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Chapter Text

hailey dilmore has never been the first pick. it feels familiar, sitting here third wheeling in hatchetfield's hottest diner. she idly stirs her coffee - three sugars no milk - and pulls on a loose hangnail. miss holloway chatters away in the background, flitting between customers like a butterfly. hailey's eyes get stuck on the way her bright red hair clings to the denim of her shirt, the way her eyelashes leave small traces of mascara right underneath the ridge of her eyebrows.

across from her, zoey and harmony are in their own world. they're the loudest in the diner by far. it's two pm on a tuesday and none of them have real jobs, really. there's a few highschool kids ditching classes, maybe in for a late lunch. zoey is skipping a shift at beanies to sit here trading insults with harmony. emma had flipped her off when she was asked to cover. zoey took it as a yes.

they've hardly touched their food, too taken with eachother to even care. wordlessly hailey switches her plate with harmony's and works her way through another piece of heavy apple pie. it sticks to the roof of her mouth, coats her tongue. her bowels are going to regret this later. there's no whipped cream and she sorely misses it - damned be harmony and her principles - so hailey swipes her spoon through zoey's plate and steals some.

she switches her focus to zoey's lipgloss. as she shapes her mouth around the words it stretches and glistens in the low diner light. it must be one of hailey's, there's no dark red or glitter in the colour, just a nude peachy sheen that matches the blush on her cheeks perfectly.

her eyes travel up to zoey's, not meeting each other even for a moment. it makes her hum in contentment. she prefers this, her and a piece of pie, the edge, the outside. right next to the action but never involved in the conversation, it's a safe space.

harmony winds a lock of hair around her chewed up fingers. her nails were painted yesterday, it must have been a long night. hailey stares at the bags under harmony's eyes, darker than she's used to. it makes her itch, long to reach out and offer comfort, she never does.

in the corner of the diner a jukebox skips and stutters and starts a different song. the bottom of her spoon catches on the grit of the sugar in the bottom of her coffee cup, it echoes an ungodly squeak through their booth.

the conversation never falters, she's a part of the decor. hailey closes her eyes and sinks further down into the plush cushions of the seat.

Chapter Text

"hailey, where the fuck is my lip gloss?!" 

zoey's voice echoes through the apartment like a trumpet. hailey idly wonders how long it must've taken her to achieve that level of breath control when the bellow becomes exponentially louder. zoey's in her face now, still screaming at the top of her lungs. her eyes are red rimmed, she must've been crying. hailey doesn't think to ask why. 

"i don't know how many times i need to tell you to keep your hands off my shit! do you think i have the fucking time to go digging through your garbage dump of a room every time I need something?" 

her hands wave about in the air, hailey gets stuck on the curve of her wrists as they twist in anger. she's being shaken before she knows it, nails digging harshly into her shoulderblades. 

"god, are you even listening to me?! honestly, hailey, what goes on in your fucking head?"

hailey stumbles when she's let go, shaking off the feeling. she weaves past zoey and heads for the hallway, digging through the pile of junk on top of the hallway cabinet. the lipgloss is half empty and sticky when she finally unearths it. zoey's eyes are burning holes in the back of her neck. She presses the tube into zoey's hand, patting the back of it twice. it leaves greasy residue in glittery streaks.  

"i put it here 'cause you always use it to touch up your makeup right before you go out." she nods her head to the mirror hanging crooked on the wall. "figured it would save you some time, you leave them on the cabinet anyway." 

she doesn't hang around to hear zoey grumbling under her breath, just heads back to her room to gather her things. her watch beeps, only ten more minutes before they need to head out. 

-- 

they leave late, they always do. zoey teeters along on too high heels and complains the whole way. she's in a foul mood, hailey remembers she forgot to put on coffee that morning and steers them into a detour, hand on the small of zoey's back. she doesn't even notice the change in direction, following blindly, too occupied with the script in her hands and the loose cobblestones under her feet. 

summer is ending in hatchetfield. the leaves are falling faster than they can change colours, the street a tapestry of green and yellow and orange. zoey hates it, but hailey has never minded autumn. the birds are loud this time of year, their conversations enough to drown out the rest of the world. there's a pigeon above their heads on the road to beanies talking animatedly of seasons and nesting and which branches are best to perch on.

she used to wonder why no one ever talked back to the creatures, why adults chastised her for crouching down next to ladybugs and caterpillars to hear what they had to say. hailey doesn't wonder nowadays, no one slows down enough to listen to her either. 

beanies is decked out in ghastly oranges and purples, there's specials on the menu that don't yet match the weather outside. she's at the counter, card in hand, zoey leaning over her shoulder, the cafe bristles with noise. nora scowls when she sees them.

