The Black Phone Oneshots!

Ceilings. Donwen, idk what it is

It's warm, cozy.

Gwen's hands are soft on her skin, and she knows it'll be short-lived but she lets herself think that they're doing this because they love each other and not because they were both there tonight.

She wants Gwen to touch her like nobody else does, and it's a weird feeling.

One that she doesn't wish to welcome but she knows she is because it's Gwen.

Instead of leaving fire in their wake like Finney's did so many nights ago, it leaves a cold feeling like she's being sewn into a scene in a book by the will of another.

Her feelings don't belong, and years of repression and deflecting are spilled out at her seams.

It's cold after, too.

She was hoping that she'd still be bathed in the warmth of the afterglow.

Instead, all she's left with is the chill of Gwen's comforter for the few minutes she's going to stay before Gwen asks her what her curfew is and it's time to leave.

Her curfew was hours ago, and maybe it wasn't worth it.

She doesn't wanna leave.

The only sound in the car ride is the sound of the road.

It vaguely reminds her of road trips to Florida when she was a kid, but it isn't the same.

"Donna," Gwen calls out to her, and it sounds so distant. So far.

But she's right there.

"Yeah?"

"Which house is yours? I forget."

"House one oh eight up there," She points vaguely to a house with hot pink shudders on one of the windows. A midnight project she and Amy had done in middle school.

Maybe she shouldn't have gone home for the summer, but she missed her dog.

And Gwen.

Finney, too.

Amy, she guesses.

The patters of rain reach her ears.

Typically it's her favorite weather, but now she's wishing it would go away while she walks in through the front door.

Gwen stops by in front of the driveway, the passenger side facing the house.

"I'll see you later," Donna dismisses herself, leaning to the side to unbuckle her seat belt.

Gwen takes the chance to grab her face before she leaves, foot pressed hard into the brake so the car doesn't move.

Gwen smashes their lips together, and instead of the soft feeling she got earlier in the night back in Gwen's bedroom, all she feels is a press against her face.

And a wet feeling, before Gwen's pulling away and Donna practically jumps out the side of the car in an attempt to leave.

Gwen doesn't look hurt.

She looks indifferent.

And then she's gone, drove away.

She can't even be bothered to listen to her mother's worried panicked screams when she gets through the front door, finally. At close to four in the morning.

Only focused on the tears staining her face that aren't hers.