Author's note: I do not own West Side Story or any elements of it.
Sometime, in the middle of the night, Vivienne awoke in a strange bed that was not hers, but was actually hardly strange at all.
She didn't remember falling asleep in Riff's bed fully clothed, but given that they'd both had long days beforehand and she'd spent the time to tease and touch him so intently, it wasn't impossible to imagine why.
What was strange, and what had woken her, was the feeling of Riff's body tossing and turning next to her.
She rolled over and saw him fretting, his still-asleep face tensing and creasing in distress. She sat up, debating whether to wake him. But seeing his upset expression that made him look much younger and helpless than usual and his hands wringing in stress made the decision for her.
"Riff," she spoke softly, reaching over to gently shake his shoulder. "Wake up."
It didn't take her long to rouse him. When his eyes flickered open he pressed his hand to his chest, as if there had been something there.
"You alright?" she asked.
"Yeah," he breathed. He offered her a smile to try and convince her. "Just restless, is all."
He reached up and pulled her down to him, resting his chin on her shoulder as they both lay to face the wall, comforted by each other's heat.
Pretty comfortable for two people who are just 'having fun', they both thought but chose not to say.
When the morning came, Vivienne came back to life and was surprised to see that Riff had already up. He was not someone she would have took for an early riser.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, tying his boots.
"Early morning plans?" she asked, her voice groggy with sleep.
Riff turned, surprised to hear her. He then fell back, letting his hands rest on her legs.
"Whatdda they say? Early bird gets the worm?"
She reached down and let her fingers rest in his hair, and was surprised to see his eyes fall shut in bliss as she did.
"Will I see you later?" he asked, letting his hand run up dangerously high on her thigh.
"No. My test is tomorrow. In fact, I would ask that you do your best to keep everyone out of trouble to avoid any emergencies."
"I can't promise nothin'."
"I mean it. No unexpected visitors."
Riff sat back up now, throwing her a smile over his shoulder. "You got it, doll."
He stood then, watching her in his bed for a second longer before he left the room. She rose from the bed herself, stretching and walking over to the mirror to try and sort her dishevelled appearance.
From the other room, she heard a familiar sound that she had heard the first night she'd stayed at Riff's place.
"Bye," his quiet voice quickly said, before she heard the front door close.
It confused her, just as it had the time before. It was too quiet and too quick to be directed at her, so why had he said it?
Shoving the useless questions out of her mind, she put on her shoes and made her way into the kitchen. The light streamed in low and harsh against the counters and she saw the dust in the air that kissed every part of the room. To be nothing but nosy, she peaked into the fridge and saw nothing but an apple turning fluffy with mould and an expired milk carton. It never failed to amaze her as to how Riff and the others got by as long as they had. She was reminded of it every time she saw them outside without coats, how she never saw them pay for anything. She didn't have much, but she had far more where they were concerned.
It was then that she made the decision to grab her coat and quickly make a diversion on her way home to the store, filling it with new milk, bread, cereal, and fruit. She did some quick calculations in her head and put back one or two items before paying to avoid the embarrassment of not being able to do so. She then doubled back to Riff's apartment, putting it to wherever she thought they belonged. It was a small gesture, perhaps stupid she thought, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Especially now that they were somewhat friends. Or at least, no longer enemies.
When she went to leave again, it was then that something caught her eye as she moved to the front door. Something on the wall. She looked up and saw a framed picture - the only one in the whole apartment.
Stepping forward to get a closer look, she inspected the picture closer. In the frame, captured in black and white, there was a beautiful woman with a large sunhat frozen as it flapped in the wind. Sitting on her lap in the grass, a tiny young boy with a wickedly large grin on his face that looked so familiar she could only assume that it was Riff. She watched the picture for a moment, before realising what she was actually looking at and what it meant. It was Riff and his mother - a woman that had never been seen or mentioned so she knew in her heart she must have no longer been around - and a young Riff.
Vivienne felt her heart ache when she realised that when she had heard Riff say goodbye to an unknown person, it had been to his picture. To his mother.
There was a lot in the picture. Joy, love, warmth; all things that based on what she could see in Riff's eyes she knew were not things he had been given in a long time. Not from family, anyway.
She hovered for a moment longer, before the reality of the day came crashing around her and she realised she had to leave.
As she pulled open the door and glanced once more at the photo, she felt strangely compelled - out of respect or sadness, she wasn't sure - to do what Riff had done.
"Bye," she said, quietly, to the woman in the picture. And then she left to go home and study for, what she considered to be, her only shot at a life that contained joy, love, and warmth.
