a saturday night smoke. //open

[anastasiya ivanov]

someone come quickly
this place was built for moving out
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

[/CENTER]

The craving still strong, Ana loosened her grip on Cam’s shoulder and gently eased her hand off it entirely. She felt bad for letting herself slip at such a tender time in their conversation. For an instant she felt selfish for releasing all her pain and anxiety onto Cam’s shoulder through her hand. No one other than her parents and her doctor knew about Ana’s addiction, and she was afraid that squeezing his shoulder so tightly would raise suspicions within him. Even she could tell her sudden intensity wasn’t directed in his direction, and she felt genuinely sorry – almost too sorry – about that. Just the thought of her addiction made her face fall slightly.

The sense of worry and sadness struck in her eyes and she frowned slightly, inadvertently moving her hand from Cam’s shoulder to the necklace that habitually rested on her neckline. It was a cross, simple and silver, and it meant a lot to Ana. Her father, a strict Russian Orthodox Christian, had given it to her when she was born; Ana had never been a very religious person, but she still wore the necklace every day. Back when her addiction was unbearable, Ana had taken to it as a symbol of strength – not with her religion, but with herself. Anastasiya did mean ‘resurrection’, and Ana believed that was exactly what she’d done – she’d been resurrected from her former self, someone weak and fragile. She was still fragile in a social sense, but internally, she was stronger because of what she’d been through.

The familiar feeling of the metal cross beneath her fingers calmed her, and the slight smile that always seemed to be present on her features made its way to her lips once more. Allowing her eyes to flutter closed for a moment, Ana exhaled and steadied her thoughts. As her craving subsided, she opened her eyes and looked back at Cam. He was watching her – intently – and Ana bit down on her lips, wondering if her sudden lapse of judgment had been so obvious as to avert his attention away from the cigarette and onto her. “Sorry,” she breathed a bit too effortlessly, giving him a reassuring half-smile. “Just a little headache.”

Just a little headache. It’d been her excuse for as long as she could remember; every time someone asked if she was fine, or what was wrong, she’d explain that she had “just a little headache”. It had come to the point where using this lie was as easy as telling the truth, and people were genuinely too disinterested to prod any further. In the past few years, Ana had realized the majority of people she’d met were entirely too self-centered. They expected one- and two-word answers to every question: “fine, you?” “that’s good”, “awesome”. No one appreciated a genuine, well-thought out answer anymore. They didn’t want to hear about whether you were proud of a good test grade or had just gotten a new job. All they cared about was ranting about themselves, their problems, and their lives.

This was precisely the reasoning behind Ana’s nonchalant excuse. She still had to admit that Cam’s steadfast gaze was a bit disconcerting. She listened carefully to his next response, not wanting to seem any more detached from the conversation than she already was. “Just curious. I know the feeling,” she responded truthfully, her eyes locked on his for a moment. It was an uncanny coincidence, how their addictions coincided; Ana had started taking pills in sixth grade and Cam had started smoking that same year. Clearly, both of them were still struggling with their addictions. Ana wasn’t as bad as Cam, but she still found herself taking a few when she was particularly restless. In the past five years, there hadn’t been a period where Ana could consistently keep herself off them. That frustrated her.

“I’ve never smoked, though. Addiction is a tough thing to kick,” she clarified, nodding slightly. It was only then that Ana realized her hand was still wrapped around her necklace. For a minute she pondered letting it go, though she was almost certain she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet without feeling it there. All the talk of addiction was seeping back into her mind and Ana wouldn’t fare well if she didn’t have something keeping her sane. So she kept her hand there, loosely wrapped around the delicate silver cross, and moved her gaze to the calm lapping of the waves on the shore.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
STATUS • complete
WORD COUNT • 747
LYRICS • the execution of all things – rilo kiley
CREDIT • AMANDA IN WONDERLAND !? @ CAUTION

[/FONT][/COLOR][/CENTER][/blockquote]

[cameron sweet]

He hadn't noticed the cross hanging from her neck until she took it in her hand. It obviously held some affection with her, and for a moment Cameron wished he had some little piece of jewelery or something that he could clutch tightly in his hand to help him feel better. All he had to comfort him were his cigarettes though, which he supposed were not the best way to cope with things.

