Actions

Work Header

Flat Soda

Summary:

I wasn't sure what was happening but it was happening and then it was too late to step back and be mature about this.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

 

Our exams are finally over and we’re at a milk bar with sodas because it’s hot, and they’re cold and it’s a long standing tradition. The four of us are laughing across the table at each other. If time was suspended at this moment it would be a perfect memory. Cherry coke, grape, peach and green apple, and the bubbles burning m tongue just like tradition dictates. The four of us may be smiling but there’s been tension between us for weeks. I let out a giggle as you talk about some boy in your English class that is both a sensitive soul and buff in body, and you have a beautifully deluded twinkle in your eyes as you describe your date.

I think about the time you told me you knew how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue like in the movies. You told me you taught yourself off of Youtube videos and insecurities about your sexual performance. At the time I reassured you that your true love would find you sexy, smart and perfect and he’d be patient and teach you any pleasures that you did not know with a steady hand.

Now I just hope you choke on your happiness, on your cherry, on your straw, on the soda that is in so many ways just like our friendship. You take it in but it goes down flat and unsatisfying, and it’s just bad for you with none of the pleasures it used to bring you.

I swallow the last of my soda and make excuses for the bathroom. As I manoeuvre past you for the restroom I see you tilt your chin, lips curling into a pleasant smile as you shuffle your seat forward to make way for me. I see your finger nails, filled at short and square as they caress your cup. I hear the jingle of your unique ringtone, probably the new boyfriend. I see you laugh open-mouthed and unrestrained with genuine joy. I feel disgusted and wronged. I feel pathetic for resenting you. Your lips are so bold and red from your cherry soda. Its contrast to your pale skin turns my stomach sharply like an intoxicated driver on a wet motorway speeding down an endless track, knowing at the end lies their death.

I sprint to the toilets, clutching my heaving chest. I can no longer breathe. I am so confused.

Notes:

Most of my stories are developed from a springboard of my personal experiences or interests. This one started off as a simple friendship breakup and ended up with a sexually confused teenager realizing all her resentment came from her attraction and frustration for her friend rather than true anger.