"and where the fuck were you last week, missy?" 

hailey surpresses a smile when zoey's hair brushes past her cheek, still staring blankly at the menu despite knowing it by heart. she must've flipped it, pursing her lips as she went. hailey can picture it so clearly she almost forgets to take their coffees from emma. she gives hailey a sympathetic smile, nodding to nora and zoey at the counter locked into a death stare with eachother. 

"don't you ever get tired of living with that one? i can hardly even stomach working with her."

hailey shrugs, switches the cups in her hands, turns to zoey. "she's really not as bad as people make her out to be." 

emma cackles and smacks her shoulder. coffee drips on the counter, scalding her fingers. the paper cup is already getting soggy.

"let me know when that head of yours catches up with the real world, will you?", she laughs as she says it, bright eyed despite the bags underneath them. the words don't sting as much when emma says them. 

she barely musters a "for sure" before emma turns back around and zoey's hands find their way around her coffee. her fingers are freezing. she flips nora off on the way out of the shop, not even looking back. hailey's watch beeps twice, they're late. 

-- 

the lobby of the starlight theatre is empty, as it always is. she counts the tiles on the floor and the ceiling as they wait. they're laid out in a haphazard pattern of blacks and whites and greys, it makes her dizzy if she looks at it for too long. zoey pulls out a handheld mirror and fixes her lipgloss for the third time that day. 

"here, take these." 

zoey turns up her nose at the packet of dollar store wet wipes in hailey's hand. 

"what the fuck do i need those for?" 

she points at zoey's heels, the leaves and mud stuck to the bottom of them. "i told you you should have brought sneakers so you could change into those here, but you didn't, so i brought wet wipes." 

there is affection in zoey's eyes as she takes the offering. hailey doesn't notice, averting her eyes and going back to counting tiles. she misses the glances cast her way, misses the brush of zoey's fingers against her thigh in quiet thanks. 

she's up to 196 by the time the casting director pokes her head into the lobby and beckons them over, she looks about as nervous as hailey feels. it doesn't inspire confidence. she's still holding her empty beanies cup, her stomach growls loudly. 

the director has long hair in braids that clatter as she walks. her ballet flats click and creak on the stage as she points them to their proper places. the noise splits hailey's skull, she regrets drinking her coffee so fast. her gut is protesting with every step she takes.

zoey goes first, like she always does, and hailey zeroes in on her mouth as she wraps it carefully around the syllables. there's a song next, hailey can't place the melody, the speakers crackle with static. 

she doesn't notice the other people in the room until it's her turn to get on stage and she's peering through her lashes at the too bright lights. they have notebooks and fountain pens and sharp suits. she doesn't recognise any of them. the casting director sits in the middle, twisting her braids around her fingers, bored. 

zoey stands behind them, arms folded, face pulled into a frown. that's what hailey focuses on as she runs through the monologue, forgetting where to stress the words and where to let them linger. her voice breaks on all of the high notes. it's over before she knows it, soggy cup still in her hand. sugar sticks to her fingers. she wonders idly if the pigeons above the theatre could use it for their nest. 

they whistle at her when they exit, clamoring for attention. so she stands on her tippy toes and drops the cup in the storm drain. zoey doesn't wait for her, clicking along the streets in a fury. 

"can you fucking believe those people?", she bristles when hailey catches up to her. "not even a lick of applause, and so fucking unprofessional. can't even be bothered to install a proper sound system!" 

she doesn't mention the starlight hasn't had proper sound in over twenty years, just pries the script from zoey's fingers and walks along. 

the complaints last the entire way home and then some. 

