#SHE NEEDS A HUG | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taissaswifelowkey · 10 days ago

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test and recognise

a/n: horror girlies deserve peace. especially skye riley my girl was stressing give her a break 😭 i was inspired by edits of smile 2 and i saw one with “test and recognise” and wanted to write something about it (i have to find this edit again) i tried to stick to the plot but sort of altered it so it doesn't really stay true to the story? but since reader was involved i had to mix it up a bit. the ending is ambiguous. idk i wanted to try something new, maybe it should have stayed in the drafts. minors, ageless blogs dni please, drop feedback if you have any, enjoy reading let’s gooo

w/c: 2.3k words

warnings: allusions of self-neglect, issues differencing reality? basically, the whole plot of smile 2 but i didn’t do it much justice. proofread but i might have left mistakes behind, let me know if i missed anything else!!

You hesitantly knock on Skye’s door, having been told beforehand by her mother and Joshua that she’s been “uncharacteristic”. He looked nervous, his usual polite smile and engaging presence toned down to a shaky voice and hunched posture. You look down at the paper bags held in one hand. A few of Skye’s favourite snacks as well as her favourite takeout. Maybe that would comfort her? Or maybe she’ll just send you off.

You’re not even sure why you’re here.You don’t recall the last time you’ve talked to Skye in person. Maybe it was after her fall out with Gemma. Who also happened to be your friend, and you would always be together along with Skye. You were then in an awkward position and did not want to fuel the already disastrous atmosphere. Of course you still texted and called her whenever you could, when you weren’t on press tours or scheduled to be on carpet interviews. That of course lasted for a little while, your calls and messages soon went unreturned. But even after hearing about her personal incidents, you passed your best wishes for her to her mother and left a note. It was the least decent thing to do.

The door slightly creaks open, a wild pair of eyes flickering between yours. Her blonde hair falls messily in her forehead and you catch a glimpse of dark circles underneath her eyes.

“Skye?”

She stays still for a minute, eyes squinting at you before she opens the door a tad wider, confusion written all over her face.

“What are you doing here?” She grumbles, her voice low and hoarse, a tone of accusation nearly ripping through her utterances.

“I’m…”

Saying that you’re here on the behalf of her mother and assistant doesn’t sound like the most appropriate response. Nor does “I thought we’d catch up”. She waits, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Did Gemma send you?”

“No…?” You trailed off, not sure as to how you should handle the painfully uncomfortable situation you’re in.

“Was it my mom?”

Not being the best at hiding your emotions, you purse your lips mouth opening and closing to give an answer when she huffs and opens the door.

She doesn’t look back or wait for you to come in, presuming you’d do it on your own like you had many times when you and Gemma were invited for sleepovers. You close the door behind you, following her to the kitchen. Placing the bags down at the counter your brain is wrecking to come up with words instead of being left in this blank haze.

“What’s that?” She points the contents with her head, only registering them now.

“Just something I thought I’d get before stopping by.” It’s a progress, you think. She hasn’t kicked you out yet.

“Was that under my mother’s advice too?”

You feel like you have to tread the line, judging by her questions and current state. You don’t want to be overbearing. But you don’t want to make it seem like you don’t care about her either. Even though she has progressively cut you off through the years.

“You know I never come empty handed.” You attempt to smile, nervously clearing your throat. It was the truth. Though its reminder had no effect on Riley. She just stares blankly at you, before leaning on the counter, dropping her head in her hands. She doesn’t say anything for a while and you feel an uncomfortable and almost murky aura creeping through the room again.

You do wonder why Skye’s mother chose you out of all people to check up on her. This is something that needs to be handled professionally and not just friendly care.

The bag rustles. Skye holds the plastic bag and crushes it, her knuckles turning white before she releases it, gradually.

“Is it real?” She whispers, not looking up at you, her hands going to crush the plastic again. Your silence makes her look at you. Truly look at you for the first time since you’ve gotten here. A look of examination, not a fleeting one.

“What…?” You hesitantly murmur, not wanting to ruin whatever it is that was happening. She holds onto the bag again, this time ripping it piece by piece.

