Chapter Text
Lottie Matthews hated horror movies.
It wasn't for some high-minded kind of reason like Shauna might have come up with - it wasn't that she thought that horror films as a convention of the genre failed to develop a convincing metanarritive, or something. Lottie just thought they were scary as fuck. It was hardly fair, Lottie thought, to take a girl who slept with a night-light until she was fourteen and make her watch movies about alien monster serial killers. Worse than scary, they made her sad. She couldn't help but think of the murdered characters as people with families and friends that would miss and mourn them; and that was just distressing. Lottie's favourite movie was A Room With A View, as it had been ever since she was little, primarily because the conflict was sweet and fluffy and no one had to die (and even then she always got a little sad when Lucy broke her engagement with Cecil; he may have been dull, but she still cared when he looked hurt). Still if it were up to her, they'd watch that at every one of these Yellowjackets team sleepovers. Maybe they could throw in some other romances, or even rom-coms, to keep things interesting, but that was as far as Lottie was willing to go. Unfortunately, the Yellowjackets weren't an autocracy, so they voted on movies, and more often than not it was some cheap horror flick that Nat and Van were able to form a united front on.
That was the one good thing about these movies; Nat loved them. In a way that helped. The little grin Nat had as she watched people get murdered was adorbale, and it gave Lottie something to focus on, but she didn't want to stare too much. Besides, as much as she hated what was playing, the flashing bright lights drew her eyes to the TV almost inexorably. Lottie felt like a moth. So, like a moth, she fluttered helplessly around the fire until it singed her wings and she fell painfully to earth.
Usually she could hold out, close her eyes through the worst scenes and come out okay, with only minor nightmares to follow. But the movie they were watching tonight - well, it had advertised itself as 'the scariest movie ever made!' and Lottie thought it really did deserve that accolade. She hated it. Nat, sitting next to her, close enough that they were almost touching, looked exuberant at every bit of gore. On screen, a man was being flayed alive. It made Lottie feel a bit sick.
By the halfway point, she really couldn't take it anymore. Usually the presence of other people helped, but tonight the images on the screen were just too frightening, or maybe she was just more sensitive than usual. Those days happened. She needed a break. Her breath had been coming faster as the plot (such as it was) built.
She had two choices now; ask to turn it off, which would be unfair to everyone else, or leave. And go where? And why? She couldn't just get up and go, or Jackie would wonder why Lottie was wandering around her house unattended.
Lottie stood up. "I'm, uh - bathroom," she squeaked out.
No one paid her any mind except Jackie, who said, "Oh, use my ensuite, okay? Mom doesn't want us in hers anymore."
Lottie nodded. "Sure." Her body felt stiff and uneven. Jackie's bedroom was on the second floor, which was dark. The staircase was darker still. Lottie envied her fourteen-year-old self for her nightlight. As she started to walk up she could hear the vague noise of her friends and the TV behind her, fading into the middle distance. Shauna was asking Jackie in a low voice why her mom's bathroom was off limits now, and Jackie was replying that it was because she thought someone had been stealing her Valium. Lottie could sense that it was an inside joke.
The back of her neck was prickling uncomfortably, and Lottie could already feel herself sweating. Her hands were shaking. She gripped the bannister and hoped they'd stop.
She was fine. She was fine. Everything was fine. If she kept repeating it, it'd come true. Nothing was going to jump out at her from the dark. The monsters in that movie were stupid rubber props, anyone could see that. She had absolutely no reason to be scared.
She practically ran up the last few steps and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and slamming her hand against the wall until she hit the switch. The flood of bright light helped a bit, dissipating her fears momentarily. She blinked, leaning against the sink. She looked like shit, eyes wide, face gaunt, body shuddering like it was freezing.
It didn't take long for the feeling to return, despite the brightness of the room. The empty space behind her felt like the perfect place for something to lurk. No matter where she turned, she couldn't rid herself of the paranoia that It was behind her. It was made all the worse because she knew that her mind might really cause her to see something.
She didn't like it here. She wanted to leave - and go where? Home? To an empty house with a thousand dark corners that anything and everything could hide in? Not to mention that to get there she would have to leave this semi-haven and go out into the dark stairwell and dark night and drive home on dark roads. No, she couldn't.
