𝗰𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 - 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝑆

#𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗧𝗪𝗢 - 𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘚𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘖𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬

"Good Evening, Sherwood! Hope you got your salt and shovels ready, because this storm is gonna be a big one!"

The obnoxiously perky radio host's voice consumes the car speakers, disrupting the music that both JD and Veronica were forcing themselves to listen to. They haven't said a single word since they've pulled out of the parking lot.

"Snowfall is expected to begin no later than 4pm tomorrow! Y'know what that means, don't ya Barbara? The kids still have school!"

"Shit." JD sighs, hitting his head back gently against the headrest.

"You wanted them to cancel?" Veronica asks, eyes focused on the red light in front of her.

"I was hoping for a two-hour delay, at least." His eyes are on the sky, which churns slowly. "I wasn't really in the mood for German."

Ich Lüge. I lie. I'm lying. He's lying.

"Yeah... I wouldn't be either." Her head bobs in agreement, accompanied by an awkward attempt at a chuckle. "It's a confusing language."

He looks up at the clouds with a sense of guilt. He says nothing. Because he knows.

"I think our little town can get through this, through. But, remember to be ready. Salt your sidewalks, buy your groceries, and check in on those kids! That seasonal depression stuff can hit hard, apparently. We wouldn't want another Chandler now, would we? Man, that was hard. September sure was insa-"

JD turns off the radio with an alarming ferocity, earning a stare from Veronica. She's become so desensitized to the mention of Heather Chandler. A swollen tongue, raspy coughs, twitching limbs, blue dripping down the corners of her lips, bloodshot eyes, and glass shards bedazzling blonde hair. Veronica can envision all of that, become disturbed by it— but she no longer cries. Because she sees it all the damn time.

She thought JD felt the same way, or some variation of it. But, it appears as though he hasn't moved on. It's like a fresh wound, still stinging upon contact with rubbing alcohol.

And though all she wants to do is go home and sit on her kitchen floor, letting the ghosts plaguing her roam free— she still tries to make him feel better.

The turn signal blinks, and before JD can really process what she's doing, Veronica is already mid-way through a gigantic U-Turn.

"Um, my house is that way."

"Yeah, I know."

"So... where are we... going?"

"I'm thirsty." Her eyes glance to the side with quick caution as she switches lanes.

"Uh huh."

"And... I kind of want a Big Gulp right now."

"Oh." JD looks down at his hands, which are twitching with nervousness. Their relationship is tense and confusing and strained but, still, Veronica Sawyer never fails to make his heart completely dissolve.

He still remembers seeing her at 7/11. A genuine kind soul in the midst of a multi-colored snack aisle. She had thick, wild hair and a chaotic grin. Freckles splattered on the bridge of her nose, vaguely covered by concealer. She wore blue, again, just like she had at school. Her boisterous laugh, dramatic expressions, and the way she held the slushie he offered her with both hands.

And now?

Veronica Sawyer rarely laughs, at least, not sincerely. Her hair is thin and colorless, like her eyes. She's thinner and paler and sicker. She thinks he doesn't notice, but he's well aware of her dizzy-spells. He knows she ditches 6th period once every two weeks because she gets so sick she breaks out into a sweat and spends a good hour puking her guts out. She's lifeless and plain and fragile.