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Game Over
chapter thirty one
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SHE STARED AT THAT LINE LONG AND HARD. It was probably weird to keep a pregnancy test. There wasn't really a sentimental reason. She was drawn to do it because her life was going to change or because she had news. No, she just... kept it. And as she sat on hers and Alan's shared bed with it in her hands, she couldn't pinpoint what exact emotion was running through her. Was she happy? Relieved? Disappointed? There were so many possibilities when it came to teen pregnancy. She could be forced to quit school just to raise a child, she could make a baby with the love of her life, or she could be one of those people who allowed two good people to finally add to their family. She could give a child the love they deserve regardless of what choice she made.
She fell back into the pillows, the used pregnancy test falling to the mattress beneath her. It was one stupid line. Her eyes remained on the popcorn ceiling, counting the cracks branching from the corners of the room. Her legs remained thrown over the side of the bed, hovering over the hardwood floor. She hated this empty feeling. She hated being unable to process her own emotions. It was like a rock in her stomach, just sitting there, doing nothing. "Hey, babe. I'm going to order a pizza. Is that okay with you?" The bedroom door pushed open to reveal the half dressed boy of her dreams. He had been in the shower for the past hour, trying his best to wash away the stink of the day. "You okay?" He leaned against the door frame with a warm, inviting smile. His eyes finally met Phoebe's. "Look," was all she said as she reached for the abandoned test.
His smile faded a bit as she held the white and pink stick in the air. There was no hesitation in his steps as he shuffled toward her, taking the test from her hand. "What does one line mean?" he asked. She sat up on her elbows, sighing softly. "Negative," she answered. He searched her face for any reaction. Why was she just sitting there looking at him? Was she mad? Was she hurt? Did she want a baby? They never really talked about it seriously. There was the occasional moments in bed after smoking a joint or drinking a little too much. He thought maybe she just had a kink. He never questioned it, he wasn't one to kink shame. Not when he liked being called baby boy. But as she looked at him, emotionless, he felt worried.
"Is that... a good thing?" he asked, his head unconsciously tilting to the side. Her brows suddenly furrowed at his question. "Is it?" He didn't expect her to answer that way. He didn't know how to go about this. He'd never even been in a serious relationship like this. "That's why I'm asking you." She sat up completely, pulling her legs under her body. Her hair was tangled, like she had been rolling around in bed for a while. "I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know if its a good thing or.. or a bad thing. Would it even be a bad thing? I'm sixteen--" Alan sat down beside her slowly, easing onto the mattress, never once taking his eyes off of her. She ran a hand through her hair out of frustration. "And it's so fucking hot!"
Maybe she was slowly losing it. Maybe the good fortune she had been receiving ever since she met Alan was finally running out. She knew that she was unlucky, but she had hoped that it wouldn't affect her relationship. Her face scrunched up as profanities echoed in her mind. She felt nothing but the skin burning heat of summer. She couldn't even feel something for the child that could possibly grow inside of her. What a big change from how she thought before. "Breathe," Alan whispered, taking hold of her bicep in his soft grasp. His thumb ran along the inner side of her arm in gentle strokes. He pressed a soft, feather like kiss to her shoulder. Her eyes began to burn as water built up quicker and quicker. She scrunched up her nose, her lips forming a tight frown. She quickly closed her eyes to stop the tears from escaping. Her breaths were ragged.
Alan moved the hair from her neck. Her sweaty skin glistened under the soft light. He placed another tender kiss to her shoulder. "We can't change what happened," he spoke in a soft tone. "We can only talk and figure out what to do from now on." She nodded her head. Her chest was starting to tighten. It was slowly starting to become easier to discern between her emotions. She was relieved. She wouldn't have to worry about the finances, the changes in her body, the stress. "Do you want kids? Like, in the future?" She sniffed, wiping at the remnants of tears along her waterline. Alan waited patiently as she collected herself. His chin rested gently against her shoulder, his fingers continuing to push the hair off of her neck. Finally, she nodded her head, her throat too tight to speak.