It was all Lottie could stand to sit with her back to the wall, facing the door, breathing as slowly and deeply as she could possibly manage, and trying not to let the horrors past the edges of her vision. There was no rhyme or reason to hallucination but in a way she felt that she could appease them, stave them off by sticking to clear rules. Whatever thing was stalking her obviously couldn't just pop into existence; that wasn't logical. It had to approach while her back was turned, creeping around and behind her peripherals. She just couldn't give It the chance.
She wished someone else was there. Nothing could happen while other people were present, especially Nat. Nat was stable and brave and kind, and, Lottie repeated like a prayer, it wouldn't be long until the movie ended and Nat and the rest of them would come up to drive away the monsters. And then, in the morning, the daylight would make everything fine again, and Lottie could drive home and watch A Room With A View as many times as she wanted.
<~~~•~~~>
Nat had heard the slam of the door. At first she'd thought it was from the TV, but there was nothing on screen that could have caused the sound. The characters were out in a field. It had to have come from reality. Why was Lottie slamming doors? But no one else seemed to pay it any attention, least of all Jackie, so Nat figured it didn't matter.
But as the minutes dragged on, she started to get a little worried. Lottie should have returned by now. And, frankly, Nat was getting a little bored of the movie. She had liked it at first, but the third act fell off hard, now that they had fully revealed the monster and that sublime creeping dread of the unknown was gone. She felt restless, shifting in her seat - if there was one thing Nat wasn't capable of, it was being bored - and her mind was drifting resolutely to Lottie.
In the middle of a particularly painful exposition scene, Nat got up. "Don't pause it," she said simply.
"Where are you going?"
Nat just shrugged and walked out of the room, down the hallway to the stairs Lottie must've taken. She wasn't quite sure what she expected to find. What would be the worst thing? Lottie, overdosed on Jackie's mom's Valium? Distressing, but unlikely. Lottie, digging through Nat's overnight bag to sniff her boxers? Lottie completely gone? Nat would hardly put it past her to disappear without warning into the night.
The bathroom door was closed shut, light emanating around its frame. So Lottie was in there. Maybe she was sick? Nat steeled herself and rapped lightly on the door.
A terrified sound came from inside, followed Lottie's quavering voice, "Um - w-who is it?"
"It's just me," Nat said, softly and gently. "I was, yknow, kind of worried about how long you were gone."
Quiet. Then, "Are you real?"
That was a bad sign. Nat had been there for one of Lottie's episodes before. It had been maybe the scariest experience of her life. This didn't quite sound like that, thank God, but it seemed like she was on the edge. "Uh - yeah, pretty sure." She waited for a response that didn't come, then kept pressing her original line. "Is everything okay, Lottie? Do you want me to come in with you?" Nat felt weird asking that. It was too - something, not really even intimate, or at least the kind of settled intimacy they were nowhere close to.
Another long silence followed that, and then in a husky voice; "Yeah. Please."
"Okay," Nat said. "I'm opening the door, now, then." She twisted the gilt knob and gently swung the door open.
At least Lottie wasn't doing anything embarassing. She was just sitting there, staring at Nat with saucer-wide eyes like a deer in headlights.
"Hey," Nat said.
"Hi," Lottie replied. She was taking deep, gulping, manual breaths. "Close the door."
"Right," Nat said, shutting out the dark and walking a few steps closer to Lottie. She leaned against the counter. "So, uh, you feeling alright?"
Lottie shrugged. "I - didn't like the movie very much." Her hands were flying nervously across her lap, picking at threads, smoothing the fabric of her skirt, pulling at her waistband and then down to her socks to tug first one than the other up a half-inch. "I hated it, actually. I don't like horror. It's too scary."
"That's kind of the point, Lot," Nat said. "At least it's better than whatever boring chick flicks Jackie used to make us watch, right?"
"No!" Lottie said. Her expression told Nat she'd said the wrong thing. "Horror makes me sick and upset and gives me nightmares. So yes, I would rather watch Clueless."
"Oh -" Nat said. "I didn't - sorry." She looked away, feeling her face go hot. "I didn't know. You should have said something sooner."
