Trouble |The Outsiders|

22. Tainted

Abigail knew the second she opened her eyes, the illusion would be ruined. She could still feel his arm slung over her waist and his heart beating against her shoulder as he pulled her against his chest. As long as her eyes were closed, Abigail could picture anyone else.

She could picture Sodapop, and pretend the last few weeks had all been the worst nightmare she could've ever imagined. But that just felt wrong. Getting so drunk she could barely feel her fingertips wasn't how she wanted her first experience to go. Yet here she was, lying with her back against Will's chest as his fingers brushed over her skin.

"I know you're awake," he hummed into her hair. His left arm, the one thrown over her waist, tightened around her playfully when she didn't answer. "That was your first time, wasn't it?"

She could barely force the words into the air as she pushed his arm away and sat up. "Yeah. It was."

There was a playful smile on his lips as Will turned onto his back and raised his arms above his head. His dark hair was a mess, sticking up every which way, his matching eyes wandered over Abigail's body as she wrapped the blankets around her tighter. Will chuckled, "don't worry, there's nothing I haven't already seen."

Abigail knew her cheeks much have been a bright red at his words, but she couldn't care less. She was too focused on his forearm, the left, specifically. There was a patch of skin that was at least two shades lighter than the rest, it stuck out quite a bit, too. Like Tim's scar ever since Sylvia cut him with that bottle. Will's eyes were closed as he tipped his head back against Abigail's headboard, his arms still raised. Abigail took a deep breath and leaned forwards, raking her eyes over the scar.

Even in the mid-morning light shining through her curtains, Abigail could clearly read the three letters carved into his skin. TST.

"You're a tiger."

Another smile crossed Will's lips as he opened his eyes and pushed himself out of bed. "It's an old scar," he said plainly as he pulled his jeans around his hips. Next, he picked up his t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head, never once looking back at the teenage girl.

"You're working with Bobby, aren't you?" Abigail questioned, fighting back the tears she knew were forming. "This is just a sick game. Y-you don't care."

Will turned to face her as he combed his fingers through his hair. His smile didn't seem kind anymore. There was something absent in his eyes, a kind of warmth that just wasn't there now. His belt was wrapped tightly in his left hand as he walked to Abigail's side of the bed. His fingers found her chin before they moved up her jaw and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Let's keep this between us, okay? Don't need Tim knowing you're fraternizing with the enemy."

Will wiped the stray tear on her cheek away soothingly. "C'mon now honey, don't cry. I mean, it was kinda nice, don't you think? And I used protection if that's what you're worried about."

Abigail knew it didn't matter what she thought. It was a piece of her she'd never get back.

"Get out," she ordered weakly. Will's hand didn't drop from her face until Abigail jerked away, still holding the quilt against her collarbones. "Take your money, and go. Please, j-just go."

Abigail only opened her eyes when she heard the door close softly.

"If you're so freaked out about it, why don't you just go over and ask her?" Patrick asked as he passed Tim his lighter. They stood on the front lawn of the Shepard's house, watching as Will crossed the street after stepping out onto Abigail's front step and doing up his belt.