Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

September: Wake me up, when September ends

(Wake me up when September ends, by Green Day)

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Summer has come and passed

The innocent can never last

Wake me up when September ends

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

“Look at me,” he growled. “Do I look like someone who would need to force someone else? Do I, Penelope?” His tone was condescending and Penelope felt her bottom lip wobble as she looked up at him, tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes.

“Look at you,” he taunted, his eyes dragging agonizingly slow down her body. “Who do you think people are going to believe, hm?” She sniffled loudly, a small hiccup pulled from her lips.

“Me, the captain of the football team who could have any girl he wanted.” He paused again, his head tilting to the side. “Or you. Plump little Penelope Featherington. Quiet, shy, unknown,” he said bluntly and she shivered at the description of herself. 

He took a step closer, his large hand coming around her cheeks and squeezing. 

“Nobody, that's who will believe you, Pen. Not a single person would believe anything you have to say, so I think you should get it through your thick skull, that I fucking own you.” She whimpered as his tall frame bent down and planted a kiss on her lips.

“I am the only one who truly wants you.” She wanted to protest that wasn't true, but fear stopped her.

“Now, are you going to be a good girl, or am I going to have to remind you what will happen if you don’t listen to me?” He squeezed her cheeks once more, before letting go.

“Now, on your knees, I have football practice in twenty minutes.” She sniffled, slowly falling to her knees. How did she find herself in this situation? 

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Like my father's come to pass

Seven years has gone so fast

Wake me up when September ends

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

-A few weeks ago-

For the first time, Penelope felt like things were going her way.

Just a few short weeks ago she moved to a new city. At first she was nervous. Starting at a new school, without either of her elder sisters. It was just her and her mom, starting over.

But she quickly realized things were different. Better.

She found a small group of friends for the first time. Eloise Bridgerton was a year 12 student, just like her. They hit it off immediately. Debating over books like they had known each other their whole lives, and not just a couple of weeks.

Then she met Eloise’s younger sister, Francesca. She was a sweet girl, in year 11, preparing for her GCSEs. Penelope loved her, and wanted to protect her immediately. 

That was how she met Michael Stirling. Upper sixth. A senior, and a certified flirt. 

He was bugging Francesca, hooting and hollering at her. Penelope, hands on her hips, barely five feet stormed over to him.

“Shut your damn mouth and leave that poor girl alone!” Her finger pressed to his chest, his friends saying “Oooooooo,” behind him.

“Why don’t you make me, short stuff,” Michael said, his tone deeper. She had rolled her eyes, but soon she found herself in his lap, in his jeep after football practice. 

She had friends, she was dating a popular boy on the football team. Things were going great.

Only one person seemed to dislike her, she really didn’t understand why. Eloise’s older brother, and Michael’s best friend, Colin Bridgerton. He was the only one that ruffled her feathers. Every move she made he scoffed, had a comment to mutter under his breath. 

When his sisters and best friend weren’t around, he made fun of her. Teased her in a way that felt deeper than silly banter. 

“What’s your problem with me?” she asked one afternoon in the middle of September. They were in the Bridgerton library, working on a project together. Michael had gone to the loo, and Elosie was grabbing snacks. Fran had stayed after school for drama club, and Daphne had a secret boyfriend she was meeting up with.

So it was only the two of them in the quiet room.

“My problem?” His voice raised as he slid into the seat Michael had been in, towering over her, his body way too close to her own.

“My problem is everything about you. You come here and take over my friend group as if you own it. You have Michael wrapped around your finger. All Eloise does is talk about you. What is so special about you, that you're on everyone's mind at all times?” His voice held a hard edge to it and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“It's not my fault I am likable, maybe you should get over yourself, and stop acting like the world revolves around you,” she said harshly, and she saw a spark ignite in his eyes. He opened his mouth, about to retort, only Michael picked that moment to walk back in.

He seemed to be able to feel the tension, and raised an eyebrow as Colin moved back to his original seat.

“Is everything cool?” he asked, looking at her. She shrugged and bit her bottom lip. How could she tell him his best friend was a prick? She didn’t want to make him pick sides or anything, Michael and Colin had been best mates since they were five. She was just going to have to get used to Colin and his arsehole behavior.

Penelope ended up joining the debate team with Eloise, and that’s when she started loosing it. She needed money for the uniform, buses and other things. Her mother didn’t have anything to spare, so she was going to have to figure it out on her own. That’s why they had moved in the first place. 

