bl00dboundbaby

[bl00dboundbaby]

Summertime Sadness - A Tate and Violet fic

Warnings:

Angst, toxic relationship (duh), smoking, suicide, the normal stuff for them lol.

WC: 2.5k

Synopsis: Months after the events of MH, Violet is lonely and feels like she's suffocating, and theres only one person who can dull the ache in her chest.

A/N: First fic on this account!! :) I know no one writes for them but someone does now lol. Requests are open!!

(I will properly edit this tmw, I'm too tired rn.) Please don't mind any spelling mistakes, I am dyslexic.

It’s widely accepted that people who take their own life will suffer in Hell for the remainder of their afterlife.

Violet Harmon had come to realize that maybe there was truth in that, but that Hell is not fiery pits or repenting for your Sins till your throat is dry and bleeding.

Hell is living the same day over and over again, Hell is watching your parents slowly lose themselves, Hell is having to pretend you don’t hear the cries and pleads of your ex-boyfriend.

–

It had been eight months since Violet had spoken to Tate, not that time really mattered anymore, now that she was dead.

She heard him though, almost nightly, he would be in the basement, crying or screaming. She cursed the house's old vents which let her hear everything. Some nights, it just sounded like the pipes crying, or at least, she pretended that’s what it was.

The worst nights were the ones when she could feel him near her, outside her door, waiting. Completely silent but she knew he was there. Maybe it was something he was doing on purpose, but it unsettled her that she could precisely feel him in the house, no matter where he was, she knew.

Most of Violet's days were parallel to when she was alive, spent in her room listening to music, drawing, re-reading the books on her shelves, always alone.

It had been okay for the first few months, her parents had pretended to care about her, and about each other. In a lot of ways it felt like they were cosplaying as the perfect family, that quickly faded and back to their sense of normalcy they went.

Violet liked being left alone, at least that’s what she told herself, people annoyed her most of the time. It’s not like she had many choices of whom to spend her time with anyway.

There was only one person in the house who wasn’t completely and utterly annoying to Violet, and that boy stood outside her door.

The floor creaked outside her room, taking her attention away from the over-read book in her hands. She knew it was Tate. No one else checked on her anymore.

Sometimes she would play out different scenarios in her head about what would happen if she opened the door, or if he came into her room.

Did she even want him around? No, is what she’d say if anyone ever asked her. Truthfully the sick and weak part of her brain, the part that was just so tired of being lonely, wanted him. So bad.

A sickly ache sat in her chest since the day he first left her alone, no matter what she did, the ache grew and sat heavier. There was one person who could ease that ache away, it was him. It would always be him, and there was no worse fate.

Somewhere in the passing of time, that ache became too much for her to handle, she knew that at one point or another, he made her better.

That didn’t matter now, who made who better, in this house nothing like that mattered. They would all fall into deluded states, her parents had been slipping lately. It was only a matter of time before she lost her grip on reality.

—-

A bird, a beautiful bird, sat on the porch steps next to Violet.

For midsummer in LA, it was cold outside, which felt incredible against her skin. The comforting breeze also served as a harsh reminder that no matter how long she stayed here, she would never see the leaves slowly change colour like they did in the town she grew up in.

So much life she’d never get to live, so many things she’d never see. She could blame the house, her parents, even Tate, but it was her fault, no one forced her to take those pills.

Her hair blew in the wind slightly, she was thankful for her layers. Amidst the silence she shared with the bird, she felt him. He was watching her, this was previously their spot, she liked coming out here, it was the farthest she could get from the house.

Sometimes it made that ache gnaw at her chest more than usual, if she sat with that feeling too long she could recall every detail about their time together, sitting on the porch was like torture sometimes, but Violet didn’t mind. Anything that made her feel something was welcomed.

Maybe it was a good reminder that even in death she still was herself, feelings and all.

Maybe that’s why she never began to slip, like her parents.

Or, maybe, just maybe, the house had something against her and her punishment was eternal misery.

The feathered companion flew away, into the world once again.

Tate took a step forward, closer to Violet. He wouldn’t do anything, he had begged and pleaded with her far too many times to still be naive enough to assume she would grant him a response.

‘’A robin. Are those still your favorite?’’ Her soft lips moved, her body didn’t. She stared into the night sky.

Tate’s whole world felt like it came back into place when he heard her voice, so many things he wanted to tell her came crashing into his mind.

‘’Yeah.’’ Another step forward.

Silence weaved its way around them again, if they closed their eyes they could pretend this was just another night spent together, hanging out like normal teenagers do.

Violet spoke up again, her voice tighter. ‘’My parents are slipping. They don’t realize time is even passing, they’re just…there.’’ She picked at her nail polish, Tate could see enough of her to realize what she was doing, a nervous habit she had. Admittedly it was one of her better habits.

‘’Yeah.’’ With his whole body tense, he sat beside her. They weren’t close enough to touch, but that didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that he was here, and she wasn’t moving away.

‘’At least they don’t fight with me anymore, they don’t even notice me now.’’ Her tone was laced with a bittersweet angst.

‘’Yeah.’’

‘’Can you stop fucking say that?’’

‘’Sorry.’’

The tension felt like it was moments away from snapping, mixed emotions ran through both of their chests.

Words strung together in her head, but before she could speak them he beat her to it.

‘’I shouldn’t be here.’’ His voice was whisper-like, as if he spoke too loud the silence of the night would steal his words.

‘’No, you shouldn’t.’’

Violet waited, waited for something she wasn’t sure of. Was he going to leave? Try and apologize again? She couldn’t stomach more of his victim act.

