Fanfics

Warth - by hartorotica

V. Wrath
[related to one's psychological interpretation of having been offended, wronged, or denied and a tendency to react through retaliation]
June 20, 2013
She always thought of herself as having a pretty high boiling point. Throughout high school and college, she had always been the composed, calm girl who rarely got into any kind of argument and even when she did, treated it with necessary poise and dignity. Today, however, she does not feel like staying calm and composed at all. It is not just a singled out even; it looks as if the entire universe has concocted some kind of master plan (a cosmic joke, more like) to simultaneously piss her off. And God, has it worked.
Good morning! You are listening to KSCN. It is 77°F outside and today promises to -
She hates KSCN. And she hates Mamrie from tweaking the preset radio stations again. She hates the garbage truck that has obnoxiously beeped until she woke up, she hates her coffee maker that has suddenly decided to act up and she hates her own clumsiness for stubbing her toe this morning when she got out of bed. She hates the responses some of her latest video had received, she hates the fact that she doesn't know how to comment on those comments, although that realisation has made her smirk, and she hates that she has no inspiration whatsoever to shoot a Sexy Friday.
And this one is for all of you who had a blast last night. LMFAO with Shots.
She definitely hates that song, so she rushes to the radio to turn it off. 'Shots' was one of the songs Mamrie had insisted on using during their NoFilterShow performances, and it inevitably made her think of - great. Stuck with it already. Perhaps this has become the entire accumulation of her current state of fury. Fucking Hannah Hart going behind her back to Mamrie about returning to LA. It pisses her off in more ways than one. First of all, it is disrespectful. Secondly, it makes her feel as if Hannah considers her to be an idiot. Phoning Mamrie at eleven at night pretty much equals knowing Mamrie is going to be in the same room as Grace. Telling Mamrie that she is actually going to return to Los Angeles on Friday instead of Saturday, therefore equals betrayal. Explicitly telling Mamrie that she, under no circumstances, is allowed to tell Grace this information... Well, she doesn't not know what to think about that.
"Guess you're not the only bitch in my life, Goose." Grace sighs.
She has tried to make up with Goose for her erratic behaviour of the past few days. She has taken her out for walks, bought her some fresh chicken and even spent the past evening in a dog park - then returning home and overhearing Mamrie and Hannah talking. The redhead had been busy making food so the phone had been on speaker, resulting in Grace hearing the painful news the second she walked inside of her own place. Feeling betrayed by both of her best friends, she decided not to let anything show as she had slammed the front door shut for emphasis. Mamrie had immediately hung up the phone and pretended nothing had been going on, which possibly irked Grace even more.
Mamrie has gone house hunting again, meaning that she is by herself. Thank God. She hops into the shower for a good twenty minutes, enjoying the calm cascading of lukewarm water upon her skin. After her bed rest, she feels like she needs some time to scrub off the filth and get in shape again. After all, Hannah is coming back on Saturday. God, it enrages her. She gets out of the shower and wraps herself up in towels, sitting on the closed toilet lid and contemplating how on earth she is going to get some sort of... revenge? She dries her hair off with her towel for a few moments and considers possibilities. Maybe I should try and give her a chance to explain instead. She has never liked conflict much. Deciding to try one final time, she grabs her phone and dials Hannah's number.
"Hey Grace!" The brunette sounds relentlessly happy, as always, "Morning, babe!"
"Hi." Grace mumbles, feeling her heart thud faster, "I'm not going to keep you very long, I just wanted to ask what time you are coming back on Saturday."
Silence. She wonders whether Hannah is just quiet because she has to come up with an excuse, or whether she is contemplating the chance that Mamrie informed her, despite her explicit pleading not to do so. Finally, she clears her throat and Grace closes her eyes, dreading what she's about to hear.
"About six in the evening?" Hannah's voice sounds unusually high pitched, "Well, not six. Like around noon or something, but I have to do that final meet up thing, and then I'll have to shower and get ready and come see you, don't I!"
Fucking lying bitch.
"Yeah." Grace mumbles, feeling more betrayed than ever, "Right. I'll leave you to it."
"Grace?" Hannah speaks fast, "Is that why you are calling? Just to see what time I'll be back?"
"Pretty much. I wondered whether there was an off chance you'd be home tonight because My Damn Channel gave me these tickets for a show by that one band you liked, what's their name. Hurts? Them."
It's bluff, of course. She seems to remember Hurts are Brits, for starters. And she knows that Hannah is in fact back in Los Angeles tomorrow night. Talk yourself out of this one, Hannah.
