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Trashed and Scattered

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Truth is Ruin

Jimmy awoke to birds chirping happily in the tree nestled just outside the living room window. His icy blues fluttered open lazily; he found himself in strange territory. He glanced around the room soaked in early morning sun, taking a few tired seconds to realize where he was. Peyton stirred against him, nuzzling into his chest as if it were instinct.
Her breathing was slow, her face unflinching. Jimmy smiled, tightening the grip on her that had fallen limp during sleep. She was so peaceful, relaxed and entirely calm; a far cry from the spitfire he knew ran deep into her core. He took a mental picture, determined to store the beautiful scene in the eternal place in his mind. There, she could live forever.
Using his sneakiest ninja moves, he shifted his body to allow his long fingers to crawl into the pocket of his jeans. He kept his gaze fixated on Peyton, taking utmost care not to wake the delicate creature tucked beneath his arm. He pulled his phone slowly from its denim sheath and sighed quietly to himself when he saw the insane amount of missed calls and messages.
Against his better judgement, he flipped the phone open and perused the myriad of concerned and angry texts. A substantial amount had flown in from Mr. Shadows, demanding to know which gutter Jimmy had inevitably flung himself into. Jimmy smirked, a strike of strange pride coursing through him as he recounted his escape from the studio. It was more fun when it was mysterious, he thought. He dismissed the texts from the others, zeroing in on the plethora of outraged messages from Natalie.
They began with ‘I’m bringing dinner, late I know’ to ‘where are you? They said you went to the bathroom an hour ago’ all the way to the obligatory ‘fuck you's and other eloquently worded obscenities. He wasn’t sure what to say, or how to say it. He should have known Natalie would have accepted his challenge as permission. He should have known she’d turn up at some unreasonable hour with the sole purpose of finding him out.
Though it should have annoyed him, he found himself retreating into guilt. Perhaps Zach was right, maybe Natalie had taken a dive off the deep end. But Jimmy had, in fact, lied. He wasn’t where he said he was. He wasn’t doing what he’d told her he was. He’d lied and she’d known; and now he was caught. How far into this web of deception could he weave himself before getting too tangled to continue?
He wasn’t sure, but he was keen to find out. He wasn’t ready to implode the life he’d known for the last several years. No matter how incredibly right he felt next to Peyton.
He glanced down at the sleeping beauty, tracing the edges of her tattoos with a fond gaze. Her hand lay flat against his stomach until suddenly, without warning, it balled into a fist. Each muscle in her arm tensed up with a passion, her eyes pursed tighter together. Jimmy watched with intrigued concern, endlessly curious about what was going on inside her brain. Her jaw clenched as she lurched forward with violence; her green eyes shot open as she pulled a monstrous breath into her lungs. Jimmy jolted from the startle, unsure whether to tighten his grip or let her go.
Her eyes scanned the room with urgency before finally landing on Jimmy’s confusion. She squinted a little before letting out a relieved sigh. With a hint of smile, she pulled herself out from his grip and stretched her arms out above her head.
“You always wake up with a seizure?” Jimmy smirked, Peyton’s stretching flaring up a realized stiffness in his own limbs.
She shrugged, as if the whole thing was a casual extremity of her mind, “Sometimes.”
“What were you dreaming about?” he asked simply.
Her eyes danced around the floor, her head gave a little shake. She pulled herself to her feet, immediately collecting the debris from their night into a pile in her arms.
“It looked like a nightmare,” Jimmy pressed lightly. “Or a morning mare...I’m not sure.”
Peyton half-laughed, “You never have nightmares?”
Jimmy shrugged, “I do.”
“And does anyone try to psychoanalyze them first thing in the morning?” Peyton grinned, casting a pointed glare over at her tall friend.
He laughed, “I guess not.”
“Just ghosts and demons,” Peyton smiled, stepping out from the living room. “Nothing too exciting.”
Jimmy sat alone, listening to the clanking in the kitchen as Peyton slipped the dishes into the sink and scraped the excess food into the garbage. He wondered if Peyton had dreamed of her childhood. If the devil still came to visit her while she slept. He wondered if she’d ever really escaped from Hell at all. Darkness has a way of always knowing just where you are, and always how to find you. Maybe, Jimmy thought, even thirteen years into the future, Hell could still be dancing at Peyton’s doorstep.
The thought alone snapped his big heart into two. It was a familiar ache, one he’d grown accustomed to in his youth but had outgrown in time. Now it was back; it had found him.