Lottie shuffled awkwardly. "Everyone else seemed to like them. Especially you."
"Well, yeah, but we would have watched something else if you wanted," Nat protested.
"You don't know that," said Lottie.
"Well, I would have," Nat replied. "And if anyone else objected I'd - they'd regret it. You're my friend, Lot." She took a step closer and squatted down to Lottie's eye level. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Lottie said. "Ok. Thanks, Nat."
"You want me to go down there and tell them to turn it off?"
"No," Lottie said, "no, I think… I just want to go home." She looked embarassed. "Can you come with me?"
"Come with you?" Nat repeated. "To your house?"
Lottie nodded. "I just want to have someone there. It's less scary."
"Oh," Nat said, swallowing thickly. "Yeah. Sure, absolutely." She stood up and offered Lottie her hand. Lottie's hand was soft and cool. Nat knew her own palms were probably sweaty, and her skin rough and calloused. As soon as Lottie was on her feet, Nat tried to let go, but Lottie grasped her hand tightly and pulled it back.
Nat's eyes flicked up to look at her. "Please?" Lottie said. "Until we get downstairs at least."
Nat nodded. She led Lottie out of the bathroom, collecting their overnight bags from Jackie's room, and downstairs. As Nat turned the corner off the stairs and towards the foyer, she almost tripped over Jackie coming the other way.
"Oh!" Jackie said. Her eyes flicked over Nat, then Lottie, then down to their joined hands. Nat followed her eyes and quickly pulled her hand back, feeling her cheeks go hot. "I was just coming to see where the two of you had gone. But, uh, it looks like everything's fine. Are you - leaving?" Jackie asked.
"Yeah, Lottie's not feeling well," Nat lied. "I'm going to drive her home." It wasn't the worst lie in the world; Lottie was looking pretty pale and shaken.
"Oh no!" Jackie's expressison shifted from awkward to concerned. "Okay, well, I hope you feel better soon, Lottie," she said over Nat's shoulder. "I'm sorry you missed the end of the movie."
"Was it good?" Nat asked.
"No," Jackie said. "Well, I should get back to Shauna before she comes after me. Make sure you get lots of rest, Lottie, and water."
"I will," Lottie promised.
"Feel better!" Jackie said again, and walked back into her living room.
Outside, the night was blessedly bright with a full moon and starry sky. Nat threw her and Lottie's bags into the back of Lottie's car. "You want me to drive?"
"Yes," Lottie said. "I suck at the best of times."
"I don't even own a car," Nat said.
"You'll still be better," Lottie replied as she pulled open the passanger's door. Nat shrugged and slid into the driver's seat.
"You know," she said, taking the key Lottie offered and turning it in the ignition, "she totally thought we were fucking."
"Jackie?" Lottie let out a shaky laugh. "I don't know. I don't think Jackie knows girls can fuck. Each other."
"Haven't you seen her and Shauna?" Nat said. "No, that proves your point, actually. She thought something, though."
The drive was mostly quiet. Jackie's house was on practically the opposite end of Wiskayok from Lottie's, which still wasn't far. Nat fiddled with Lottie's fancy radio as they drove, and failed to produce anything good. Outside the moon flickered like a dying candle through the stands of pine and spruce that lined this part of the road. "You have any tapes in here?" Nat asked.
"A few," Lottie said. "I don't think you'd like them - Nat, look out."
"What?" Nat's eyes shot to the road, but there was nothing there that she could see. "Lot -"
"Nat, look out!" Lottie half-screamed, and the next second her hands were on Nat's arm, and she wrenched on it; it was all Nat could do to keep them on the road. Then Lottie fell back into her seat, her hands firmly clamped over her ears, curling up like she was bracing for an impact that never came as the car rolled slowly onto the shoulder and stopped.
Nat sat there for a second, her hands firmly gripped to the wheel, her life flashing before her eyes, as Lottie sat up again.
"Sorry," she whispered into the silence. "There was a deer."
"Where?" Nat asked. "Lot, I didn't see a deer."
"On the road," Lottie said. "You were heading right for it, you had to have hit it…" But now she was looking around, like she expected to see broken glass and blood and a mangled cervid body. There was nothing. "Oh my God," she said, to herself.
