Sorry I Let Embarrassment Dictate What I Do What I Say My Interests How I Interact With My Interests

sorry i let embarrassment dictate what i do what i say my interests how i interact with my interests how i draw how i interact with other people surrounding my interests and my enjoyment of everything Its because i am a creature built from shame and it will happen again and again and again

☆ The Aftermath ☆

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Pairing: Veronica Sawyer x Heather Chandler (Heathers)

Summary: Veronica and Heather end up in the same diner after the dreadful party

Word count: 2836

Notes: This is my first time publishing any Heathers fanfiction so be nice please 😭 also this is supposed to be Heathers the musical but might take inspo from both so just a warning

“I can't believe this is happening,” Veronica mumbled under her breath. She kicked a rock aggressively before nearly stumbling over. God, how much had she drunk?

In short, the party had been a disaster. Veronica had screwed up. Big time. There was no way she could bounce back after all of that. In fact, just thinking back made her nauseous all over again.

Sighing, she took a deep breath of the crisp, night air, trying to calm down. Despite it being only late September, the night was cold and Veronica wrapped herself in her coat tighter while she mulled over the night in her head. Having to protect Martha from something that was technically Veronica's own fault, Heather turning on her in a bitchy rage, and the stupid, stupid fight she picked. Veronica didn’t know what had happened. Of course Heather could be bitchy, but not usually so harsh - well, not to Veronica. It stung, and hurt Veronica more than she cared to admit. She blocked out the feeling and focused on her anger. After all, anger could be useful, right? Anger is practical. Whatever the mystery feeling (which she refused to believe was disappointment) was, it wasn’t going to be helpful. She kicked another pebble with unneeded force and watched it skitter over the sidewalk, rattling against the near-silent night. It must have been at least 1 am, and she was far away from anywhere in town. Ram lived in one of those fancy, distant houses on the outskirts. It was dark too, much darker than when she’d arrived after getting a lift with…

Heather.

Shit.

Veronica stopped walking and leaned against a tree. She couldn’t exactly walk home - a random, vaguely drunk teenager wandering the streets in the middle of the night was never going to be a good idea - her car was at home, and the idea of going back to beg Heather for a lift made her want to throw up. Again.

Besides, she couldn’t go home like this. If her parents heard her sneak into the house, she was a dead girl walking. The original plan was to go to Heather’s house before, well, shit hit the fan and Veronica managed to toss herself to the bottom of the social hierarchy in seconds.

So what could she do? There was no one she knew in this part of sherwood. Well, there was hardly anyone to know around here. It was practically empty except for a couple of ugly ass houses built in the 50s, the Ram's house, an overnight diner…

An overnight diner. That could actually work. She could spend the whole night - or what was left of it anyways - munching on chilli fries till her mouth tasted better and drinking enough pots of coffee to hopefully drown out her thoughts. No grovelling, no getting yelled at, no getting abducted. Just chilli fries. Yeah, the diner was an option.

Veronica pushed herself upright and walked down the street in a fairly straight line. It was only a short, unsteady walk down a few blocks before she arrived at the diner; then only 9 more minutes before she sat, sipping a black coffee and chewing on what was probably more deep-fryer fat than potato.

The diner was pretty bleak. Excluding her, there was only a few people loitering around: a middle-aged woman in a huge overcoat aggressively biting into a burger, a young-ish guy who looked drunk out of his mind giggling and staring at his cup, a waitress who looked like she wanted to pack it in and head home - not that Veronica blamed her. Pale grey and faded red striped the wall in a feeble attempt to add cheer, but it was still a thousand times better than the party Veronica had left behind.

Sighing, Veronica pulled her purse open and yanked out her diary.

Dear diary,

My life is officially over. I hope they play _ at my funeral. The party was a mess. I left “keggers with kids” only to end up in a nightmare. It was chaos, fucking chaos, and somehow the it only got worse.

Diary, I have ruined my life. At least for high school. Probably longer. All because of the stupid argument with Heather-

Veronica’s pen hovered above the page, her mind drifting elsewhere.

Heather. Ugh.

Everytime Veronica tried to think about Heather Chandler, she couldn’t bring herself to focus on the other girl for too long. Veronica was used to being scared of her. After all, she had known her as only a mythic bitch until the near-end of sophomore year. And she was terrifying now, with the fate of Veronica’s entire social life in her hands, just waiting to be crushed between her manicured fingers. Veronica knew what Heather Chandler was: dangerous, merciless and not someone to screw around with. She didn’t care if she was liked; all she cared about was her position at the top of the food chain.

And she’d fucked Veronica over. Big time.

The funny thing was, Ronnie had been so sure. She’d been convinced there was more to Heather than some rich bitch who was obsessed with red. Heather Chandler was a person, and there’s good in everyone. There had been moments, Veronica was sure; when she’d smiled after winning a match of croquet instead of smirking and simpering like she did at school. Or the small look of disappointment on Heather’s face when she saw her results on a vocab quiz, before it frosted over into a sneer. Even the way her finger tapped subconsciously against the steering wheel of her Porsche whenever ABBA played over the stereo. A few scattered slivers of humanity that you couldn’t capture - there and gone so fast it was hard to be sure if they even happened. Nobody else noticed. But ever since Heather dragged Ronnie to highschool stardom, she had been almost certain that she wasn’t just some cruel Barbie Doll. But, as it turned out, Veronica was wrong. Heather was willing to snap anyone's neck under her stilettos.

