Anyways. My latest OTP, courtesy of the OC. Marissa/Alex, 1140 words. Because last Thursday's episode made me want to cry.
This Is What It’s Like
Summary: Alex, after.
Rating: PG-13, I guess. Some swearing, not much else.
Spoilers: Up to and including “The Blaze of Glory.” Takes place immediately after.
A/N: Written in the space between 180305 and 190305. My first fic in literally over a year, as well as my first in the OC fandom. Comments are especially welcome, I’d love to know what you think. 1, 140 words.
Marissa moves out on a Friday.
The Harbor School Bonfire takes place the night before, but her actual departure, the gathering of all of her belongings from the apartment, happens on a Friday.
It doesn’t take very long. A few awkward glances here, the occasional stuttered word there. When Alex hands her the lacy bra from underneath the bed, the mumbled “thank-you” from Marissa is almost inaudible. If this had been a different situation, hell, even a different girl, Alex would have laughed. As it is, Marissa picks up her suitcase and whispers good-bye, putting her key down on the table. They don’t look at each other as she walks out the door.
So this is it, Alex thinks dully. This is love. This is what it’s like. Sprawled out on the couch, she watches the ceiling. The beer feels warm in her hand; liquid is slowly dripping onto the floor. Music crashes throughout the room like thunder and lyrics are pounding their way into her brain, but she can hardly hear her own thoughts, like
Maybe she should have told Marissa she loved her. Maybe then she would have stayed. Maybe Marissa loved her more than Ryan, but maybe they were lying all along because she never said. She never, ever said. Maybe, maybe, maybe...
There are too many fucking ‘maybes’ for Alex, and maybe none of it matters anymore but maybe it still does. Maybe.
She picks up the remote. Increases the volume.
She wonders if she’s already going crazy, and how much longer she can last.
On the ninth day, she begins to dream. Strange dreams, mostly, that fade away as quickly as they come. They are always about her, Alex knows, but other than that her memories remain strictly blank. She wakes up shaking and sweating and sometimes crying in the darkness, and there are only shadows beside her.
There are plenty of other things that she does remember though, things that might seem stupid and redundant and pretty fucking pointless, but Alex doesn’t care. Like their first time together. She remembers that.
From the click of the doorknob as Marissa locked it shut, right up until the very last seconds, whispering each other’s names, Alex still hasn’t forgotten. She even remembers details, sort of. Marissa, giggling into her ear, “It’s okay, it’s okay... shhh, it’s okay.” The sound of the rain beating down hard upon the rooftop. Fluffy pink pillows on the bed kept tickling her nose, and fuck it if her heart hadn’t started beating a little faster at the sight of Marissa smiling through her tears.
Alex had held her afterwards, thinking This is the one, She is the one, placing kisses upon her girlfriend’s neck and shoulders as gently as she could. When Marissa stirred, Alex kissed her back to sleep, one hand tangled in long chestnut hair, the other pinching herself hard to make sure that this was real.
The Bait Shop seems quiet and lonely now, minutes, hours, weeks after the bonfire. People pass like ghosts through the edges of the club, and things are not the same. Of course the bands still come to play; the music will never stop, thank goodness for that. But it’s been seventeen days since the night they said good-bye, and Alex feels like she is dying.
The teenagers... they come to watch, hang out, have a few drinks every night. She doesn’t envy them. What she had said before about going back home, saving up for school- all of that was bullshit. Her parents threw her out because of Jody. Alex is not going back because of Marissa.
She doesn’t know why she lied.
Seth comes to see her once, some time after. He pays her back the five-hundred he owes, and apologizes for letting the tent thing slip. Alex accepts the money, nothing else. She doesn’t trust herself to ask after Marissa, so her mouth stays silent. There’s something strange about the way he’s looking at her, and before she can stop herself, words slip out.
“What? Do you pity me now or something? Just go ahead and say it, Seth. Chances are, I really won’t give too much of a fuck.”
His mouth opens, then shuts. “Uh.. nothing. Nothing.”
Too tired to respond, she simply nods, and turns around to finish pouring drinks. When she throws a quick glance over her shoulder, he is gone.
That night, Alex doesn’t dream. She comes home at approximately two a.m., high on tequila and indie rock. There is something comforting about it, being too buzzed to think clearly about Marissa and loneliness and green, green eyes that just won’t let her go. Quickly, she falls asleep.
The phone rings at 3:27 am. It takes several seconds, but Alex finally throws out a hand, presses the receiver to her face. “Yeah?” she manages to say.
There is a long pause, and then,
“Hi.” The voice belongs to Marissa.
Suddenly, she is wide awake.
They meet at the pier.
There were no real details exchanged over the phone, and as she walks toward the lone figure standing by the dock, Alex wonders why they are here. The pure shock and anticipation that had sprung from hearing Marissa’s voice gives way to confusion, and nerves. Light from the full moon is bouncing off of the water, and all of a sudden she just feels totally, incredibly exhausted.
Marissa is the first to break the silence. “Thanks for coming. I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I haven’t see you in twenty-two days. Of course I came.”
For a split-second Marissa looks absolutely stunned, and Alex isn’t quite sure why.
“You’ve been- ...I mean, how have you been?” The other girl’s voice seems strangled now, and Alex is really fucking lost.
She thinks briefly about telling her the truth. "Oh, just great. I haven’t been eating or sleeping or even really breathing right ever since you left. I miss you so goddamn much, it’s hard for me to even think of anything without seeing your face." But of course, she doesn’t say that.
“Honestly, I’ve been better... But what about you? How come--”
“Alex, I’m in love with you.”
It is the twenty-second day.
Marissa tastes like sunshine and California, of bubblegum and sweet tequila. She offers up no explanations, and Alex doesn’t ask. She doesn’t care. Thoughts of what about and him and love and finally race through her mind, but it all falls away the second Marissa’s lips touch hers.
Their kisses are wet with teardrops and in a way there is something almost painful about this for Alex, but the ache is lifting from her heart and Marissa’s hands are in her hair and she knows that this, right here, is exactly where they belong.