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letorip · 8 months ago

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i heard your name [iii]

“your lips were divine and you said that you’d be mine, i was yours for a time, now everything is alright”

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pairing: cairo sweet x reader

summary: after finally opening yourself up to hope, everything comes crashing down in a fiery mess.

warnings: being used, references to sex, really really really bad emotional stuff and lots of conflicting emotions, GASLIGHTING*** so yikes

word count: 4.5k

A/N: i’ve altered the timeline a bit so that there’s more of a gap when miller and cairo kiss and when she cries about miller hating her story.

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===+++===

Even with your fingers sliding out of Cairo, placing her hot slick on your tongue like the sweetness it was and watching her shake, eyes rolled back to the ivory bed frame, you found yourself preoccupied with other thoughts.

From behind her, on the green of the walls as if there were an HD projector there, you caught a glimpse of the scene from a few days before, splashing with rain and the view you had from behind the bush, the greens bursting from the grey sky. Mr. Miller and Cairo. Cairo and Mr. Miller. Why was he driving to her house? What did he need late at night from his teenage student? Even in the rain, you definitely saw him, right?

“—Helllloooo?” came the voice from underneath you, jolting you from the waking nightmare. You looked down to where she was splayed out on the sheets.

Mascara blotted her cheeks from where the sweat had run, and Cairo shuddered, attempting to right herself. She sat up on her elbows, dark pupils blown out and staring at you in wonder. "Are you even on the planet anymore?" She asked, raising her eyebrows at you.

You managed a weak smile, guarding the real memory that was on your mind like clockwork again. Cairo's hands crept up to your unbuttoned shirt, grabbing each side and tugging you down on top of her, her hands threading themselves into the soft hair at your neck. She held you there, for a moment, resting her nose against the side of your face and nuzzling into you.

It was sweet and it was earnest, and had you not seen what you did, your heart would have done catapults in your chest and squeezed her right back. Instead, you wondered if your disgusting writing teacher had been here too. To what extent was Cairo breaking school policy? To what extent did she care? It was suddenly decidedly less sweet to be in her sheets.

"I should go," you muttered into the bed.

"Hm," hummed Cairo, but she didn't let you go, instead tightening her grip and holding you against her. "That was good," she whispered after a moment, right into your ear. You didn't reply, breathing in slowly and finding yourself consumed by the scent of her perfume. It smelled less like flowers.

Your hand went to the mattress, pushing yourself up and off of Cairo, rolling over. Outside the sky was fading to a languid purple colour, and you stared at it, frowning. From behind you, you could hear a rustling in the sheets.

"Is something wrong?" She asked. Her voice was a sickly sweet wave, stirring the pool of conflict in your gut. You swallowed, shaking your head. "Yeah, right. You're being quiet again," she said, scoffing.

"How are you so sure?" You asked. Your eyes flicked towards her and then back to the garden outside. Cairo was sitting up now, crisscrossed against one of the bedposts.

"Sure of what?"

"Sure you know me, or what I'm 'being.'" You looked back at her. "You talk to me sometimes like you do."

"Well...don't I know you?" She challenged, playing with intertwining her fingers. “What don’t I know?” You squinted a bit to see her dark eyes, in the dim lighting of Cairo's lamps and candles. She absolutely refused to use the bright ceiling fan light, and the shadows hid the shine of her dark brown eyes from where you could study them.

You shrugged, unwilling to answer. "I'm not sure either of us know each other, at this point."

She blinked at you, and then a smile crept out like she thought you were kidding. "Oh, are you mocking me now? Are we back to that pretentiousness thing you ramble about? The Mr. Miller and poetry speech?"

You stared at her, unable to reply. See, there was a certain part of you that hoped she was being taken advantage of— a very cruel part of you. And then there was the exceedingly real possibility that came from knowing Cairo Sweet. The that you couldn't help but give you pause.

The thought that she knew and was doing it on purpose. The thought that she was the one seducing him, and not the other way around. The thought that she was far from brainwashed, and was instead choosing the more insidious route. It was wrong, but it also wronged you, and the thought made you sick to your stomach.

Was that selfish? To want something so terrible for someone just to spare your own feelings? To want that for Cairo? Such thoughts had run through your mind several times for the past several hours, and each time you felt like a worse and worse person. Sometimes when you were with her you felt that way.