“Is this real?” She repeats, not bothering raising an octave. What’s the use? This could be her lucid dreaming again. In a couple of hours she’ll wake up alone in her apartment. You’re just something present at the back of her subconscious. Maybe it’s the rot playing with her again. Or her brain guilting her into talking to you and Gemma. Her eyes bore into yours again, trying to memorise every single detail. From the way that you dress to the subtle furrow in your brow. This is the closest thing she’d ever get to normalcy.

Her words and actions worry you more than it is confusing. She chews on her lips, frantically running her hands through her hair. You’re afraid she’ll rip her scalp with how rough she’s being.

“Skye…” You slowly raise your hands up, then face your palms down, taking a deep breath. In all truth you don’t know what you’re doing. But you don’t want to see her like that. It pains you more than anything.

She looks down at your hands, her eyes tracing the lines of your palms. Her hands itches to touch yours, anything to ground herself in this reality. Or in this dreamlike reality. Anything. She lets go of her strands, a few fragments of her hair whisking away, before dropping her fingers to the counter. You don’t move your hands away, leaving them as it is.

She slowly reaches for them. She wants to take her time in this reality, in this world, where it does not feel like terror. This is the peace that she’s been wanting.

Her fingers start with the skin of your wrists, tracing your veins. They’re not delicate but do not stop your breath from hitching. She presses down on your pulse and you hope she cannot exactly feel how fast it is racing. She then movies to your palms, tracing its individual lines, and does the same with your fingers. The position is a bit awkward but it doesn’t stop her from lightly pressing on to them every now and then. She feels the monster taunting her, whispering mocking words

You’re going to wake up soon, Skye.

“This is real. I promise you.” You don’t dare raise your voice above a breath, letting her hold on to you. It’s painful but you endure it.

Your hands were so warm. She could melt at how delicate and soft you were. She never wanted to let go. She caught on to what you said. She just couldn’t take it into account. Not with her tears slowly brewing her eyes, blurring everything. You gently let go of her, causing her to raise her head in panic, but you join her behind the counter. You slide your hand towards her again, speaking earnestly.

“I promise you.”

Don’t believe what you see. It’s only a matter of time before she leaves.

She takes your hands and collapses in your chest, letting her tears escape. She didn’t want to feel terror anymore. She didn’t want to feel this weird pressure on her chest again. She wanted to start over again. Back to where everything was simple and easy.

You let her hold on to you, her hands clutching your clothes in a visceral grip. You can feel her tears damping them. Her makeup stains silk probably leave traces behind. And yet, you hold her close, impossibly close to you. She can feel the thrum of your heartbeat, the fabric of your clothing. You still wore your signature scent, sweet and subtly woodsy.

“Are you real?” She sobs, taking a risk to pull back, not caring if she’ll wake up anytime soon. Or if you’ll go away.

Instead of answering her, you reach for her fingers, tracing them to your wrist until she can feel your pulse. You hold her free hand and trace her wrist until return, before feeling her own pulse.

Wordlessly, she crashes into you again. Though she is calm, her body is still wracking with tremors.

“I don’t want to wake up. Don’t want to go back.” She babbles over and over. You still don’t understand, but you figure that the last thing she needs is to be alone.

“I’m not leaving. Ever.”

Not again, you wish you could say.

You repeat soothing words until her tremors die down. You don’t know how long it has been since she’s been in your arms, but you still repeat the same words until she’s completely slack. Much to her protest, you guide her to the couch, promising that you’ll be back.

You go to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. You make sure to come back quickly, not wanting to leave Skye alone.

“Here.” You murmur, placing the glass of water on the table. Before you can ask anything else, she gulps down in one shot.

“Do I need to bring another glass?”

She shakes her head, pulling you down to sit with her.

“No, just…stay. Please.”

“Do you need me to heat up the food?”

“No, later. Right now I want you to stay with me.”