The next afternoon, when Vivienne left the school after her big test, she felt only half-relaxed. It had been harder than she'd thought, with questions and topics she'd only half had time to familiarise herself on due to her occupation with the Jets. But she knew she had to have done well. She knew she wouldn't get her results for a few days at the earliest, so with that she took herself back to her neighbourhood and decided to do something nice for herself. A new book, or shoes perhaps.
She passed the library and the station, walking down the blocks until she hit the main street.
Just as she went to move across the street to walk to the bookstore, she found herself being yanked off course and into the alley beside her. A
"Hey, wh-"
The words ceased as soon as a familiar pair of lips pressed against hers. When she pulled back, she saw Riff standing in front of her. His eyes were ablaze with excitement and mischief, and she could tell by now that this look meant he had just been up to no good. It was then that she looked down and saw scatters of paint against his arms and hands.
"What have you been doing?" she asked.
"Just startin' to mark our territory up again," he replied, almost breathless. "Gettin' things back to the way they were. How was it? Your test?"
"You knew that was today?"
He gave her a look of mock offense. "Hey, I listen when you talk, baby."
He smiled then, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in for another kiss. She sunk into it this time, allowing her hands to move up and rest on his cheeks. This one felt different. Not desperate and wanting, like the others had been in the heat of the moment, but this was warm and slow like the very winter sun they were standing in. It made her feel different too, in a way she couldn't describe. When they parted she could tell he thought the same, on account of the dazed, almost confused look in his eyes.
"You stocked up my kitchen," he said. "You ain't gotta do that."
"Consider it a medical requirement. You gotta eat, Riff."
"Hey, I eat. What, I ain't strong enough for you?" As if to prove his point, he reached down and picked her up by the hips, bringing her off the ground and almost over his shoulder until she kicked and laughed enough for him to put her down.
"Incidentally, we gotta do somethin' about your response skills," he suddenly said.
"What do you mean?"
"I just pulled you in here and you didn't even try 'n' fight back."
"Well..." She suddenly felt bashful. "...You caught me off guard."
Riff scoffed. "An attacker ain't gonna send you an invitation, sweetheart. Here, gimmie a punch."
He stepped back then, readying himself for impact. Vivienne rolled her eyes, but wanted to shut him up anyway. Besides, she'd thought of all the many times in the past few months that she had wanted to hit him, and figured this was her only shot. She raised her fist and threw a punch, which Riff caught in his hand effortlessly. He brought her fist to his lips and kissed it, smirking at he did. She yanked her hand back afterward, starting to get annoyed at how easily he made her look weak, when she knew she wasn't.
"Again. Put your weight in it. Switch your feet around. That's it."
When she tried again, she let some of her old annoyances come to surface as she swung her right fist around to his side, rather than straight ahead as she had done before. Riff stumbled back at the contact.
"Alright," he hissed through a tight breath. "...Good job."
She smiled to herself as she watched him recover and move back towards her.
"Y'know, I like a girl with a mean right hook," he grinned, before pressing her back against the wall and bringing his face so close that their foreheads touch and she could feel his every breath.
"Riff, I'm not gonna do anything in an alley behind the trashcans with you," she mumbled into his ear when he then pulled her tightly into him.
"I know," he replied, his thumb grazing the skin of her neck. "I just wanted to kiss you, is all."
Once the words left his mouth, she watched as the look of near-embarrassment flashed across his face and he cleared his throat. To stop his uncharacteristic fumbling, she reached up and pressed her lips against his for a quick, light kiss.
"I gotta go," he said. "The guys will be lookin' for me. I-" He caught himself from something. "...I'll see you later."
With that, he moved back and went to the end of the alley where it opened up to the sky. She watched as he climbed over the trashcans to lift himself over.
"Okay. Be careful," she called.
He gave her a mischievous grin and shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, I already died pretty much. How careful do I gotta be?"
As he jumped over the edge and disappeared from sight, she smiled to herself. Each day, she found herself getting further and further into what she could only assume was trouble.
It was a Thursday when everything came tumbling down, just as it was always to do.
Vivienne arrived home and checked her mailbox on her way up the stairs. She found a letter from her school, it's contents thin and weightless. From this she already knew that she was holding the results of the thing she had worked so hard on for the past year of her life.
Unwilling to wait until she got upstairs, she tore open the envelop and unfolded the paper.
She re-read the words again and again until they made sense.
Her stomach dropped and her heart became sore as she realised the truth of the matter: she had failed.
It was there, in black and white, and everything she had planned for herself shattered into a hundred pieces.
Almost unable to walk, she turned and sat down on the bottom steps of the stairwell, gripping the piece of paper so tightly in her hands she thought it might rip.
She tried to take a breath, but it wobbled and caught and soon she was sitting alone with hot tears streaming down her face, with nothing and nobody to comfort her but the sounds of the sirens outside and the distant hum of life in the apartments above her.