Chapter Text
"Sorry for coming in through the window..." he began, in possibly the most smug tone she'd ever heard from him, as he swung a leg over her windowsill. "Dreadful ettiquette, I know...!"
"Get out of my house!" Veronica wanted to scream. She wanted to punch him. She wanted to— she wasn't sure what. She could feel her hands shaking, and she had to force them to relax. If she wanted this act of hers to work, she had to stay completely still. It took a monumental effort, but she did.
Her head was bowed, and her eyes were closed, but she saw the glow of her lamp being switched on through her eyelids. Then she heard a noise from J.D. It almost reminded her of the sound a wounded animal would make. The smugness had disappeared.
"...No. No, no, no, no. Veronica! Veronica, wake up!" she felt him grab at her arms, then gently tilt her face up. He was clearly scared to move her too violently, as she was hanging from the ceiling. She heard him pick up the open diary she'd left on her desk.
His eyes swept over the words, which, to his dismay, were starting to get blurry. He was tearing up. He angrily wiped at his eyes.
Dear Diary. Last entry. No one can stop J. D. Not the FBI, the CIA or the PTA. He once told me that the extreme always makes an impression. Well, now it's my turn. Let's see how the son of a bitch reacts to a suicide he didn't perform himself.
"I can't believe you did it." he mutters hoarsely. "I was teasing. I loved you!" his voice suddenly raises to a snarl, and he spins around to glare at her. He was angry now. Furious. How dare she leave him alone! How dare she! He should've expected this. Why did people that he loved always seem to want to kill themselves to get away from him?
"I- I mean, sure, I brought a gun with me, but that was just a precaution! I would never actually hurt you! ...Unless I really had to. But I was going to try and win you over first— oh, you've ruined everything! You've fucked it all up! What's the point of bombing that fucking hell of a school if you won't be alive to see it with me!"
He slammed the diary back down. "Oh, but I'll do it, Veronica. Because I don't give up on things so easily. Unlike someone I could care to mention." He laughs, an unhinged sort of thing, coming from him.
"You know what was on that petition I got Heather Duke to get signatures for? It's a shame you can't see what our fellow students really signed. Alright, listen."
J.D takes out a creased sheet of paper from one of the pockets of his trench coat, and clears his throat.
""We students of Westerburg High will die. Today, our burning bodies will be the ultimate protest to a society that degrades us. Fuck you all.""
He paces in front of her. "It's, ah, not very subtle. But neither's blowing up a whole school, now is it?"
His head whipped around as he heard a woman —her mother— call up the stairs.
"Veronica! Dinner!"
"Shit..." J. D hissed, climbing back through the window, and running back to his motorbike the second his feet hit the ground.
As soon as he was gone, Veronica untied the bedsheets around her throat and waist, and slipped back onto the bed. "...Asshole." she muttered, as she hurried downstairs for dinner.