"There was no deer," said Nat, gently but firmly. "I promise, I wouldn't hit a deer."
"I know," Lottie said, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Nat…" There were tears glistening at the corners of her eyes now.
"Jesus, fuck, it's fine, Lot," Nat said quickly. "Come on, don't cry, I'm not mad. We're both fine, your car's fine. Shit -" she undid her seatbelt and reached across the console, awkwardly taking Lottie into her arms. "It's alright, yeah?" She felt hot and awkward; she never knew what to do with a crying person. The last person who'd cried in front of Nat was some girl at a party who'd started crying while they were making out. That had been entirely too weird of a situation for her taste. This felt different; she didn't want Lottie to stop just because it was awkward to hold her while she cried, she really wanted to make Lottie feel better.
"Okay," Lottie said after a couple minutes, pulling back and slapping at her eyes with a hand. "Okay. I - I'm sorry, I was so sure it was real."
"It's fine," Nat said again. "Let's just forget about it, yeah? How about you put on one of those tapes you said I won't like?"
Nat drew the car off the shoulder and started to drive again while Lottie hunted in her glove compartment. After a few minutes she slid a casette into the machine, and it whirred to life.
"What is this?" Nat asked.
"Just a mix I made," Lottie said. She sounded self-conscious. "The first song, is, um -" she paused, waiting for the first notes, lazy strums on an acoustic guitar. "Time has told me."
Lottie had been correct; it certainly wasn't the kind of music Nat preferred. She didn't hate it, but it was too long and slow and sad for her taste. She liked her songs paced quick and violent; sad was okay, but angry was better. This crooning Englishman and his guitar weren't very interesting to her.
The next song was faster, still acoustic, but this time the singer was an American woman. "Oh, I love this one," Lottie said, excited from the first strums. She began to sing along in an adorable twanging imitation of the singer's Southern accent; "I don't care if it rains or freezes, long as I got my plastic Jesus, sittin' on the the dashboard of my car…"
Nat liked this song better. The lyrics were good, though it was sometimes hard to tell what they were with Lottie muddling over them. Nat smiled to herself as her eyes flicked over to her. She was leaning back in her seat, a wide grin on her face as she sang. The next moment, Lottie glanced over at Nat, their eyes meeting.
"Sorry," Nat muttered, turning back to the dark road. They'd left the wooded areas now, and come up onto the hill that marked the rich quarter of town. "Are you feeling better now?"
Lottie hummed in confirmation.
"That's good. We're nearly there." Nat could already see the great dark mass of Malcolm Matthews' mansion looming up ahead. A minute later she was pulling into the driveway as Plastic Jesus ended (for the third time. Lottie hadn't been lying about liking that song).
Nat got out and handed Lottie her bag. "You're good?" she asked again, throwing her own over her shoulder.
Lottie nodded. "Yeah. Fine." She looked confused about why Nat was asking.
"Okay. Well," Nat said, shifting on the loose gravel of the driveway. "Guess I'll see you on Monday, yeah?"
"Yes, but -" Lottie said, her brow furrowing further. "You're leaving? Where are you going?"
"Home?" Nat replied. Obviously. Lottie's confusion changed to disappointment in an instant.
"Oh, right, of course -" she looked away. "I just thought you'd stay the night, is all."
"Oh," Nat said. "Do you want me to?" She felt like an idiot when she said it. Of course Lottie wanted her to; she was looking like a kicked puppy right now.
"Please?"
"Okay," Nat nodded. "Sure, I'd love to, Lot."
"Thank you," Lottie said, leading Nat up the path and into the cavernous foyer. "I hate being alone in this house. It's like living in an aircraft hanger. I don't know why anyone would ever want it; dad couldn't use it all even if he was ever home. Come on, let's go up to my room."
"Okay," Nat nodded, following her up the long staircase. "What about, like, servants? Don't rich people have those?"
"Just chef and Martha, but they don't stay nights," Lottie said. "Usually it's not so bad. I just keep to my room."
By coincidence, they walked into that room as she spoke. Nat could hardly believe her eyes. It was bigger than her entire trailer, maybe twice as big. "Jesus, Lot," she said. "Pretty sick."
