The Fence || h. s.

11 || First-class Performance

"All good?" Asa asks as soon as I re-enter the house, and I give him a fitful shrug in return, not really knowing how to answer his question. Instead of saying anything else, he wraps his arms around me in a comforting embrace, allowing my head to rest in the crook of his neck. Bless him. After last night's events, he had decided to reschedule his flight, choosing to stay one more day in LA instead of taking an evening flight back to London like he had planned. 

"He's gonna call my dad," I sigh, pulling back from him, "and he will raise hell. I'm already exhausted just thinking about it." 

Asa nods his head grimly, "You know I can't stand the man as much as you do, but this time, he could help you." 

"I don't need his help," I mutter stubbornly, glancing briefly in the direction of the living room. A sound of something heavy clattering to the ground catches my attention, and I suddenly remember that Sally's still at my place too. "She's up?" 

"Yeah, she's just woken up," Asa confirms with a sigh. "She's pretty shaken 'bout the whole thing though. I reckon she must have done coke last night, cause she's coming down pretty hard."

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as this definitely does not make sense. Unlike me, Sally is not the kind of girl who dabbles in heavy drugs. Her younger brother used to struggle with a heroin addiction, even nearly succumbing to it at some point in time, and she has strayed away from anything except booze and weed ever since. This only assures me that whatever's going on with her, it must be serious. 

"I'll talk to her," I say, my voice hoarse. 

Walking into my living room, I am met with a sight of Sally wrapped in my bright yellow blanket, and she looks almost like she's drowning in it. Her eyes turn in the direction of the noise, and I take notice of how bloodshot they are. Her expression is unreadable and so unlike the girl I'm used to that I briefly consider grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking some sense into her. Either that, or begging her to finally tell me what the hell is going on with her. 

She is silent for a moment, finally muttering, "This is a fucking shit show." 

"I know," I chuckle, trying to lighten the tension. "Don't worry though, it's probably just some overzealous fan." 

She doesn't laugh along as I hoped. "Don't try to downplay it. It's serious, and we both know it. Everything's just… Fucked up."

"And by 'everything' you mean the break-in, or is there something else on your mind?" I ask, groaning inwardly when I see her face fall. 

"Last night, obviously…" she sighs, her face impassive. 

Her reaction makes me falter for a moment, my mind racing to find a better way to approach the situation. "You know, I never told you this, but back in New York I was going through so much stuff. I didn't realise, at least not until it was too late, just how much I needed you guys. Pushing you away when you tried to get through to me is something I will forever regret."

Sally's already shaking her head, muttering, "I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work." 

"Yes, I'm trying to make you talk to me," I affirmed. The cat is pretty much out of the bag by now anyway. "Will you?" 

"I can't," she whispers, and I notice that her shoulders begin to shake slightly. "You won't see it the way I do—" 

I press a finger to her lips, silencing her. "No, Sally! You always treat me like some sheltered judgmental bitch, but I've always been there for you whenever you needed me. When your parents left you without as much as a penny—I was there. When your brother hit rock bottom—I was there. What else do I have to do to prove that you can count on me? Tell me what's wrong, or else I can't help you!"