Chapter Text
josie has dropped the word “hate” so many times now, said it with so much anger and ferocity that leaves Penelope’s heart shatter like a glass, but she never lets Josie see it on her face or hear it; never lets Josie see the scars those three words that leaves on her—perfecting the smirk that has the girls and boys swooning over her, shrugging off those words as if she’s numb to it, and she makes sure she lets her sharp tongue run by making a witty comeback just to make the other girl fluster.
and when a shade of red finally adorns on the girl’s face, brown eyes suddenly looking everywhere but her, worrying her bottom lip as she plays with them hem of shirt, is when Penelope finds confidence in herself and everything she does again.
because there could be something worse than hate.
no matter how many times Josie tries to tell her those three words, Penelope just has to remind herself that Josie could be feeling nothing at all.
for come with hate is passion.
for hate is anger over something you have lost.
anger for something you took granted for.
for something you let go.
for hate is caring in a roundabout way—caring for something that is wrong but it’s still… caring.
for what comes with hating something or someone is having them screaming in your mind late at night, reminding you why.
and most of all, there’s fury in it.
fury that makes you feel like you’re burning—igniting.
and Penelope thinks how she’s glad to still be the one who lights up the fire inside of Josie. (a fire that she thinks is slowly going to burn out.)
and how she would do anything to ignite it, again and again.
even if it means being the gasoline that would make the flames out of control.
even if it means painting herself as the villain.
because she’d rather have it—Josie – burn everyone else,the whole world even, if it meant Penelope would never know what dark is, and Josie never knowing what it feels like being the ashes.
so, yes, Penelope thinks, there is something worse than hate.
josie can drop those three words all she wants, cut Penelope’s heart over and over again with it. and it’s fine.
it’s fine because Penelope know that Josie’s hate means she still lingers in her mind, in her body, and in her soul.
because what’s worse than hate is the un-love.
when Josie finally stops saying those three words, that’s when Josie finally leaves a part of her.
finally discards a part where Penelope used to be.
because come with the unlove is to unremember.
for unlove means to undo everything.
unlove is unkissing.
unlove is undreaming.
unlove is unfeeling.
unlove is uncaring.
unlove is no more traces of what it—they used to be.
unlove is… simply nothing.
just nothing.
nothing.
no more banters when they bump in the hallway.
no more kisses due to mind controlling slugs.
no more teasing.
no more of those three words. (which one? Penelope doesn't even know anymore.)
nothing.
as if they’ve ever held hands and stole kisses during the day and drowned themselves with each other during the night.
as if they never spoke about their future and what it could have been.
as if Penelope doesn’t know all of Josie’s wishes and secrets.
as if there were never a Penelope and Josie.
there’s no more fury.
no more fire.
and Penelope dreads when that day eventually comes.
but for now, she’ll take the hate.
she’ll take the fury.
she’ll take the fire.
and if Josie decides she could never burn other people’s world—even Penelope's.
then it’s fine.
She’ll do it for her.