A New Way of Living

Chapter Seventeen

Author's Note: I do not own West Side Story or any elements of it.

Vivienne woke up once again in Riff's bed. Only this time he was not beside her, he was sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at nothing - his face set into a stone-like gaze at the wall.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice low and groggy.

Riff turned to her, suddenly alive.

"Don't get up," he said. "Just relax. You passed out."

"How long have I been out?"

"A couple a' hours."

"Where are the others?"

"They're outside waitin' for me." His jaw tightened. "What happened?"

Vivienne remembered it all very well. Although having to explain it to Riff now would mean having to explain why she did it, and she couldn't bear the idea of that.

"I- I made a mistake."

Riff shook his head. "No. Mistakes don't look like that," he said, nodding to her face.

She reached up and touched her face, feeling that the blood had been washed off. She wondered who had done it, but decided, for some reason, that it had been Riff.

"I was really pissed off," she began to explain. "...It was a guy from my class. We went for coffee and I think I led him on. He got mad and I fought him but he was stronger than me."

"Doesn't matter," Riff said, his voice quick and shaken. "...What else?"

She knew what he was asking her, and she shook her head.

"Nothing," she assured. "He left me alone after that."

Riff let a breath exhale. "Okay. You gotta tell me who we're lookin' for."

"I don't even know where he'd be," she said, feeling now after some sleep that she wasn't sure anymore what she wanted to happen.

"Don't matter. We'll find him."

Vivienne swallowed. "His name is Michael. He's got dark hair and he's a little taller than you. Blue shirt and jacket. He'll probably have a scratch on his face."

Riff nodded and rose from his seat with calculated, intent movements.

"What are you gonna do?" she asked.

When Riff didn't answer, she sat up.

"Are you gonna kill him?" Her voice was quiet now.

Riff looked at her and went over, leaning over and pressing a kiss to her head. It was soft and caught her off guard.

"No," he mumbled. "But close enough."

"Do you have to go?" she asked, grabbing onto his arm, the sudden desire to not be alone overwhelming her.

"Yeah, I do," he replied, stern. There was no arguing with him. "I wanted someone to hang back with you but not a single one of 'em will stay. They all wanna go."

"Okay," she sighed, understanding now that what was started needed to be finished.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "Don't go nowhere. Go back to sleep."

She waited until he slipped out the room and heard the front door close until she let hot tears stream down her cheeks. She was sore, alone, and feeling desperately stupid and mad at herself.

She laid in bed for a while, before realising there was no way she would be able to sleep until she knew he had come back. So she rose from the bed, and went to shower.