-- 

harmony comes by again that night. it seems to hailey she's here more than zoey is, lounging on the couch and filling the apartment with incense and weed. the smells have fought their way into every pillow they own. she jokes sometimes it's like they have a third roommate. so far it hasn't gotten her any laughs yet. 

harmony overstays her welcome, she always does. her dirty converse are by the door, her phone is charging by the couch. hailey wonders how someone can make themselves so impressively comfortable in a house that's not their own. from the couch they move to the kitchen, late dinner like always.

the sun is casting the desperate last burst of light through the window, painting stripes of warm gold that catch on zoey's eyes and harmony's freckles. there isn't enough food for all three of them, hailey fills her plate up the least. she mentally adjusts her grocery list. 

zoey still isn't done complaining. she twists her fingers into harmony's hair and pulls, crowded close together around the kitchen table. there's brownies in the oven - gluten free, harmony's grandma gave them the recipe- and fresh coffee brewing in the pot. no one will drink any until tomorrow morning when it's cold and stale, but the gurgling of the filter is a welcome background noise. 

"and they didn't even say goodbye!" the small kitchen echoes zoey disdain, reflecting it off the tiles. 

"tell me about it", mutters harmony, lips curled tight around an unlit joint, "these haughty hatchetfield assholes don't have any manners, you'd hope theatre kids would be better. apparently not." 

she idly flicks her lighter on and off, hailey clears her throat. 

"right, right, no smoking indoors. i remember." harmony's grin is crooked where zoey's is straight, it makes hailey's stomach flip all the same. 

–

they sit on the fire escape for hours, sending smoke and hot breath billowing out in clouds. hailey falls asleep to the sound of muttered conversations filtered through her bedroom window. 

Chapter Text

harmony is gone when she wakes up, so is zoey. there's no note on the kitchen table and her phone is unburdened by messages, despite hailey's constant insistence to please let her know where everyone is going. there's dirty dishes in the sink and ashes all over the kitchen table. 

hailey doesn't remember a time where the house was neat, in any capacity. it used to not bother her, zoey's messes. the way she slung her dirty laundry over the backs of chairs and her dirty coffee cups on any available surface. she left her hair stuck to the showerwall and lipstick smudges on the mirror. it was almost endearing, some days, that childlike nonchalance.

it's doubled these days, twice the mess as twice the people invade hailey's space and leave her to deal with the waste.

today, something snaps in her. she buries it down as far as it can go, boiling resentment and jealousy as she piles both zoey's and harmony's laundry in a corner of the room, throwing the unwashed brownie tin on top for good measure. it gives her a moment of respite, this pettiness. she knows this evening when she returns home, she will be cleaning either way.

the coffee in the pot is stale and cold, staining the cheap plastic a sickly yellow. she drinks without cringing, no sugars because they ran out, adds it to the grocery list on the fridge. it's all in her small, neat handwriting except for an illegible scrawl in the middle reading "cigarette filters", must've been harmony. hailey checks the hallway drawer on her way outside, fresh filters and blanks stacked up neatly in rows; she crosses the writing off her grocery list.

it hasn't gotten warmer in hatchetfield. the chill of winter is already making itself known despite the date, creeping its long fingers underneath her jean jacket and making her shiver. leaves dance their dance through the air, rats scuttling about in the largest piles.

she stops for a second to listen in, points one of them to an abandoned milkshake splattered over the sidewalk. they're talking about the rapidly approaching winter, about shelter and young and where to find enough food. hailey makes a mental note to leave them her uneaten pizza crusts next time she orders some. 

it grounds her, this routine, the beast in her chest loosens its grip on her heart, lets het blood vessels expand. the cool air clears her head and the chatter of critters drowns out her thoughts. her feet have carried her to beanies before she knows it, the ringing of the doorbell and much too hot air breaking her out of her daze. the smell of hot chocolate drifts towards her and makes her empty stomach rumble. 

"you're a bitch and an idiot, perkins!" 

a smile is on hailey's face before she even turns to face the source of the racket. with her hands on her hips and her chin held high, zoey stands behind the counter like beanies is her kingdom and she is the queen. it suits her. 

