Whatever She Needs: Crash (9/?) - Degrassi, PG-13

But the inevitable crash did come—harder and faster than either of them expected. Not even monologues and soliloquies of devotion could fend off its eventual arrival. When it finally came, not even the soft mattress on which Snake lay could lessen the blow.

Within five days of their apartment search, he found a new apartment. It was modest: a one-bedroom downtown with a full kitchen and bath, a comfortable living room and small dining area. His bedroom offered a view of the city skyline, and it already felt more like home than Christine’s house ever had. But as Snake was carefully arranging a few framed photographs—the Zits; himself, Jack, and Emma; fragments of his unexamined life—it occurred to him that something was missing.

School was different too, subtly distorted and unsettled. He and Darcy perfected the art of discretion during the day—it turned out that Darcy had learned a few lessons in that area from her ex-boyfriend. Despite their efforts, Snake was relentlessly terrified that they’d be found out, that someone would read into the tiniest of glances—stumbled words or jagged breaths. He was so focused on appearing normal that it wore him out. He’d collapse on his new queen-sized mattress late at night and exhale a day’s worth of held-in air.

Some nights, Darcy would lie besides him. It was their ritual for nearly a month now. Her parents believed that her social life had improved dramatically, or that she was studying constantly, or whatever they needed to believe to convince themselves that their daughter was healing. These imaginary friends were responsible, too: Snake made a point to have her home before midnight.

It was these moments that Snake appreciated the most—when they seemed almost unbreakable, hidden away from the world and cozy within the freshly painted walls of a home not yet a home. They’d lie in bed together and it wasn’t about anything sexual, it was about safety, it was about comfort and honest communication. She nestled in close to him and pressed her small hand against the fabric of his shirt while he absentmindedly stroked her fingers and her arm, and the shadows of scars on her wrist, pressing soft kisses to the top of her head.

“Do you miss them?” she’d ask, because it wasn’t about her anymore. It was about him too, and it was about them.

“Yeah,” he would whisper, not missing a beat. “I do.”

“What do you think will happen?” she’d ask.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you want to happen?” she’d say, and hold her breath from all that it might possibly imply.

He’d be silent, thinking. “Ideally… I’d like to see Jack on weekends. But I know that Spike is going to fight for full custody, and I’m going to let her… because I left.” Darcy stirred uneasily, and Snake reflexively drew her in closer, correcting himself—“Because I had to leave. Because there was somewhere else I was meant to be.”

Darcy would smile. “And what about Emma?”

“Emma…” He’d trail off, wondering if he knew the answer. “She’ll forgive, in time. I hope.”

That was how it was. The conversation would digress into an impassioned kiss or two, but they’d find themselves in it again eventually, words lucid and flowing, wanting to understand the other completely, never growing tired or bored.

“It’s all my fault,” she said one night. “I seduced you.”

Snake couldn’t help laughing. “What!”

“I did!” She was grinning too, her eyes bright and knowing, guiltily enjoying the secret they shared. “I brought you to that retreat house and climbed into bed with you—the retreat house. Last I checked, that’s the one place you’re really not supposed to sin.”

Snake smiled and said nothing, because if anything was a sin, it was this. He wasn’t religious like Darcy was—the last time he had prayed was just moments before he found out that his cancer was in remission. Since then, he never felt any reason to. He wondered if maybe he should start.

“Do you think what we’re doing is a sin?” Darcy asked suddenly.

Snake froze, trying to think of a noncommittal answer that would be as convincing as the obvious yes. “Darcy, you know I’m not rel—” he began, but was interrupted by her lips on his, forceful and demanding, her tongue inside his mouth searching for the answers that she knew he couldn’t provide.

He felt her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt and he lifted himself, breaking the kiss for just a moment as she pulled it over his head, her hands cool and delicate against his bare chest. His body was responding in ways for which he was still unprepared, and now he was praying, hoping to God that she couldn’t feel him through his jeans and hers, pressing rudely against her, but he realized that of course she did.

Almost in response, she began trailing kisses down the side of his neck, his collarbone and his shoulders, and suddenly she sat upright. Within seconds, her own shirt lay discarded on the floor.

“What if I stay the night?” she whispered between labored breaths. Snake’s eyes widened, absorbing the image of her tiny frame, of smooth tanned skin and small breasts in a light blue bra. She looked so fragile. So young. His initial sense of ecstasy suddenly shifted to one of shame.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, pulling himself up.

She smiled, not getting it. “I know you want to,” she said, smirking and glancing down meaningfully. Snake said nothing, his embarrassment building. “And so do I.”

“Darcy…” Snake shook his head, sighing. “You can’t stay.”

Again she misunderstood, laughing. “I can! It’s Friday. My parents think I’m at Manny’s. It’s not unheard of for me to sleep over,” she said, logically.

Avoiding her gaze, he reached down to pick her shirt up off the floor and handed it to her. Her smile disappeared instantly. “I can’t let you stay,” he said softly.

“I want to do this,” she repeated, sounding desperate. “Snake, please.”

He brushed a loose strand of hair out of her fearful eyes and offered a small smile. “No, you don’t. Not now. Not yet.”

“I’m not a virgin,” she said defensively, and Snake nearly cringed. “We won’t be doing anything I haven’t already done.”

“You know that what happened to you doesn’t count.”

“‘What happened to me’?” she echoed mockingly, angrily. “Rape. I was raped.”

“Darcy, if we sleep together, and someone like your parents or Ms. Hatzilakos finds out about us, the court is going to see this as rape too.”

It was one of those things, like anything else—words that are regretted the moment they leave the mouth, and they can never be taken back. Snake knew immediately that it was too harsh, that he had gone too far, that she might never forgive him—and even that he might be better off she never did. As horrible as his statement was, it was true. Her near-bare body just inches away was scaring the crap out of him. Because she was so young, and his student, and a rape victim—a rape victim who had yet to tell a single adult about her dilemma except the one with whom she was constantly fooling around.

Tears formed in her eyes and she shook her head violently. Snake reached out to put his hand on her shoulder and she shrunk away from him as he imagined her shrinking still, evaporating right before his eyes. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Her voice was low and devoid of feeling.

Snake couldn’t even think of an adequate response. He sat motionless, stunned by his own directness, his words still weighing heavy on them both. “I’m just… not… comfortable with this,” he said finally.

Darcy stared blankly at some vibrant nothing on the far end of the room. “Yeah. I got that. You made it pretty clear.”

“With sex,” Snake clarified. “I didn’t mean… it’s not that I’m not comfortable with you.”

Her gaze settled back to him. “Are you sure about that?”

He hesitated, and she knew, and she rightfully got up, pulled her shirt swiftly over her head, and walked across his bedroom and down the hall. He shuddered as he heard the apartment door slammed shut, sending angry waves reverberating back to the bed as he recoiled, tossed and shaken, the mattress proving useless armor against the sudden, violent crash.