Caffeine and Magix

writing-prompt-s:

You are born with the name of your enemy on one wrist and the name of your soulmate on the other. When you meet them for the first time, the name appears. They’re both the same person.

It’s a destiny of self-destruction printed out across Reva’s wrists, one she’s known since she was a kid even without the physical evidence. She tries to be better, tries to clean up her act, tries to fall in love with all those little things that good southern girls ought to fall in love with.

Instead, Reva spends her childhood on the roof of her mother’s house, boots slipping across narrow wooden beams as she climbs down to where her friends are waiting. She knows the way her heart beats when her foot slips intimately–she never replaces the shaky rung in the ladder. She loves the adrenaline and the fear and the hope that this time, this time things are going to be okay.

Reva wanders out of class and across fields in her Sunday best, not caring about the way the pollen stains the white. She finds girls with mascara smudges under their eyes and some boys with eyeliner embedded in their lashes and she teaches them about the growing seasons and the hole in the fence surrounding the quarry.

She climbs onto the back of a motorcycle when she’s sixteen and isn’t seen for seven months. Her mother doesn’t report her missing and it’s not special, really, when she comes back.

She’s loud and wild and if this were any other story, a misunderstood boy would be in love with her. Maybe her hair would be dyed pink instead of brown, maybe she’d blow bubbles instead of smoke, maybe she’d have thoughtful things to say that’d make someone’s life not seem so shitty.

But this isn’t that type of story. No one’s misunderstood when there’s nothing to understand and she’s never gone out of her way to be deep or thoughtful or meaningful. She doesn’t like those boys who sit behind her and stare at her bra straps and she certainly doesn’t like those boys her mama says will make a good husband one day.

It’s a joke, talk of a good husband. See, she’s got destruction in every line of her body, neck to collarbone to the planes of her stomach. Plenty of people whisper about the plagues that’ll appear on her wrist and that’s how, even before the names appear, Reva knows.

What Reva loves is going to kill her and there’s not much to do about that.

——————————–

She gets her names at the same time, in the same moment, in the same breath. She knows instantly that this is it. Destruction marches across her wrists in a neat little line and this–this is how the world ends.

“So which are you?” Daniel Kip asks in their third semester of college. “Soulmate or enemy?”

Reva’s making a shiv out of toilet paper because it’s the Wild and Edgy sort of thing she taught herself to do when she’s uncomfortable. Daniel Kip’s been her lab partner for two weeks and it’s only due to some clever finagling that she’s managed to keep her full name covered until now.

“I,” she says, carefully twisting paper and applying glue, “haven’t decided yet.”

“You better hurry,” Daniel says and holds up his other wrist. On it is Hope Martin in looped handwriting. “’Cause I met her yesterday and she made a hell of a better impression than you.”

She raises her eyebrows and slips a paperclip into her creation with force. The paper tears. “I wait with bated breath for your decision.”

“You won’t have to wait long,” Daniel decides.

Reva holds her paper shiv over a bunsen burner and sets off the fire alarm. She’s out of control, you know. A wild card of feminine energy and chaos.

She makes sure she doesn’t break eye contact with Daniel as the class evacuates and the smoke curls over her forearms.

————————————–

“So,” Hope Martin says, looking up at where Reva’s nestled in a tree. Hope is beautiful, slender and tall with big hoop earrings. “You’re my competition.”

Reva doesn’t like the way the bark digs into her spine, but she’s only been up here for an hour. She really needs to make it a solid three before she can cross unexpected thinking spots off her Pixie Girl Bingo card. “Have him however you want him, hon. Girl power.”

Hope considers her, hands on her hips. Finally she says, “Okay, well now I’m confused. You’ve really set me up for a great villain line, but I was going for the whole love triangle thing and since my arch nemesis was my last boyfriend, I was gonna win. I thought we could fight over Daniel for a bit before, like, tragically dying. Very Romeo and Juliet and that one chick Romeo was in love with first. But now I’m feeling pigeon-holed and not very organic at all.”

“Oh,” says Reva, squinting down at her. “Sorry, maybe we should try this again.”

Hope grins. “Alright, but we really need to get our roles down before 3. I’ve got Netflix and Chill with Daniel.”

———————————————–

Reva falls in love with Hope Martin somewhere between the other woman pulling her hair out in a truly epic cat fight and singing sad karaoke songs across a river after finding out Daniel is taking a semester abroad.

“That bastard,” Hope says, flat on her back in Reva’s bed. She presses a hand to her forehead. “I didn’t budget for an intermission.”

“The world is a stage,” Reva says wisely. She doesn’t want to think about how good the other woman looks in her bed. “We could always fly to Italy. Really try to get his hand there.”

Hope’s nose wrinkles. “Fuck that, I’ve got 21 units. I don’t have time to shit.”

“You’ve been here for two hours,” Reva points out. She, for once, doesn’t feel the need to paint her skin terribly bright colors to Express Herself. Instead, she’s playing solitaire at her desk. “You could have shit twice by now.”

“Don’t challenge me,” Hope warns. “I’ll have you know i’m the best shitter in my family. Fastest shit of the west, right here.”

Reva smiles and reaches for her draw pile. 