"do you think i do this for fun, huh? you'll see! in a few more weeks i'm going to be on broadway and you'll still be a pathetic little barista. fuck you and your wasted potential! hell, you couldn't even muster the balls to be a manager." 

emma is unimpressed, towel slung over her shoulder and head cocked to the side. as hailey walks up and leans her arms on the counter, she can see the muscles in emma's neck tense. an eerie quiet emanates from the pair as they stare eachother down. she sends up a quick, grateful prayer for the both of them that nora isn't on shift today.  

craning her neck, hailey looks around at the distraught customers, rubbernecking like beanies is a highway and the counter a carcrash. she tunes out the noise like it's second nature - it kind of is.

there's a kid in line with long greasy hair, looking as if he's about to join the screaming fight, his head turning steadily redder and redder. an abandoned chocolate milk sits next to the coffee machine, she slips it over, a faint memory of his regular order stashed somewhere in her mind. 

with hardly a second thought, she plants both hands firmly down and hops over the counter into the cramped workspace. too many quiet afternoons and early mornings had been spent here, watching zoey work like it was her training shift. hailey's used to picking up slack, to compensating.

morning bubbles into noon bubbles into afternoon. it's three pm before she knows it, her watch reminding her insistently to take her meds and eat some food. her guts are already protesting from the hours on her feet and no carbs to keep her steady, twisting this way and that to reach for a coffee cup or the trash can. at least the shop has quieted down, emma and zoey never scream when she's around, at least, they try not to.

zoey sits at a table filing her nails, lips pursed and head tilted. her lunch break has lasted an hour longer than it ought to already. there's not a bone in hailey's body that can find it in her to mind. they've hardly exchanged a word, but zoey's gaze softened when hailey stepped in, insults not as harsh around the edges as they usually were.

shamelessly she reaches into the display case and plucks out a chocolate muffin -it boasts being gluten free, she's had enough of them to know that is a lie- nodding to emma as she manoeuvres her way back into the shop. the bags under emma's eyes have only grown as the day wore on, she wonders how the woman is still upright. 

hailey's hardly sat down, cup of chamomile tea still steaming, when the doorbell clatters and harmony falls in. her clipboard and hair are soaked, scraps of paper clinging desperately to the plastic. she hadn't even noticed the rain, too taken by the clatter and clamour of the coffee shop. dripping like a wet dog she crosses between the tables and settles herself between hailey and zoey. she's grinning almost wickedly, clearly ready to launch into a spiel about the people in town and their environmental apathy. 

it brings her an odd sense of joy that zoey doesn't engage with harmony either, humming noncommittally at her stories and keeping her eyes steadily fixed on the curve of her nails. the beast in her chest hums, content. harmony presses a soaked flyer into her hands, something about forests and chipmunks. she's not listening, wonders how a chipmunk's voice would differ from the rats and the birds she sees here. 

emma clocks out with a huff and a puff and a dish towel launched in zoey's direction. none of them make any move to clean, staring down customers as one by one they finish their drinks and leave. the bell jingles with every footstep, it rings in hailey's head. distantly she remembers the director at the starlight said they could expect a next day response. 

zoey's nails click against her phone screen. 

there's no incoming notifications for the rest of the night. 

—

the week ticks by slowly. harmony comes over more often than not, laying her dirty converse on top of the kitchen table. she still smells like weed and incense, so does the rest of the apartment.

on wednesday hailey struggles out of bed at the crack of dawn. the sun pries its fingers underneath the blinds, tracing patterns on the carpet. she eats stale cereal with oat milk, bleary eyed in the silent apartment. it's too early to turn on the lights. too early to notice her brand of milk is off and the fridge is freshly stocked. the grocery list has been replaced by a new piece of scrapbook paper.

harmony snores loudly in zoey's queen sized bed.

--

the shelter is quiet, a moment of respite in the hustle and bustle of her life. it's empty when she arrives, keychain jingling as she jams it into the lock. she's always the first in and the last out, relishing in the solitude. the cats greet her as soon as she enters, winding around her legs and rubbing soft cheeks against her shins. she chides them, useless, for sneaking out the cages in the middle of the night.

they chatter all in unison, feed us more and we won't fit through, make it cosy and we will stay put. hailey crouches down and pets them.

"they're bored."

pj lifts her head from her pile of paperwork when hailey speaks, lex doesn't even turn.

"they need to play, to go outside. they're wasting away in here."

lex yanks the breakroom door handle, an unholy squeak resounds through the shelter. the handle snaps off into her hand, door still firmly shut.

"motherfucker!"

pj shifts her attention, clicking her pen rapidly as she purses her lips.

