Heathers Requests/One Shots

Our Story

Try to count how many other musicals I manage to reference in this piece. Sorry for the short chapter. TW//Swearing, mentioned character death.

The Sherwood Arboretum. A nice place, not visited often by anyone with a social life. So, not a place where you might spot Veronica Sawyer and her new boyfriend. But if you were there on this particular sunny day, and if you were looking for their blue and black coats, and maybe if you were lucky, you would see them strolling through the flower beds on a stress free Saturday.

Veronica was thankful for any excuse to get her out of heels. Sure she looked good, but damn did they kill her feet. So she was in her blue high tops. The Heather's would murder her if they knew she was wearing anything less than designer. But they would also kill her for spending time with J.D. when she told them she was having a bad migraine.

It was all his idea, too. At first, when had had told her that he had a surprise date lined up, she had thought it would be out on a lake, like he had mentioned during their first meeting. But no, he brought them here. And he wasn't telling her something. Something in his eyes was different, like black fireworks on a black sky.

"And through here," he began, sweeping his arms grandly, "is why we are here." She turned around. It was just more path, lined with red and yellow tulips on perfect green stems. Red, yellow, green. Heather, Heather, Heather. She was spending too much time with them, she thought, shaking her head a little. She was beamed back to reality by J.D.'s arm wrapping around her waist, tugging her closer.

"What's so special about here?" she asked, taking a sip of her frosted lemonade. J.D. had told her about freezing her brain and, shockingly, in worked, if only a little. J.D. smiled, his hand drifting to her free one as he pulled her over to the flower bed on the end and gestured to a little plaque. She knelt down to read it.

Dedicated to Veronica Sawyer by Jason Dean.

She looked up at his eyes, glowing like... what? A fierce explosion, perhaps, but that was violent, too violent for this look. Caring and proud and sweet and bold. She set her lemonade down and wrapped her arms around him, their lips connecting, lemonade on cherry. They were almost the same height, Veronica just a smidge taller.

"Well, happy first date to you too," he said, his lips brushing her's as he laughed. He didn't smoke, but his breath smelled like ash and honey. She smiled, pressing their lips together one last time before pulling away, picking up her drink, and intwining their fingers. 

"My date will be better," she promised, a shit-eating grin on her face. He laughed as they walked through a path lined with small statues and sunflowers.

"I'm looking forward to it," he said. For a while they walked in silence. J.D. hummed nonsensical tunes under his breath while Veronica took the opportunity to people watch. Before, she and Martha had played several games involving strangers.

There was End of the World, where you determined who would repopulate the world if there was a sudden apocalypse and everyone except the people in the world died. Then there was Their Story, where you looked around and tried to figure out people's stories. But right now, she simply took the moment to acknowledge that everybody had a story. She would admit, she lost sight of that after being caught up with the Heathers.

The two kids, maybe her age, one in a red hoodie covered in patches and clunky headphones and one with a striped shirt, a cardigan, and too much height for his self-confidence had stories.

The kid with hair to die for and a black hoodie, sitting on a bench with what looked like a sketchbook had a story. The jumpy kid with a blue polo and a fresh cast had a story.

The redhead in cargo pants with her parents. The trio in pink that looked like B-list Heathers. The lovesick couple holding hands and talking by the fountains. The little girl and her mom with a man in a business mad following behind.

They all had stories. Some happy and some sad and some a curious mix of both. Which led Veronica to her own story. She had often got the feeling she wouldn't have a happy ending. Maybe it was pessimism or maybe it was some kind of premonition, but something stirred in chest whenever she was happy. Something whispering, this won't last.

It had been right, in a way. It had been strong whenever she was hanging out with Martha in the weeks before she joined the Heathers and now, it was stirring whenever she was around J.D. What scared her was that her instincts have never been wrong.

But there was a first time for everything she told herself as J.D. bought her a blue flower, and she bought him a black one. Then they left. That was the end of their first date, but not the Dan of their flowers.

Veronica's bloomed under a caring but untrained hand, before being discarded in a fit of heartbreak. J.D.'s, on the other hand, wilted before being blown to ash in a final act of twisted love. Two lives, one cut short and one lived out long with highs and lows. Maybe things would be better if their story never had to be written. 

(896 words)