Ana was most definitely lying about her headache, and Cameron could tell. Countless times had he used the same sort of excuse when he was bothered by something, but felt like he couldn't talk about it. I'm just stressed out from schoolwork or, I'm tired because I barely got any sleep last night were popular sayings he liked to use. However, now he couldn't use petty little excuses like homework and school stress. Then again, no one really asked him anymore if something was wrong. If Cameron was in a bad mood at work, the others just left him alone, and that was that. Still, he recognized the slight fib that Ana had used, and it only made him crave an explanation for what was going on inside her head even more.

He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her, realizing the staring was probably starting to get a little creepy. Taking another drag of his cigarette, he blew the smoke out of his mouth and sighed heavily. As she talked further, he became even more curious. So she didn't smoke, yet she knew the feeling. She understood that addiction became so natural that it was practically impossible to get rid of. But what had she been hooked to?

Cameron glanced at Ana from the corner of his eye. He couldn't imagine her being a pothead or anything like that. And she had already explained that she didn't smoke. So what had been her problem? Or was she still dealing with her problem? His thoughts were racing now as he tried to guess. Finally, he decided just to simply ask her.

"Yeah... addictions are pretty tough," he said softly, holding his cigarette idly and watching the shore. How would he word this? "I mean... you say you know the feeling, so what exactly--?" Cameron stopped himself, realizing that perhaps asking this was going too far. He hated being nosy about it, but after that deep feeling of connection he had experienced with Ana minutes ago, he felt a strong desire to know more.

He inhaled some more smoke and coughed into his sleeve, trying to get a quick look at Ana to see what her reaction had been. Was she upset that he was trying to guess? Or confused, because he hadn't finished his sentence?

ooc: this post is so scatterbrained and terrible, I'm sorry. xD

[anastasiya ivanov]

someone come quickly
this place was built for moving out
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

[/CENTER]

For what seemed like the first time in forever, Ana looked back at Cam, just in time to catch him with the same fixed stare he’d had earlier. Part of her was curious, but the majority of her was intrigued. It was also strangely comforting to know that someone would look at her the way she looked at others. Well, the looking wasn’t very comforting. Ana always got very nervous when she was in the spotlight for everything – well, everything except dance. She wasn’t dancing now, though, so she felt a little awkward and nervous. She was fine looking at others, but when others looked at her – or offered attention in any way – Ana didn’t take it very well. It was a little weird.

Ana was one of the people who would probably ask Cam if he was alright if something was wrong. She tended to do that with everyone, though; she cared a lot about people, even strangers. All in all, she was probably far too caring of others and didn’t care much for herself. She was constantly worried if people thought she was rude that she always asked when someone seemed even the slightest bit off. That, and she simply found it to be common courtesy, though others might have disagreed. One nice gesture could make someone’s day, and Ana always tried to be the person making those gestures to others. Perhaps they would be reciprocated in the future.

She didn’t quite understand why she’d let such a big hint about her addiction slip out. It was her fault and she knew it; she’d gotten caught up in the beauty of the night and hadn’t been thinking to cover it up. She wouldn’t give that knowledge without a fight, though; no one knew but her, and she wasn’t going to let that change any time soon. Ana could see by the look in his eyes how curious he was, though, and she knew she’d have some serious covering to do. She couldn’t be telling her deepest secret to practically a stranger…

“My grandpa,” she lied, her tone unwavering. “He started smoking when he was very young. I always tried to get him to quit but he hasn’t. I’ve accepted it, though. I couldn’t really picture him not doing it, and who am I to make him stop doing something when it’s his decision?” Lie, lie, lie. For a girl as nervous and awkward as Ana, lying about her addiction seemed to come naturally to her. It was three parts fear and one part denial. Eventually she figured she’d tell someone, but she doubted Cam would be it. It was too shaming for him to know about.