Even Veronica’s.

She took another long sip of her coffee, breathing in the earthy smell. The facts were: A) she was dead meat come Monday. B) Heather Chandler almost definitely despised her. C) She had no friends, no options, no chance. D) These fries were delicious.

So Veronica had nothing to do now. Nothing to lose and nowhere to go. How very.

With a quiet grunt of irritation, she placed her pen down and laced her fingers around the mug, drumming her fingers in an inconsistent pattern. If her thoughts didn’t shut up soon, it was going to be a really long night.

– – – –

The loud car horn jerked Veronica awake. The girl startled up, dropping her hand from where it had been pressed into her face. By the time she had recognised the horn, the car’s occupant was already inside the diner.

Veronica heard her voice before she saw her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” To Veronica’s surprise, Heather’s voice was more dumbfounded than angry - although the queen bee’s tone couldn’t have been mistaken for anything other than cold.

With a barely suppressed groan, she turned to face Chandler. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I always come here after going to parties - not that it’s any of your business.” Heather huffed, glancing around. “What’s that?”

Heather’s eyes narrowed when she caught sight of Veronica’s diary.

Shit.

Veronica quickly snatched the notepad and stuffed it away. For god’s sake, why hadn’t she just done that earlier? She couldn’t have predicted Chandler’s arrival but still, how stupid did she have to be to leave it lying-

“Well?” Heather’s voice was a knife through her thoughts.

“It’s nothing. A notepad to… practise in.” Veronica lied quickly. She had always done her best to hide her diary from Heather, for fear of being mocked. Clearly, writing down all your thoughts and feelings wasn’t exactly something to be considered cool by most people - and it definitely wasn’t seen that way by Heather. The other girl arched her eyebrow, but Veronica ploughed on. “Y’know, to perfect my forgeries and stuff-”

“Don’t screw with me, ‘Ronica.” Heather cut her off. “That’s your handwriting. Which is pretty shit, considering you're good at copying other people’s writing.” Heather unfolded her arms to lean against Veronica’s table, her hard expression slowly morphing into a smirk. “Why? Is it a diary or something? Because I don’t think there’s much point keeping embarrassing secrets from me when you're already dead meat.”

Veronica glowered at her, trying to ignore how terrifying the idea of Chandler flipping through her journal was. “I… It’s none of your damn business Heather.” She was pretty proud of how steady she kept her voice.

Heather scoffed, her tone one of mock hurt. “And here I thought we were friends.”

“You literally told me I was history.”

“On Monday. I’d said you’d be history on Monday.”

Veronica sat back on her seat, avoiding Heather’s gaze. With an eye roll so intense Veronica could practically hear it, Chandler sat down across from Veronica and stole a fry from her bowl. Veronica glared at her. Heather scoffed.

“Don’t give me that wounded look. You can spare a fry. Especially when you owe me an entire pair of shoes.”

“I thought I'd paid for those with my dignity.” Veronica muttered.

“Excuse me, Sawyer?”

“Nothing.”

“I thought as much.” There was a moment's pause. Veronica stared down into her mug, regretting every decision she'd ever made that could have led up to this moment. Heather seemed to notice her less-than-joyful expression and sneered.

“God, ‘Ronica. Why can't you just lighten up?”

“It would be easier to lighten up if you hadn't ruined my social life.” Veronica said through gritted teeth, her eye’s remaining angled down.

Heather paused for a moment - hesitated, almost - before replying to her in her usual, snobbish tone. “That's your own fault. Nobody forced you to side with Martha Dumptr-”

“Dunnstock.”

“Someone’s touchy,”

“Someone doesn’t like your stupid, lousy nickname for her friend,” Veronica countered.

Heather sneered. “Still defending little miss Shamu are we?”

Veronica was done. She looked up to face her scoffed back - I mean, she had nothing left to lose, why should she care what Heather thought of her now? “Yeah, actually. I care about Martha, because most people care about others! Most people aren’t mythic bitches who care more about their scrunchies than actual people. Not everyone’s a mythic bitch, Heather!”

A borderline hurt expression cut across Heather’s expression, but it vanished just as soon as it had appeared, replaced by a glare. “You are dead, Sawyer. Monday morning will arrive and you won’t even exist anymore.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the same position I’ve been in for the past few hours; nothing new here.” Veronica let out a mirthless laugh. “Might as well take the cheap shots now while I still can, right?”

The confidence in her voice felt alien. Maybe she knew for sure there was nothing left for her to lose. Or maybe it was just alcohol. Eh, brave, drunk, stupid, what was the difference?

Heather ran a hand through her long, thick blonde hair, her mouth twisted into an arch of distaste. “Hell, sometimes, you make it easy to hate you,”

“Well, I hate you more. That I can promise.”