And you do.You stay for as long as she needs. She leans into you, dropping her head to your shoulder. It’s a comfortable silence, not the dreading kind that she’s been used to.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? You know I’ll always be here for you–”

“I know, I know. And that’s the problem. I…look, I haven’t always…I have not been a good friend. Not to you, not to Gemma. I had shit to deal with and instead of being honest I closed up on myself. And now it feels like it’s ruining me, everything. I just feel…rotten. Like I’m decomposing every minute.” She rambles. She doesn’t know why she’s saying this to you. probably because she knows this is the only place she feels safe.

You bring her closer to you, taking her hands in yours and squeezing them, encouraging her to speak.

“I’m lost. So lost. And it feels that at every turn it feels like I’m being pushed back.” her voice wavers, tears threatening to escape her eyes once again. “It’s like there’s this weight pulling me back. And I don’t know what to do. Like…like…like it’s always coming back for me again to pull me back again.”

You rub soothing circles in her back, fighting back your own tears. If you knew how she felt, you would’ve done more than just sent her mother messages. You would’ve reached out sooner, let her know that you’ll never leave her.

But would it make that much of a change?

“Do you think I’m insane?” She mumbles against your shoulder, tracing the patterns of your hands. “And be honest with me.”

Your furrow your brows, taking her hands in yours, lightly squeezing them.

“You’ve been through a lot. For you to be standing here…it takes a lot of effort. You’re stronger than what you think you are, Skye. And you’re valid for feeling this way. You’re not insane, Skye. If anything, I think you’re brave.” You try to keep your voice level, making her eyes meet yours. “And I can’t imagine half of what it’s like to…to go through so many things. But you’re not alone. There are people who care for you.”

For a long minute she questions if you’re just saying that to make her feel better. But by the look on your face, the same serious and gentle expression she’d come across with multiple times, she knows…or hopes, you are being truthful.

She lays in your arms again, her eyes closing as sleep slowly takes her whole. She tries to fight it, not wanting to escape. You notice, and grab a nearby blanket, comfortably draping her in warmth. She can’t fight it back anymore.

“It’s okay. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Don’t let me go.”

“I won’t.”

She falls asleep right after that.

You’re not here anymore. She does not have a real idea of how long she has passed out, but she cannot feel your warmth anymore. Her blanket is still draped around her, she can still feel the ghost of your arms. She doesn’t dare speak out, in fear of this rot to come back at her.

It was the first time since she has had a dream that was not a nightmare. At least she can count herself lucky.

You had to wake up eventually, the rot mocks in its gravely voice.

She pinches the bridge of her nose, passing a hand over her face until it reaches her hair, wanting to rip off her strands. She cries, swearing into the emptiness.

She looks down at the reflection of the glass table, looking down at the glass of water along with a little note

in case you wake up, i’m in the kitchen

She grabs the note, looks at it confusedly. She can’t hear the rot mocking her anymore. Or she can, but it’s…weak? It’s like it’s dying.

Her phone is on the table, there are messages of her mom and Jacob. It must be an illusion.

“Skye, what’s happening are you okay?” You rush in the living room, you don’t even have time to finish your sentence before she crashes into your arms, nearly toppling you over.

“You’re here. You’re here.” She babbles, over and over, not letting you go.

You hug her back, softly whispering soothing words.

“I’m sorry, I just went to get some food for you–”

“No, no, it’s okay. You’re here.”

You don’t question her, letting her speak. Her arms laces your waist, smiling in relief at your warmth, your scent, the feel of you.

She pulls back to meet your eyes, holding your hands to her cheeks. The rot is fighting to make an appearance, yelling, screaming, roaring insults. You wipe her tears with your thumbs, kissing her forehead.

“I’ll always be here.”

Her knees buckle, her entire body feels lightweight. Her mouth feels dry, deprived of water. You’re quick to catch her in your arms, sliding down to the floor.

“You’re here.” She laments, her eyes fluttering close, missing how you reached for your phone to call for help, drowning in silence and emptiness.

#lgbtq #bisexual #wlw #wlw post #wlw blog #wlw angst #smile 2 #skye riley #skye riley x reader #skye riley smile 2 #are they friends or close friends #give my poor girl a break #she was in distress #she needs a hug

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