Ana didn’t know why hiding her addiction was such a top priority on her list. She’d never been one to judge based on the bad things in people’s lives. Cam was a great example; a lot of people would judge him for dropping out of Stewart and taking up smoking at such an early age. Ana merely thought it added more character to him; it helped define who he was and his reactions to different circumstances. People were free to do what they what and Ana considered judging others badly based on unfortunate circumstances to be a revocation of that right. How could people be free to do what they wanted and be comfortable about it if they were constantly judged because of it?

Unfortunately, not many people she’d met thought this way. Ana had realized that people would probably use the fact that she’d been addicted against her in some way – any way. That’s why she worked so hard to keep it a secret, a beautiful lie that only she’d know about. Her lie hadn’t explained how she personally was affected, or how she knew addictions were so hard. But she wasn’t going to be rude and say it was none of his business. Her attention focused back on Cam, though, when he coughed. Her eyes widened slightly and she shifted a bit closer to him. “You alright?” she asked in a concerned tone.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
STATUS • complete
WORD COUNT • 683
LYRICS • the execution of all things – rilo kiley
CREDIT • AMANDA IN WONDERLAND !? @ CAUTION

[/FONT][/COLOR][/CENTER][/blockquote]

[cameron sweet]

Cameron was slightly disappointed when Ana went on to explain her grandfather's smoking problem. So he had assumed wrong when he felt that strange connection with her previously. She was not the one with any addiction problem or reliance on something to make her feel better. Selfishly, Cameron had kind of been wishing she did have an issue with addiction or something of the sort. Of course, it was terrible to wish an addiction on someone else, but at least he might have been able to talk with her about stuff. Maybe he could have quit smoking, and Ana would have been his new strategy to feeling better. Already, Cameron had an image in his head: instead of going through a pack of smokes every day, he'd just call Ana up and they'd do something fun, like bowling, or whatever was cool these days.

But he was getting ahead of himself. Obviously, as Ana had just told him, she didn't have a problem like him. There was no understanding between them, and therefore, he was still stuck with the tobacco for comfort.

"Sorry about your grandpa," he mumbled, killing the second cigarette and shoving it in the pocket of his pants. "If I had a granddaughter asking me to stop, I might consider it. But no one in my family really gives a shit about it, so yeah." Cameron laughed, despite the fact that what he had said wasn't very funny.

It surprised him that Ana showed concern over the fact that he had coughed. He was used to the action, seeing as being a smoker obviously gave you terrible throat problems. A genuine smile played upon his lips and he observed Ana's face very closely. She was such a kind-hearted girl, it was almost hard to believe she was real. Usually people fought over having control of the conversation, and they always wanted the topic to be about themselves. But Ana wasn't that way at all. In fact, even when he did something simple like cough, she worried if he was alright. Cameron was a bit charmed by her personality, which was something that didn't happen very often.

"I'm fine. Don't get alarmed if I ever get into a coughing fit, it happens all the time. Nothing new." With that, he yawned and decided to lie his body down. The grass was very cool and refreshing, and he focused on the stars decorating the night above.

"So... Ana," he murmured, lowering his eyelids halfway. "Tell me something random about yourself. Anything. Are you good at hopscotch? What's your favorite class? What's your earliest memory? I'm all ears." He let his eyes drift to a close and waited patiently for her response. Cameron enjoyed hearing random stories people told him, especially ones from their childhood. Everyone had been so different back when they were kids - after all, it was back when everyone was innocent and real. If a young boy was upset, he would cry. If he was happy, he would laugh and jump for joy. Kids weren't insecure, and they didn't hide their emotions. That was the least Cameron could say for teenagers his own age, including himself.