"It's fine," Lottie shrugged, sitting on her bed.
"You have a TV." It was a big, fancy, narrow one - maybe only six inches thick, and the screen was much larger than Jackie's.
"I suppose," Lottie said. "Want to watch a movie?"
"Sure," Nat said. "I wasn't planning on going to bed before two tonight anyway."
"Ooh, good idea," Lottie said. "Put your pyjamas on, we can get all cozy in bed."
Nat snorted. "Pyjamas are for rich people, Lot. I sleep in a t-shirt."
"Well, put that on," Lottie said.
Nat obediently pulled out the ragged old shirt she slept in. It had once been white and fairly stiff, but now had been reduced to gray and had the texture of flannel. "What are we watching?"
"You'll see," Lottie said. "It's my favourite." Nat stood up from changing and turned to find Lottie wearing a pink nightgown that looked like it cost more than Nat's education. The dichotomy was kind of hilarious, Nat thought.
Nat had never heard of A Room With A View when Lottie put in the VHS. Her eventual verdict was that it wasn't the worst movie she'd ever seen. She could certainly see why Lottie loved it. By the halfway point, Nat could almost find herself enjoying it. By that time, Lottie seemed to have gotten bored of reciting lines, and she was contentedly sitting back against the headboard, her eyes half-focused on the screen, apparently blissful.
"How many times have you seen this?" Nat asked.
"I don't know. A couple dozen," Lottie replied. "Ooh, listen, listen, this is the best line."
Nat watched the screen dutifully as the priest character picked up a book and leafed through it. "A Shropshire Lad?" came his voice through the speakers, "Never heard of it…"
For the life of her, Nat couldn't understand it, but Lottie was practically jumping up and down clapping her hands, giggling like Jackie.
"What's so funny?" Nat asked, confused.
"It's just - the way he says it, I don't know." She affected an English accent and repeated the line. It was a fairly impressive impression, actually. "Nevah heard of it."
"If you say so."
The next minute, all of Nat's concentration was arrested when Lottie leaned against her, putting her head on her shoulder, pushing her body up close to Nat's side.
"Lot…?" she breathed, hardly wanting to intervene at all.
"You're warm and comfy," Lottie murmured. "Watch the movie."
Nat could hardly hope to follow that order.
The realization hit her very gently, like she had been expecting it for a long time. She loved Lottie. Natalie Scatorccio loved Lottie Matthews. It was obvious now that she gave consciousness to the thought; it was the easiest thing in the world. How could she not love Lottie? She was surprised this hadn't come sooner. Sure, she'd felt some attraction to Lottie before - she had known she liked girls since maybe sixth grade, and Lottie was probably the prettiest girl at WHS - but now that Nat knew she was shocked that she hadn't been head over heels for years.
That was how she spent the rest of the movie, cuddled up to Lottie, her entire brain being consumed by thoughts of her. The insufferable English people on screen and their straight problems paled in comparison. The girl broke up with the annoying twink and married the blonde twink in the end. Lottie seemed to be happy for them, and that was what Nat cared about.
The worst part about the movie ending was that Lottie stood up, depriving Nat of her touch. She stretched, yawning, and said, "I'm going to take a bath; do you want to use the bathroom first?"
Nat shook her head. Left to herself, she got up and wandered around Lottie's room, poking around for interesting things. She wasn't snooping, not really, she just wanted to find things out about Lottie. They'd only ever hung out a few times, and never in very close proximity. Lottie was kind of enigmatic to Nat; to everyone.
The room was very bare, with nothing on the walls. A small desk stood in the corner, which was covered in stuffed animals. Next to their pile was an empty glass tank. Nat wondered idly what had been in there. Had Lottie had a fish at one time? A reptile? What had happened to it?
As she moved to look at the top of the dresser, Nat heard the door of the ensuite open and slam shut behind her. She turned around to find Lottie, stripped of everything but her underwear, looking worried and embarrassed. And sure, she'd seen Lottie naked before, but this felt different. For one thing Lottie's room was a lot more intimate than a high school locker room, and for another, Nat had just discovered she was in love with her. She almost felt like she had to cover her eyes.
