I’ll be meeting you there, because that poof hair, heart shaped cookie got me like damn daddy what that ass do. 😘
Word Count: 1,097
Warnings: Reader is a Mild Sadist, Mentions of Suicide
September had swooped through Crestmont briskly, turning the trees brilliant shades of orange, red, and yellow. The air had become frigid within the span of a few weeks. Enough so to burn your lungs with every breath, and leave you puffing clouds of white smoke when you exhaled.
Things had changed around the small, friendly town. It had grown cold after Hannah and Jeff’s deaths. When the Bakers came out with a set of tapes recorded before their daughter’s suicide, the truth was outed.
Bryce was sentenced to twenty years in prison. Since his first offense was considered a class two felony, and his second involved a minor, he was given no chance of parole.
Tyler had been changed to a correctional school in the city. Many people thought he should of been arrested too, but as it was his first offense, and he hadn’t reached the legal age of adulthood, they sent him off with a warning.
Marcus’s dream colleges all suddenly decided they didn’t want him anymore. As for Courtney, it was revealed she was a lesbian, but the funny thing is; people disliked her for defending Bryce, not because she turned out to like girls.
Shortly after Alex had been pronounced dead, Justin was reported missing. No one had seen him for nearly three days. He had yet to come back, leaving Jessica distraught.
Sheri was sued by the Atkins family for not reporting an accident that resulted in the death of their son. She was going to be paying off that debt for a long time.
Zach and his family moved away to an entirely different state, probably to give him a chance to start over.
Ryan quit writing the school paper, and eventually graduated early to head off to college.
Clay got the best ending of everyone. He was barely seen without Skye Miller anymore. Word had spread that they were in a relationship shortly after he had asked her out on a date to Monet’s. He seemed happy, and Skye certainly was.
You pulled your jacket tighter over your chest, staring down at a pile of leaves that your dad had raked up the day before, now scattered across your shoes. It was dark, save for the blinking porch light strung up around the front door to your house.
Lying on top of that pile, looking dazed, was Tyler Down; the school’s ex-junior photographer. The only reason you knew his name was because of the tapes.
“It’s a little cold to be sneaking around taking pictures, isn’t it?” you asked, the sarcasm evident in your voice.
This wasn’t the first time you had caught him, but it was the first time he saw you catch him. You stared down at him, watching his baby blue eyes dart around nervously. He was looking at everything but you, purposely trying to avoid meeting your gaze.
You knelt down in front of him, clicking your tongue. “Wasn’t it enough when you killed Hannah Baker?”
He gritted his teeth. “She killed herself.”
“Bullshit. You don’t kill yourself for no reason,” you replied. “That’s like saying the world spins just because it wants to. There’s always a reason. You’re one of them.”
He blinked, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t do anything compared to what Bryce did, or Jessica, or Marcus.”
“No, not what they did,” you agreed. “But that doesn’t make you innocent, Tyler. You crept outside of an emotionally devastated girl’s window. Your camera kept her wide awake when the only thing she wanted was to be able to sleep. You took away the last bit of privacy that she had left. You sent a picture of her topless and making out with Courtney to everyone, because you were angry she didn’t want to hang out with her stalker. ”
“Why are you doing this?” he asked quietly.
“For the same reason you do what you do,” you said. “I get pleasure out it.”
He tried to stand, but you pressed a hand against his chest. You reached down to pick up his camera from where it had fallen when he’d tripped. He turned away, attempting to cover his face as you snapped a photo of him.
“Aw, isn’t that just adorable?” you cooed mockingly. “Not used to being on the other end of the camera, are you? A little shy?”
His shoulders began to shake, and it wasn’t long after that you heard him choking on a slew of hard sobs. You threw the camera to the side, reaching to pry his hands off of his face. You brushed away the tears rolling down his cheeks, silently watching him break down.
You sat back, legs crossed, and waited until he had cried himself out. When it was all said and done his eyes were puffy and red, his face was flushed, and he was shivering from the wind.
You peeled off your jacket, throwing it over him.
“I don’t get it,” he whispered. “Do you hate me or not?”
“I don’t hate you. I just like hurting people,” you replied. “Until I start feeling bad, and then I try to help them like that’s going to make it all better.”
He stared, bewildered.
“When my family and I lived in a town called Millborough, there was this kid. He was really smart, all the teachers loved him. I used to make fun him every day after school,” you said quietly, plucking up strands of grass. “I was just having fun. I thought he knew I was joking. Then he threw himself off of a nearby bridge at the end of 9th grade.”
“You got someone killed too?” he asked.
You nodded. “Just like you, I still do what I shouldn’t do. I hurt people because it makes me feel good. You take pictures because it makes you feel good. We’ve got a lot in common.”
He sat up, hugging your jacket tightly around himself. “I guess we do.”
You smiled. “The stalker and the sadist. What a pair.”
He brought his knees to his chest, sighing shakily. “I don’t like what I am.”
“Same here,” you agreed.
His eyes met yours for the briefest of moments. “I forgive you… for what just happened. Not like I didn’t deserve it.”
“Don’t forgive me,” you muttered. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Yes, you do.” He pushed himself a little closer, grabbing your hand. He sniffled, rubbing at his nose, still irritated and crimson from his tears. “I could be your second chance.”
You felt your heart clench, throbbing within the confines of your chest. “Okay. Then I’ll be yours.”
“Then let’s start over.” He held out his free hand for you to shake. “I’m Tyler.”
You took it, giving him a light tug. Your lips collided as you dragged him to the ground. Your mouths moved as perfectly as two puzzle pieces fitting together. He gasped as your teeth found his lower lip, biting down hard enough to break the skin.When you tasted blood, you pulled away, leaving the both of you breathless.
Same place and colour, different car: Alfa Romeo Giulia Sprint GT, I guess an early Seventies 1300 or 1600 Junior with modified grille, not so original rims and just a GT badge. But you can’t deface a 105 series Bertone.
No funny-looking CRX, Italian extravaganca: 1973 Alfa Romeo Junior Zagato. It previewed the shape of cars from the near future up to the 80′s when it was released in November 1969 at Turin in form of the 1300 cc and then upgraded to 1600 cc. 1.510 examples of both models were built, few enough to qualify it as a true collectible, although a large number by Zagato standards.