"You're being quiet again," She said. "Seriously, I'm going to start thinking you're sick if you don't tell me what's going on," she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

When you didn't reply to that either, she crawled towards you, laying her head on your chest and wrapping her arm around your torso. "I want you to tell me everything. We're close enough for that, right?” Above you in the ceiling, at the edge of the popcorn thread veins that weaved through the plaster like a map was some dark embossing that rich people had. You stared at it for a while.

"...I saw you and Mr. Miller," you said finally. The grief that came with it was unstoppable. It was quiet, but not quiet enough.

Cairo jolted up, yanking her head away from you and scooting a whole foot away as if a snake had bitten her. Eyes wide and wild, jaw slack, tears already starting to form. You watched her go.

"What did you say?" She asked, but not because she hadn't heard you. You repeated yourself anyways.

"I saw you two a few days ago. Together."

She nodded, but her cheeks were a flushed, angry and agitated red. "He dropped off my phone. I left it at sch—"

"—No, Cairo. I saw you guys kiss." She furrowed her eyebrows, looking...confused? This was when it was impossible to read her. Maybe she'd cry and tell you it was all in your head and you’d know your mom’s condition was genetic, or she'd punched him afterwards and she was going to the school board to raise hell and you could proudly stand behind her in support.

Instead, she simply said. "No?"

You stopped. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"We hugged," She replied, shrugging. "That was it. I don’t know what you thought—"

"—Cairo, I saw you."

"(Y/n), that’s illegal and disgusting. We hugged because of stuff with my parents I talked to him about."

"You guys were in the rain. Kissing."

She reached out a hand, putting it on your knee and staring right at you. “I promise. I don't know what you think you saw, but it was rainy and it was getting dark. All we did was hug.”

"I— I saw you. I saw you two," you shook your head, the disgust at the image starting to work its way into your voice. But when you looked up, Cairo was glaring, looking concerned for you and a bit angry at the same time. Maybe you were crazy, after all.

"We hugged. God, how could you even think I would do that??? Is this what you meant by ‘the knowing each other�� bullshit??”

“I saw him here after hours, Cairo. I really don't want to believe it, but I don’t know how to really trust you…”

“Well whose fault is that!? You’re the one who insisted on being a celibate fucking monk for weeks because you didn’t want any semblance of a string attached. So sorry, maybe you don’t know my childhood pet, but I would hope you’d know me well enough to not think I was sleeping with my teacher!”

You scowled right back at her feeling your previous sheepishness roll over into a boiling resentment within you. “You have a bad habit of jumping into the pants of people who you deem good at writing, y’know.”

Cairo’s eyes widened in surprise, and she scoffed at you like she couldn’t believe it. You couldn't believe it either. "Is that what this is? Do you feel inadequate?” She questioned. "You think I'm just going to run off and onto the next person when I'm done using them?"

“No!” you insisted, cheeks flushing. Cairo threw up her hands.

“I can’t believe I have to sit here and convince you to not be jealous of our fifty something writing teacher of all people. Are you seriously that insecure?”

“I’m not insecure!”

“And I’m not some manipulative mastermind!"

"Then why are you lying?"

"God, are you on something?" She snapped, rolling her eyes. She wandered on over to her underwear, pulling them up her legs in frustration. "Normal people don't just accuse someone of a literal crime, (Y/n)," she spat, but the edges of her eyes had begun to water again.

"I saw you!" But your tone was weaker.

"Bullshit! You didn't see anything!" Cairo yelled, crying now. Gentle tears had begun to wash down her cheeks, taking some of the already splotchy mascara with it. She still looked beautiful, crying like that. "You're trying to blow up whatever good this was with your stupid insecurity! Why can't you just let things be good for once?! I was finally starting to have things be good for once!”

You stopped, feeling her words connect with your chest and sink directly into your heart. That hurt more than you wanted to admit. Once more you were wondering if it had really all been in your head. Was this all self-destructive?

You had sworn at seven to never do some of the stuff your mom always did, but the longer you looked at Cairo's tear-streaked face and sad, brown eyes, you began to wonder if the cycle was repeating itself and it was out of your control.

"I-I need to go," you shook your head. Get away.

