Gamecfchance - Blog Posts

everything is loud. too loud. the sound of drew’s voice rising, the screech of the kettle, the slam of cabinets — it all starts to blur together into a cacophony that pounds against penny’s temples like a war drum. she sits frozen on the couch, arms still wrapped tight around her legs, like they’re the only thing keeping her from flying apart at the seams. she wants to respond. she wants to scream, to cry, to match the chaos that’s suddenly unraveled between them. but instead, her brain short-circuits. everything inside her is pulling in different directions — heart, logic, rage, love, grief — until it feels like her whole body is ringing. a bomb, seconds from detonation. her eyes flutter shut, tight. she forces herself to breathe — in, out, again — but it doesn’t help. it only reminds her of the weight in her chest, the ache that hasn’t left her since drew walked out two weeks ago, since she vanished without explanation and left penny piecing herself back together in silence. and now she’s here, tearing through the flat like a storm, knocking things loose with every breath. the kettle screams. not yet boiling over, but close. it’s the only sound she can actually hear now. she opens her eyes, slowly, and for a moment, she doesn’t look in the direction of drew — she can’t. instead, she stares at the floor. at the space between them. at everything unsaid that’s managed to grow roots in the middle of the room. then, her voice. barely above a whisper at first. "right." she lifts her gaze, finally meeting drew’s, standing in the kitchen and something in her expression has gone terrifyingly still — not cold, but stripped. bare. tired in a way that doesn't sleep off. "so what are we doing here, then?" her voice wavers slightly, but the words are clear. a quiet tremor beneath the strength. "what is this? what are we still doing if all we ever do is circle back to the wreckage?" she stands slowly, her movements deliberate, but her body betrays the storm inside — a tremble in her hands, a twitch at her jaw. "i keep telling myself we’re fighting for something. that there’s still something good buried underneath the damage, underneath everything. that the mere thought of me forgiving you .. letting you back in .. trying to trust you again .. that it can all be worth it." her throat tightens. “but if all we have left is guilt and love and pain, if that’s all we know how to hand each other — if every room we enter together ends up on fire — then i need to know…” her voice catches, but she pushes forward, fierce and fragile all at once. "what the hell are we doing here?" silence answers first. the kettle whines behind her like it's in mourning. "because if this is just habit," she whispers, "if this is just grief and ghosts and some sick pattern we’re too afraid to break — then maybe we should admit it. maybe we should finally say that love... just isn't enough." she doesn’t cry this time. maybe she’s cried it all out. maybe she’s holding her breath too tight to let it fall. all she knows is that she’s standing in the eye of the storm, asking the one question that might finally undo them both.

