Pariah

You're a miracle

A.N. Sorry this chapter took so long. This was kind of hard to write because I don't remember any of 2016. And by I don't remember any of 2016 I mean I purposely blocked it out of my memory. The next chapter is already partially written though, so don't be surprised if there is another update within hours of this one.

The Pariah Playlist:

https://tinyurl.com/qmbsvdr

☆☆☆☆

"Transparent hands were at my neck. But I love the way you let me breathe instead."

Something doesn't feel right. And for once, this feeling has next to nothing to do with her relationship with Hope.

Something, outside of that, just feels off. Hope had felt it too. But there wasn't much they could do to fix it. Whatever it was.

"How's your shoulder?" Melody really only asks because Hope grimaces a bit when Melody rolls on to it. Normally, she'd never bother her about it. Hope rarely ever admitted she was in pain.

"Hasn't completely fallen off yet." Hope joked. Or at least Melody assumed it was a joke. Hope didn't laugh and neither did she.

"Hope."

The goalkeeper rolled her eyes before absentmindedly stretching said shoulder underneath Melody's head.

"I'll be fine. I've been fine." She sat up, Melody's head sliding back onto the pillow underneath her. Melody, for her part, sighed heavily.

"You're doing it again."

Hope glances over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

"Doing what again?" She scoots off the bed, just as Melody begins to sit up too. Her shirt is strewn haphazardly across the televison. She rolls her eyes before putting it back on. She forgoes underwear and heads straight for her sweatpants simply because she doesn't feel like looking for it.

Melody uses the duvet to cover herself, suddenly feeling self conscious, "That thing where you shut me out because you're really bad at feelings."

Hope laughs genuinely, "I guess I am."

"Really? That's it? You're just going to agree with me, then leave?"

Hope looks at Melody with a pensive frown, any previous humor long gone.

"It's all I can give you." There's a longing look that crosses Hope's features.

Melody shook her head. She refused to believe that was true. Hope might be an idiot, but she wasn't stupid. She wasn't incapable of telling the truth. For some reason she just couldn't do it with Melody.

The forward breifly wonders if there's something poetic in that. She comes to the conclusion that it's just sad.

"You can go. I can tell how much you're dying to get out of here."

Hope sighed, "Mel-"

"You're suffocating yourself, Hope. And I don't know why. I lo-like you. You know that. There's no reason for this to be as hard as it is. But you keep making it. One step forward and ten steps back."

Hope looks like she's aching to say something. Urging to let it all go. Her face has become even more pensive and mouth opens to spill all her dirty secrets but nothing comes out.

Melody's face would have shown her disappointment, if she hadn't been expecting this. Nothing was going to magically change. That's obviously not how this works.

She's been hoping and praying this entire time. And there's been nothing. Not even a smidge of hope for her.

In all honesty, she's surprised Hope is still in the room. Staring at her like she's sorry and just all around miserable.

Hope thinks that Melody wants grand gestures and romantic, sappy speeches, but all she really wants is a chance.

She wants a chance. To prove to Hope how wrong she is about whatever it is that Hope firmly believes she's right about.

Melody just wants Hope.

And however she can get her at this point. Flawed and bruised and battered and worn and used and unkempt. She just wants Hope.

And while Hope continues to stare at her like she hung the moon but took away all of her stars, Melody reflects.

She reflects on what it is about this one. This particular person that makes her feel like her chest is burning and her head is underwater. She could have anyone, but there's something making that possibility a bit incomprehensible.

It must be the confidence. It must be the protectiveness. It must be the determination. It must be the courageousness and the perseverance and the authority. It must be anything and everything that makes Hope...Hope. And that's why at this moment it can't be anybody but her.

Hope Solo has ruined her for anyone else and she doesn't even know it.

"I'm sorry." Hope shrugs and shakes her head. There's so much for her to say, but she doesn't know how to even begin. So, that's what she goes with. Because she is. She's sorry she can't give Melody what she wants.

And they both know it's just going to fester and boil up inside of Hope until it explodes into something unrecognizable.

But they'll cross that bridge when they get to it.

And with that, Hope trudges out of the door.

☆☆☆☆

They see each other often and they speak when they do. Sometimes it's out of obligation and other times it's because they miss each other.

Melody doesn't let it go farther than that. She's been trying to have at least some semblance of respect for herself. Julie has to help her enforce her own rules sometimes.

That last week is when things get really odd.

It starts with Sweden. Apparently, there is only way to make sure the best team in the world doesn't win. And that's to ensure they don't score. And you do that by only playing defense.

In the middle there's some penalty kicks. And those are always finicky. To Melody, it might not even be farfetched to say it's not even real soccer.

And from her place on the bench, Melody can almost see the begginings of a meltdown from there. If Hope was a volcano, what Melody is witnessing would be the little tiny earthquakes or the steam that escapes just before an eruption. She knows Hope like the back of her hand, and both of them sort of hate that.

Of course, Melody is the only one worried. No one else can tell. Hope's just sitting on the pitch. Fiddling with her gloves. Her leg shaking idly.

Melody's the only one who sees that Hope's in pain.

It ends with a single word.

A word filled with so much hypocrisy and irony that it takes Melody aback.

Cowards.

And that was only the first wave. Shit doesn't even really hit the fan until an entire week later.

Melody has never seen anything so beautifully tragic play out right in front of her. And she can't look away. It's like watching a car crash.