Heathers Oneshots!

[CHANDLMARA.] ring.

[ Hi, uh, trigger warning for a variety of unpleasant things including suicide and overdose. Just a warning! ]

     Her hands aren't shaking yet when they land on her phone. The coiling white wire falls off the night stand, next to the empty pill bottle, and sways. Heather swallows. Her throat is dry. Like fucking chalk. It's dry. Everything else hasn't set in yet.

She decided on this instead of a suicide note. How sad are those? You spend your last few moments sobbing into a piece of paper. At least with this, you're going out happily. Oblivious. Her mind is dizzy, perhaps she hasn't thought it out. It's so late. A part of her realizes she isn't going to see the next sunrise.

McNamara barely noticed the phone had stopped ringing.

"Hello?" It's bored. It's Heather Chandler.

The cheerleader manages a wiry smile. "Hey." It's a sigh. Relieved? The first emotion she's experienced in weeks.

"What's up?" There's a brush, the sound of paper turning. Of course. It's nine a clock' at night. Heather's reading magazines.

"Nothing." Overdosing. "What about you?"

"Just reading these crappy fashion tips." The Queen Bee crinkled her nose, idly snapping a neon page back.

Heather nods, eyes slipping closed. "The magazines you subscribed too, right?"

"Yeah, the ones you come to my house to read, dork." She huffed. A pause. Heather's stomach turned. "So, why'd you call?"

"No-no reason." She swallowed. Was her room always this cold? "Just, wanted to say hi I guess." What would she normally do? The blonde attempted a bored sigh.

"Yeah. . ." Her girlfriend hummed, semi interested. "So, what are you doing this summer?"

"Nothing much." I won't be around to experience it.

"Great." There's a shift, Chandler sat up, magazine landing on her blankets. It's audible through the phone. "Because my Mom is dragging me on this stupid camping trip and she said I could bring someone."

"Lucky me." It's a bitter giggle. Heather hated camping. It didn't matter, though.

"So, you in?"

"Course." She breathed. Her heart was thumping. She was freezing, but beads of sweat were growing on her forehead. She rolled over on her back, free scarred arm hitting her yellow sheets. Her bird chirped from the other side of the room at the thud.

Chandler's grinning and she doesn't need to be there in person to see it. Heather breathed. When was the last time she had seen Chandler in person? Oh. Oh. School. School. Mere days ago. Her mind moved slow. Perhaps McNamara hadn't realized that would be the last day she would see her girlfriend in person. A part of her snapped at the thought.

"..Heather?"

The yellow girl stuttered, ears ringing. Had she said something? Had she missed it. "Huh? Shit-did-did you say something?"

There's a laugh, laced with general confusion. "Yeah, I asked if you want to go to dinner tomorrow."

That sounded fantastic. "I can't." An aching pinpoint of pain spiked in her gut, like a cramp.

"Why?" It's a nod of disappointment.

"I'm—my-my dad's—" get it together, Heather. Breath. Stable. "He's back in town for the week." Lie. He wouldn't be back in town for another month. "He wants to see a movie, I think." Lie. Heather hadn't seen a film with her Dad since freshmen year.