‘’Wanna smoke and bitch about something?’’ She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her cardigan, a lighter following suit. Tate’s shoulders relaxed slightly, her words seemed genuine. His head swam with questions, but he’d take this, he’d take anything she gave him.

‘’uh, yeah, what?’’ He took a cigarette from the pack, careful not to brush his hand against hers.

‘’You spend everyday in the basement, I’m sure you’ve heard things. Tell me a story, Tate.’’ The way his name fell off her tongue made his chest heavy, filled with desire for what they could’ve had.

She turned to look at him, her eyes so sullen it was a jarring change to the anger he had come familiar with seeing.

All she wished of him was to talk, and suddenly he couldn’t even do that. Nothing of interest had happened, or well, he hadn’t listened to it, he had been a bit preoccupied with sulking. She was the only interesting part of the house anymore.

He took a minute to think, trying to come up with something at least semi interesting to get her to stay.

‘’You remember those gay guys? Yeah..’’He trailed off into a speel about some stupid argument they had gotten into, and it was at that moment Violet's aching went away.

As the night progressed she silently moved towards him, eventually she lent her head on his shoulder. It really was just like before. It felt so nice to play pretend every once in a while.

—

After the sun came up, Violet wordlessly walked inside and went back to ignoring him.

Last night should’ve been enough to soothe the ache in her chest, even for a while.

But like anything used to dull pain, she wanted more.

She felt worse, the more she thought about the night, and how he makes her feel, like maybe, being stuck here isn’t as bad as it once sounded.

She spent the day listening to cd’s and staring out her window, thinking. She was doing so much of that recently, she missed when Tate was the reason she didn’t have to think, she could just feel. He had made her feel everything, and she craved any sense of normalcy, even if that came with feelings of downcast.

No matter how long she spent looking through her window, she knew Tate would never come and check on her, in fear of upsetting her, she imagined. He hadn’t come to her door, not up the stairs or anything. He had locked himself in the basement, then again she wasn’t any better, alone in her room.

—

It was early morning, that type of morning that's foggy and gray when the yelling started.

Violet hadn’t heard that yelling in months, the type that only people who’ve known each other for years can do, the deep cutting and rough shouts. Her parents were fighting, for just a second in her groggy state she felt normal. Funny how a screaming match between two grown adults can do that.

Soon she adjusted to being awake again and tip-toed over to her bedroom door, trying to hear what they were throwing a tantrum about. As soon as she heard her own name, her throat went dry.

‘’You’re the reason Ben, the reason she’s dead! The reason we’re all stuck here for fucking ever.’’

‘’You’re blaming me for our daughter killing herself? That's a new low. Violet would’ve killed herself no matter what we did, she was broken and sad. That’s our fault Vivien. Believe it or not, you and your great parenting are included in that.’’

She was broken and sad, is that all they thought about her? She was just some dumb sad kid with no reason to live?

Was she that unimportant that her own parents couldn’t see past her gloom?

The yelling went on, this time she forced herself to walk away from the door and sat on her floor. Was this really how she’d have to spend forever? Alone and watching her parents go from brainless to arguing. In retrospect she supposed it wasn’t that different from her life when she was alive.

Before she even felt them spring to the surface, tears raced down her face.

Violet felt like she was suffocating.

Maybe she was just a broken and sad girl, forever stuck in this place with no one to talk to.

As the tears poured in such a way that seemed as if they'd never stop, a knock sounded on the door. Soft and patient. She didn’t wipe away the tears, she didn’t try and pretend she was okay, she knew who it was, and he would never believe her.

‘’Come in.’’ Her voice wavered slightly.

Tate quickly opened the door and immediately went down to the floor, grabbing her hands away from her face and holding them. He didn’t think about any of it, their past, the fights, how angry she had been with him. None of that mattered when she was upset and he could fix it if she would just let him. He could make her better, if only a little. She made him better so many times, it was his turn.

‘’Oh, Violet.’’ A sob spilled from her chest at his words, she wanted, so badly, to be disgusted by him. She waited for that feeling of pure disdain to take over her body and mind, but there was nothing. She just wanted him to hold her, hold all her broken parts like he had done so many times before. She tilted her head forward, pressing their foreheads together in embrace. The small movement, the touch she had — it was all that mattered to Tate.

‘’I’m so scared.’’ Her lips trembled as she spoke, her body shook. It was something she had never admitted aloud before. She noticed Tate’s breath on her face, the soft and familiar smell of his sweater, and the way his skin felt on hers. The ache tightened, and her throat followed.

Turning his head up, Tate placed a small kiss on top of her head in response. There was no verbal answer he could’ve given that would’ve fixed any of what she was feeling, he knew that first hand. Being stuck in this Hell House was scary, but she had made it easier for him, he only hoped he could make it easier for her, too.

‘’What do you want from me, Vi?’’ He had asked as if it was a simple question, like she could explain exactly what she wanted, like it was even possible. At his soft words she cried harder. She’d never have what she truly wanted, not in this house, not with him.

‘’Hold me.’’ Violet’s voice was desperate, lingering on pathetic with the way she looked at him, trying to hold on to any emotions she felt.

He did so without a second thought, just like she knew he would.

Tate was holding a broken girl and trying so desperately to fix her, stitch her back up, he found a sick satisfaction in it. After all this time, she still came back to him. She would always come back to him. He now knew that for sure.

For how long they would be trapped in this shit hole, this cycle would repeat.

He would inevitably say something to piss her off, she would banish him, he would spiral and self-destruct, she would realize she didn’t want to be alone, and being with anyone is better than being completely isolated.

Rinse and repeat.

Maybe they were doomed, or maybe they were better off than most ghosts left in the walls and forgotten to time, because at least Tate and Violet liked each other, even if that was only sometimes.