"Okay." His hand moved to rub down her back, following the curve of her spine. Her tank top clung to her skin uncomfortably due to the sweat coating her skin. "Did this upset you? Not being pregnant?" She quickly shook her head. There wasn't an ounce of regret in her body. There was only guilt for feeling so reassured. "Do you.. Do you even want kids?" she asked. "I mean, do you even like kids?" There was a pause. This was a big step, an even bigger decision. Did he like kids? He could tolerate most, but would he want to father a child? There was the idea of a mini Phoebe. He could picture himself sitting on the floor, wearing a tiara, drinking invisible tea with a group of stuffed animals. He could also picture himself with a boy that probably looked a little too much like him. He'd have his anger, but would hopefully inherit her smarts.
Being in love was a crazy thing. It made things seem so much easier, so much more appealing. He kissed the junction where her neck and shoulder met with a ghost of a smile. "I don't know," he admitted. "I can't lie and say I do, because I've never really thought about it. And kids hate me for some reason." His lighthearted tone helped ease her stiff muscles. She relaxed slightly in his grip and turned to face him. "But it is tempting knowing that I could have them with you. They'd have hit the genetic and parental lottery, am I right?" Though his tone was teasing, he knew that what he said was true. They were both good looking, and they had more good traits than bad. They both know what bad parenting looked like. They would never treat their kids the way their own parents did. They'd be present, loving, communicative, understanding. They'd do their best to be the world's greatest family. They'd even buy those corny mugs.
He moved his hand that was rubbing her arm to cup her face. His touch was gentle, tender. His thumb ran over her chin, eyes clouded with thought. "Does that mean you'd want to marry me?" Her eyes widened at his abrupt question. What possessed him to even ask that? She was sixteen. No normal sixteen year old thinks about marriage. Or do they? She wouldn't really know exactly. "Do you want to marry me?" she asked in return, brows pinched. Of all the girls he could have, why would he want to settle down with someone who has one too many issues? Her future was presumably doomed before she could even reach it. Why would he want to bet on that than find a nice girl who can give him what he wants, when he wants it? His lips pursed. There was a slight lift to them that she almost didn't catch.
"I think so," he admitted truthfully. He rubbed the sides of her neck within his hands gently. His touch was firm, easing away the tension that had build there. Her breath hitched. He was so close, being so forward. A rush of heat clouded her features. She bit down on her bottom lip to hide her sudden smile. "Why do you have to be so forward?" she asked, using her hand to hide his eyes. She couldn't function correctly with him looking at her so earnestly. She rested her forehead against his with a sigh. "Would you prefer me to be mysterious?" he inquired. "Do you like dark and mysterious guys, hm?" He bumped his nose against hers with a smile. "I like you." Her hand slid away to reveal his pretty eyes. His lashes were so thick. She felt her heart skip a beat.
"I don't want you to change." He cupped her cheek, fingers splayed along her skin. It was hard to keep eye contact so close. She was growing blurry in his vision. "If you keep being you, then I will too." He finally pulled away just enough to really see her. "And, for your information, I would want a kid. One day at least." The pad of her finger tapped the tip of her nose. She nodded her head. It was nice to know that much, at least. "Okay," she sighed. "Me too."
—
"Okay, next question." A string of cheese connected Phoebe's mouth to her slice of pizza. They were huddled up on the couch. Her legs were over his as they face one another, his hand holding her knee. He grinned over at her pink face, freshly washed, hair pushed back with a thick headband. She looked her best in these moments to him. She was the picture of beauty, of youth, of ethereally simplicity. He reached forward and broke the string, causing her to laugh. "Okay, so we settled the cats versus dogs debate," he listed off with his fingers. "Dogs are superior," she added. He hummed, not wanting to start that argument again. "We talked about our all time favorite snack food." She nodded her head as he popped up a second finger.
"Then there was which way is the worst to die, water or fire." She took another bite of her pizza, listening intently as he continued to list off their questionnaire. "How many kids we want. I still want a few, like four." She shook her head. "When you figure out a way for you to carry them inside of you, then we can talk." He squeezed her knee in response, smiling widely at her answer. "Ask your next question before I get bored." He sighed through his nose. His eyes focused on something far away, mind wandering to the deepest parts. What could he ask her that would give him a better sense of who she is? He knew mostly everything anyway. What else is there?