"Are you seriously leaving again??" She asked, sounding incredulous. You didn't even look at her, grabbing your jacket and your phone, right when it buzzed in your hand. You looked down, seeing there were over twelve missed texts from your mom.

You threw it in your pocket. Now the warning light in your head was really going off. "I really need to go."

"We're not even done here! What is going on with you, and why are you accusing me of bullshit!?”

"Later."

"No, no way."

"Yes. Goodbye Cairo," you ended, throwing it over your shoulder before you fled her bedroom and down the stairs. When you reached the foyer, you heard her yell from the landing, watching you go.

"For a writer you communicate like such a child!" And then she slammed her door.

===+++===

It was remarkable, just how dull the white walls of your room looked now. In the past several weeks of having lived there, you had barely noticed just how blank they were. All of your walls were like that, ever since you had started moving around. People didn't usually bother to paint the walls of newer modern houses after their construction.

The very reason you had this new outlook was hard to ignore, and every single time you replayed the memory of seeing her and your writing teacher together on the porch of her house, the image became less and less cemented in your mind.

There had been a few branches, and the rain was very thick, and her porch was kind of far away, and maybe it was the wrong angle. Maybe you had seen it wrong, and it was all innocent, and Cairo was just getting support from her teacher that she idolised. Maybe she was right: maybe you had just ruined everything.

Of course, then there was the possibility that it was for the best. The overwhelming reality that you would probably be whisked away again in a month, and it was the realisation that you had stopped thinking about it that made you realise you had lived and loved like you’d be staying with her forever. More specifically, you had been a fool again.

You stood up from the ersatz desk, fashioned with a few cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other, and headed down the stairs at the end of the hall. It had begun to get darker outside fast, and the sky was fading from a faint purple to the lighter black of the blanket of night.

On the couch, your mom had splayed herself out, legs thrown haphazardly over the armrest and hands dangling from the seat cushions. Against the far wall was your television, with the big old crack right down the middle from when your mom had accidentally thrown it the week you had first arrived in town.

She didn’t say anything when you walked right past her, and you knew better than to talk to her when she was in one of her moods. It wouldn’t make it any better, it would make her cry. If you just waited a few weeks she would get up from the couch and want to go outside again. You walked right past her instead, going into the old kitchen and rooting around to find something to eat.

“Hey, kiddo,” she called quietly, and you had to stick your head out the doorway to make sure she had even really made the noise.

“Yeah mom?” You asked, a bit hopeful. Talking again was a good sign.

“I’m sorry.”

You frowned. “Why are you sorry?” There was suddenly the very real possibility that she would announce right there and then you were leaving again, and you were still kind of mad at Cairo and at yourself, but you didn’t want to leave. It didn’t feel over. But then again it never did. “Are we going?”

“For all this bullshit I put you through.” She sat herself up on the cushion and you could see in the dim light of the TV she had been crying, eyes raw and red. “You deserve the world, and not someone who’s just…this.”

“Hey,” you said softly, coming up behind her. “That’s my mom you’re talking about.” She gave you a weak smile.

“Nah. Moms are supposed to be there,” she said, looking up at you. “You deserve to not be alone,” she said. You didn’t know what to say back.

It wasn’t a new line of thought for her. The mournful look she gave you and the saddened apologies for your lifestyle happened usually once a month, and whatever connection you thought you two had would be immediately forgotten by an immediate period of high energy, and your mom trying every hobby in existence.

When she got in her moods like this, you could do nothing but watch her rake herself over hot coals like she was the worst person in the world and not your mother, who you were proud of, and who you knew was trying.

But that thing she said, about being alone. It sunk deep into your chest. There was Cairo’s face, eyes streaked with tears that you had caused over something you hadn’t even been sure of.

Maybe you didn’t want to be alone more than you wanted to confront what was so clearly in front of you. The red flag had been given and you had the hard choice of wether you wanted to step right over it or not. You didn't know what to say to your mom, so you said nothing at all, grabbing your dinner and trotting back up the stairs to stare at the wall a little bit longer.

===+++===

"Okay," Winnie clapped her hands together, slamming them down on the end of your table and glaring right at you. "Tell me what the hell is going on."

"What do you mean?" You asked. She put her hands on her hips and looked quite cross.