[anastasiya ivanov]

someone come quickly
this place was built for moving out
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

[/CENTER]

Ana looked over at Cam for a moment and instantly regretted it. He may have been trying to mask his disappointment, but it was clear to Ana that he was upset with her generic answer. She figured she seemed pretty boring by this point – perhaps her addiction would be a point of interest with him. “I mean, it’s not just my grandpa, I had… I mean…” And then she was regretting what she’d done twice over. Looking down at her legs, she traced the stitches in her jeans in an attempt to distract herself. Shut up, shut up, shut up. He doesn’t need to know about it. No one needs to know about it. But seeing his face fall had concerned her – Ana hated when she made people upset. “I mean, the past is the past, right? I… I mean, i- if you’re addicted…” her words muddled together and Ana furrowed her brow, gulping down the lump in her throat.

All of a sudden there were tears in her eyes. Why were there tears in her eyes? Why was this hurting so badly? It was like Cam had hit a soft spot – like he’d taken a knife and carved her heart out right now. She was tempted to look over at his hands, just to see if he really was holding her heart right then and there. It felt like part of her was missing right now, that part that she always kept close and never let go. She felt so vulnerable, so ready to be broken down and taken apart, and it killed her. She was furious and nervous and completely terrified all at once. She didn’t want to tell him – yet she did. Someone had to know.

No, no one needs to know. If no one needed to know for this long, no one needs to know now. No one ever needs to know but you. Just you. It can be your little secret. But how could something so serious be a secret for so long? Ana’s addiction had inadvertently shaped her into the person she was now. It was the reason she was so nice to others, so concerned for every little thing that happened. She always wanted to catch something before it started. She figured that someone had to look out for others – to keep them from plummeting when no one was there to stop them. If no one else would do it, she would. Looking over at Cameron, she blinked the tears away and forced a smile, listening to his words carefully. “I give a shit,” she commented softly, chuckling a little hesitantly. “I don’t know where that expression came from, but I care. Everyone needs someone to care, especially with an addiction.”

Even Ana would admit she was relieved when Cam told her she was fine. In the years after the height of her addiction, Ana had become a little… paranoid around people. She always wanted to make sure someone was fine, to keep their spirit high and their health higher. She could see her grandfather’s health deteriorating every day – hell, she’d seen her own health deteriorating – and she didn’t want that to happen to anyone while she was around. “Good,” she said in an even quieter tone, the semblance of a smile returning to her features. “But if something’s ever wrong – let me know.” Oh silly unnecessary panic…

The spotlight had turned back onto her abruptly and Ana felt the uneasiness sink back into the pit of her stomach, lying there like a paperweight. God, did she hate talking about herself. She was pretty comfortable when others were explaining themselves – she found people to be fascinating, what with the myriad of stories and experiences every person had. Ana wasn’t that way at all. She didn’t find herself interesting in the least bit. The one interesting thing about her was that she danced, and that became a bit boring to others when they realized how focused she was on it. Clearing her throat quietly, Ana fidgeted with her hands and looked back at Cam. His eyes were shut and he seemed to be at peace – she didn’t want to ruin that by switching the focus back onto him. She awkwardly proceeded.

“Um… I’m decent at hopscotch. I haven’t played in awhile,” she admitted, thinking for a moment before responding. “My favorite class is Biology, or Calculus,” she continued, not realizing how incredibly nerdy that probably sounded. “My earliest memory is of my mother taking me to the Red Square and seeing the minarets. I’ve always loved the minarets. We went to Lenin’s Tomb, too, but I didn’t understand the significance of that till I was much older,” she said, running a nervous hand through her hair. “Um… what else… I… I dance. I do ballet mostly, but I’ve taken a few classes in jazz and ballroom dancing. Really, any kind of dance is great for me. It’s the one thing I’m good at, besides… besides, um, math, I guess…” she added in hesitantly, laughing nervously again. Exhaling quietly, she smiled. “What about you? Tell me anything.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
STATUS • complete
WORD COUNT • 852
LYRICS • the execution of all things – rilo kiley
CREDIT • AMANDA IN WONDERLAND !? @ CAUTION