"i'm going to have to report that, you know."

hailey slinks away, lets lex's raspy screaming and pj's calculated responses wash over her as their words echo. the same routine every wednesday, they butt heads like bulls. she doesn't know why conflict follows the people in her life like a malady.

if there was anyone else willing to work the job, they would have been hired in a heartbeat. but hatchetfield is small and the shelter sucks, so the three of them make it work. pj clicks her pens, lex curses, hailey feeds the cats.

she longs for the weekends, when lex is back at toyzone and the place is silent again. pj holes up in the office, takes her files with her wherever she goes, she's not one for smalltalk. it's nice, peaceful.

the cats are noisy today. she hushes them as she whispers, promises them toys and better food and beds with pillows. she wonders if pj would notice if she altered the budget allocations from breakroom door maintenance to animal welfare.

a loud noise, outside of the usual, draws her attention away from her conversation. when she pokes her head out from the doorway, lex is stood in a pile of pet food boxes, crouched down, her head in her hands. they must've toppled over from their precarious balance on one of the shelves.

hailey doesn't speak. she grabs lex's shoulders, steers her away from the mess, pushes her onto a chair. lex's head thuds against the table as she sighs, body shaking, hailey lets her. it doesn't take long to clean up, sweeping the spilled kibble to the side and straightening out the dents in the cartboard. she doesn't check in again, keeps her head down and returns to her work by the cages. she carries the image of lex's trembling frame with her all the way back home.

--

evenings are never exciting. she cuddles on the couch with a cup of tea to calm her ever aching guts and the script for the play clutched tightly in her hands. the apartment is cold, she makes a mental note to call the landlord, preferably when zoey is home. she gets through to him more than hailey's diplomatic calm does, not afraid to pull out words like "i'll sue you", or "suck my dick, asshole."

she tucks her feet further underneath her thighs as she thinks of snow and wind and rain against their rattling windows. hailey's room always gets the coldest.

harmony doesn't visit tonight. she doesn't know why it bothers her.

--

another day, another routine. zoey wakes up the entire street wailing along to some pop song hailey doesn't recognise. she's a bit offkey and an octave too high for her vocal range. when hailey clambers into the shower after her, there isn't a drop of hot water left. she unclogs the drain of mostly red and auburn hair and adds new shampoo to the shopping list.

they head to beanies together, zoey's purse in hailey's hand. it's raining a fine mist of droplets that soaks to the bone instantly. the bell rings to announce their arrival, nora and emma behind the counter with matching scowls on their faces.

hailey checks her watch, they're late.

hailey spends the day in the back, stomach too bloated and head too full to talk to anyone, staff or customer. she worries if she opens her mouth all of her insides will come spilling out and she'll drown in all the things she hasn't said, counting bags of coffee and frozen pastries to shut her mind up.

emma keeps her company on her too long breaks, chomping on gummies. she smells like harmony. hailey counts faster.

when emma leaves hailey whispers to the mice in the walls, promises them rations if they promise not to chew through the flour containers. they squeak and whistle and peek pink noses out from beneath the shelves, beg her for the crumbs she holds in her hands.

it's there that zoey finds her, crouched on the cramped pantry floor with smushed bits of muffin stuck to her palms. she doesn't spreak, cranes her neck to catch zoey's eye and holds up both her hands for help. she's tired, today, the world is too loud and too bright. she feels a headache coming on.

to her credit, zoey helps her up, though she wipes her sticky hands on hailey's flannel when she guides her back to the front of the shop. nora is juggling about ten different orders, muttering under her breath about hot waters and chocolates and damned lazy employees. she has half a mind to wonder when nora is going to start paying her.

she swipes at the counter, sending a pile of flyers for the new starlight show sprawling across the tiled floor. hailey's eyes latch on to the swooping font, a name in lights.

zoey folds her too long legs one over the other and leans back in a chair.

