So another piece free writing that I’ve edited and polished a bit to post online. An attempt at some realistic dialogue exchanges… Yeah. Thanks for reading it, if you do. Feedback always welcome.
As she walked towards the school gates, she fitted her hand comfortably into the hand of the boy walking next to her, a small, playful smile curving her lips. Hannah stood and watched the two of them walking out of sight behind the tall brick walls that surrounded the school like the walls of an asylum – high and impenetrable to protect its precious cargo. Or to pen them in, stop them from experiencing the world, depending on f you were inside of them, or outside.
“You’re not allowed to be jealous.” Simon told her. Hannah rolled her eyes at him, stamping out a cigarette butt beneath her feet.
“Look, it’s not her fault she rejected you, okay?” He tried again.
“Yeah, but she could not be throwing her fucking boyfriend all over the school, in my face, y’know?” She replied.
“She’s not gay, Hannah. I’m sorry, but there’s not a lot you can do about that.” He reminded her, voice level, but annoyingly understanding.
Hannah sighed, looking down at her feet. She knew it really; she had no right to be upset that Emily had rejected her. It was no more her fault for being straight than it was hers for not being. Simon knew better than most, of course – it had been a year and a half since he told Hannah that he was in love with her, and she’d had to tell him that he just didn’t have the right equipment for her. She was lucky he’d carried on hanging around, really. He’d become her best friend quickly, and she was pretty sure that without him, she’d have checked out a long time ago.
“It just hurts.” She admitted, finally. “Being rejected sucks ass, but seeing her being happy with someone else that isn’t me… It’s too hard.”
“Did you just admit to being hurt?” Simon teased, but the hard look she threw him said to back away from jokes. This was a rare serious moment.
“Look, I know it hurts, okay? Trust me. After we… Yeah, after that, I was so angry and heartbroken. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep…” He said, “It felt like the story of my life had been derailed by not getting the girl. I hate myself for that now.”
“I don’t understand how you felt like this and could still stand the sight of me…” Hannah said quietly.
“Because it was either that or not see you at all, and I know which one was better.” He smiled back her, “Besides, I can look but not touch.”
“Ew! You fucking gross straight boy!” Hannah punched him on the arm, and they both laughed. Somewhere in the distance, the bell rang, letting them know that it was time for French.
“Hey, je suis cannot be arsed with French. Wanna go sit somewhere and be angry at the world?” Simon asked her.
“Absolutely,” Hannah replied, lighting another cigarette, “Our French is practically flawless anyway. Voulez-Vous Coucher Avec Moi and all that shite.”
“Masterful.” Dry and sarcastic was the sort of Simon she preferred. That was the one she knew best.
“Feelings are hard anyway. Ice cream is great.” She told him, blowing smoke out into the crisp autumn air.
“I hear that sister.”
As they walked along the street, Hannah felt a familiar pulsing in her head, as a dark prickling voice started to break and chip at her walls of emotional defence. It told her how worthless she was, how no-one would ever love her. It told her that Emily would notice her if she stepped into oncoming traffic. She’d have to care there. The guilt would drive them together.
Simon slipped his hand into hers, noticing the distant and dark look in his best friends eyes. He knew it well, and he was damned if he was letting her face it alone. Their hands felt perfect together, and even though she’d never feel about him how he wanted her to, there was no pressure here, just unconditional support. She managed to fix him with a look of gratitude, even as her brain swarmed darkness, and she smiled.