Paper Planes

XV

"One day you fall for this boy. And he touches you with his fingers. And he burns holes in your skin with his mouth. And it hurts when you look at him. And it hurts when you don't. And it feels like someone's cut you open with a jagged piece of glass."
—Maureen Medved

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Ember stirred awake, a severe discomfort in her lower stomach as she writhed in pain between the sheets.

That wonderful time of the month.

The woman shuffled from the bed, her knees buckling as a groan slipped from her lips. She practically crawled on all fours towards the heaps of black material in the corner of the room, filled with her articles of clothing.

Her slender fingers dug through the clothing in search of any type of feminine product. However, she found none.

Fuck.

She shuffled into the bathroom, stuffing an obscene amount of toilet paper into her panties to prevent any leakage.

This'll have to do for now.

"Joker?" She throatily called, slinking from the room as she put pressure on her abdomen with the palms of her hands.

Ember migrated through the untidy home, her eyes settling upon a brand new flatscreen television that sat perched up on old textbooks adjacent to the wall in the living room.

"Joker?" She repeated, a bit more loudly this time.

"In here, pump-kin!" A clowny voice echoed from the kitchen.

Ember stumbled into the room, her hands clutched against her lower stomach as Joker stood behind the island counter, his lanky fingers laced around a coffee mug as he raised a brow at her posture.

"You-uh, alright, toots?"

Ember collapsed on a nearby wooden stool, a moan of pain slipping from her as she leaned into the counter.

"Are you wearing a t-shirt?" She asked, slightly taken aback by his choice of apparel.

Joker glanced downward, his black holes for eyes taking in the sight of his v-neck black shirt. A silver paper plane sat neatly on top of the material, the chain draped over his neck as he merely shrugged.

"Uh, yeah?"

"Hmph," Ember grunted, her gaze lingering on the paper plane around his neck, her fingers darting upwards to claim the one around hers. "Just weird to see you in anything but purple."

Horton cleared his throat from the corner of the room, his knees held to his chest as his nose sat stuffed in his withered copy of Wuthering Heights.

Ember glanced in his direction, an eyebrow raised as the sudden smell of smoke filled her lungs.

Joker still stood planted firmly on the opposite side of the counter, a lit cigarette held tightly between his red lips as he shoved a bright green lighter back into his black jean pocket.

Jeans too?

"I didn't know you could dress so casual." Ember snickered, her expression contorting into that of pain when an unbearable cramp erupted in her stomach.