“I just don’t get it,” Hope says. She rubs her wrists. “I thought this was supposed to be what my life is about. Getting my true love and my enemy and working through this drama. I thought it was supposed to be passionate and sweeping and horrific. Daniel’s in Italy and it’s the same amount of boring as when he was here.”

Reva’s hands still on the cards. “You can go, if you want. We don’t have to pretend since he’s not here.”

“I’m not pretending,” Hope tells her.

“Then why are you still here?” Reva swivels in her chair to find Hope sitting up. She meets her eyes head on. “If not for Daniel.”

Hope stares at her for a long moment. “Because,” she says after a long moment, “you’re not boring.”

Reva watches as the other woman gets up and walks out of the dorm room without once looking back.

———————————————————

Hope doesn’t come over again and Reva doesn’t dare go over to her dorm. It’s not that she’s afraid, not really. She bites into what most would call fear and calls it life, she feasts on the dark things that most are too wary of try–

Okay. She’s really too tired for this.

She’s afraid. She’s afraid that she pushed too far or, worse, not far enough. She’s afraid that, by dropping the game, she’s lost Hope’s company and time and interest.

She’s afraid that there’s been nothing to her all along accept the face of the Pixie Girl who grew up all sorts of wrong.

She’s sitting in her tree, the one that’s become more comfort than aesthetic, when she sees Hope for the first time in who knows how long. Hope’s still tall and beautiful, but her hair is a bright pink.

“Hope,” Reva calls.

Hope turns and considers Reva’s cross-legged pose. “Not yet,” she decides and continues on her way.

Reva knows a no when she hears one.

———————————————-

Daniel comes back half a quarter early and says it’s because he missed “his girls” too much.

“I half expected you guys to come after me,” he says. He’s pretending like he’s joking, but he’s not. He’s wondering why they’re on different sides of the square picnic table from him instead of bracketing his sides.

Reva and Hope know all about pretending, obviously. Right now they’re pretending like they’re not friends despite having been friends pretending not to be friends who were secretly friends. Or something like that.

(And if Reva can feel Hope’s knee brushing against hers under the table, it’s all coincidence.)

“I thought about it,” Hope says. “And then I realized what a stupid, chauvinistic, boring asshole you are.”

Reva’s head whips to Hope, eyes wide. This isn’t the script. This isn’t what they talked about. “Hope.”

Hope only has eyes for Daniel. “In fact, the only reason I’ve been hanging out with you is because I was bored and I thought your name on my wrist meant you’d make me feel something. But you didn’t and I don’t think I can forgive you for that.”

Daniel’s mouth moves like a fish. “But you–But we–you told me you loved me.”

“I told you I loved your name,” Hope corrects. She’s watching Daniel like he’s an insect. “Which, honestly, is pretty thin when you really think about it. What’s in a name?” Her eyes finally slide to Reva. “Reva?”

Reva clicks her jaw shut. “Nothing.” There’s something trembling in her stomach and it feels a lot like missing that stupid rung on the ladder when she was a kid. “It’s in the thing.”

Hope’s eyes burn. Reva can hear in her head with you it’s not boring.

Her stomach flutters.

“Reva,” Daniel says and reaches for her. “Reva. Reva.”

“I won,” Reva tells Hope.  She doesn’t have time for Daniel. He’s never played the game. “You gave up. Daniel is mine.”

“And you’re mine,” Daniel says. He rips up his sleeve to show her her own name. “See? See?”

Hope’s face is blank. “Yep. Your happily ever after.”

Reva can’t help but smile. “Happily ever after is for good southern girls.” She carefully starts undoing her bracelets. “It was never in the cards for me.”

Daniel Kip shines out from both her wrists, destruction and sorrow plain for all to see. 

Hope’s lips part in a soft oh.

“What does it mean?” Daniel asks. He puts his finger on Reva’s pulse and winces when she slaps his hands away. He tucks his arms around himself, looking between the two women with the worst sort of lost on his face. “How can–How can I be your soulmate and your enemy?”

“We fought for you,” Reva says, pointing between her and Hope. She’s still in Hope’s eyes, still right there and trying to tell her the truth. It’s been a while since she’s told the truth. “I won. You’re my soulmate.”

Daniel doesn’t move. He can sense the but coming just as well as anyone for all that he’s a fool. He leans away from the table, as far as the bench will let him without dumping him.

“And I hate that you are,” Reva continues. She relishes the word. “Hate it. That makes you my enemy, in fact.”

Hope’s lips twitch. There’s a light waking up in her eyes.  “What a pretty interpretation.”

“Thanks,” Reva tells her. “I’ve been working on it all my life.”

Daniel stands. “This–I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it’s not funny. I’m sorry I went abroad without telling you. Come find me when you actually want to talk.”

Reva doesn’t even look away from Hope as Daniel storms off, trailing hurt and confusion behind him like breadcrumbs. Her wrists are still exposed on the table tops and her pulse is jumping in them.

“I’ve run out of names,” Hope says. Wind brushes her hair from her face. “I’ve got one asshole ex on one and that doofus on the other.”

“The play is over,” Reva agrees. She unfolds her hands so that they’re palm up. “It’s time for final bows.”

Hope huffs a laugh. “You’re a dork. You could have told me he was your enemy too.” She takes her hands gently, reverently.

“Every actress knows,” Reva says, “the story’s all in the twist.” She folds her fingers over Hope’s and smiles.