A Court of Lies and Secrets | ACOTAR fanfic [Girl x Girl]

Distraction

~Alirra~

I could stand there forever and melt into her arms, embracing the feeling of her hands against my face and in my hair. I would love nothing more than to ignore the glares of passers-by and live in this moment forever with her.

I honestly could.

Her tongue grazes my bottom lip and it wakes me from the trance and I push us both as far back as I can. Renae stumbles a little but collects herself and adjusts her posture.

Hurting, pain, guilt: her eyes meet mine and it's all I have inside me not to pull myself back into her arms. The force of her gaze sends sharp bolts into my heart and pulls on my gut until I want to throw up all I am.

Her eyes leave mine as she turns to leave and I scrunch my eyes up tight but the memory of the pain in her eyes are plastered on my mind.

I take in a deep lungful of fresh air, struggling to keep my breaths even. The tug on my heart aches more than any pain I've ever endured and the hatred for myself, for hurting her, is magnified. The tears in my burning eyes feel as useless as ever. The spot where she stood seconds ago makes my blood boil, she should still be here. I clench my fists at my sides as if the pressure of my fingernails against my flesh will scare away the visions of Renae's eyes.

I replace the visions with images of burning arrows landing in the empty space where she last stood. The smoke and flames glowing like the stars in her eyes as if that spot is marked as hers forever.

The aches in my heart and gut and places I'd never even felt before didn't fade as I wandered through lively crowds and winnowed back into the House- into my room. It felt as if my heart needed to be elsewhere, had unfinished business. I know exactly what that business is and I curse the Cauldron for damning us both with this burden. I take in a deep breath, my anger taking control and overpowering all my senses. My vision burning this entire time. Hating myself and fate doesn't help anything.

Is this what it feels like? Your every emotion heightened, every sense taken over by anger and lust and desperation all at once? The overwhelming pains that make my head pound?

Is this a mating bond?

I press my head deeper into the plump pillow which is damp from tears. No amount of pressure helps the pain, clenching the sheets in my fists doesn't stop the aches. If this is what the bond is like, there's only one thing that will help. Just the thought sends my senses tingling– a sweet break from the hurting. A thought isn't enough, the feeling doesn't last.

I need to distract myself.

Without a thought to it, my arm reaches behind my bedside table and grabs ahold of the leather wrapped book. My journal. Flicking through its pages soothes the ache in my gut ever so slightly, enough to breathe clearer. Running a finger over the ink sends images of all kinds, memories, through my mind.

Below a drawing of star-flecked eyes, that I sketched the day she handed me the book, are the words 'write your own stories' her voice floats around my mind as I recall the day she gave me this very journal.

I turn the page to find sketches of all kinds: when I first met her ; below was all of the thoughts that had raced through my mind as our eyes met, when she gave me the tour ; her ebony hair being blown by the city's breeze- the crowd a blur around her, when she had argued with Adara ; insults were scattered around the page and my anger expressed by thick lines of ink.

My favourites (the ones that made me laugh) were all of the ones I had drawn during the weeks we argued and screamed insults. Even in these amateur drawings, she still looked effortless. And a pain in the arse, I add. I can't think of her like that, letting myself believe I find her attractive will only dig a deeper hole.

I flip through each drawing and my eyes roamed every detail, as if she were here, as if I were inside that very drawing- in that moment.

After I turn to a blank page, I pick up my ink and start a new sketch which takes up two pages. A bird's eye view of the bandstand, two figures leant against the barrier wrapped in each other's arms. Looking at this drawing alone, you wouldn't believe the trouble the two of them have. You can look at that drawing and believe they're just two fae in love, meant to be in that very moment- like fate.

Above the image I write the words: 'see if this can work'

I spend the entire night doing sketches in the journal. All of Renae on the bandstand, before and after and during the kiss. The emotion clear in her eyes in each drawing.

Nobody can ever find this, especially not Ren. Although, that's obvious. It would be too embarrassing to let something this personal slip into the hands of anybody.

I would give up with the drawings if they didn't help control my feelings, to think drawing my memories and thoughts in images and words is enough to clear my mind.

The sun peaks over the horizon and the strong pull of sleep hits me like a wave. I push the book back into it's hidden spot. With a clear mind, I have no trouble drifting into sleep.

No amount of sketches will help me figure out what I need to say to Renae.

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