[/FONT][/COLOR][/CENTER][/blockquote]

[cameron sweet]

Ana almost went further on the subject, which caused a breath to get caught up in Cameron's chest. So there was definitely more to the story - she did have some sort of issue, and it had to do with herself, not her grandfather. He almost sat right back up and pressed her for answers, but stopped himself when he analyzed her tone of voice. She kept stuttering, and was obviously hesitant. A part of her still did not feel comfortable revealing whatever she was thinking about. Therefore, he did not ask her any further questions, and just let the topic drop. But because she had attempted to say more, he now contained the knowledge that there was much more to Ana than what she'd already told him.

If Cameron's eyes had been open, he would have seen the tears forming in Ana's pupils, and immediately he would have tried to comfort her, or at least do something. He couldn't stand to see a girl cry. On the rare occasion that he saw a boy tearing up, he could be sympathetic and understand the pain. But when a girl cried, he could never pinpoint where exactly the hurt was coming from, or figure out what would help. That bothered Cameron terribly - girls had to deal with the fact that boys would never truly know the trauma they felt when they were upset.

However, his eyes were still closed, so Cameron never realized that Ana had almost started crying right beside him in that moment.

He fidgeted a bit in the grass when she told him she cared. It was lovely thing to say, and although he knew Ana would not lie about something like this, he still had a hard time believing it. After living with parents that either ignored or beat him, depending on their mood, Cameron had grown to be very independent. It was difficult for him to trust that someone else might actually be concerned about what he did and where he went with his life. Of course, as far as he knew, Ana was only referring to the fact that she cared about his smoking problem. But still, he couldn't help but wonder that if she got to know him more, she would realize that he was going nowhere in life, and that he was essentially a waste of space.

"Thank you," he said softly, despite the uncertainty he felt inside.

Ana went on to recall her memory of seeing the minarets with her mother. Cameron had no idea what a minaret was, but he felt too stupid to ask, so he let her continue without interruption. He ended up opening his eyes when she started talking about dance. It hadn't occurred to him before, but that was exactly what Ana appeared to be - a dancer. She was timid and shy, but very graceful and definitely beautiful. "I want to see you dance sometime," he said, gazing up at her. A hint of a smile returned to his face.

"Me? Well... here, I'll tell you my most interesting story. Once, when I was in third grade, I was trick-or-treating. I found a dead squirrel behind one of my neighbor's houses, but silly me, I thought it was just sleeping. I picked it up and brought it home, and let's just say, my mother wasn't too happy." He grinned goofily, recalling that night. It had gone down such a long time ago, but he remembered every single detail like it had happened the day before. Of course, the memory turned bad after his father found out he'd dragged a dead animal in the house, but Cameron usually didn't like to tell that part of the tale.

He blinked and looked back up at Ana. "Tell me if I'm grossing you out."

[anastasiya ivanov]

someone come quickly
this place was built for moving out
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

[/CENTER]

She smiled beside herself. Part of her was wishing he’d probed further, deeper into the problem she so obviously wanted to release. The more rational side of Ana was incredibly relieved, though. The fact that Cam hadn’t pushed her to explain her situation made her happy – almost ecstatic. “You’re not the only one with an addiction,” she found herself admitting in a clearly, more stable tone than before. “Mine isn’t with cigarettes, though. It’s stupid, and it’s in the past,” she added in quietly, a mixture of nerves and sadness building up in her chest. Keeping her gaze focused on her jeans, she let a few tears fall. His eyes were closed – he wouldn’t be able to see her cry, and even if he opened them, she could always wipe them away, right?