The corner of Heather’s lips curled upwards in response to Veronica’s words, looking vaguely impressed by the girl’s nerve.

“You chose to fly with eagles,” false sympathy wrapped around Heather’s words. “Now it’s time to face the consequences, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, well, sue me for giving a damn.” Veronica mumbled. The girl across from her sighed incredulously.

“Why’d you do it, Vee? You said you wanted to be one of us, you wanted to be like me-”

“With you, not like you,”

“-So why’d you throw it all away?” Heather’s expression looked the most genuine Veronica had seen it; there was real confusion

“Because I care about Martha!” Veronica said, incredulous as to how she couldn’t get it. “I should have never written that stupid note in the first place. She’s like my sister-”

“I get that she’s your friend and all, but that was excessive.” Heather’s nose wrinkled.

Veronica thought for a moment. “Well, if you were a kid and you ran into a road, your mom would stop you, right?”

There was a pause. “Uh, yeah, okay. I guess.”

Veronica watched her closely. Weird reaction you got there, Heather. “The point is, it’s like that. She’s important to me, and so be it if I lose my spot in some clique for her.”

The red-clad girl paused. She hardly seemed angry now, more… pensive. Heather didn’t speak for a few beats, then: “You didn’t answer my original question.”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Heather clarified, this time her voice was less cold and more… something else. Something softer.

“Oh. Well, you were going to give me a lift back, but we had the fight seeing as you hate me now-” Heather shot her an odd look, “- I thought it would be best to walk back. Turns out I underestimated just how alienated Ram's house is from the rest of town.”

Heather muttered something that sounded like “what kind of high schooler uses the word alienated?” Veronica ignored her and ploughed on.

“There's no way I'm walking back now. It's too late, and my parents do not need to see me like this. So, I found this place and I'm staying over here.”

Heather stared at her. “Staying over here?”

“Yeah.”

“Overnight?”

“Yep.”

“No bed, just sleeping on the diner table?”

“Uh huh.”

“You-” A myriad of feelings flickered over Heather's face too quickly for Veronica to decipher - it took her long enough to process Heather showing that much emotion anyways - before settling into a hardened, haughty look. “No.”

Veronica blinked. “I uh, well- what?”

Not Veronica’s brightest literary moment, she would admit, but she also had alcohol in her system and Heather's firm response was sort of… baffling.

“No.”

After a sec, the Power of Speech returned to Veronica. “So. you want me to just wander around till morning?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “No, you pillowcase. Sleeping in some shitty diner is pathetic and embarrassing and-”

“What does it matter? None will mean anything in a year's time. Hell, it won't mean anything come Monday! “Nobody at Westerberg is going to let you play their reindeer games.” Sound familiar?” Sucking air in through her teeth softly, Veronica chanced a look up at Chandler. Her voice was bitter and she knew it, but there wasn't any point in holding back. “I'm over, Heather. Whether I sleep in a diner or not, I'll still be strung up on a wall on Monday. All. Thanks. To. You.”

Heather huffed, looking sideways. For the first time Veronica had spoken to her - ever - Heather refused to meet her eyes. “Look, I… I’m…”

“You're what?” Veronica cut her off, with no attempt to mask the irritation in her voice. It wouldn't have done anything anyways. Heather must have been really pissed if she was stuttering. She never stuttered; her eloquence cut through the air, sharpened into blades to match her cutting words. If Veronica had riled her up that much, well then-

“If you really don't have anywhere else to go,” Heather spoke through gritted teeth, “you could come… stay over at. My place.”

What!?

“What!?”

“You heard me.” The girl in red replied. Her eyes flicked to Veronica’s and something glazed over them. Something like…

Oh. Oh.

“Holy shit, you're guilty, aren't you? You feel bad!” Veronica nearly laughed.

A sneer rose to Heather’s lips, and she rolled her eyes. “Oh shut up, Vee.”

“No, I won't shut up.” Veronica replied immediately, before lowering her tone slightly. “Is this your way of saying sorry?”

The lack of denial said it all for Veronica. She let out something between a scoff and a breath. “Oh my god-”

“Do you want the offer or not?” Heather cut her off harshly. “If you'd rather be left here alone without any idea of how to get home, then enjoy your little loser fest.”

Veronica thought about it. Could she really consider going over to stay at The Mythic Bitch’s house. That was an awful idea waiting to happen, she would only dog her grave deeper… But still. A warm, clean, safe house sounded incredibly very right now. It was just one night; there was no way she could worsen her current situation in that time. And Heather’s fancy, upper class mansion of a house was the perfect place to crash out.

Veronica was knocked out of her contemplation by the drumming of Heather's fingernails on the aluminium table tops. Heather spoke, “Well?”

Was going along with this the smart thing to do? Probably not. Staying in the same house as the teenage girl who you vomited on earlier the same night didn't really come under smart ideas. And Veronica Sawyer was the sort of person who did the smart thing.

But not tonight.

“Fuck it. I'm in.”

- - - -

Hiiii thank you so much for reading, love you <333 /p I hope you enjoyed reading this and if you could reblog it'd be greatly appreciated (no pressure though! :D) have a great day!