"Nuh uh, none of that. You and Cairo. Now." You cringed.

It had been about three days since you and Cairo...fell out? It was strange to describe. Class was class and was just as boring and forgettable as it had been before you had heard Cairo's name and knew she existed. She seemed unaware you were even around, any sort of relationship you two had was just washed down the imaginary drain.

Winnie had been miffed beyond belief. One day her two friends were inseparable and then the next, they couldn't be further apart. You weren't especially surprised she had come demanding answers, but that meant Cairo probably wasn't talking to her about it.

"We just have different views," you shrugged. It wasn't technically a lie. Since you had less time to wonder about Cairo, it had become all the more clear how you were irrevocably fascinated and in love with her, and it only made your own fuck up a bit more painful when she walked past you but refused to meet your eyes.

"I'm calling bullshit, kid," said Winnie. She had her eyes narrowed at you, like she was trying to read your face.

"Kid?" you tried to joke. "I'm older than you." Winnie was having none of it, glaring dismissively.

"Then why are you both acting like children?"

You frowned. Would Winnie tell Cairo? Would Cairo even care? Part of you thought she might have been totally done with you. If it was really just a hookup, there was the underlying possibility she hadn't even really cared that you were no longer fucking. Maybe she had moved onto better things.

"Winnie, take your seat," Mr. Miller called, from across the classroom. Winnie spun back around, giving him her best smile before turning to you.

"Later," she insisted. From the front of the room Cairo was watching you both, her eyes focused and sharp.

===+++===

Being back at Cairo's house was definitely strange. The clouds had come back to sit over her roof, hiding it from the sun and the entirety of your walk, it had started to drizzle, soaking your hair and splattering onto your clothes.

You weren't entirely sure why it had to be that day, but Winnie had been less than helpful, and instead just looked at you like you were a kicked puppy, refusing to say more when you told her what was going on between you two.

"That makes sense," she had said, with a weird sheen of guilt. The whole conversation had felt weird, as if there was some unknown truth being held from you, that only managed to make you feel worse. Did she mean it made sense Cairo needed help with her parents? That was what you thought at least. It made the most sense, what with her needing comforting from Mr. Miller.

The whole ordeal had only managed to make you feel worse about confronting her about it and not leaving it up to Cairo to set her own boundaries. You decided right then and there that it meant you needed to apologize.

You weren't even sure she was home, now that you thought about it. The house looked a bit dark from down the green, but it was a rainstorm, so maybe that was normal for Tennessee.

You wandered right up to her door, dripping onto her porch with the expensive real wood and feeling a little bit bad about it. The lights were all out except for the one at the top of the stairs where you knew her room was. She was definitely there.

Your finger went to ring the bell when you stopped, noticing the crack in the door from the frame. It was propped open with a sandal from the nearby shoerack that sat in the mudroom and you frowned, feeling your mind jumping towards the worst possibilities. She seemed to leave the door unlocked all the time, but having it cracked it open was new.

There weren't any instructions for what to do in this kind of situation, and even if there had been, you had failed to ever come across a similar situation anyhow. You did the best thing you could think of, pushing the door open and calling out Cairo's name over the threshold.

No response. Fantastic. You shut your eyes and sighed deeply, before stepping inside. It was normal for the most part, but then your eyes saw the smashed plant pot right there on the table in the foyer, and you started to get worried again.

You raced up the stairs as fast as you could, stopping on the landing and bending over to catch your breath. That had been a terrible idea.

When you were finally no longer about to have a heart attack, you called out to her again.

"Cairo?" You said, loudly towards her shut door. From under the small gap between the door and the floor, the soft lighting from her bedside table lamp bled out into the hall. You lifted your hand, knocking.

"Who is it?" Came her voice, with a slight tremble to it. You frowned, pushing your ear against the door to hear.

"It's, uh— it's me. (Y/n)," you muttered.

"Go the hell away," she replied.

"Right, yeah, I was just gonna—"

"—Leave!" she cut you off. "Get the fuck out of my house. Why are you even here??"

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling awfully awkward. "I came to apologise about a few days ago...the door was just kind of open and I thought...well, I don't know what I thought."