"i don't know how many times i can say it." drew finally snaps. after penny's heartfelt confession, she can hardly keep it in. a thread within her severs. the last sliver of rope pulling taut and creaking until it unravels entirely. she's chewed on penny's words, tasted their bitterness and digested them. but as tensions rise, the bile comes up right along with it. all she can do is expel her boldest, innermost thoughts. "i'll be here, okay? i'll stay. i know i've fucked up. do you just like -- do you get off hearing me admit it?" drew circles the counter to create considerable space between herself and penny. the physical divide is certainly representative of the one that is blurring the line between them. the greatest point of contention between the two of them. penny's anxieties and drew's tendencies to toe the line between wanting to fix things and wanting to be free. it's not fair for either of them to be on this see-saw of opposition. then why can neither of them get off the ride? it may seem like drew is completely disregarding all of penny's concerns, that each and every syllable goes in one ear and right out the other. but they hadn't. instead every word ricochets off the walls of drew's mind like an idle dvd screen. and when one thought hits the corner of her brain, a new thought pops off. "obviously this all still matters to me, i wouldn't come back here with my tail between my legs every time if it didn't. we're both fucking battered and burdened. you're upset over what i did and what i continue to do. and i'm upset over what i've done and continue to do, it's a vicious cycle." the fridge door swings open and the blonde grabs the milk that is sitting unexpectantly on the door. she plops it loudly on the counter, the plastic jug sinking in on itself at the bottom upon impact. busy bodied, the girl walks over and fills the tea kettle as her thoughts continue to race. "what'd you say? i'm a hurricane. yeah -- i'm a hurricane. i come, i tear through the fucking place, and we try to rebuild and repair. you can either move away or get a raincoat and weather the storm --" the tea kettle is placed on the stove with a screech and the flame beneath it flickers to life. her voice breaks slightly as she raises her voice. "because i don't know how to fix me. i can make all the promises i want but i don't know how to -- god, i don't know. stop.. being a monumental fuck up?" the tea kettle is whistling before drew can even register how much time has passed. her frantic hands flip the cabinet doors open and closed, open and closed. she quickly realizes that she doesn't know where the mugs are anymore. how much has changed about this place. how once finding the mugs was second nature and now it's a disorienting quest. it become clear -- once things were so easy for them. as common as breathing. and now things had changed -- and this quest to get back to familiarity was a wild one neither of them knew how to navigate. tears are brimming the corners of her eyes as she cuts the heat on the kettle, utterly giving up on the search for the mugs. "i'm messy. i'm cruel. i make jokes. and i've changed and i don't know if it's for the better. i try to be honest. i try to stay -- i try to be here. but it fucking sucks to be reminded or everything i've done wrong.. every single time i look at you. and i'm not looking for your sympathy. it's entirely my fault. i love you. and you love me. but it's fucking destroying us."

penny doesn’t respond at first. there’s too much swelling in her chest, too many words tangled somewhere between her ribs and her throat, too much that could come out wrong if she rushes it. she looks at drew — really looks — and it almost breaks her. because despite everything, despite the silence and the confusion and the ache that’s been her constant companion for the past two weeks, she still feels it. that pull. that unshakeable gravity that keeps drawing her back to this person no matter how many times she tries to build walls around her heart. “do you know how cruel it was?” she finally says, voice soft but shaking. “not what you did before. not the past. not the cheating.” a pause. her eyes sting, and she blinks hard, willing the tears to wait. “i’m talking about this. you just — disappeared. without warning. after everything we’ve been through. after all the work i had done to get to a point where i’ve been dancing around the idea of us again. letting you back in..  and i know it wasn’t about me or you trying to hurt me, not directly, but god, drew, it did.” her arms cross, more for grounding than defense. “i gave you space. because i thought maybe something had happened. that maybe you needed time. and i didn’t want to be the person who made it worse by crowding you. but every single day that went by without hearing from you — it started to feel less like you needed space and more like you’d decided i didn’t need to be kept. like you’d just… left. again.” she shakes her head, correcting herself. “no. not again. because you don’t do that. you don’t disappear. not like this. that’s why it hurt so much. because it’s not who you are — at least not who i thought you were anymore.”

she swallows the lump in her throat, pushing forward before the emotion chokes her off completely. “and then you walk in here like a hurricane in parkers flannel and a bandeau, making jokes and sniffing candles, like my brain hasn’t been chewing itself alive. i thought something happened to you, drew. i thought maybe everything that has happened lately was something you started to regret and you just didn’t know how to say it. or worse — that you were hurting and didn’t think you could come to me. that part nearly destroyed me.” she sinks back onto the couch, her knees pulled up, arms wrapping around them. “i don’t want to keep doing this push-and-pull every time life gets hard. i don’t want to be an afterthought, or a burden, or the person who gets left behind when everything gets too loud. i want to be someone you trust enough to stay with — even when it’s messy. especially when it’s messy.” a breath. “i believe in second chances, drew. i believe people can change. that they do change. and i let you back in because i felt like we were building something again. something good. something real. and i want to believe that wasn’t just me romanticizing the ruins. i want to believe this still matters to you.” she finally looks up at her again, eyes tired but clear. “but i need you to be honest with me. not just tonight. not just when it’s dramatic and everything’s falling apart. i need you to show up — and stay. because i don’t know how to give any less than all of me. and if i do that again… i need to know you won’t go quiet. and i need to know i’m not making the biggest mistake of my life when i say that i will always, wholeheartedly be yours. after everything, you’re all i want and all i’ll ever want.”

