Mixtapes & Polaroids | Sam x Deena

28

When the sun rises and her alarm clock goes off, Deena couldn't be bothered to get out of bed.

She couldn't even be bothered to open the door when a few faint knocks pepper the hardwood, because even when she was spiraled into consciousness, she still felt like dreaming. She was holding onto the illusion in her head, a world where consequences didn't exist, a story where she didn't have to be torn apart at every possible turn. In her head, last night didn't happen. In her head, she didn't agree to something that made her guts want to spill onto the floor.

In her head, it didn't hurt.

"Deena?" Josh's soft voice fills the room, he peeks in with his backpack thrown over his shoulder, eyes landing on the big lump buried under the covers with her back turned to him.

"Deena? You awake?" He tries again, finally stepping inside reluctantly as Deena musters up a soft hum.

"Dad couldn't take me today so... I was wondering if you could— or I could just take the bus. It's fine." His tone bled of uncertainty, like every word treaded on thin ice as Deena throws the covers off of her body.

"Give me ten minutes." She breathes, and Josh just looks at her.

Sometimes he can't even really recognize her, it was one of those moments where he had a million questions prodding around in his brain, all littered with worry and longing but all without a way to exist. He wanted to ask, he wanted to be more than just the little brother she chastised to stay out of her business, because things were getting serious and he wasn't stupid enough to ignore it.

It was almost like something shifted last night; everyone could feel it— especially Josh. Like the bleak sky got darker, like the air got thicker, like everything around them grumbled for what was to come. Like a calm before the storm, when all the birds fly away and animals flee, there Deena sat. Hollow eyes and stone cold face, and Josh stood lost once again.

So he waits for Deena in the living room, foot anxiously tapping against the rug beneath. He really hated being late, but he knew better than to rush Deena when she looked half dead. He wouldn't admit it, but he was actually kind of scared. Scared because he's been there before, on the outside looking in, watching someone he cares about spiral into darkness he couldn't fight away. He watched it with their father, and in the deep, distant storm that brewed in his chest, he was afraid he was going to be destined for the same film he's seen before.

"Let's go." He follows Deena out the door, damp hair and hoodie thrown on. She didn't even have a bag, but she didn't look like she cared for it anyway. They just climb into the car, and Deena pulls out of the driveway in deafening silence.

"Whatever you want to say, just spit it out." Deena says after a few minutes, because she could feel the boy's stolen glances, his stares of curiosity sticking to her skin like glue she couldn't wash off.

"I—"

"Sam and I are something. I don't know what we are, but we're something." Deena cuts him off flatly, both her hands wrapped tightly on the wheel as she spoke. Josh was taken aback by her sudden proclamation, staring at his sister with a look that held a million questions.

"I... already knew that. I can tell." Josh awkwardly clears his throat.

"Paul Hayes knows about us. I bumped into him at the game and last night, I went to see him to strike some sort of dumb fucking deal to keep his mouth shut. Now I have to do what i'm told because if I don't, everyone and their fucking dog will know about Sam." Deena says, her tone was robotic, cold, eyes never leaving the road as Josh stammered into disgruntled silence, desperately trying to comprehend all he's been told.