The next wave of emotions pulled her in like a riptide. Ana found herself clenching the blades of grass beside her again and her craving resurfaced. She’d start to let the tears fall and now they weren’t going to stop. You shouldn’t have said anything, you shouldn’t have said anything, you should have said anything. The words played on a movie reel in her mind, over and over like a mantra. Sniffling quietly, Ana angrily wiped the tears away from her eyes. “You don’t have to tell anyone,” her mother had always said. Then again, she’d also said that “telling someone shouldn’t be a problem, though. People will accept you for who you are.”

Ana had found that hard to believe, though. From what she’d seen, people hated someone if they had an addiction. Alcoholics were billed as failures, druggies were coined as weak. The moment you let something take over your spirit, it gave people a window into your psyche. They could tear you apart and blame everything on how you’d let yourself fall. Ana knew it wasn’t like that, though. Drugs were not a choice in many cases. Often times they were the only coping mechanism someone had to keep their head above water. Sometimes people were just too young to understand how bad they really were, such as Cameron and herself.

That was the one thing that set Cameron apart from other people. He would understand. He dealt with an addiction himself, and though it was far more common than an addiction to sleeping pills, he would understand. He would understand the need to wake up at two in the morning to satisfy the addiction. He would understand the countless “chill”s she got when she was irritable and didn’t have the pills in her system. He would understand the undying urge to kick the addiction, yet the need to have it in the body. Most of all, he would understand her – or at least part of her. Other people couldn’t relate to that. They could sympathize as much as they wanted, but at the end of the day, they didn’t know what it felt like.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as Ana attempted to calm herself down. She had no idea if Cam had seen her cry or whether he cared, but she knew closing her eyes would hide her crying for awhile. She could see nothing but the darkness of her eyelids shielding her from the outside world. It was nice to see nothing – to see not the faces that taunted and laughed but the vast emptiness of the human mind. She reluctantly found herself smiling at this, wishing she could stay in a place like this forever. If only she could live in the fine line between reality and her subconscious, where the beauty of the mind would be brought into full perspective by the harshness of reality. But she couldn’t do that, as much as she’d like to, and she opened her eyes as a pang of sadness hit her.

Ana had tuned back into the real world just in time to catch Cameron’s thank-you. It was soft, delicate, just like her voice had been moments ago. She knew he probably hadn’t taken the offer to heart; there was something about his words that was untrusting and afraid. She would leave that be, though. She of all people couldn’t talk to Cam about trusting people more.

“You’re not grossing me out at all,” she reassured him, laughing. In fact, Ana found it funny that he’d picked up a dead squirrel. It sounded like something she’d do. Usually, Ana would poke at it and observe it for awhile, though. She found organisms fascinating, even if they were dead. As a little girl, she’d always brought home the stray animals or birds with broken wings. She’d brought home dead animals, too, and though her parents had been disgusted, they’d let her bury them outside in the dirt. Young Ana believed every living thing deserved to be respected. It was mean to leave an animal to become roadkill. “I used to do that, too. Part of why I like biology so much.”

She smiled at his comment about dancing. “That’d be nice,” she offered. “Do you know how to waltz?”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
STATUS • complete
WORD COUNT • 848
LYRICS • the execution of all things – rilo kiley
CREDIT • AMANDA IN WONDERLAND !? @ CAUTION

[/FONT][/COLOR][/CENTER][/blockquote]

[cameron sweet]

His eyes had still been closed, but he couldn't help but pick up on the sniffling. Ana was crying, but at the same time, Cameron knew she was trying to stifle it. He didn't know whether he should get up and acknowledge her hurt, or continue to let it go without confrontation. Many people were much too embarrassed to cry in front of others, not that Cameron blamed her for getting shaken up. Addiction was a difficult thing to talk about, and Ana appeared to have never discussed her problem at all.

Cameron waited a bit as she continued to speak, still wondering in the back of his mind whether he should have said something about the tears. She liked animals, she liked biology, she -- asked him if he could do the waltz? He snickered. "I don't think I'll ever be graceful enough to do the waltz. I'd probably step all over my partner's feet." He shoved some hair out of his face, and then decided to sit back up. He couldn't just go on ignoring what had clearly just happened.

