100 Dates

If I Fall, I Won't Fly

"Taco?! I can't believe it, I-how did, m-You!"

Microphone stammered with disbelief shining through charcoal eyes, analyzing every detail of the other with rapt attention. Rumors were the closest a new competitor could get to the infamous liar but actually getting into contact? That was a feat not even the police or journalists could accomplish, even with their seemingly infinite resources. Without realizing, the grip on the hardshell in her hands started to bruise into dirty splotches along the other's sides, indiscernible in the dark of the night.  Getting caught was already a heavy mistake but the taller girl made it feel like a deathwish, a new flurry of raw emotions drowning her, the main culprit being fear.

"So, why are you even here? How are you not-..."

Every following word fell on deaf ears, Taco's heart hammering the small cabin it hid inside and the white noise of adrenaline flooding her system beyond capacity as she thought of a plan. If a viable escape couldn't be figured out soon, there was no doubt that Microphone would turn her in and collect the reward money, leaving Taco to collect dust in a filthy, unkempt cell. She bit down on Microphone's wrist and sprung away on bated breath and scrambled nerves. Sharp pain bit at her ankles from the sudden landing but it didn't compare to the trepidation in hearing the pounding of heavier steps behind her. 

"Wait, come back a second!"

'Is she actually...?'

The shorter girl almost choked at the sight of Microphone barrelling towards her, stumbling in the grass and reaching out to the familiar ridge of the treeline before a heavy slam made her kiss the floor beneath her. Ruffled lettuce couldn't hide a disgustingly fresh crack that traveled up her hard shell. Dread clawed its way through her stomach with a relentless surge of dizzying repulsion. Heaving slowly, Taco struggled to push away the metal tomb that cornered her against the ground. Foreign hands seized her own, jittery to a firm grip, pulling her up into a sitting position. The taller of the two shifted into a sitting kneel, pebbles digging into aching legs. 

"Okay, want to explain what that was all about? I thought you'd be in hi-Wait, are you okay?"

Microphone cautiously let one hand go to hover over the injury she'd unintentionally caused, earning a flinch from the other. Taco stared dumbfoundedly at her. What was this oversized clod trying to accomplish? Humiliation? An interrogation? Something was going wrong here but the moon didn't reveal any answers as it speckled illumination covered the pair underneath rows of swaying trees. Microphone relaxed, the shock finally wearing off.

"Um, Taco?"

Did she miss something? There had been no previous interactions with this new girl, but no trace of venom showed through her voice, just the gaze of curious eyes at the former competitor. Despite the confrontation, it was a serene moment of odd company. Taco reeled in from her the previous state of shambles with a light dusting to rid of the dirt before daring to look back at Microphone. 

Taco let out a small cough, "Well it seems we are in quite the predicament. Would you mind letting go for a moment? I'm not interested in collecting any more bruises from you this evening."

"Are you seriously not even mention what just happened?"

"I wasn't planning to."

"Rude."

"What did you expect? Some sappy heart-to-heart parodied from a reality show?"

"That's oddly specific, but no. It'd just be nice to know why you're creeping around. So?" Her arms crossed, overlapping with the other girl's arms.

"What, you expect me to answer you?"

Taco scoffed incredulously at her. She readjusted herself, eye contact kept to spiteful glances.