"You know I leave it open," she said back, but with the same weird shake to her voice. You blinked. If you hadn't known any better, it sounded like she'd been...

"Cairo, have you been crying?" You asked, worry filling your voice and your mind, too. "Did something happen?"

"Why do you even care?" She asked. Her voice had even more of a quiver to it now. "You think I'm some weirdo." You winced, figuring you probably deserved that.

"Can I come in?" you titled your head to lay against the door.

"No," said Cairo, but it was closer this time, like she had wandered closer to it.

"Um, okay," you nodded, sinking to the floor outside instead. Even if she didn't especially want you back in her life whatsoever, you figured she could have probably used someone to just listen. Sometimes that's what your mom wanted when she was upset and locked herself away. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Why?" She mumbled, her voice a bit muffled. You shrugged.

"I want to make sure you're okay."

She didn't say anything for a moment, and you could feel her thinking it over. "I was...disregarded."

You frowned. "Is this about your parents?" When she didn't reply you continued. "It's just, I know you have a rocky relationship with them, so..."

"It's not a rocky relationship," said Cairo. She seemed to have stiffened at the subject, and you figured you had gotten it in one. "Leave it alone." You winced again. A period of silence fell over you both, and your eyes went around the landing, looking at the stacks of books, debating something within yourself.

You remembered her crying that one night, and you remembered pushing her away, and you remembered how painful that had been and how hypocritical it was now that you were bugging her to share. So you swallowed hard and did something you had never done before.

"Cairo," you said softly. "My mom is bipolar."

"What?" She asked. It was clear she was on the other side of the door now, like you were, probably sitting on the ground. Maybe not having her in front of you made it easier to talk.

"Yeah. It's part of why we move around so much. It's just been me and her for the longest time. She doesn't like the medication and stuff...says it makes her fuzzy and my dad was an asshole about it and she thinks one day he's gonna steal me for himself, so we just kinda go from place to place when she feels like it."

"Oh," she said.

"Some days she's invincible and wild, like a hero or something. And then other days she doesn't move off the couch, and sometimes I have to leave food out for her to make sure she eats. I don't know if it's going to be an up or a down day." The confession sat in the air between you for a moment, just out in the open, and it felt like a weight had been lifted right off your chest. The information now lived and died with Cairo Sweet.

"I don't even know where my parents are," Cairo said after a minute. "Somewhere probably in Europe, getting drunk and living life. I can't be mad at them, I'm afraid. I can't call them shitty parents when they're not around to be shitty."

You shook your head. "It doesn't matter how crappy of a parent they are. It still fucks you up when they're not around."

"Maybe," Cairo said softly. "At least they're having fun." It sounded bittersweet, and you wanted to reach through the door to place an arm around her or to stroke her cheek.

"So why were you crying?" you asked.

You heard a thud against the wood, and she must have leaned her head back. "I got a message...they're staying in Europe for a couple months. So they won't be at graduation." It was a clever lie, one that saddened you and filled your heart wit pity.

"Oh," you hummed. Neither would your mom, anyhow. You had glazed over it too, but probably neither would you. You had no idea what you would say if your mom decided to pack you up and move you again before the end of the year. Maybe this time you'd cling and stay. "Cairo?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I accused you of that with Mr. Miller."

She went silent but finally said, "I still don't know how the hell it could've looked like we were kissing."

"Yeah, I don't know.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you, (Y/n).”

"I believe you."

"I know."

You two just sat there for a moment, separated by the door but together.

"I'm scared by all this."

"I know," she said.

"You keep saying that."

"I know," Cairo laughed. "You can open the door now, you know."

"Can I?"

"Mhm."

You clambered to your feet, reaching out to the railing to steady yourself. You opened the door and there she was. Against your better judgement and by the sheer sparkle of her warm honey eyes, you forgot every little comment from Winnie or question that was suspiciously dismissed.

And for what it was worth, Cairo looked at you— really looked at you, for the first time since you had met, and decided maybe she liked clinging to your chest.

===+++===

before anyone feels the need to say this, it'll probably be continued in a super messy fourth part that i'm already starting to work on. it may take a while to come out though. anyways thank you all so much for 300 followers and over 2.5k likes on my work. it means so much.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #cairo sweet #cairo sweet x reader #miller's girl #jenna ortega imagine

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