#i believe in besties ginny and neil supremacy

[exilesblack]

hc that ginny danburry went on to become a renowned actress years after midsummer. but she could still remember the evenings when her father and mother's taunts about her dreams haunted her as she uttered her lines on stage. she could still remember donning a grin once she entered the curtains but hiding in the bathrooms and stifling sobs because she was starting to believe that she wasn't good enough. how the hell do i expect to make it? i'm nothing compared to every successful actor. i'm terrible at relaying the right feelings into the right lines and oh my god i don't deserve this role i'll just end up botching it on opening night-

"gin?"

neil. ginny heard the unmistakable comfort of a smile blanketing his voice. she felt her face and found that her skin had gone sticky from tears. ginny danburry will never let anyone see her cry. women were already considered as weak as worms by society - but god forbid, a crying woman? she swallowed thickly, and managed to reply, "oh. i'm almost done, wait."

the faucet switched on and its noises sort of muffled her sniffling and she rubbed her eyes as much as she could without painting it red and worrying. in a matter of seconds, she floundered out of the bathroom and marched towards god knows where in the dark backstage of the theater, doing her best to ignore her friend's concerned glance.

running away, that's all you know, her father said. you're not brave enough to face your faults, and you expect to act? be known to everyone in the world?

soon, tiredness overcame her legs and she dropped herself on one of the large props. what play was it for? she did not know. it didn't look like a set piece for midsummer, so no one would probably be looking for it. she considered the area safe. ginny had only let out a sigh filled with nothing but confused anguish. feelings overlapped. fear. dejection. doubt. comfort. anger. she wondered what the first mortals have done to receive this kind of punishment by the gods. the poor kids were penalized with a devil spawn called feeling.

the young danburry's head snapped up when footsteps made its way to her space. shit, shit, shit. she was about to hide beneath the props when the shadowy figure of neil perry presented itself, "hi. thought you went here." this was followed by a brief chuckle. lightening the mood - a signature of neil.

she knew the boy wouldn't sit without her permission, and she didn't want to tire him out. patting the space beside her, she shuffled aside and dropped her head into her hands, ashamed. she mirrored his laugh, and looked up a bit, "silly boy, why'd you follow me here? shouldn't you be ... i don't know, taking a break?"

"what? you think i wouldn't spend my break with one of my best friends?"

"oh, stop flattering me. i still won't help you write that poem you want." the attempted banter lifted her spirits enough that she could look at her best friend.

"dear me, whatever shall i do?" he dramatically clasped his chest while the sparkle in his hazel eyes rivaled the darkness of the props room. his ridiculously bad performance of dramatization finally drew out a breath of laughter from the girl. "jokes aside, are you okay? i heard things in the bathroom," he said, his warm, kind demeanor still there.

"neil perry, ever the therapist," she winked, before her smile faltered. "ah... it's just some stuff. i'll be over it soon." you're so weak. you know you won't be "over it", stupid girl.

somehow, neil understood her seclusion and nodded in response before gesturing a may i hug you? grateful adoration began to gnaw at her chest, and she obliged.

don't cry, don't cry, don't cry - but she couldn't help it. she burrowed into neil's sweater as though she were an infant and it was her then caring mother's bosom. hopeless cries slipped from her pink lips and she loathed the sound of it. she was about to retreat, disgusted by how she acted, and expecting neil to throw her aside, his feelings akin with hers - but he surprised her when he drew her in, and started to embrace her arms with gentle comfort. "it's going to be okay, you're one of the strongest people i know, gin. you can do it. i'll always be here for you."

a poet's declarations of love couldn't defeat the platonic solace that emitted from his words.

and they stayed like that, perhaps for a minute more, or hours. all she knew was that neil perry would always be there for her, and she would always tag along with him. even when she stood before his casket, and even when she reveled in the disbelief of outliving her best friend, who had faults but had his promise and love outshining it - he would be there for her. the letters she wrote to her dead best friend would be read by the ghost of his consolation living in her. even when she got her first big movie role, and when she stepped foot on the famed red carpet for the first time, and when she received her first award - he was there, cheering her on like a madman.

every flower and letter she left on his weather-beaten grave couldn't impart her words enough, and she patiently waits for the day she could say them herself to him.

when they're on the stage on some high heaven, maybe.