Roofies

Flashback #2

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01:59 a.m.

2nd December 2015

She was sitting on the ledge, a cigarette held between her index and middle finger near her mouth. She dragged the cigarette towards her lips and inhaled, her teeth clenched, preventing the smoke from entering her lungs all at once. Closing her eyes, she basked in the burning sensation of the smoke in her mouth before exhaling it. She tapped the remaining cigarette against the roof, the ashes tumbled down neatly.

Rory repeated it again. And again, until the cigarettes were nothing but tiny stubs littered across the roof, ashes scattered around the ledge. Till the burning sensation from the cigarettes had consumed all but her entire being.

She smiled. She liked this feeling, the pain that came with it. It distracted her from her more than usual shitty day. Restrained the urge to go to him for relief; he would want something from her in return and she would be trapped in his vicious cycle.

Rory still could not understand how everything had gone downhill in a matter of one day. Just only yesterday she had been happy, ecstatic actually. Her Dad was coming home. She should be happy, but the thought of even smiling now, seemed like a daunting task in itself.

Suddenly footsteps could be heard on the concrete floor, shaking Rory out of her thoughts. She was peeved that someone decided to come here again. First it had been Pretty Boy, and now whoever the fuck this new asshole would be.

She might just sacrifice Banana, if these people decided that they would not let her have the roof to herself.

"Hey, None of Your Business, didn't expect you here, what's up?" The annoying voice of the boy, who had tried to claim her roof yesterday, entered her ears.

What was his fucking issue, didn't he understand that this is my roof?

"What is your–" She jumped back on the roof in sheer annoyance, her fist curled to punch the boy, when she turned around and her voice faltered. To say he was good looking was an understatement. His hair was dyed white, yet he pulled off the look effortlessly, his eyes a bright green. Tattoos decorated his arms tactfully.

But it wasn't his good looks that had her lost in thought. It was the scar on his cheek. The scar was barely visible and had it not been for the moonlight falling on his face she would have not seen it. But she did, and it had triggered something within her. As if it was of great significance – Why?

"Why are you here?" She continued, when she realized Pretty Boy was staring at her. She was not going to ask him about the scar, she had realized it linked both of them together. And the fact that she could not recall the memory had left her terrified.

"Well, None of Your Business, it was because I could not sleep." He sneered. It amused him, when he'd see her eyes blaze up. She was weird, but cute.

"Stop calling me that name," Rory growled.

"Okay, None of Your Business" His obnoxious smirk again appeared.

Does he only know how to sneer and smirk?

"You fucking better stop that, Sebastian."

"Swearing is bad manners, None of Your Business," he tsked. "Besides, I don't even know your name."

"It's Rory, so stop fucking calling me that,"

I am going to punch him. Can he not leave me and my roof alone? She thought exasperated. She hated anyone on her roof, but she wouldn't usually be this violent. It was because of him that she was pissed, not Pretty Boy's but he was there to receive her anger while he wasn't.

"Now wasn't that easy?" A self conceited smile spread across his face, dropping when he noticed the mess of cigarette stubs and ashes that were littered around the girl.

"What were you doing, Rory?" He questioned. Not that he needed to, he knew what she was doing; the real question was why she had she been doing it.

"What do you think, Dumbass?" She was pissed, for telling him her name, pissed for thinking about him again. She hated that she smoked so much to escape, loathed the fact that she was a coward and nothing better.

"I think you were trying to lose a lung and die." He replied without missing a beat. He was angry, so angry. He loathed smokers; detested them. But the fact that Rory smoked made him anxious.

He was feeling anxious for the SpongeBob pajama girl.

I don't even know her, and I feel anxious for her. Great going, Seb, you are feeling anxious for a stranger, the next thing you know she kills you.

"What happened, Rory?" He asked, his voice suddenly soft and calm, not reflecting any of his inner turmoil or thoughts.

For the longest time, Rory was quiet. The boy finally thought that she had not heard him over the City's noise. It was hard to believe it was two o'clock in the morning when there were still people out there in their cars, honking at each other. He was about repeat his question, when suddenly she said,

"Shit happened, Pretty Boy."

Unexpectedly the boy's arms enclosed around the girl's petite figure clumsily; it no longer mattered how they felt annoyed with each other the previous day or how she had wanted nothing more than to punch him. They were no longer the boy and girl that had met on the roof, arguing over trivial issues. They were not Sebastian and Rory at that moment.

For at that moment Sebastian had recognized the glazed look in her eyes. It was a look that he was familiar with. It was the same look he saw in the mirror every day.

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