drew’s hands tremble, unknowing if it’s from the weight of the confession penny has just laid bare or the excruciating clarity that comes with hearing everything penny’s been carrying. she's not ignorant to burdens she causes, the mess she leaves in her wake. but to be reminded of her shortcomings never gets easier. her chest tightens, suffocating her under the heavy truth of it all. she wants to speak, wants to apologize, to make it right somehow -- but the words feel too small, too useless in the face of what she’s done. instead, all she can do is look at penny, the rawness of the moment cutting deeper than any act of harm she could have committed against herself. penny's words are still ringing in her ears, each one heavier than the last, and drew can feel the guilt gnawing at her. it makes her want to bolt again. but she can’t. no more coward's game.

"i'm not going to lie to you. not anymore." this isn't a bullshit vow. not a promise that be seamlessly debunked in a day's time but rather an opening line to her inner monologue. "what i expect from you is for you to worry. that's what you do. you drown yourself in baths, and tea, and candles, and wicked, and worry. i expect that. i also expect the tears. cruelly, i expect the forgiveness. i know it doesn't come easily but it always does with time. it's fucked up for me to expect it. but that's just who you are." drew rubs the day's old mascara from her eyes. she likely looks exhausted, defeated by the repercussions of her own actions. penny's plush sofa has never looked so comfortable. everything about this place makes her haunted. no wonder each time she returns she's reminded of her mistakes.

and all of her expectations are proven right at penny's confession. the words sound like they're being spoken in a chapel. soft, asking for forgiveness for the sin of being too forgiving. it feels like they're in an alcoholic's anonymous meeting. except penny is addicted to drew -- and drew is addicted to fucking up. drew’s eyes flicker back up to penny’s, and for the first time in a long time, there’s no deflection, no shields, just the painful truth. "i don’t know how to fix this. i don’t know how to fix me. but, i’m here. i know i disappeared --" drew releases a breath she'd been holding on account of penny's words. she wouldn't have been surprised if her features had washed purple. "but you're so brilliant. i read all the playbill reviews and i was fuckin' smiling ear to ear. because to know you - to see you is to be absolutely enamored by you. how am i ever supposed to feel like i deserve you when i've never done one thing right?" the distance between them closes as drew crosses the floor, lacing a stray hair behind penny's ear. "you're a star, pen. you don't need me to tell you that. but you need to believe it yourself. you need to believe that you deserve more than this." white teeth chew and fiddle nervously at her lower lip. "but on the off chance, you do realize it and make the reckless decision to love me anyways. i'm here. i'll always be here. even if it's by carrier pigeon or up in the god damn sky, i'm here. and i'm yours. even if you're not mine."

the moment drew starts talking — actually talking, beyond the bullshit, beyond the deflections — something tightens in penny’s chest, pulling taut like a wire about to snap. it’s almost cruel, how easily drew’s honesty, her rare vulnerability, still manages to slip beneath penny’s skin, still has the power to rattle her when she’s spent so much time trying to build walls against it. but she’s always known this about herself — about them. that drew could make her want to scream one second and crumble the next. she exhales, slow and shaky, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes before letting them fall to her sides. she’s so tired. tired of worrying. tired of trying to make sense of the mess drew leaves in her wake. "drew…" her voice isn’t sharp anymore, not biting — just hollow. worn. "you disappeared. just — just vanished. and you know what’s fucked? i spent two weeks trying to rationalize it. trying to come up with some kind of reason that would make it make sense. blaming myself..  because that’s what i do.. i blame myself. for every mishap, i think i am the root of every problem.. and it’s fucking exhausting." her arms cross over her chest, but it’s not anger fueling the motion — it’s an instinctive, futile attempt to hold herself together. "and then you just walk in here, cracking jokes, acting like it’s nothing, and i — " her voice cuts off, trembling under the weight of it all. "i don’t know what you expect from me. do you want me to pretend it’s fine? because i can’t do that." drew clutches the pillow to her chest, and it’s almost too much to look at. the way she holds onto it like a lifeline, like if she lets go, she might just disappear again. penny hates that a part of her still aches at the sight. hates that no matter how furious she is, there’s still something inside her that wants to reach for her. "and look," her voice drops, quieter now, not quite as sharp. "i know it’s not my place to worry anymore. but fuck… and i know it’s not all about me."