She tossed her half eaten slice back into the pizza box with a click of her tongue. She rolled closer to him, their hips almost touching, her arms wrapping loosely around his neck. "I'll go again, then," she spoke gently, her voice barely above a whisper. His head tilted slightly to the right, the right corner of his lips quirking upward. He motioned for her to continue with one hand while the other found her waist. "Was your family religious?" The question wasn't a hard one. He grew up in a Catholic household, though his parents never really practiced their religion. "They were," he concluded, however. "My abuelita was Roman Catholic. So, naturally, so was the rest of my family." She nodded her head.
"I was born on U.S soil, but lived in Mexico until I was six," he admitted. "My mom and abuelita packed up one day and we left. I found out later that it was to get away from my dad. Eventually, though, my mom called him because she missed him and felt bad about running." Phoebe ran a hand through his short hair. He frowned at the memory. "He wasn't a good person. He was always gambling, conning people. He was always in debt and would skip out when things got bad. Sometimes my mom would have to settle his debts just for him to come back.." She noticed the water building in his eyes. Her heart began to ache. "I was ten when I saw these guys beat her up for the first time. They were asking where dad went, where the money was. I don't get why she was so loyal to that piece of shit. He only ever brought us bad things."
"What happened to your abuelita?" Phoebe asked. He shook his head with a sigh. "When my mom called my dad, abuelita told her that she was not only ruining her own life but mine too. My mom cut ties with her after that." She nodded her head. He turned back to the half empty pizza box and reached for a new piece. He wanted to occupy himself to keep new emotions from stirring up. "Was your family religious?" She sighed gently, nodding her head. "My grandmother was. My parents are firm atheists." He laughed a bit at that. It didn't surprise him to know that. There's nothing wrong with atheists, of course. Everyone is entitled to their own beliefs. And atheism made sense sometimes, even to strong Christians.
"She used to have this candle that never stopped burning. When it would burn out, she'd just replace it. She called it her candle of hope," she began her explanation with a fond smile. He chewed away at his food, listening closely, eyes peering up at her. "She had this glass case that would go over it. It was the shape of a palm tree since she was so in love with the beach. But every night, she would pray in front of it. I didn't get it at first because why leave a candle burning? What if someone knocked it over?" He hummed in response. His free arm wrapped tighter around her waist, bringing her impossibly closer. She sat on his lap now. "Did she say who she was praying for?" he asked, nuzzling his nose against hers.
Her head nodded as she dipped down to connect their lips. His tasted like pizza grease and pepperoni. He grinned against her mouth. "She prayed for the lonely," she whispered. "I think she did it for me. I don't want to assume but when she told me about her candle, it was like her eyes told me." His eyes fluttered closed as their breaths mingled in the middle. "I like that idea," he admitted. "Burning a candle for the lonely." She hummed. Her finger trailed over the slope of his nose, traced the line of his cupid's bow. Their heartbeats synchronized as they sat there in a peaceful silence.
In their lives, though, a peaceful silence never seems to last. There was a hard knock at the front door. Their heads turned in surprise toward the noise. "Are you expecting anyone?" she asked, looking back toward her boyfriend. He shook his head. Another flurry of strong knocks sounded, echoing through the silent house. "I'll be right back. Stay here." She moved off of him so he could get up. His first instinct was to grab the bat sitting by his television. His grip on it was tight. His breathing was choppy. A sweat had even broken out on his neck. In his line of work, he had to be careful. There's no telling who could be on the other side of that door.
His footsteps were calculated, silent. He rose the bat over his shoulder before beginning on the locks. One, two, three locks were turned before he opened the door. "Woah, woah, woah!" Alan's body relaxed upon seeing the boy outside, the bat falling to his side. "Took you long enough to answer the door." Phoebe glanced over the back of the couch in confusion. In came Phillip Gallagher, kicking off his shoes before hopping over the back of the couch. The door was locked once more and Alan came back to the living room. "Pizza. Nice." A slice was stolen and devoured by the Gallagher boy, his arm resting along the back of the sofa. Phoebe stared at him in disbelief.
He turned to Phoebe with wide eyes. "What?" he asked, mouth full. Before he could react, she slapped him upside his head. "Are you crazy? Who goes to someone's house and beats on their door like that?" Another slap landed on his shoulder and he attempted to roll away to escape. "Ow! Stop!" he exclaimed while she continued her attack, opting to use a pillow for more range. "You had us scared! We didn't know if it was the cops or other dealers, you asshole!" — "Okay! I get it, I'm sorry!" He raised his hands in surrender, face full of pizza. He grinned over at her, earning an eye roll in return. Alan shook his head at the interaction, a ghost of a smile gracing his features. "Why are you even here? Don't you know how to call in advance? What if we were in the middle of something?"
