Intoxicating

Happily Never After

⚠️TW: MENTION OF SU!C!DE, PHYSICAL ABUSE⚠️

Leia's POV

The hallways were buzzing with the usual Friday chaos-lockers slamming, laughter bouncing off the walls, and students calling out weekend plans. I was weaving through the crowd, clutching my books to my chest, when I heard Timothée's voice behind me.

"Leia!" he called, his tone light, but insistent.

I sighed softly, glancing over my shoulder as he jogged to catch up with me. His dark curls were tousled, his grin slightly crooked, and he looked every bit like the guy every girl swooned over. Except right now, I wasn't swooning-I was tired.

"Hey," he said, falling into step beside me. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Homework," I replied curtly, dodging a group of freshmen blocking the hallway.

"Homework? Seriously?" He scoffed. "Come on, there's a party at Blake's house. Everyone's going-it'll be fun."

I stopped by my locker and turned to him, giving him a small smile. "I'm not really in the mood for a party tonight, Timmy."

He frowned, leaning one shoulder against the locker next to mine. "Why not? You love Blake's parties. It'll be the same crew, just hanging out."

"That's exactly it," I said, spinning the combination on my lock. "It's always the same thing-same people, same drinking, same music. I'm just... over it right now."

He tilted his head, studying me with that intense gaze of his. "You're tired. I get it. But it's Friday, babe. You can't just sit at home all night."

"I can and I will," I replied, pulling out a notebook and slamming my locker shut. "Go without me. Have fun."

Timothée straightened up, stepping closer. "It's not fun without you," he said softly, his voice dropping into that tone that usually made my resolve crumble.

But not today. I should've melted at the way he looked at me, but all I felt was exhaustion.

"Timmy," I said with a small sigh, "I need a break from all of it. Just for one night, okay?"

For a moment, he said nothing, his jaw tightening. I waited for him to argue, to push, like he always did. But instead, he nodded, though I could tell he wasn't happy about it.

"Fine," he muttered, stepping back. "I'll go without you."

I offered him a faint smile, brushing past him to head to class. He didn't follow me, but I could feel his eyes on me as I walked away.

By the time I slid into my seat in English, I realized I hadn't even thought about the wrist-grabbing incident once this week. The bruise had faded, and things between us had gone back to normal-or as normal as they could be.

But now, as I stared at the blank page in my notebook, I couldn't shake the unease settling in my stomach. Timothée was good at getting his way, and I couldn't help but wonder if he'd really let this go.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting everything in shades of gold as Timothée drove us home. His fingers tapped the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song playing softly on the radio, but I could tell his mind wasn't on the music. He kept glancing at me from the corner of his eye, like he was working up to something.

Finally, he sighed and spoke. "So, about tonight..."

I groaned lightly, leaning my head back against the seat. "Timmy..."

"Just hear me out," he said, glancing at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. "It'll be fun, I swear. We won't stay long. Just an hour or two, and then I'll bring you home. Please, baby?"