Work Text:
Don’t.
Olive pulled a threatening grimace, despite no one being there to be intimidated. Over and over again all searches she undertook to try and locate a ride dared to fail on her: The bus stop she could clearly locate on her paper map had apparently moved far from her current spot; checking the website, the stop for the next bus running was over a mile away (and wouldn’t arrive until past midnight); and the cheapest taxi service couldn’t even be bothered coming out to get her. To put things plainly, she certainly wasn’t in a good mood. She figured warning her phone not to present any more roadblocks now would be her justification when she smashed it into the dust and dirt later, enveloped in a frustrated wrath.
Begrudgingly, she ordered a seriously (almost suspiciously) overpriced ride from some no-name taxi company, and finally let her shoulders relax. The sun was deeply immersed within the horizon now - one side of the sky a blinding orange and the other a vibrant purple magenta, brought together by a belt of pink. If her mood hadn’t been so sour she would’ve admitted to how pretty it looked, lighting up the twilight with a warm neon glow. Down below a dry dancing wind laced around her ankles, but her boots were too thick and caked with hardened mud for her to discern the temperature. Plenty rest of her could: though she wore military-grade cargo trousers her shirt was meagre, a plain green tank top leaving her arms exposed to the elements. Tinged pink and cracked red skin would soon be left to freeze in the desert night. That is, unless, her ride decided to arrive on time.
As the ethereal blanket of night began to close in, a black car slowed along the abandoned highway, rolling to a stop in a particularly dusty patch just beyond where she stood. It had better be her ride, she figured as she hoisted her luggage under her arm, because otherwise a random driver was about to get an impromptu hitchhiker.
"Olive Creek?" The driver attempted to confirm as Olive popped open a door and deposited her bag in the far seat. The voice sounded... Familiar.
"Gwen?" Olive raised an eyebrow, climbing into the back. Their eyes met, and there was no denying it. Her hair was shorter than it was when they last spoke, but it was still that vivid shade of blue, swishing and bobbing like pool water.
The woman who had to - had to - be Gwen laughed, almost in disbelief. "Damn, I mean I know I recognised the name, but to think it's really you... Small world, am I right?"
"You can say that again." Olive shook her head as she buckled in, and the car growled to a start. "But I mean, what are you doing here? Is this your part time job between shows?"
Gwen let out a half-laugh, half-yelp at the pain of damaged pride. "Not exactly." Rapping a finger or two on the steering wheel she explained: "The band stayed strong during that summer I left, but in the coming January our damn singer - you remember her, right? - got herself knocked up by some weirdo and left us behind. I get it, she wanted to raise her kid, but she was the one that pulled the trigger of the gun that killed us. Everyone else started flaking, dropping like flies, until it was just me. Left here."
"So," Olive concluded after a pause, a grim smile on her face, "full time job?"
"Full time job," Gwen sighed.
They sat in silence for a moment, the car racing down the highway and following the last beams of orange that shot across the sky. Looking over herself, Olive chuckled: her body was tanned, her skin calloused, and her hair and clothes (the colour of wet sand) battered. Gwen, on the other hand, had unnatural hair and almost translucent skin, all lit up by the sharp cyan of the dashboard. It was almost as if Olive had tumbled out of a war from a dark future, while Gwen was coasting along in a cyberpunk dystopia.
What were the chances of running into an old friend? She hadn't seen her in what, three years? Gwen had dropped out of high school to pursue a music career, and Olive had graduated with her own music degree two years ago. The life of their home town was far behind them, yet even so Olive couldn't help but smile when she realised what shirt she was wearing: the bounty of a tourist trap acquired during a school trip to Salem. She could vividly remember how pleased Gwen looked when she ran out of the store wearing that thing, an oversized grey tee with a skull and crossbones emblem. They were fourteen then. They were adults now.
The city appeared on the horizon, the highway beginning to twist, and Gwen broke Olive's nostalgia trip. "So, you're heading for the airport?" She regarded the satnav on the dashboard with a nod. "What are you doing here, anyway, and why've you got to go?"
Olive glanced out the window, as if searching for some kind of physical proof out there on the plains. "Ah, uh, I came out here a few days ago to do some bouldering," Olive sputtered, "but it wasn't as great as I hoped."
Gwen laughed: a loud, high chuckle, reverberating through the inside of the car as if they were the eroded walls of a cavern. "You came all the way out here to play on some rocks? And you're flying out as soon as you're done? Don't you want to look around the city or something?"
"It sounds nice, but I've got stuff to do, y'know?" She rolled her shoulders, tilting her head back into the seat's stiff padding. "My uncle will probably want my help with something, and Zeke will-"
"That's not an excuse!" Gwen cut in with a whine, jerking the car into the layby with a sharp swerve and kicking up a maelstrom of dust. Thank god there were no pedestrians, for any creature in her path would have been mowed into mulch under the rubber.
She spun around in her seat, jabbing a finger into Olive's collarbone. "Since when have you cared about social commitments?"
Olive went to open her mouth, but all sound was cut off by the silencing glare from Gwen’s cerulean eyes.
"Look at me, Olive. When we enter that city, I promise you that I'm going to drive you wherever you want to go, and I'm sure as hell going to charge you for it because this is my cab and this is my job. And we're responsible adults; neither of us want you to waste money on something stupid. So, tell me, one person being honest to another: what do you want to do?"
Olive's eyes widened a little, her mouth dry – with increasing clarity it was becoming obvious to her that emotionally heavy moments were not her forte. But something was clear: she liked Gwen caring about her. Even if Olive wasn't certain about her own personal turmoil, she liked Gwen looking her in the eye and giving a damn about her happiness – as if they were back in time, lounging in the school library and planning their perfect careers. More than anything, she missed this friendship. She could get used to it.
Olive's expression hardened, her mind made, a slight yet confident smirk backing her up. "You know what? You’re right. I don't want to go home. Not today. I want to stay right here with you."
Gwen pulled an expression of shock, but it quickly melted into a matching grin. With a smile that bright, Olive could swear her sunburn deepened.