Wildfire // H.S // AU

05

A seething pain in the center of her head jolted Ivy awake and she groaned, rolling toward the edge of the bed while holding her temples, struggling her feet into slippers. One of her hands felt out in front of her as she felt her way through the dark of her room, refusing to open the heavy black shades behind her bed. She stumbled over unread books and clothes that should be washed all the way to the bathroom, seven feet from her bed. With the refusal to open her eyes still intact to felt for the designated spot of migraine relief. She blindly turned on he faucet and dipped her head underneath, swallowing the pill whole and after a moment of mental preparation she pried her eyes open and stared blankly at the mirror, as if her reflection weren't even there. She almost avoided her own eyes as she wiped the sleep from the corners of them and proceeded to prepare herself for the morning.

Ivy seemed to have every intention of being a shut in today, she didn't bother to brush her hair for the bedhead tangles that resembled blonde, twisted vines up as she would before facing her roommates - sort of ritual she had been taught by her father: look like they know you, but they never will. But today was an exception her roommates happened to be sisters and it was their father's birthday, so that meant that the house was hers for the taking. Ivy all but crawled out her room to the coffee maker where there was a fresh cup waiting for her.

The cup eased her hands to warmth, the heater had been out for at least a week now, and her fingers were warm and able pull out the green tattered and leather journal from under her mattress. She gripped the pen in her hands and managed to write the first thought of her day with strained eyes, forcing her pen almost completely through the paper. The ink smeared into the words no one would ever hear her say, black ink that said things she was never allowed to say. Ivy tucked the notebook away lying back and staring at the white ceiling, trying to sort out her day, looking at the rifts in paint.

A chime came from somewhere in the blankets, her butt lifted and there it was: hangout tonight?? wine for the pretty lady. It read from Matt. can't... Ivy replied, ignoring the next text from Matt rolling off the edge of the bed and on to her body pillow. There on the floor she decided tonight she'd go to The Cave, everything before that was undecided but she'd be at The Cave by the end.

Ivy dozed off for another hour before she rolled to the side and hit her hand on the bottom corner of her nightstand then decided it be best she got dressed in a black sweater, matching it with the same shade of pants with worn brown boots, readying herself for the chill outside of her door. Before Ivy left she pushed open the shade and blinding light poured in the room that held more secrets than there are people in a small village. To the eye it was just a room of an indie early twenties adult but it was everything but.

She carried herself to the door, zipping up her jacket and struggling on a hat at the same time. As she pulled the door open and slammed into a chest that had intention to bust the door down. Her keys dropped out of her hand and she shifted on her back foot, jutting her elbow up into the man's chin. Her body leapt toward him as he stumbled back and wrapped her legs around his waist, ramming her fist to the jaw of her almost-attacker before jumping down and pulling her knee into his groin.

Ivy stood there, hat falling off her head and chest heaving. The man struggled his way up to stand, hand out in surrender and seemingly coughing up a lung. Then he raised to his full height, with green eyes and broad shoulders. For moment couldn't put the pieces together but then they all fell together. "What the fuck?"