Peyton rounded the corner, pushing her long hair back behind her shoulders. As a few strands fell as she bent down to scrounge up the plethora of empty bottles, Jimmy caught himself falling. Her green eyes glanced up at him and she smiled.
“I need to piss,” Jimmy announced hurriedly, skirting passed his magnetic friend and bounding up the stairs.
He pressed the door close firmly, leaning his back against it as he chanted his latest mantra over and over.
It’s just a crush. She’s leaving.
Peyton stood stunned in confusion, taking an exaggerated second to regain her focus. She pulled each bottle into her arms, taking as much as she could carry out of sheer laziness. The less trips, the better. She carried them into the kitchen and carefully set each one back into its box. As she halfheartedly counted the glass, she was almost impressed at how much they’d consumed in such a short amount of time. It was no wonder she’d fell asleep, she reasoned to herself. It had absolutely nothing to do with an overwhelming security that had flooded over her like a blanket. It had nothing to do with the comfort she felt listening to his heart beating. No, it was strictly because she’d gotten a little too drunk—and a little too cozy.
With the bottles sorted back into their cardboard cage, she set off down the hall once more. To her surprise, Jimmy was lingering halfway down the staircase. His face was perplexed, his head tilted ever so slightly.
“One foot at a time,” Peyton teased. “I know stairs can be daunting; but I believe in you. You can do this.”
Jimmy laughed shortly, “Ha-ha. Jimmy’s an idiot; hilarious.”
Peyton giggled, “What are you doing?”
“There’s a big spot here,” he told her, pointing down at the end of his gaze’s trail. “I’m trying to figure out what it is.”
“Oh,” Peyton replied simply. “It’s blood.”
She moved on casually, slipping back into the living room to give its current state an assess. It was as clean as it had been before Jimmy had turned up, so she counted it a victory.
I’m sorry,” Jimmy sounded off behind her, finally reaching the bottom of the stairs. “You can’t just super fuckin casually tell me that giant splatter is blood and then casually cruise away.”
She stifled a laugh, “Why not?”
Jimmy was appalled, “Why not? Jesus Christ, Lexi.”
“You’ve been here before, right?” she laughed. “You were around when that stain was born.”
“I was around?” Jimmy thought aloud, horrified by the accusation.
Peyton nodded, “Yeah. I tried to get it out of the wood last week but I think the deadline to soak it has come and gone. I’ll have to cover it or something...carpet, maybe.”
“Lexi,” Jimmy choked, stunned by her state of dismissal.
But for Peyton, it wasn’t shocking anymore. It was like driving passed a place you used to go. You’d spot it and be flooded with nostalgic emotion, but once you really let yourself focus, you’d realize how far away from it you’d grown. How very disconnected you were. Peyton was determined to stay endlessly disconnected from the stains of her past. Sometimes she couldn’t help it, they’d sneak up on her like a bad trip; but the things she could control, she conquered.
“When was I around for that?” he asked her, his mind buzzing with horrors past.
She shrugged.
“Dude,” he pressed.
“Don’t call me dude,” she half-laughed. “Um...it was the same night she broke my arm, pretty sure.”
The beautiful thing about their friendship was that she pronoun ‘she’ required absolutely no explanation. Jimmy had seen it all—maybe not physically—but he’d been around for all of the aftermath. He was her rock in the most disorderly time of her life.
“Oh,” Jimmy frowned. “Right before you left.”
Peyton nodded, that, and only that, bringing a sting to her mind.
“Yeah. Do you remember that birdhouse you made? Or I think it was supposed to be a bird house anyway. It was more like an oblong box.”
“Hey!” Jimmy laughed. “It was a fucking birdhouse! And it was expertly crafted if I remember right.”
“Right,” Peyton groaned teasingly. “Well she tried to take it. And I guess I fought her.”
“You fought her?” Jimmy asked, partly astounded.
In all the years he’d known Lexi’s blight, he’d never heard her talk about any sort of rebut. She’d never had the courage to fight back; she had never dared to rebel against the thing she’d been taught she deserved. The thought of Lexi defending herself was more shocking to Jimmy than the blood permanently embedded into the wood.
“Kind of,” Peyton thought back cautiously, careful not to pry too far into Pandora’s Box. “Anyway, we got into it on the stairs. I can’t really remember. But that stain up there is definitely from me.”
Peyton rubbed at her hairline, it had taken nine stitches to sew up the wound. Luckily, the layers of her brown hair covered up the line where, to that day, nothing would grow.
Jimmy frowned, “I hate your childhood.”
Peyton smiled, taking one small step closer to him, “It wasn’t all bad.”
“I can’t believe you fought her,” Jimmy mused. “That’s fuckin wild.”
“You gave me that...birdhouse,” Peyton snickered. “No way was I letting her have it.”