"Ah, pity." Hannah responds, although now she's dragging her words, "Rain check, yeah?"
"Course." Grace bites her lip in order to remain calm, "It's alright. I'll ask Mamrie."
"No." Hannah says. Way too fast. "You, um, you can't ask Mames."
"And why is that?"
"Didn't she, um..." Grace frowns at Hannah's hesitance, "Have an audition tomorrow night? I think she mentioned something about an audition last time I spoke to her."
"Oh." Grace inhales, "When was that? The last time you spoke to her, that is."
"Er. Whenever you were on a strike and stayed in bed."
Before the rooster crows three times...
"Right. Well, I have to go now, 'cause Goose is hungry. But I'll see you on Saturday then, yeah?"
"Definitely!" Hannah seems to have regained her confidence, "See you in two days, babe!"
"Bye."
She hangs up and becomes oddly aware of the fact she is nearly freezing, despite it being 77°F outside. Her hair is still damp and tiny droplets are falling onto her shoulders and trailing down into the material of the towel. Something is up. Grace thinks to herself, Something that includes Mamrie. As soon as she thinks of the redhead, she hears her front door open and close, loudly. She's never been in track pants and a hoodie as fast as she is now. She storms out of the bathroom and finds Mamrie standing in front of the fridge, looking at its contents and trying to decide on what to drink.
"Hey Mames." She greets, "Got plans for tomorrow night? I've got tickets for a gig."
"Yeah, sure!" The North Carolinian says before looking up in surprise, "Ah shit, no. I can't."
Gotcha.
"What's more important than having a good time with your best friend, Mamrie?" Grace forces herself to smile, even though she's burning up on the inside, "What am I getting ditched for?"
"Hannah asked me whether I could kind of stock her fridge before she got back." Mamrie keeps a poker face, "You know, tidy up a bit before she gets back."
"You can do that on Saturday, can't you."
"Auditions." Mamrie starts to feel uncomfortable, "I can't."
"It's alright, I understand." Grace smiles and turns around before walking back to her room, "You know, Mamrie," She turns around as she reaches her door, "You need to work on your details when you lie." She says, icily calm. The redhead looks busted and stares at her in confusion, "Hannah only has one spare key, and that one's in my drawer." She breathes out, "Fuck you, Mames. And next time you're calling with her behind my back, tell her she can go fuck herself too."
Mamrie tries to justify something but she's already slammed the door close. She locks it quickly, and a couple of seconds later Mamrie is banging at the other side of the door.
"Grace, it's not what you think. I do have to do something for her tomorrow. I just," Mamrie pauses, "I promised her I wouldn't tell you." She waits again, "Grace, please. I'm going to be gone in the morning and I won't be back before Monday. Can we talk this through?"
Grace is already occupied with something else. She blocks out Mamrie's voice entirely and opens her nightstand drawer. It's full of loose pictures she's once printed off and planned to frame, but never really got around to it. Hannah would have framed them ages ago. She hates how even now, she's still thinking about the smaller brunette and what she does and how she does it. She rumbles through the pictures until she finds what she's looking for - an entire series of Hannah and herself pulling faces and goofing around. Mamrie's voice is drowned out now. Or maybe the redhead gave up on reasoning and went away. She doesn't know, but then again she doesn't really care either.
"Fuck you." She mumbles to nobody in particular.
She looks at their smiling faces on the photograph and rumbles through another drawer where she keeps some tea lights and a lighter. Clasping her fingers around the lighter, she lights it up and holds the corner of the photograph above the bright flame. The paper almost immediately catches fire, spreading a blue glow as it burns. As she watches the flames devour the picture, she realises it's nearly noon and she hasn't yet thought of an idea for Sexy Friday. Worse, she hasn't even made a How To for Thursday. Such is life. She dumps the remains of the picture, still smouldering, onto a plate that was sitting next to her bed. The advantage of being messy. Grace sits on the edge of her bed for several more minutes, contemplating what to do now.
-
An hour later, she's in her kitchen. Mamrie's gone out, probably not up for another row. Grace looks at the bowls in front of her; hardboiled eggs and potatoes and relish and other shit that she doesn't really care about. The camera's still rolling and she puts some of the potatoes in the bowl before putting the rest of them back.
"Now you know what missing someone feels like."
She feels like throwing the bowl against the wall. Stupid fucking life. She realises she has less than 48 hours in order to make sense out of any of this. And 48 hours seem very, very little.