She tried finding a job at chippies and retail shops but nobody seemed to want to hire a teenager.

So Penelope got a side gig tutoring through the school, the only problem was, it didn’t pay that much. She also had no free time to hang out with her friends or boyfriend. So, she got creative. As she always did. 

Instead of tutoring, she may have cheated, just a little bit. She either did the assignment for the student, or got the test answers for them. It was easy, teachers loved her. She was so soft-spoken, and smart. Teachers trusted her easily. 

So for a couple of weeks, everything was going well. She had more time to hang out with her friends, and she had money for debate club.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Here comes the rain again

Falling from the stars

Drenched in my pain again

Becoming who we are

As my memory rests

But never forgets what I lost

Wake me up when September ends

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

But of course, nothing could stay perfect in Penelope's life. If something could go wrong, it would. Murphy’s Law and all that. After school in late September, she was handing over answers to next week's bio quiz. A sixth-former on the football team shoved a hundred quid in  her hand, before turning and walking away. 

Just as the boy sauntered away, Penelope made eye contact with the last person she wanted to see. Colin fucking Bridgerton. One of his eyebrows was raised, a devious little smirk on his lips. He strolled up to her, and she went back to looking in her locker. She knew she shouldn’t have done dealings at school, she was getting sloppy.

“What was that?” he asked and she pursed her lips before slamming her locker closed, and walking briskly away from him.

“Does Michael know what you're doing, or Eloise?" He asked and she took a thick swallow. None of her friends knew what she was doing. She was sure Michael could give a fuck, he was always getting into mischief. But Eloise, she would be so fucking disappointed.

“You don’t know what you're talking about,” she hissed, turning to him, anger flashing in her eyes.

“Whoa there,” he said, a laugh on his lips. 

“Just fuck off.” Then she was stalking away from him. He didn’t follow her this time.

She thought, no she hoped, he would drop it. Except he didn’t. He started watching her every move.

A day or two later he caught her walking back from the loo, he grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her into a janitor's closet.

“I know what you're doing,” he hissed and she glared up at him.

“Little Miss Perfect Penelope is selling test answers.” He still had that stupid smirk on his lips.

“You don’t know anything,” she said, placing her hands on her hips.

“Oh but I do, and I have evidence.” He held up his phone, a video of her stealing the answer key from the science dept. Her heart sank, she thought she had been so careful.

“Do you know what will happen to you if I show this to the school?” he said with a laugh on his lips.

“Expelled, Penelope, that's what will happen to you. The school has a zero tolerance policy on cheating,” he said and she paled. She knew she could get in trouble, but she never thought that much trouble. Her face heated up in panic. All she could think about was how disappointed her mother would be. She worked so fucking hard, and for what? Penelope to be ungrateful.

“Don’t worry, I won't tell.” Her eyes widened in surprise.

“For a price,” he said slowly and that was more like the Colin she knew.

“What's the price?” she said bitterly, feeling like she didn’t have any other option but to do what he wanted.

“Meet me after football practice in my room.” Then he stepped out of the closet, leaving her alone in her despair.

How could she have been so stupid, so careless? She should have stopped days ago, she had enough funds for the debate team dues. No, she had to be greedy. She loved being able to afford doing whatever the rich Bridgertons and Michael were doing. 

She was so fucking stupid.

She spent the rest of the day beating herself up, and getting rid of all the evidence. Spreading the word to her ‘clients’ that she was done. She had girl-bossed too close to the sun, and she was certainly paying for it.

After school, Penelope went home with Eloise. She was trying to figure out how she was going to sneak away to Colin’s room.

Except Eloise helped her figure it out all on her own. Once they got to her place, Eloise bit her lip awkwardly.

“Hey, Pen, can you cover for me, I am meeting up with Theo,” she said and Penelope giggled into her hand. Theo Sharpe was the cute skater boy that Eloise hung out with, he was only a year above them, but Eloise was really into him.

“Of course,” she said, and Eloise slipped out of her room. So Penelope hung out in Eloise’s room, until she heard Colin get back from practice. She waited just a bit, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being on time.

Finally, stomach rolling in nerves, she wandered to his room. She knocked softly, before opening the door. He was sitting at his desk, his head turning and looking at her sharply.

“You’re late,” he said bitterly and she rolled her eyes. Her face heated up as her eyes rolled over him. His hair was still wet from his after practice shower. Some of it sticking to his forehead. He had changed into a white shirt and grey joggers, that were leaving nothing to the imagination. She could see the outline of his bulge, as he leaned far back in his chair.

