bette chautin, district two | finished

bette chautin, district two | finished Nov 17, 2013 18:12:01 GMT -5

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Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Nov 17, 2013 18:12:01 GMT -5

b e t t e chautin

district two / seventeen / fc: taylor swift

"Bette! Wait up!" screeches Dustyn, who dashes after you. You do not stop, however. Your short legs carry you farther and farther up the mountain path as your thick and golden curls flow behind you.

"Come on, Dusty! You're so slow!" you screech in return, not even taking the time to stop. (What are you looking for?) You leap over rocks and branches, charging farther and farther into an unknown destination. Dustyn follows you the whole while, the perfect companion.

"You're mad!" he shouts, and you find yourself tilting your head back and laughing towards the sky. Where was his sense of adventure? (What are you looking for?) You keep running, farther and farther and farther until you're almost to the peak. Your lungs squeeze out and drag in oxygen as fast as they can, and not even Dustyn's pants can take away the sound of freedom that rings in your ears.

"Bette! Please!" Dustyn shouts one last time, and you finally turn and run backwards as you laugh, so close to the top. (What are you looking for?)

"Dusty, will you grow a backbone? We're almost ther-," you feel your feet get snagged on a rock, due to your obliviousness and diverted attention, and you fall backwards. Your head pounds onto the ground and stars fall from the sky and get lodged onto your vision. You were so close.

(What were you looking for?)

(Adventure.)

___________________

"I'd hate to see a day we're all of us aren't together," you start, talking to your group of friends. "We'd fall apart, wouldn't we?" You laugh, and so do Dustyn and Roxanne and Holden. You lean back in your chair, tossing an apple from one hand to another as the buzzing voices of fellow students and peers sneak their way into your ears. You glance at Roxanne, smirking.

"The school's dance is tonight. Who are you taking, Roxy?" you ask, trying to make quick conversation before lunch is over and each of you are forced to return to your various classes. Roxy laughs, her freckled face scrunching up.

"I decided to take Dustyn, actually. Better to take someone you're friends with then go with someone that may turn out to be an awful option." You feel a pang in your chest, perhaps jealousy or hurt, and bite your lip. You shake your head, however, too stubborn to admit to the disappointment of your idiocy. You could have just asked him.

(Why didn't you ask him?)

"Where's your sense of adventure, Roxy?" you go on, ditching your blanket of emotions for just one: pride. "I'd never go with Dusty to a dance," you tease, stupidly. "I know him too well, and that's no fun." Roxy and Holden laugh, but Dustyn stabs at his food with a downwards glance. You clear your throat.

"Holden? Are you going with anyone? I've forgotten to ask around and, I mean, we can go together? If you want?" You're so hypocritical, but it's your flaw. When things don't go your way, you spiral into a mass of confusion. Holden beams, and Dustyn keeps staring down.

(Why didn't you ask him?)

"I'd love to, Bette! I can promise you a heap of adventure," he states, attempting a joke. You smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as Dustyn gets his tray and stands up.

"I'm gonna head out. See you tonight, Roxy and Holden." He leaves, and he doesn't even say goodbye to you. You look down now, as Roxy and Holden talk with each other. You're such a stupid, reckless thing. You close your eyes, thinking of new adventures between you and Dustyn.

(Why didn't you ask him?)

The bell rings, and Holden taps your shoulder. "I'll see you tonight. Don't worry about Dustyn, he's probably just jealous that I got you and he got that living mass of freckles over there." Roxy squeals in protest of his comment, Holden laughs, and you only nod.

(You could have asked him.)

(But then where would my sense of adventure be?)

"You're whining as much as you were that night you didn't ask Dustyn to that dance, Bette," Candee states, pushing you into the bathroom of your home and throwing a dress at you. "I can't help if you don't have a date, it's just a birthday party! Yours, of all people! I planned really hard on this, and you need to stop whining."

"What?" you ask, stumbling over your words. "All I said was that I'd like to at least walk down the stairs with a guy on my arm, why are you bringing Dustyn into this? I didn't invite Dustyn to the dance all those years ago because I wasn't interested!" You square your jaw, but your insides shake. Perhaps you were a compulsive liar; perhaps there's a reason as to why you make excuses for everything.

"Stop lying, Bette! You cried for hours, thinking you blew up your friendship with him after you kissed Holden. You adore that boy, Bette. And trust me, there's probably plenty of boys down those stairs who would break their necks just to be your escort. This is your day, and this is your moment. Be independent!" Candee's right, as she normally is. You look down, blinking and shaking your head.

"You're right, I'm being stupid. This is my day, as you said. I don't a man to please a crowd," you tease, punching your sister's shoulder. "I'll be down in a minute, I'm excited to see what you put together." You hug Candee, inhaling gently.

"You had better be, I worked my ass off," she says, and you both laugh. She closes the bathroom door, shouting a "Hurry up, okay?", before storming out of the room. You dress yourself up, never shoveling out the thought of Dustyn. You were truly thinking of him when you made the comment of an escort to Candee, who would probably rather scratch your eyes out before letting you dabble your fingers in her creation. Still, Candee always sees through you. She knows how you feel about Dustyn; she knows about the butterflies that flap against your stomach and get lodged in your throat, their wings too big to let them fly free.

(You should just be true to your feelings.)

You comb your hair, applying makeup where it is needed, and smooth out any wrinkles upon your dress. It's your seventeenth birthday party, and so many things have changed.

Holden moved quite some time ago, taking the accidental kiss you gave him during your younger years as a souvenir.

Roxy's grown away from you and Dustyn, making a name for herself on her own. Sometimes the three of you get together every now and again, but it never feels the same.

It's just you and Dustyn now, and though you have aged, that awkward romantic tension still lingers around you both. Sometimes you decide to act on it, but before you admit to your heart, you always turn and run; run and run and run, straight up a path of no return.

(You should just be true to your feelings.)

You exit the restroom, inhaling and adjusting things upon yourself that need no adjusting. You enter the hallway, making your way to the staircase that will lead you to a celebration in your honor. Your eyes only wish to see Dustyn, and when you make it to the stairs, you stumble.

Maybe it's the crowd of people below you, all smiling and clapping.

Maybe it's the balloons and streamers that Candee had hung up with care, brilliantly colored and styled.

Maybe it's the massive cake where Candee stands, waving at you with a smirking face.

But you know why you stumble; you know why you fall. Dustyn stands there in a tuxedo of fine fabric, adjusting himself just as you were. He looks up, and when your eyes connect, all of the colors in the room suddenly get brighter.

You inhale; you inhale in all of the joy and beauty of the moment. You're not a little girl anymore, and though you still enjoy adventures and playing games like a silly, reckless thing, something in you changes; something in you wishes to be true to itself.

(Your name is Bette Chautin, and you're ready to be true to your feelings.)

-table: chelsey
-plot(s): zoe (chautin)/ella (de avila)
-oDair