then drew says it. make it up to me. and something inside penny breaks. she meets drew’s gaze, raw and unguarded, her own vision blurring at the edges. "make it up to me?" her breath hitches, and she blinks, like that might somehow clear the storm behind her eyes. her body feels too heavy, like she’s sinking under the weight of everything she’s been holding in. "it’s not about making anything up." her voice is quieter now, the anger simmering into something heavier, something deeper. "nothing you say — nothing you do — is ever going to erase what you did. there is nothing in this world that can make me forget how little you made me feel. how unwanted and fucking pathetic you made me feel." the words hurt to say. hurt to admit. but they hang in the air between them, undeniable. penny crosses the room, sinking onto the opposite couch, the space between them stretching wider than ever. she licks her bottom lip, trying to steady her thoughts, trying to find the words when everything inside her is screaming. "but look…" her voice wavers. she closes her eyes for a moment before searching for drew’s again. " wewouldn’t be here if i didn’t think i it was something we, or i could work past." she lets the truth settle between them, lets it linger in the silence. "there’s a reason i keep coming back to you. a reason i let you in when you come back to me. even when every part of me is screaming that it’s a mistake. even when i’ve spent hours trying to convince myself that you don’t deserve a second chance." she swallows hard, curling her legs up on the couch, her elbow bracing against the back of it as she wipes a stray tear from her cheek. "but i do believe people deserve more than one chance. even when i don’t want to. even when everything inside me tells me i shouldn’t."her breath stutters, and suddenly, saying the words out loud feels like taking a blade to her own ribs. "god," she exhales, a laugh breaking through — but it’s bitter, humorless. "it goes against every fucking principle i have to even imagine keeping someone in my life who cheated on me. saying it out loud? it sounds insane." she stares at the ceiling for a long moment, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths before she finally looks at drew again. her eyes are glassy, voice on the edge of breaking. "but i don’t — i can’t — imagine my life without you." the confession feels like a betrayal of herself. a white flag she never intended to raise. "but i don’t know how to do this. i don’t know how to trust you again." her voice drops to a whisper.

it's not as though she'd expected a happy reunion. a running jump into her arms, milk maid gowns free flowing in the wind as they rejoiced. drew had expected the anger. but the delusional part of her brain, which was the part that was at the forefront these days, was silently hoping they could just skim past the anger. as a pillow collides with the back of her head, it's clear that they'll need to make a pit stop at i'm sorry station. "ow! i was holding a candle." a searing finger nestles between her lips and she sucks out the brief pain like venom. this does capture drew's attention, now completely facing penny who appears to be one lightning strike away from full-blown super villain fury. the power of their connection transcends what they are both willing to understand. it's frightening to some effect, how drew can instantly feel penny's agony crawling beneath her skin. infectious is how drew would describe it, but penny would likely describe it as empathy. she supposed that's where the two differed most. it was dangerous to drew -- and all consuming for penny, it made finding common ground far more precarious when one of them was trying to flee while the other was trying to cling.