“Close the door,” he hissed as she wandered into the room. She clicked it shut softly behind her before standing awkwardly, her hands clasped in front of her.

“So do you want some of the earnings?” she asked and he snorted as he stood up from the desk, taking slow, predatory steps towards her. She backed up into the door, eyes wide as his entire body pressed to her own.

“I don’t need your money.” His hand hovered near her face, and she flinched as his finger tips made contact with her skin. She shuddered as he bent down.

“Okay, then what do you want?” she said stiffly, his mouth coming near her ear.

“I think you can do something much better with that mouth of yours instead of all this talking,” he ground out and she gaped at him in shock, as he pulled away to look into her eyes.

“I want you to suck my cock between your fat fucking lips, Penelope,” he said, his finger now brushing along her parted lips. She shook her head rapidly, pushing him away from her. He stumbled back, a snort coming from his lips.

“Then I’ll tell admin what a lying cheating fucking cunt you are,” he hissed and she gasped.

“No!” She was shaking her head rapidly, fear gripping her heart. Her hands were shaking with nerves as she pleaded with him.

“Then get on your fucking knees where you belong, Featherington, and suck my fucking cock,” he growled and tears came to her eyes. She was still shaking as she watched him look her up and down.

“Don’t act like a prude now, I’ve heard how much of a fucking whore you are from Michael,” he hissed out and she flinched. Her and Michael had done nothing but kiss, and maybe some heavy petting, over clothing. She wondered vaguely what Michael was telling everyone.

“Please, there must be something else I can do?” she asked desperately. He couldn’t tell the school what she had done, but she also couldn’t suck his fucking cock.

“Okay, then get on your hands and knees, and I’ll fuck that fat little arse of yours instead.” His thumb was rubbing his bottom lip as he smirked.

“Oh my god,” she cried out, realizing there wasn’t a way out of this. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them again. Colin was still looking at her, a sick look of pleasure in his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll suck your cock,” she told him and he shrugged.

“Then come over here and beg for it,” he demanded, slipping his joggers down his legs, before sitting back heavily on the edge of his bed. She started walking towards him, but he held up a large hand.

“On your hands and knees,” he demanded and she took another deep breath, this was going to be so humiliating. So, she slowly got down to her hands and knees, and crawled over to him. He had pulled his cock from his boxers and slowly started pumping himself as he watched her. 

Once she was between his legs, she reached for his cock, only for him to swat her hands away.

“I said beg for it, Penelope,” he told her harshly and she cringed. Fuck, he was going to make this as hard for her as possible.

“Please, let me suck your cock.” Her voice was devoid of emotion and he rolled his eyes.

“Like you mean it, Pen, or I’ll just send that video to the headteacher, what do you think?” he taunted and she pouted for one second, before shaking her head. She was going to have to put on a show, or he was never going to leave her alone.

“Colin, please, I need to suck your cock.” Her voice was breathy and she heard his own breath hitch in his throat as he looked down at her.

“Yeah, baby, you want this big cock in your mouth?” he asked and she nodded, looking up at him with big round eyes.

“Please, I want to gag on your hard cock. I want you to fill my mouth with your cum,” she begged and his eyes turned dark, as he fisted the back of her head, pressing his cockhead to her lips.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll give you what you want. I knew you wanted this cock since the second I saw you.” He rubbed the tip back and forth across her mouth, before she slowly parted her lips and darted her tongue out. She was met with the tangy taste of his precum, as her tongue swept across the dripping tip.

“Fuck-” he hissed out, the hand on her head pulling tighter. She kept her eyes locked on his, as he fed the tip of himself into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the head, as she watched his breathing grow labored.

“You’re so fucking good at this, I knew you were a little fucking whore,” he told her angrily as he pressed her further down his cock. She wanted to protest, she had never done this before. She was going off random porn videos she watched for scientific purposes only (that’s what she told herself).

“Cup my balls,” he demanded and she whimpered as more of his cock was shoved down her throat. She took his balls into her hands, and lightly played with them, completely unsure what she was doing. 

“Such a good whore,” he taunted as he hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag. 

“Come on, you can take more,” he demanded as she whimpered, because she couldn’t take more, she really couldn’t. He disregarded her shaking head, as he lifted his hips and thrust towards her face. She gagged again, drool rolling down her chin.

“Such a sloppy girl you are,” he told her, thrusting harder into her face. She gagged again, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. She tried pushing on his legs, but the grip he had on her head left no room for movement.

