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US Skins: Tea

My Mistakes Were Made For You (1/2) [Skins UK/US- UK!Michelle/US!Michelle]

See part 1 for header


“Does it ever stop hurting?”

Michelle really wishes she knew the answer to that question. She really wishes that she could smooth away those worry lines on the redhead’s forehead with an easy and honest yes, but the part of the story she conveniently skipped when she spoke about her boyfriend,—ex-boyfriend—(when she spoke about how he cheated, how he manipulated everyone around him, how even being hit by a bus couldn’t change him for long) was the part where she kept stupidly going back to him, again and again and again.

She shrugs her shoulders, and breathes out a stream of cigarette smoke.

“Maybe.”  

The redhead takes the cigarette from between her fingers, inhaling a large surge of smoke into her lungs.

They’re in the redhead’s room, a bag of multicoloured pills and about four cigarettes gone between them. It’s the pills Michelle blames for the way her lips still tingle from every small kiss the redhead sporadically places on her lips, like she’s testing it out.

Maybe,” The redhead repeats, testing out the word the way she keeps testing out Michelle’s lips, like it’s something she’s getting used to.

“Yep. Maybe,”

The redhead presses the cigarette back between Michelle’s fingers and before Michelle can bring it to her lips, she kisses her again.

This time Michelle doesn’t let her get away. She blindly outs the cigarette and lets it drop to join the ousted buds of the other cigarettes they’ve shared.

The redhead’s cheek is warm, smooth, no longer wetted with tears, and Michelle lets her fingertips graze skin as the lips beneath her open to her, allowing her to taste remnants of drinks that probably shouldn’t have been drunk, and cigarettes that probably shouldn’t have been burned. Come to think of it, it’s probably how she tastes too.

There’s a sigh between them as the redhead allows herself to fall back against the carpeted ground beneath her, and Michelle follows easily, covering her body as fully as her lips cover lips.

When they break apart, the redhead looks awed, staring up at her through eyelashes with mascara that has already been half cried off.

“I haven’t done this before,” she admits.

“Neither have I,”

And she hasn’t. She has kissed a girl, of course, mainly at Tony’s insistence, for Tony’s entertainment, but she’s never wanted to really kiss a girl before, not like this, not like she wants this.

“Okay,” the redhead sighs, before leaning up on her elbows to kiss Michelle again.

Oddly enough, kissing this redhead, pressing her lips against the pale skin of her throat, across her jaw, down her stomach, mapping the concaves of her hips and back, letting her fingernails dig into the smooth skin covering the complexities of her ribcage, feeling the way a body so much like her own body—yet so very different—seems to melds against her bare skin, feels like a door. It feels like she’s walking into somewhere new, yet oddly comfortable.   

When she finally slips her fingers inside the redhead, when the redhead arches her hips into her, presses blunt edged fingernails into her bicep, and lets the feeling take her, lets her eyes slip closed and her lips fall open in a wordless moan, it’s less of a door then, and more of a portal.

A portal into something special.

She feels like she’s gliding into a new being, into a new existence, into something that’s not Tony’s Michelle anymore, but Michelle’s Michelle, into becoming herself.

When the redhead climaxes around her fingers, she pulls Michelle in so close that Michelle’s not even sure where she ends and the redhead begins. It’s like a single entity and Michelle hopes that feeling can last forever.

 

 

“Are you gonna leave him?”

The question leaves Michelle before she can catch it and it hangs in the air among the smell of fresh sex and nicotine. She fastens the button on her jeans to occupy herself; smoothes down the non-existent creased when the former doesn’t work. The redhead doesn’t want her to leave, at least not until morning, and even though Michelle doesn’t really want to leave either, Cassie’s probably passed out on a park bench by now.

“Are you gonna go back to your boyfriend?” The redhead asks, revealing that she obviously knows more than she’s been letting on.

She can’t really count the times she has gone back to Tony after he’s done something stupid, but she can honestly say that this is the first time it really feels permanent. It feels like the ink has finally dried on the paper.  

“No,” she answers honestly.

The redhead smiles a bit, although it’s obvious there’s still some sadness there in her eyes. Her heart’s still broken; Michelle’s not sure anything can fix that.

“Yes.” The redhead answers her question. Sadness seeps into her vocal chords and colours her tone but despite the sadness, Michelle believes her; Michelle believes that this girl won’t repeat mistakes that she is guilty of committing and repeating.

“Good,” She replies, leaning down to press her lips against the redhead’s chastely.

“Will you text me?” The redhead asks, pressing another chaste kiss to the corner of Michelle’s mouth before she can leave. “When you go back to England?” she clarifies.

Michelle nods.  

“Yea. Of course,” she’d actually really like that.

 She has her fingers wrapped around the doorknob when the redhead calls her again.  

“Hey!”

“Yeah? Michelle turns to face her; tires not to see the slight pout of her lips.

“I didn’t get your name,” the redhead says slowly.

“Michelle,”

“Mine too,”

The End.

 

 

Comments

Thanks for reading! =)
Wow I almost couldn't find how to leave a comment which would be a pity because I /really/ wanted to. This is close to perfect actually, I really loved it. I really loved the "Michelle's Michelle" part because it's true in so many ways. I wish you would've shown how US!Tony isn't as manipulative (and is much more juvenile) as UK!Tony.