perfect world; (im)perfection | Jenna/Lacie
Title: (im)perfection
Pairing: Jenna/Lacie
Summary: The gradual breakdown of a friendship.
Disclaimer: I don't own Perfect World.
Notes: I really need to stop posting things months after I write them. Anyways, this is a fanfic for a book I read about four months ago, Perfect World by Brian James. Jenna really intrigued me, especially with her relationship with Lacie, so I wrote this.
(im)perfection
In a perfect world, she says, we'd still be friends. She is calm, real calm, not that faked kind that you've grown so used to. Her hands are at her sides, and they're still, not twitching with the urge to put her fingers in her mouth.
What do you want, you snap, suddenly impatient with this conversation. Avery is waiting- he's promised to take you to his house after school again, and your stomach is aflutter.
I'm not going to go crazy, she says, still quietly, but somehow more self-assured then she had been in a long time- then she had ever been around you. I thought you should know.
You wonder if Gretchen and Benji are the reasons for this change. You sneer at the thought, and answer. Why would I care if you go crazy or not?
She reaches out to you, just for a moment, and you flinch, suddenly afraid at how much you want her to touch you, to hold her hand.
Stay away from me, you freak! you snarl, and you to turn to leave.
She watches as you go, a hurt expression on her face, and you secretly revel in the fact that you can still hurt her.
No, you say, I don't want to have anything to do with her. You don't say, because she chose that stupid Gretchen with her stupid blonde hair over me, or, because she didn't listen to what I said.
She didn't do what I told her to do.
C'mon, he says, and his breath is warm against your neck. One last favor. I told Dogboy that I'd do this for him. C'mon. He brushes his hand across your stomach and over your side even though the two of you are standing in the middle of the hallway with everybody around you.
You look up into his eyes, and feel nothing. Okay, you say, and smile, because of course you love him and you don't want anyone to doubt that. I'll give her the stupid note.
He laughs, and his hand carresses your backside,
She looks at you, all softness and shyness. You sit on her bed, legs splayed out, and out of the corner of your eye you can see stuffed animals, all shoved into a corner.
She's so close, and she's looking at you with that look in her eyes, and so you don't think when you lean over and kiss her.
She lets you, and there is something so self-assured there when she kisses you back, something that wasn't there before. This is what Benji taught her, you think, and it is then that you realize what you are doing.
You pull away from her a split-second before her brother speaks, and you push both of them aside as you run.
Disgusting, you say to yourself as you try to hide how much you want to turn around and go back to her. Ugh, how gross.
But no matter what you say, no matter how many things you do with Avery to wipe that memory away, you can't forget how you felt that moment when you realized that she was just kissing you because you're her friend, and she never wants to let you down.
Not because she loves you.
Her expression lights up when she talks about him, and your eyes narrow. She's trying to please you, you know, and that is the only reason she doesn't lock up the memory tightly, where she and only she can see it.
But as she tells you about kissing him and being with him and holding his hand, something in you flares brightly. No, you think, this isn't what I wanted. And you turn on your heel, turn on her and snap, oh please, all you've done is kiss him, and I know what that feels like. Just shut up.
And her face shutters closed on that excitement, and she's back to looking so wounded that she could cry. And you feel satisfied.
Except for that part of you that remembers what you said. You do know what it's like, and all of a sudden you can't shake the memory of what it was like, kissing her, and how soft and hesitant she was.
You can't forget.
Avery touches you- everywhere. Your breasts, your stomach, your sides, even the places that no one but you has ever felt. It consumes you, the feel of his rough hands over your skin, and you gasp.
But- just for a moment, really- you wonder what it would be like if the hands that touched you were soft, if the fingers trailing across your stomach would be wet with saliva. And this time, you gasp for a different reason.
Hey, Avery, you say when the two of you are done, propping yourself up by your elbows. Do you think any of your friends would like Lacie?
Pairing: Jenna/Lacie
Summary: The gradual breakdown of a friendship.
Disclaimer: I don't own Perfect World.
Notes: I really need to stop posting things months after I write them. Anyways, this is a fanfic for a book I read about four months ago, Perfect World by Brian James. Jenna really intrigued me, especially with her relationship with Lacie, so I wrote this.
(im)perfection
In a perfect world, she says, we'd still be friends. She is calm, real calm, not that faked kind that you've grown so used to. Her hands are at her sides, and they're still, not twitching with the urge to put her fingers in her mouth.
What do you want, you snap, suddenly impatient with this conversation. Avery is waiting- he's promised to take you to his house after school again, and your stomach is aflutter.
I'm not going to go crazy, she says, still quietly, but somehow more self-assured then she had been in a long time- then she had ever been around you. I thought you should know.
You wonder if Gretchen and Benji are the reasons for this change. You sneer at the thought, and answer. Why would I care if you go crazy or not?
She reaches out to you, just for a moment, and you flinch, suddenly afraid at how much you want her to touch you, to hold her hand.
Stay away from me, you freak! you snarl, and you to turn to leave.
She watches as you go, a hurt expression on her face, and you secretly revel in the fact that you can still hurt her.
No, you say, I don't want to have anything to do with her. You don't say, because she chose that stupid Gretchen with her stupid blonde hair over me, or, because she didn't listen to what I said.
She didn't do what I told her to do.
C'mon, he says, and his breath is warm against your neck. One last favor. I told Dogboy that I'd do this for him. C'mon. He brushes his hand across your stomach and over your side even though the two of you are standing in the middle of the hallway with everybody around you.
You look up into his eyes, and feel nothing. Okay, you say, and smile, because of course you love him and you don't want anyone to doubt that. I'll give her the stupid note.
He laughs, and his hand carresses your backside,
She looks at you, all softness and shyness. You sit on her bed, legs splayed out, and out of the corner of your eye you can see stuffed animals, all shoved into a corner.
She's so close, and she's looking at you with that look in her eyes, and so you don't think when you lean over and kiss her.
She lets you, and there is something so self-assured there when she kisses you back, something that wasn't there before. This is what Benji taught her, you think, and it is then that you realize what you are doing.
You pull away from her a split-second before her brother speaks, and you push both of them aside as you run.
Disgusting, you say to yourself as you try to hide how much you want to turn around and go back to her. Ugh, how gross.
But no matter what you say, no matter how many things you do with Avery to wipe that memory away, you can't forget how you felt that moment when you realized that she was just kissing you because you're her friend, and she never wants to let you down.
Not because she loves you.
Her expression lights up when she talks about him, and your eyes narrow. She's trying to please you, you know, and that is the only reason she doesn't lock up the memory tightly, where she and only she can see it.
But as she tells you about kissing him and being with him and holding his hand, something in you flares brightly. No, you think, this isn't what I wanted. And you turn on your heel, turn on her and snap, oh please, all you've done is kiss him, and I know what that feels like. Just shut up.
And her face shutters closed on that excitement, and she's back to looking so wounded that she could cry. And you feel satisfied.
Except for that part of you that remembers what you said. You do know what it's like, and all of a sudden you can't shake the memory of what it was like, kissing her, and how soft and hesitant she was.
You can't forget.
Avery touches you- everywhere. Your breasts, your stomach, your sides, even the places that no one but you has ever felt. It consumes you, the feel of his rough hands over your skin, and you gasp.
But- just for a moment, really- you wonder what it would be like if the hands that touched you were soft, if the fingers trailing across your stomach would be wet with saliva. And this time, you gasp for a different reason.
Hey, Avery, you say when the two of you are done, propping yourself up by your elbows. Do you think any of your friends would like Lacie?