"Lot?" she asked, "What's up?"
Lottie took a deep breath. "Can you come in and sit with me?"
"Sit with you?"
She nodded. "You don't have to do anything, I just - I thought I'd gotten over it but the moment I was alone again I felt the same as I did back at Jackie's."
"Okay," said Nat. "Yeah, no problem."
She padded after Lottie into the bathroom - which was easily larger than Nat's whole room at home - and sat down against the side of the bath, tilting her head away as Lottie took off the last of her clothes and got in.
Nat had underestimated the difficulty of talking to someone in a bath. She could hardly think between the heady perfumed scent of Lottie's soaps, the awkwardness of looking everywhere but Lottie, and the frank absurdity of the situation. "So," she started, throat dry. "Are you… seeing anyone?" Superb. She was in rare form now.
Lottie laughed softly. "No. I'm not exactly Wiskayok's most eligible bachelorette."
"But you're -" Nat had to be careful not to tip her hand. "You know. Pretty. Smart, funny, all that. Rich. I'd have thought most guys would be climbing over themselves to date you."
"They did, for a while. But most guys get kind of turned off when their date started hallucinating woodland creatures. Word travels fast." Nat heard her shrug in the water. "I don't care. I'm not really that interested in guys."
Nat's breath hitched. "Oh? That's, uh, cool." She didn't dare ask about girls; she was damned no matter what the answer was. It was better to imagine that Lottie didn't love her than to ask and remove all doubt. "Do you… have your eye on anyone?"
"Maybe," Lottie answered.
"Maybe?"
"I don't know. It's tricky."
Nat abandoned that line of conversation after that. Her heart couldn't take it. For a few minutes they sat in silence, before meandering into unimportant things. Before long, Lottie was getting out and drying off, with Nat trying her best not to look and at the same time not look like she was trying to not look. She just tried to appear disinterested.
They went to bed after that. Lottie said she was exhausted, and Nat herself was pretty tired. It had been a long evening - long early morning, now. Within a couple minutes of lying down in her giant, down-soft bed (normally Nat would chivalrously offer to sleep anywhere else, but Lottie's bed was so large that that would have just been silly), Lottie was asleep. Her breaths became deeper and quieter, and when she turned Nat could look right over and see her sleeping face smushed into the pillow or mattress. It was cute. She wanted to see it every night.
For her part, Nat couldn't sleep. Her brain was consumed with Lottie. She couldn't tell if she was crazy or if there really was something between them. There had to be, right? Nothing Lottie had done tonight was platonic. But Lottie had been vulnerable. Maybe she had just needed someone's touch and kindess and it wouldn't matter if it was from Nat or not. As much as Nat rationalized it away, she couldn't shake the feeling that Lottie might, in some way, like her back. If 'like' was even the right word for this feeling.
Nat didn't believe in a God, but if she did, she would almost think her and Lottie were supposed to be together. Out of the six of them, the core members of the Yellowjackets; Jackie, Shauna, Tai, Van, Lottie, and her, Tai and Van were already dating, Jackie and Shauna were pretty much destined to get together at some point because separating them would probably be fatal, and her and Lottie were… whatever this was. More and less than friends all at once. They'd hardly spoken before, but in this evening Nat had calmed Lottie down from a panic attack, held her while she cried, cuddled and watched a romance with her, seen her naked, and slept in her bed (well, shared her bed. Nat was pretty sure she wouldn't get a lick of sleep tonight).
Which could mean nothing. Or everything.
Nat sat up in bed, the silken sheets pooling around her, and glanced over at Lottie's sleeping form. She was splayed at a strange angle, her her head thrown back, her brow furrowed as she dreamed about something. Nat hoped it wasn't a nightmare.
Or maybe she hoped it was. Maybe she hoped, secretly and privately, that Lottie would wake up screaming and fall into Nat's arms, to be comforted, to be protected from the awful horrors of the night. Nat grimaced at the thought.
Lottie's chest rose slowly and fell, then again, and Nat practically threw herself against the pillow, turning away from Lottie towards the wall. Her body felt uncomfortably tense, too hot and too cold at the same time. The ceiling fan droned above her and she prayed, unsucessfuly, for the dark to take her.