bathroom he screwed her in. Her skin crawls uncontrollably and there’s an uncomfortable burn that settles between her legs. She pushes her way back through the mass of teens masquerading as adults, headed towards the door. Her pain of a sister latches onto her arm, asking her where she’s going. It should be obvious to the little nit that she’s leaving. It doesn’t take long for Cook to catch up as well. She’s surprised how quickly the look of recognition flashes through Katie’s eyes. She would have never thought someone so self-centered could be that perceptive. It only takes a moment longer to see the look of disgust fill those same eyes. It’s strange to see that look flash in orbs identical to hers. She wonders if she’s maybe just looking at her own reflection.
She finds a way to push past her twin, finally finding her way outside. The thrust of fresh air filling her lungs feels like new life itself finding its way into her. She can hear Katie yelling after her and it’s only after she hears the word slut yelled her way that she turns around. Slut. Slut?! How dare she call her a slut. The same fucking whore who’s thrown herself at countless boys in order to advance her social status is calling her a slut.
“You’ve got some nerve! Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to be normal? To stop being gay?! Well fine! I found someone to fuck the gay away! The least you could do is be happy that your muff-muncher of a sister won’t infect your reputation with her gayness,” I yell back at her. It’s then that I notice that Cook seems to have followed us out. The last person I want to see right now has made her way out as well. She has the gall to look at me like she’s hurt. Like she’s the one who was wounded in our brief joke of a relationship. “Don’t look at me like that,” I state timidly. The anger begins to meld into a guilt that I don’t want to feel. “This is what you wanted right? For me to stop loving you,” I ask, like shagging Cook could really change how I feel about her. Even I’m not delusional enough to believe that. There’s a sadness that has settled into her eyes that I just can’t handle. I don’t want her to look at me like that, like I just stole something so precious from her. I don’t want to think about her and Cook together, or how she thinks I’ve betrayed her by sleeping with someone she barely would admit she fancied. Because I know that look of sadness isn’t for me. It’s not about what I did, it’s about who. But still… it makes me ache how much I hurt her, even though I know she deserved this. Because no matter how much she destroyed me during our fling of a relationship, I still love her. I still want to bring a smile to her face. I still want to make her care.
It’s too much—I can’t take Katie’s look of shock and disgust or Cook’s look of mirth. And I refuse to be swayed be Naomi’s look of hurt. She wanted me to get over her. She wanted this… maybe not exactly this, but she made us like this. She made me… I just want her to know what it feels like, this crushing weight that’s settled into the depths of my chest. But as I turn around to finally walk away, all I really want is to take it all back. There’s no going back though.