"Wait, you do it on the couch?" He jokingly cringed at the knowledge and wiped his hands down the leg of his jeans. "Gross! Next thing you're going to tell me is that you do it on the kitchen table." Phoebe didn't hesitate to reach forward and flick the boy in between his brows. "It's our house. We can fuck where we want to." He pushed her back with a laugh. His free hand rubbed gently at the red spot on his forehead. "Why are you here, Lip?" Her head rolled back onto the back of the couch with a sigh. The grin he once wore faded away. "Karen thinks Jody's going to propose," he muttered. "And that she doesn't want to have sex with me anymore."
Of course it had something to do with Karen. Why else would he come unannounced and seething with anger. "Well, be glad she told you," Phoebe sighed. She stretched out her legs and arms, sighing deeply through her nose. "Now you can have a clear conscience." He rolled his eyes. He knew that she didn't like Karen. But she had promised to try harder, and she had been doing so well. "I don't even think she really likes him. How can you like someone without having sex with them? Isn't sex a big part of relationships?" Phoebe glanced over the back of the couch to meet Alan's eyes. She had started liking him before they spent the night with one another, but the sex did seal the deal.
"There are people out there who don't like intimacy and they have stable relationships," she stated. "I mean, sex can be a big factor if you make it a big factor." Lip sunk deeper into the couch cushions. She was making a valid point. "Karen's a sex addict, though. I mean, its weird, right?" Right, she thought. She slapped her hand against his thigh, forcing a tight lipped smile. "Give it time, my friend. If she's serious about Jody, then you need to let it go. But if she isn't..." Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "This could be because of her dad, too," Alan spoke up. "Didn't you guys say that they had a falling out? He called her a whore, right?" Both teens nodded their heads in sync.
"Two words: daddy issues." Lip snorted. His eyes cut over toward his best friend sitting beside him. "Yeah," he sighed. She didn't noticed him staring, or the way he watched her smile toward Alan. She was truly oblivious to the things around her. His eyes adverted to the emptying pizza box, his hand coming to rest on his stomach. "Let's get more pizza," he suggested. "And we can watch the Die Hard movies." Phoebe let out a groan. He was always inviting himself to join them. "Hey," he clipped sarcastically. "I'm your best friend, and I'm hurting. Be a little more hospitable, alright?" She swiftly nudged his side with her foot before climbing over the back of the couch. "I'll call the pizza place."
As she passed Alan, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "And I'll pay." He stopped her before she could leave and pressed his mouth to hers. A noise of surprise ruptured from her throat, dying on his tongue. "I love you," he whispered, sparkling eyes meeting hers. She grinned up at him, nose scrunching up. "I love you more." — "Gee, you know, I love you guys, too." They both turned to spot Lip now sprawled across the sofa, a pillow under his head. He winked toward the two with a goofy smile. "Why would we need kids when we have Lip?" she thought aloud, ignoring the laugh that erupted out of her boyfriend. "Kids? Hold on, what the hell?"
from rumi . . .
soft soft soft soft soft
i live for the phoebe x alan
interactions. they're my fave
couple in the whole world rn.
we're six chapters into act two
and im pretty proud of how far
we've come!! im so used to falling
in love with books & getting excited
to write for them only for that
excitement to dissipate into writer's
block & eventually never writing for
them again. but with phoebe, i feel
so in tune with her. there's so many
elements of myself in her while she's
the polar opposite of who i am. and i
just feel protective over her.
i'm also so sorry ab not updating
as fast as last time. atm, i'm going
through a bit of a rough patch. i've
barely been able to write but i do
have the remainder of the book
thoroughly planned out!! but yeah.
i won't be able to be on often but i am
planning + writing when i can. <33
how did you guys like the chapter?
what's your favorite part?
mine is definitely lip interrupting
their cute moment. idk i just love
how comfortable they all are with
one another. and his confusion when
she said kids,, i died.
don't forget to vote + comment!