He pushed his upper body back up and looked closely at Ana's face again. There were wet stains under her eyes, and although her crying had faded, he could see that it had definitely happened. Cameron bit his lip and then reached forward, placing his hand on her cheek. He carefully stroked away the wetness under her eyes, using his thumb to wipe. Her skin felt so cool, and he wondered why body temperatures were always so different between people. His hand remained on her cheek, and he gazed straight into her pupils.

"You don't have to tell me about if you don't want to," he said quietly. "But if you do want to talk about it, just remember that I'm all ears. Okay?" He felt like he was talking to a small kitten, as he was using such a silent and timid voice. In fact, he was almost speaking in whispers. Cameron couldn't be his rough self at a moment like this, not when Ana was in such pain. He just wanted her to feel comfortable, to know that he would never judge her on something so important in her life. Especially when it was something like an addiction, a problem which he dealt with on a regular basis.

Another breeze ran through the area, and Cameron took the moment to glance down at the grass below them, watching the blades of grass bend in the wind. It was odd how on such a beautiful night, trauma could still bear into the hearts of humans and they would be bothered. It seemed like in such a peaceful environment, they would be nothing but happy, and could just let the weather control their emotions. But unfortunately, life wasn't that simple.

Cameron looked up from the grass and back into Ana's face, his hand still frozen against her cheek. He didn't want to move and disturb her any further, but simultaneously, he wondered if he was just putting her through more discomfort.

[anastasiya ivanov]

someone come quickly
this place was built for moving out
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

[/CENTER]

Well, this was terrible. It wasn’t that Ana was mad about telling Cam – she was glad she’d done it… to an extent. There were just… way too many emotions right now for it to be bearable. Her grip on the grass below her had become so tight that the grass had broken and left a greenish tint on her fingers. Feeling the smoothness of the leaves collapse into something dead and withered, Ana frowned. Looking down at her hand, she gently brushed the grass off. Wiping the residue off onto her jeans, she clamped her teeth and focused hard on her tears. She had to stop crying before she turned such a beautiful moment into an opera of waterworks.

She closed her eyes again, resisting the urge to get up and leave right then and there. She couldn’t do that to Cam. And she couldn’t let him know how hard this was on her, how much it was hurting her to let go of her secret for once. After all, he was the first person besides her parents and her doctor to know about her addiction. Obviously it was going to hurt. But how would it seem to him if the first person who knew was a random stranger? Would he think it was weird?

Ana felt his hand on her cheek and opened her eyes lazily. Cam came back into perspective and she felt the roughness of his skin against the softness of hers as he wiped away her tears. A small smile made its way onto her features. “Thank you,” she offered in all seriousness. “Y- you know, they make it seem so great through advertisements. They show you this pretty little green butterfly that stays with you and helps you go to sleep, and then you wake up and the butterfly floats away and comes back in the night. It seems so nice,” she began, looking back down at her legs again. “It’s not like that, though, not at all. There’s no green butterfly, there’s no waking up fresh in the morning. There’s nothing natural about it. It’s… it’s the worst feeling in the world. This artificial sleep they trap you in again and again.”

Taking a deep breath, she looked back at Cam, then back at the ground, and continued. “I’ve always been an insomniac, ever since I was little. They told me the pills were supposed to make it better, make it go away, so I could sleep. We all have to sleep, right? I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t have a choice. My natural sleep patterns are… weird. I would get sick a lot because my body didn’t have time to rest. My doctor said I’d keep making myself sick if I didn’t sleep more, didn’t recharge myself every night. I suppose it made sense when I first heard it, but then again, I was… ten? Eleven? I was young. I didn’t know what was going on.”