--

hailey's standing outside in the steadily growing rain, listening to the birds sing. they're concerned about her, she can hear it in their whispered voices, the way they don't quite whistle with their full chest.

she gets lost in the sound of it, the soft pitter patter of the rain on the storm drains above her, the muffled business of Beanies, the feeling of her wet hair sticking in stringy curls to her cheeks.

her bubble bursts with calloused hands on her wrists and the smell of herbs and sweat. harmony guides her back inside, brushes the hair from her face, takes off her drenched flannel and hangs it up to dry. hailey's eyes are glazed, the world is a bubble and she is not a part of it.

the shop is full, still bustling about as hailey sits in a booth with a cup of chai warming her hands. even zoey has hopped back behind the counter, chewing gum like her life depends on it. she glances over at their booth, makes eyecontact with harmony, raises an eyebrow. harmony shrugs, hailey doesn't notice.

they sit around the table still, tea cold in the soggy plastic. she wonders if the mice have eaten enough, wonders if she can sneak them another pastry before they leave. the soft glow of the early evening street lights streams in through the window and bathes them all in light. it stings her eyes.

she wants to move, just for a second, but when she casts her gaze up she's met with harmony and zoey, shrined in the streetlamp light like saints with halos, glowing golden brown and vibrant red and angelic. the soft clicking of nora closing the register filters through her dulled senses.

her breath gets caught in her throat. she moves from her stupor, takes a sip of ice cold tea. she hopes it hides her blush. it doesn't. zoey's grin is wide and catlike, smudged red at the edges where she forgot to retouch her lipstick.

"remember when we first met?" muses harmony. her hair is piled in a bird's nest on top of her head, frizzy and unkempt. she's continuing a conversation hailey missed the rest of, twirling a spoon inside her own cup of lukewarm tea. "there was that initiative to clean up the water around nantucket bridge 'cause people kept chucking their trash in there. you guys damn near threw me in the water when i came in here to ask for help."

zoey barks out a harsh laugh, head tilted down to her empty glass. "i remember that! you were so awful, i fucking hated you, dude."

hailey's eyelids feel heavy, harmony's giggle echoes in her skull.

"dude, i fucking hated you too."

Chapter Text

nightmares are the worst.

they've been haunting her since she was nine years old, primary school loneliness still thick in her veins like molasses. she remembers it clear as day, staring out the window during class, head somewhere else entirely. the teacher's words filtered right through her brain. she's never been a good student, still prefers to study her scripts during rehearsals rather than beforehand.

hailey clenches her fists and grinds her teeth until they chip and digs her heels into the mattress. somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she's glad zoey sleeps with the doors shut and a pillow over her head. somewhere even deeper, she wishes she could hear her scream. 

it was spring in hatchetfield back then, bees and butterflies buzzing merrily past.

across the playground, in the big trees at the edge of the grass, lived a family of pigeons. she spoke to them almost daily, brought them branches and the crusts of her bread.

she remembers the cold snap of mama bird's neck as she flew full force into the classroom window.

it's all teeth and bloody bones in her dreams, maws opening to swallow her whole. some nights the babies are there, screaming their little lungs out until blood runs from their eyes and beaks, their feathers ugly and matted with it. some nights it's her friends, her family, her collegues, sprouting mangled wings from their spines and crying out in agony.

the patters repeat themselves in big loops, never stick to the same thing for too long. there is always something new to torture her.

every single night a voice whispers "it is still your fault."

it's harder when it's cold out, chill in her bones. in spring and summer new life makes her forget the one she took. thick sheets and woollen socks aren't enough to keep her warm in the off season.

in the dim light of too-early-morning, hailey pads across the apartment and into zoey's room.

the sheets are messy, wrapped in tight coils around zoey's sleeping frame. she's snoring loud enough to wake the whole block, hair in her face. she's never looked more attractive. hailey slips into the free spot left between zoey's bent knees and outstretched arms, curling up like a cat.

it doesn't stop the nightmares, but zoey's room is warmer than hers and her breathing, though heavy, is rhythmic and soothing. the sheets smell like her shampoo, like smoke and like she needs to do the laundry tomorrow.

hailey wakes up tucked in.

the house is empty, sun already high in the sky. she rarely sleeps in, but the world has been heavy lately and she is tired, lead in her bones.

it's a quiet day, zoey out of the house , harmony out of town. she putters around the apartment, aimless in the silence.

the chores keep her busy, laundry, dishes, organising the bills. it eases the pressure in her head, externalises the chaos. she's onto sorting her usually pristine bins of makeup when she sees her lipgloss is missing and her foundation is empty.

