Chapter Text
Fig lay on top of the roof of the hangvan. It was getting rough. It had been rough for a while. She was long from the girl she left behind on the steps of Aegefort her freshman year. The cigarette lay limply on in her mouth, unlit only due to her laziness. The van rocked slightly, not enough to be the engine starting, she could still hear the boys arguing in the field nearby. Adaine sat criss-crossed by Fig’s hip and wordlessly lit the cigarette. Both kids hated to admit the little routine they had built. Fig would smoke and Adaine would take it in secondhand. They wouldn’t speak or anything. Silently, more nights than not, they’d do this. When Fig was out of her pack, Adaine would pull another out of her bag. She never got lighter though, no, she’d just spark her fingers and lit it like that. But tonight felt different. There was static in the air. Both kids knew something was coming to an end. It would either be the night or their lives.
“Can I have a hit?”
Fig looked at her best friend harshly. “What? No.”
“What? Rude…”
“Don’t smoke, it’s bad for you.”
“Um... Fig, you’re smoking…” Adaine tried to make a grab for the cigarette, but Fig moved out of the way.
“Now you’re just being a jerk.”
“I’m allowed to make bad decisions. You’re Adaine. You can’t.”
Adaine scooted away from her friend annoyed. “Fuck you, Fig. I am allowed to do what I want. I am not some sort of cherub. You aren’t the only one allowed to rebel.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Whatever, have fun finding cigarettes out here without me.” She slide off the side of the van, landing painfully on the ground. “I’m going to go hang out with the guys.”
Fig sighed, sitting up to curl in on herself. She never managed to say anything right when it wasn’t in a song. She hadn’t been able to write anything in nearly a year and a half. She knew in the back of her head, there was the looming threat of her manager and her contract. But the looming threat of night was a lot more prevalent. She was scared for her own life and scared for all her friends. She just wanted to do what was right by them. Adaine smoking would mean, Adaine off her a-game. She never meant for it to seem like her best friend had to be prefect or a saint. She wasn’t Kristen and even Kristen showed them there was no such thing as perfection in sainthood. She was a star pupil of the morally grey area in life.
Fig put her cigarette down on the roof and slide through the sunroof, landing next to Kristen sleeping. Fig curled up in the seat next to her, making herself as small as possible. Fig wasn’t the girl she was when she left middle school but somedays she wished she was. Oblivious and unburdened. She wished she was in her father’s arms while her mother sang lullabies.