Chapter Text
You moved there around winter and you know this by heart for more reasons than just your lease. You had been saving up for years to get away from your family and everything else that had plagued you way back when. There was a satisfaction in signing your name as simply S. Lafontaine and not having a voice over your shoulder telling you to stop lying.
When truth be told this was the most honest existence you'd ever lived.
You worked as an substitute teacher for a nearby school, originally taking over for a few sick Chem teachers. You did good work and often acted as an aid in particularly large classes. Teaching wasn't a great source of income but you couldn't help the cliche thought of 'maybe someday my science will touch someone else the way it did me?'
You loved the kids of this generation much more than the kids that were around you at this age years ago. They didn't question why they didn't have to call you Ms. or Mr. nor did they question why you wore an ungodly amount of vests.
In fact you were complemented frequently by one girl in a second period class you'd subbed for.
It was a surreal to be admired in that way by someone younger than you. No one at that age had ever looked at you in that way before.
You had reenacted this instance to your long time friend, Laura during a coffee date at her house.
"The world is changing all the time Laf, its great!" Laura was a budding journalist who you'd found lost and confused in the quad her first day of college. You'd kindly helped her out and she stuck to you like the best kind of brand named glue for the rest of her four years in college and even now. She'd been lucky enough to be writing for a legitimate paper, and had recently gotten back from a trip in the States to cover some stories.
Having her home and sipping at hot chocolate in front of you was something you didn't know you'd needed.
"Its just...weird as all," You amended, "No one besides you has told me that my vests were cool and my hair was nice, so I'm wondering if the chem lab fumes are wafting around the desks." You joked, but if was truly an experience.
"Thats what I mean," Laura stressed, every bit as enthusiastic as she's always been. All animated, and smiles as she spoke. "Like Carm took me out to this really nice restaurant in Chicago, like really, really ludicrously nice, and not one person looked at us like what we were doing is wrong."
You bobbed your head and thought long and hard on that word. Wrong. Nothing about any of this was wrong...just new.
You looked down and Laura had placed her hand on yours.
"You gotta let go of the past, Laf. Its a whole new ball park out there now and this isn't wrong anymore," She rolled her eyes at herself. "Hell, it never was."
You stared for a long time. Might have been longer had Carmilla not burst through the door, tossing her coat and yawning.
"Let me tell you something sweetheart, we are never doing that vegan bullshi—" She paused when she noticed the absolute silence encasing the room. She glanced at where Laura slowly lifted her hand from yours and beamed up at her as if your heart to heart didn't just happen. Carmilla cocked a brow, "Hey ginger minge."
You wave hurriedly at her and stand from where you sat, "I'm gonna go." You were out before Laura could stop you and you were almost amused at the 'Did I say something wrong?' Carmilla asked as you shut the door.
Because no, Carmilla didn't say anything wrong. Neither did Laura. They said all the right things even when they were pissing each other off and now they were engaged and living together.
None of what they had was wrong.
The fact that it isn't...
You muse on this all the way home. And it was around six o'clock.
By the time you were at your apartment and unlocking the door you could hear the noise from the door behind you. You faced the door and listened as the yelling would increase—it was always the man's voice that would grow so loud it woke you from many a nap on your couch—and thudding footsteps pounded closer until the door was slammed open.
The man sighed, air seething through his teeth and you just so happened to be looking. You quickly try and get the door open but your hands are fumbling and you drop your keys. You've never actually seen his anger up close, only heard it.
He clicks his teeth, "Thats what you get for being nosey, you little freak." He sneers at you and you can only imagine how much insulting someone satisfied him because you don't look at him you only stare at your door.
Its not until he's starting down the hall and to the stairs that you pick up your keys and finally get inside.
You're shaken of course. And your mind goes and goes wondering just what it has to be like for her. His eyes were dark and spoke things that you'd tried all your life to get away from. Things that you tried your hardest to forget.
You could not let this happen to someone else.
Your heart is racing fast and you scurry to your kitchen where you had a fresh batch of brownies waiting. Normally you would have brought them all to Laura, for old times sake but Laura didn't need your sweets to make her smile.
You didn't need them all the time either. You'd learned other ways to make yourself happy.
You were across the hall and in front of the that door and you place the brownies down (wrapped up and with a sticky note) at the little door mat. Then as usual you rap at the door a few soft times, knowing that she was leant up against it.
And you knew that she was crying—not loud enough that anyone would truly know something was amiss. Perhaps to make sure that that man wouldn't hear if he was still there.
Nevertheless you back away from the door and stealthily enter your apartment and close the door so she doesn't see you. You don't have to rush, because you learned the first few times that she doesn't even open the door to check until shes fixed herself up.
Or maybe she was that pretty even when she cried. You wanted to smack yourself for those thoughts; this woman had enough going on, let alone dealing with smitten strangers. Only the ghost of a smile that followed the jerky head turns of suspicion and confusion when she got her gift made it impossible not to feel something.
This time however she opened the door quicker. You were already looking through your peep hole at the curly red haired beauty who picked up your plate and sniffled. Her smile was fond as she read over the little note you'd left her, which was like all of the ones you've written.
I know its none of my business, but I know wrong when I see it. And I feel like you deserve a little right. A brownie for your frownies.
You hated yourself a little for your puns but after she'd giggled at your 'hope these snicker-doodles remind you to laugh' you couldn't help yourself.
Just as you couldn't help yourself for the last few months.
The first time you'd been grading a few tests for an absent teacher and you suddenly heard her for the first time. Her voice was shrill and his deep and demanding only you never could make out what exactly they were arguing about.
You only got curious enough to look when you heard him barrel out the apartment. It was then you went to your peep hole and looked as he left the door wide open and she was standing there. Her eyes were puffy and red and she just looked so terribly beautiful and lost and...
(A lot like you)
She'd long closed the door and you were still looking and wondering. You couldn't not do anything. You knew yelling like that. You'd received it and truth be told there wasn't anything that could be said to make it better.
But you did have left over pie from Laura and Carmilla's weekly dinner at your place...
You had the balls to stand there for a moment after you'd knocked. Only after a few seconds of nothing you chickened out and just left it there with the note you'd scribbled in haste before leaving your home.
You'd gone back inside feeling semi defeated, but before bed you looked out your peep hole just to see and low and behold there she was. Put together after looking so broken only a few hours before. She had her curly red hair in pony tail, and wore a turtleneck a little too warm for today, but regardless of anything you were in awe.
She paused, before tentatively picking up your plate and skimming the note, all the while her eyes moving a mile a minute and searching down each end of the hall.
You held your breath and were certain you didn't let go until she'd read over the note one last time and went back inside. You swore you saw her smile.
It was addicting. To be like a guardian angel of some sort—like a watchful spirit. You wished you had someone like yourself back when you were puffy eyed and defeated after hearing such a strong voice just screaming how wrong you were and how stupid this was.
It was cathartic to make it right. Yet it still kept you awake at night.
Like most addicting things it was bad for you. The both of you. You wondered why in the world she allowed herself to stay in her situation. Did she owe this man something? Did he owe her something?
Muffled yells of 'We're through' or 'I can't take this anymore' came to mind quite often. They had to be together. Perhaps in love—she probably loves him. And it makes your heart break for her in ways that were both selfish and not.
You didn't even know this girls name. Yet you want her to have more than that, but you can't help who you love.
And you can't help who won't love you back