"you know -- parker did tell me the pigeons were mindless drones. i thought that was kind of mean, you know? so i sent one. but judging by the fact you didn't get it. i guess i owe him five bucks." she fucked up. she knew the feeling as equally as she knew penny's turmoil considering their tendency to go hand in hand. and wasn't that devastating? knowing that your faults perfectly coincided with your partner's dismay? "i do want to pretend that everything is fine.." the blonde admits, likely the first thing she's been honest about in days. she sighs as she crosses the floor to penny but allows her enough space to feel comfortable. "but that's not fair to you. i know. i just -- i don't know what the fuck happened if i'm honest. and well, fuck. that's not fair to you either. i was sitting at work like.. is this gonna be the rest of my life? being good while everyone else is great? i mean - look, and i'm not trying to project this on you - but you're fucking great." drew scoops up the throw pillow off the ground and sink back into the bar stool, hugging it closely to herself. a waft of penny's perfume fills her nose and she takes a deep breath. it's grounding for a moment. that is until she says, "this time i've spent piecing us back together isn't bullshit, penny. i've been trying to make it up to you. and i'd do it all over again.. a thousand times." french nails are picking softly at the soft fuzz balls on the pillow as she nervously looks for something to do with her anxious fingers. "but will i ever be able to truly make it all up to you? i mean, really. and i want you to be honest with me."

for a long moment, penny doesn’t move. she just stares. at the sheer audacity of drew standing there , draped in borrowed clothes that don’t fit , wearing that same infuriating grin — like she hasn’t been missing for two weeks. like she hasn’t left penny to spiral , to wonder, to reach for a silence that never broke. her heart is still hammering against her ribs , the remnants of panic still thick in her bloodstream , fourteen days of unanswered questions pressing down on her like a weight she can’t shake. and then drew starts talking — rambling , deflecting , making jokes about flounder and burner phones , like this is just another one of her reckless disappearances. like penny hasn’t been tearing herself apart over where she was , if she was even alive, and suddenly something inside her snaps. a sharp , humorless laugh punches out of her , brittle at the edges. "are you — are you fucking kidding me ?" her voice is quiet , but there’s something dangerous beneath it , something raw and frayed. two weeks. two weeks of radio silence, of checking her phone every five minutes , of knocking on doors and getting nothing but shrugs , and now she just waltzes in — grinning , joking , like it’s all some game ? penny moves before she even thinks , grabbing the nearest throw pillow and launching it at her. not hard. not enough to hurt. but something — because if she doesn’t , she might actually scream. "you — " she stops , jaw locking , fists curled at her sides. "you absolute fucking — " another sharp inhale , her breath unsteady , her entire body tight with the effort of keeping herself from completely unraveling. "do you have any idea — any fucking idea — what the past two weeks have been like ? you couldn’t have just — texted ? called ? hell , sent a fucking carrier pigeon ?" she’s breathing too fast. she knows it. feels the way her hands are shaking , the way her chest is rising and falling too sharply. she knows she’s letting the panic and frustration bleed through , but she can’t shove it down. not when drew is just sitting there , completely unbothered , sniffing her vanilla candle like she didn’t just disappear without a trace. penny presses the heels of her hands against her eyes , turning on her heel and striding into the kitchen before she does something she won’t recover from. because she knows drew. knows this is her coping mechanism — acting like nothing is wrong , like she hasn’t just put everyone who gives a shit about her through hell. and maybe , once upon a time, penny would’ve let herself be distracted by the theatrics. would’ve let the relief of drew simply being here outweigh the hurt. but she’s seen this routine one too many times to fall for it now. she grips the counter , sucking in slow , steadying breaths. if she says something now , she will regret it. because part of her , beneath all the frustration , wants to burst into tears — because drew is alive , because she’s standing in front of her , because penny doesn’t have to wonder if she’s lost her forever. after a few seconds , she forces herself to move. forces herself to walk back into the room , stopping in the doorway , leaning against the frame like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. her voice is quieter now , but there’s no mistaking the weight behind it. "are you going to tell me what happened," she says , gaze steady , expression unreadable , "or do you just want to pretend everything is fine ? because i may be a good actress, drew, but i don’t think i can do that."