zoey is still not home, and harmony hasn't given a sign of life either. it's worrying, none of them usually work on thursdays, and if zoey had been called in there would have at least been a note. she dreads going to work alone on days she should be off.

it's no use pondering things she won't get answers about either way, so hailey packs her wallet and an extra umbrella in her bag and braves the outside on her own.

the mall is big and empty and lonely, sephora is needlessly busy. the smells and sounds and colours are immediately overstimulating. she's forcibly reminded she still has a headache, splitting pain between her eyes, sending tingles behind her eyelids. she doesn't speak to any of the employees, nods in silence, forgets to take back her change.

she walks out with a new blush and a new lipgloss and wet wipes and a free sample of a foundation that is not her shade.

hailey has never liked it here. the island is too small for such a shopping complex, half the storefronts lonely and abandoned, graffitid over with tags she hardly recognises.

every so often a hot shot business man from out of town will launch a fancy new lunch spot with overpriced smoothies and vegan sandwiches. they never last long. hatchetfield thrives for the the locals, it doesn't like strangers.

toyzone is empty too when she walks by, shooting lex a thumbs up through the store window when she catches her eye. her smile in return is warmer than it usually is, grateful.

there are pigeons in the windowsills on the way back home. their conversations are the same as always. she doesn't have anything to give them today. she doesn't know why she feels guilty.

from the corners of dark alleyways, the stray cats cry out. they recognise her, hailey walks faster. news spreads fast from creature to creature, the shelter cats are wiley. they speak of her in hushed tones behind garbage bins and through the bars of cages. it doesn't put her at ease like it normally does.

she doesn't stop, kittens mewl in the gutters, hailey doesn't stop.

she sleeps on the fire escape that night, bundled up tight in both her and zoey's blankets. the nights are near freezing and overcast.

it forces her out of her own head. when there is no one else there to focus on hailey turns inwards and becomes a shadow of herself, a caricature wearing her own skin. she's too aware of how her face doesn't move when she smiles or the tap tap tap of her fingers on the side of her leg when she's anxious. zoey isn't home yet, she's her anchor, her sense of self. hailey misses her sorely.

she wakes up covered in morning dew.

Chapter Text

zoey doesn't return home all of next week. hailey brews fresh coffee every morning for two and throws the pot out in the evening, she opens the windows in zoey's room and airs out the sheets, she wipes down her side of the table out of habit. she does groceries for three and leaves the extra portions in front of the neighbour's door. they've never thanked her for it, she doesn't stop. her tupperware always comes back dirty.

on saturday evening, hailey goes to the first rehearsal of the play. her acceptance email sits unopened on her phone. she barely remembers her lines, couldn't tell anyone the plot or the characters. she feels more lost in the script than she has in years.

she doesn't see zoey there. the stage lights haunt her all the way back home.

harmony has stopped coming by. her things sit neatly stacked on a chair hailey never uses, ashtray on the sidetable. the house feels empty and sterile. she opens the windows every day, lets the cold take hold. she's tempted to turn off the heating.

the smell of smoke slowly dissipates. the shower drain stays clean.

hailey doesn't text anyone. she takes the long way into town, avoiding all the busiest corners where harmony usually collects signatures, changes up her route to go to starbucks.

she squeezes through dingy alleyways where the rats scream the loudests to avoid the park and its thick clouds of fragrant weed, fearing she might catch a ghost underneath if she stares too long.

days go by in a blur. hailey's headache doesn't fade.

the second rehearsal is next tuesday. she hasn't been to beanies in almost a week. her gut is thanking her, but her heart is heavy.

she doesn't think about it, can't think about it, drills her lines and delivers them as blandly as she can. the name of her character is still foreign in her mouth, in the shapes her lips make as she speaks. she ignores the drink invitations from the cast, stalks back outside without saying goodbye.

the director sends her a text message almost every other day, about the weather and the play and if she knows anyone who does set design, if she wants connections in the industry and who to hook her up with. hailey puts her phone on silent.

on wednesday she's off to the kennel again. her watch has only beeped once, she isn't late. at home, the sink is empty and the fridge is full. she still buys the brand of full gluten cookies zoey loves the most, still stacks the mugs in a pattern.

lex is softer with her than usual. she wonders if her heartache peeks through. when she sweeps the floors she brushes her fingertips past hailey's shoulder, wordless. the cats mewl and clamour like they always do, they don't ask her what's wrong, begging for treats and pillows and love.

hailey wants to beg, too.