It was surprising how easily her story was coming out. Playing with the hem of her shirt, Ana tried to recall how she’d felt so many years back. “My dad’s an anesthesiologist. He says that when they put you under anesthesia, you just kind of… fade out and don’t feel anything. That’s what it was like, anesthesia, but it was worse. I hated them – the taste, the size, the fact that I couldn’t do something as simple as sleep by myself. I felt like I was doing something wrong. But I knew I had to keep taking them. So I did. And then it just… it grew and grew when my parents started fighting.”

Here Ana laughed and looked back at Cam. “And, you know, it was weird, because they were fighting about me. About moving here,” she informed him. The simper faded slightly and she furrowed her brow slightly. “It wasn’t funny at all, though. It was serious, really serious. They yelled all the time. Day in and day out. There was all this slamming, all this… madness in my house. I remember one time I tried to get them to stop and my dad almost hit me. But he knew I was little, and I didn’t know better, so he didn’t. They just yelled. They told me to go back to my room. To ‘go to sleep, mama and papa are just talking.’ So I’d go back into my room every night and hear them fighting and yelling and wait for it to kick in. I’d wake up and it’d start all over again.”

Exhaling, Ana stopped. She didn’t want to tell him her entire story. He already knew she was addicted, so why did she need to go further? Realizing his hand was still on her face, she gently reached up and took it. Holding his hand in hers, Ana looked down at it and smiled. “You have nice hands,” she commented, not realizing how entirely creepy that sounded. Eyes widening, she looked back up at him. “I mean, um, they’re just… they’re… I don’t know. They’re kind of rough, which I’m guessing is from working on cars, but soft in places too. It’s nice.”

Ana chuckled lightly at his comment about not being able to do the waltz. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” she remarked, smiling. “I could teach you,” she added. “If you wanted, I mean. It’s easy. It’s kind of like putting a car together, when you think about it. Each step is different but simple, and when you put them all together it looks great.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
STATUS • complete
WORD COUNT • 927
LYRICS • the execution of all things – rilo kiley
CREDIT • AMANDA IN WONDERLAND !? @ CAUTION

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[cameron sweet]

Cameron listened to her story, his expression hardening at some parts. An addiction to sleeping pills. He had never really thought about it before, but it did kind of make sense. It was a way of tuning out the world, and by doing so, numbing the pain. But then Ana had to deal with going back to those pills constantly, and she said she even hated them...

He shivered a little, his hand still in place on her cheek. Addiction was serious. Sure, he always went around saying he could quit smoking cigarettes if he really wanted to. But that wasn't true at all. He needed those smokes just to get through the day. Without them, he didn't know what the hell he would do.

What bothered Cameron the most was when Ana described her parents fighting. He couldn't stand it when children's parents fought, especially when the kids were around. He didn't get how people could be so selfish to argue in such a terrible manner when their sons or daughters were around to see it. Cameron had experienced it enough when he was younger, and he always remembered telling himself that he would never do that to his kids when he grew up. Of course, who knew it he was ever even going to have kids, but that was a different story.

He decided not to comment on what Ana had told him, as it appeared she felt more comfortable moving on from the subject. But he stored the information away inside of him, now feeling as if he had a slightly better understanding of the girl. It was amazing what he could learn in the first time he had ever met her. Cameron liked Ana; she was insightful, and she admitted she made mistakes. She was incredibly bright, but also very real. Again, it was hard stumbling upon girls like her in this city. She was very different.

He laughed a little when she commented on his hands. "I like your hands too," he replied, cocking his head and staring in amusement. "They're very soft. And cool. I like cool hands." After a moment, he slowly tore his hand away and looked in the opposite direction. He didn't want to lead Ana into thinking he was just here to hold her hand and attract her into a relationship. That was what he did with most girls he met, which Cameron knew was a bit stupid. That's why he didn't want to do it with Ana. He didn't want to come off as just another flirty guy.

"Tell you what. You teach me the waltz sometime, and I'll give you a free oil check. Just don't mention it to the other guys at the repair shop. I don't think they really appreciate the fine art of dancing." He smirked.