was it odd to say that abandoning her sense of self entirely gave her a new lease on life? plato didn't know shit about throwing his phone into the river. not to mention socrates had never experienced the thrill of pulling off a smooth drug deal on the busy city street. as far as drew was concerned, karl marx could suck the silicone dick that was slickened and stowed in her night stand. everywhere she went, flippant burner phone in hand, the blonde swore she could hear fly like an eagle beating in time with her steps. not a single care in the universe stopping her -- letting her spirit carry her from port to port. was this a mental breakdown of the most epic proportions? perhaps. for now - her metaphorical and quite literal high was impenetrable. and she had the steve miller band and parker to thank for that. when she'd told her roommates she'd abandoned her business with minimal explanation, drew had yet to answer the most critical questions. not even to herself. why? are you doing okay? the queries needed to be avoided. there was no space for concern in her hands-off approach to living. so it was natural to bolt. from her roommates, from penny. the fourth floor apartment hadn't seen her in days. she mostly opted for crashing on parker's couch. it made her hoodlum schedule a continuous affair. it made it easier to abandon any sort of guilt or critical thought about her decisions. but drew had caught wind of penny's concerns since her show stopping disappearance after opening night. the flowers adorned by the blonde at the stage door were the last tulips that drew had touched. and now, as the creative desire bubbled to the surface once more, so did her urge to see penny. she never dropped her key. a silent protest, a grandiose act of love, whatever you wanted to call it -- it was an excuse for drew to silently break in to surprise her. of course. the anxiety riddled star is edging tears, lump in her throat touching drew from where she stands by the front door. and she hears every word. but the eagle doesn't falter. "surprise, shaaaawty." the blonde calls out theatrically as she enters the space. her nomadic wardrobe is likely a testament to her mental state. parker's flannel that wouldn't button over her breasts even with one of those maternal stretch bands, a white bandeau top that has seen better days, a pair of inez's leggings that showcase some tasteful ankle on her too long legs, but still the same electric drew smile. "didn't i tell you? phone in the river? hope you didn't send me a nude because if you did, flounder definitely saw it." she plops down at the counter and sniffs at the lit candle, likely placed there to calm penny's nerves. her nose wrinkles at the soft vanilla scent. "is flounder a girl? like i know sebastian is a jamaican dude. like the cinnamon apple jax guy. but -- flounder? i never really knew. because if he's a bro-fish, he might like totally be into that."

✩ ‧ ₊⋆ .* : . CLOSED FOR : @gamecfchance

two  weeks.  fourteen  days.  three  hundred  and  thirty-six  hours.  that’s  how  long  it’s  been  since  penny  last  saw  her.  since  she’s  heard  anything  real ,  anything  beyond  the  few  scattered  texts  that  did  nothing  to  quiet  the  constant  knot  in  her  stomach.  she’s  tried  to  keep  it  together — tried  to  throw  herself  into  work,   into  anything  that  might  keep  her  from  spiraling.  but  it’s  when  she  forgets  to  do  her  warm-ups  before  the  second  act ,  too  distracted  checking  her  phone ,  that  it  really  hits.  when  she  almost  misses  four  cues  in  a  single  performance ,  her  mind  anywhere  but  the  stage ,  that’s  when  she  knows — she  can’t  keep  pretending  she’s  fine.  she  has  to  call  again.  she’s  given  drew  space.  figured  there  was  a  reason  for  the  silence ,  something  she  shouldn’t  push.  but  that  reasoning  only  gets  her  so  far  when  it  feels  like  she’s  been  abandoned — like  she’s  been  led  to  believe  in  something ,  only  to  be  left  standing  alone.  when  she’d  knocked  on  drew’s  door  a  few  nights  ago ,  her  roommates  had  no  real  answers  for  her.  now ,  sitting  curled  up  on  her  couch,  her  phone  cold  and  useless  in  her  hands ,  she  gives  in.  again.  she  dials.  voicemail.  again.  "hey. i know i said i’d stop calling. and at this point , i get it — you don’t want to talk to me. you want nothing to do with me anymore , fine. but can you just — just give me a sign of life ? please ? i feel like you at least owe me that. just let me know that you’re okay. or if you’re not. just … please , drew. please." by  the  time  she  ends  the  call,  her  hands  are  shaking.  she  stares  at  her  phone  for  a  long  moment,  then  sets  it  down,  swallowing  against  the  lump  in  her  throat.