"i'm going to need you guys to hold down the fort alone this afternoon."

pj looks wrecked, paperwork and math equations stacked high around her. the semester is drawing to its peak, it's a wonder she's managed to combine her job and school for as long as she has. hailey's heart aches for her. distantly she remembers summers slaving away in walmart for pocket money.

pj is upset, agitated, throwing her hands around in circles that make the bones in her wrists sound a rhythmic click click click.

"there's this appointment with the chess club, and the inspector is coming by the kennel today, but i really need to go and i've got this exam next week and dad has been on my ass over this administration thing-"

hands knot tightly in dark curls, hailey pries pj's fingers away and holds her hands in hers. her nailpolish is chipped and purple.

"don't worry, go do what you need to. we've got this."

it's the most she's spoken to someone not on a stage in the past week. her voice cracks.

from the breakroom doorway, lex echoes the sentiment, though louder and more crass. hailey supresses a smile.

she has her lunch alone in the storage room with the door locked twice.

the inspector comes and goes. it's disappointingly uneventful.

hailey begs the cats to stay quiet, lex does the talking. she's charming when she needs to be, though she rarely wants to. she flashes smiles and turns up a customer service voice toyzone must have drilled into her, all perfect composure.

they check all the cages one by one, it's slow and grating. the inspector doesn't speak much, asks a question here and there, taps the walls of the cages with her perfectly manicured fingers.

she's glad lex is here, her edges seem to have dulled since last week. hailey grabs on to the hem of lex's jacket and runs her fingertips over the loose threads and the rips in the fabric. she's become comfort, routine, a blessedly unchanging presence in the unmooredness of her life. hailey digs her fingers into the rough seams until they ache.

the inspector has a greenpeace sticker on her clipboard. her guts twist and twist.

she heads for beanies after work. it's a risk, even though she knows zoey's schedule by heart there's no telling what might happen if she miscalculates and runs into her.

nora is draped over the register when she comes in, a limp ragdoll, hair a mess and bags under her eyes. the shop is blessedly quiet. even the regulars seem to have abandoned ship early today, a chill in the air that says a storm is coming. she makes a mental note to take the bedding on the fire escape back inside.

hailey orders a single chamomile tea, as hot as the water will go. it burns her fingertips through the cheap cup. nora declines her cash.

"i've just counted this entire register, you're not paying. no way i'm starting over again. we still owe you for the free shifts anyway."

that does get a chuckle out of hailey. she slinks away to a booth in the corner of the room, nora slips in besides her.

"hey, are you doing okay?"

she wrings her hands, nervous. her voice is raspy.

"i'm not… i don't know you that well. but you're never here alone. and never this late. and zoey's been skipping out on work again."

nora swallows loudly, she looks both younger and older than her age. hailey focuses on a grey hair peeking out from underneath her cap.

"just… know you can always come to me? god, this is hard. i wanted to try, i guess..?"

she buries her head in her hands, exhaling loudly. hailey can smell nicotine on her breath. she puts a hand on nora's forearm.

outside, the street lights blink on one by one.

hailey sleeps in zoey's bed and dreams about birds and blood and kittens. 

it's another two days, another shift at the kennel, another chat with nora late at night. zoey hasn't come by yet. the quiet denial churns in her chest, bright hot anger that she's afraid to look at too closely.

nora talks idly into the middle distance, not expecting a response. they're lost souls, the both of them, floating through the liminal space of beanies in the street lamp light. she twists a lock of hair around her finger and pulls.

her thoughts drift.

she silently wishes zoey is somewhere in a ditch, feeling even half as bad as she is right now

guilt creeps up her throat faster than she can finish the thought, feet slipping on the tile as she runs. the bathroom door locks behind her as she frantically slams open a stall.

stinging ugly bile heaving from her body, cold porcelain underneath her hands, hailey has never felt more disgusting and yet she can't help but sob and sob and sob into the toilet bowl until the ends of her hair get drenched.

the world is closing in and she is at the center of it, a black hole. she feels so lonely.

it burns and it aches and she wishes it was her in the ditch instead.