“I could have just made you another one,” Jimmy offered as if it could somehow fix what had happened.
Peyton shook her head, “Wouldn’t have been the same.”
Jimmy stepped closer, feeling a batted breath catch in his throat as her eyes fixated onto his.
“I didn’t realize a birdhouse meant to much to you,” Jimmy said lowly.
Peyton shook her head softly, “It wasn’t the birdhouse... It was you.”
That pesky inescapable desire crept between them once more, reaching out with both arms to pull them together. Each half of the doomed duo planted their roots into the floor, despite the loud ripping of each tiny stem.
Jimmy swallowed hard, “I don’t think I knew I meant that much either...”
“You,” Peyton started and stopped, taking a deep breath. “...You meant everything to me.”
Jimmy’s eyes beat into her green gaze, demanding destiny to show itself. He needed a sign.
“You made everything better,” Peyton continued quietly. “You were the only person I could turn to. You fixed everything.”
He reached out slowly, running his thumb across the scar stretching out above her eyebrow. She was steadfast; unflinching to his touch. Instead, she leaned into it; as if his grace could somehow mend her broken pieces.
“I remember this one,” he said softly, the memory battering his chest.
Peyton smiled, “You called me Scarface.”
“I knew it would scar,” he smirked. “But you wouldn’t let me get my mom to take you in.”
Peyton shrugged limply, “A scar isn’t so bad.”
“I didn’t think it was possible,” Jimmy breathed, letting his fingers fall against her cheek.
It was her turn to swallow hard, “Think what was possible?”
“That you could get any more beautiful,” he whispered, inching himself closer to her.
Peyton felt her roots pulling from the soil. She let herself lean into him, desperate to close the gap between them. Damned be to reason; that flew out the window every time she dared to look into Jimmy’s eyes.
“I’m disfigured,” Peyton joked quietly, allowing Jimmy to near inches from her lips.
He smiled, “You’re perfect.”
As Jimmy was drumming up all the reasons why indulgence was entirely called for, his phone began to ring violently from between them. The abrupt noise startled them both out of the daze they’d sworn they wouldn’t fall into again. They each took a step apart in unison.
Peyton ran her hands through her hair, letting out a long sigh as Jimmy flipped open his phone. He gave Peyton an apologetic frown before darting around the corner.
Peyton’s mind ran blank as she waited for him to return. She wasn’t sure if they should address the moment they’d just shared, or if Peyton should take the reins and let it slip by acknowledged. She didn’t want to get into the many, many reasons why they couldn’t be together; temporarily or eternally. Her heart couldn’t take the strain; she would need more time to firm up her walls before giving herself another opportunity to be rejected by the drummer.
Jimmy dashed into the room, looking petrified.
“What’s wrong?” Peyton asked, relieved to find they’d blown right passed what had almost happened.
He winced, “Natalie is out fucking side.”
Peyton’s heart sunk lower than it ever had before, “Why?”
“Because she’s fucking insecure,” he groaned. “Fuck. What do I do, Lex?”
Jimmy had half a mind to stroll out from Peyton’s front door and confess the truth to his estranged girlfriend. But he wasn’t ready to murder her insides...But he didn’t want to murder Peyton’s either.
Peyton forced a smile, “Windows are your thing.”
Jimmy frowned with his entire face.
“Go do what you need to do, Jimmy,” Peyton assured him as if it didn’t crack her skeleton. “I told you: I don’t want you to blow up your life.”
Jimmy sighed, “What if that’s what I want?”
“At seven in the morning?” Peyton challenged lightly. “Go home, Jimmy.”
He leaned over and planted a gentle kiss onto her cheek. It took everything he had to pull himself back, fighting every instinct and urge that told him to consume Peyton. As instructed, he climbed the stairs and took the familiar route back to his own side of the fence.
Peyton watched from the window as Natalie barged up to the neighboring house’s door and slammed her fist against the wood. Jimmy must have answered because Peyton could hear Natalie’s screaming from the comfort of her couch. Unable to take the weight of Jimmy’s life, Peyton slipped up the stairs, passed the stain, and into her bed. She let her phone’s saved music library wash away Natalie’s noise. Under the spell of AFI, basking in the things she could control, she forced herself back to sleep.

Notes

xx

Comments

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RamonaFoREVer RamonaFoREVer
6/18/19

@fyction
It is one of my favourite things. I melt every time!!

kiss my sas kiss my sas
6/11/19

@kiss my sas
I know! Isn’t it sweet?! Guh. Pellivan <3

fyction fyction
6/11/19

@fyction
BUT PELLIVAN IS TRUE LOVE!!!
I still get giddy when Peyton says 'I love you' to Jimmy... urgh! Such a long time coming!

kiss my sas kiss my sas
6/11/19

@kiss my sas
I mean.... Breyton could be revived... never say never ;)

fyction fyction
6/11/19