Heathers Requests/One Shots

Smiling and Sad

This is one of those chapters where you just kind've fall in love with it as you write. TW// Loneliness, depression, self harm, suicidal thoughts, mentioned eating disorders

Stay safe :)

It was an odd feeling, when no one noticed how different, sad, broken she was. Heather was happy, because no one suspected a thing. It was like, for them at least, nothing was different. But at the same time, their absence of worry pulled, clawed at her.

Why was no one noticing how quiet I was being? How little emotion was put in my smile. Was I that boring and forgettable that no one noticed? And if that was true, would anyone notice if I disappeared?

One day, in middle school, her mom took her on a business trip she had. A week, right in the middle of October, just her and Heather in LA. Looking back, now she knows it was mostly to get back at her dad, who had taken her on a three day road trip only a month before, but little Heather hadn't known. Hadn't cared.

When she got back, she was expecting... she don't know what I was expecting. Something. Anything different. But it was just another Monday, like she hadn't vanished.

Once, Heather Chandler hadn't come to school for three days or so. Turns out, she had gotten the flu. But everyone noticed, cared, talked about her. And when she got back, everyone was instantly drawn to her, like moths to a perfect red flame.

She jolted at the sudden sound of rain on the roof of my dad's house. The sound was one she had heard before, the sounds of rain crashing against shingles and smacking against windows like bullets to a battlefield. It would have had to be raining for at least half an hour to get like this, with the boughs of the maple trees outside smacking the bricks relentlessly, but she hadn't noticed.

There wasn't any noise to distract her, no; she had just been scrolling through her phone, occasionally switching between Twitter and Instagram, looking at the people who happened to fall into her feed.

They're pretty, was the most common thought that ran through her head, getting slower as her mind grew foggier, growing less sincere and more bitter as she liked and commented and saved dozens and dozens of photos.

Her footsteps light so as not to alert her dad, she tucked her phone in the pocket of her yellow pajamas and walked up to her window. Just like she used to, she curled her legs, long and lean from cheerleading and countless miles of running, under her feet and rested her chin on the windowsill.

Really, there were a lot of things people would say that made this a heinous night. The sky was dreary gunmetal clouds on matte black sky, no stars shining their light on the moonless sky. Rain continued to crash down, but the thunder was kept at bay, so it was just her watching the rain fall and fall and fall.

She always lost hair ties, as was common for girls of every age, as well as boys with unmanageable hair, so her blonde curls hung down her back, itching though the thin fabric. She had her reading glasses perched unevenly on her nose. At school she wore contacts, and always got up early at sleepovers to change them out.

This could be a heinous night, if you chose to look at it pessimistically. Well, Heather was definitely looking at things pessimistically, but not this night. This dreary, wet, hot, sad night was a rare solace from... what was the phrase veronica had whispered, never meant for her to hear but she had anyway? The lip gloss Gestapo, that was it.

For the longest time, being with the Heathers was enough. Hiding behind Heather and Heather, as well as popularity, her knight in shining armor to protect and hide her insecurities and imperfections was enough.

A sudden burst of rain brought her away from her thoughts, but she quickly retreated back into them. Some days, she was on autopilot, her actions not her own. She found that these were the days when she was the meanest. Her eyes, mostly unseeing, fell down to her striped sleeves. Her vision quickly sharpened and her thoughts- well, they didn't fade. She just took a little bit of control, though really, it was just dumping more sparks on a fire.