“Take it like the little whore I know you are.” She cried out as his thrusts grew in intensity, and then he was shooting his load down her throat.

She had tears, cum, and drool streaming down her face, as he pressed her nose to his groin.

“Take it all,” he told her, his words breathless. He kept his cock in her mouth, until she swallowed around the thick head.

“Good girl,” he cooed, before popping her off his cock. She was crying in earnest now, as he lazily wiped some of the tears from her face.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he said with an eye roll, and she sniffled once, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“So are we even now?” she asked, she needed to hear him say that he wasn’t going to expose her.

“Even?” he snorted and she cried out in alarm.

“You’re not even yet, baby, you have a lot more to atone for.” She gasped at him.

“You said if I sucked your cock you wouldn’t tell on me,” she told him, her voice sounding soft and pathetic.

“I never said it was the only thing you would owe me,” he said with a sigh, speaking to her like she was stupid.

“I-I don’t understand,” she said slowly and he stood up, towering over her as she was still on her knees.

“What don’t you get, little whore? You will do as I say, when I say it, or I’ll expose you.” She cried out in distress as she watched his softened cock start to harden once again.

“I fucking own you now.” She could hear the smirk in his voice as she shook her head back and forth. He knelt down to look her in the eyes, grabbing her head and forcing her to look at him.

“Yes, I fucking own you, you do everything I tell you, and maybe I wont expose you for the lying cheating little whore you are.” She whimpered, the pain radiating from his tight grip on her already sore head.

“Got it?” he asked and she nodded slowly, before he pulled tighter.

“I need to hear your fucking words,” he demanded and she opened her mouth, trying to force her voice to work.

“I understand,” she bit out and he finally let go of her.

“Good.”

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

As my memory rests

But never forgets what I lost

Wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and passed

The innocent can never last

Wake me up when September ends

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

And that was how she found herself in this crazy predicament. After just a day she was ready to call it quits, ready to tell everyone she cheated. Only, he had new blackmail on her. That’s how he stood over her, laughing cruelly, showing her a video of her sucking his cock to completion.

“It's not the only one I have,” he said and she cried.

“I'll tell everyone you forced me,” she said quickly and he laughed again, darkly.

“Look at me,” he growled. “Do I look like someone who would need to force someone else? Do I, Penelope?”

How had she let herself get so stuck?

Penelope had never thought herself the sort of girl who would kneel in shadowed corners of the school, heart hammering with the terror of discovery. And yet, here she was, doing exactly what Colin Bridgerton demanded of her.

It had begun with one blow job, a wicked bargain she thought she could contain. But Colin was insatiable. And much, much meaner than she thought. He had recorded the BJ and was now threatening her with the video clip. She knew what would happen if she didn't obey him now. Complete social ruin.

Colin always demanded her to meet him in semi-public places at semi-official hours. He liked the thrill of it, the danger. He asked for her when the library stacks were nearly empty, when the classroom door was closed but not locked, when the janitor’s footsteps echoed too close. Sometimes his demands were whispered, sometimes written in a smirk across his face, but they always came. But lately, they were rapidly escalating towards more and more unhinged. 

“Flash me,” he said casually on the last day of September, as if he were asking her to pass him a pen.

Her head snapped up. “What?”

He leaned against the wall of the empty stairwell, arms folded, grin sharp and infuriating. “Your tits. Show me.”

Her face burned. “Colin… anybody could pass by and see us.”

“Isn’t that lovely,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice a velvet trap. “Then everyone would know what a magnificent pair you possess.” He tilted his head, blue eyes gleaming with amusement. “Come on, darling. Hurry up.”

She huffed, stomach twisting. Every nerve screamed at her to say no, but her hands moved anyway, tugging at the hem of her shirt. Slowly, she lifted it, revealing the plain black bra that cupped her breasts.

He whistled low. “Pretty. But not enough. I said show me your tits, Pen. Not your bra.”

“You're mad!” She started to lower her shirt, cheeks flaming with indignation, but he clicked his tongue and caught her wrists. 

“Ah-ah. Bare tits, Pen.” His voice dropped, smooth and coaxing. “Come on, slut. I deserve at least this much after keeping your little secret for so long.”

Her breath caught. For one long, shaky moment, she considered refusing. But then she saw it…the glint of satisfaction in his eyes, the promise of consequences if she dared defy him. With trembling fingers, she slid the straps down and unclasped the bra, baring herself to him.

Colin’s smirk softened into something more dangerous, his gaze hungry as it roamed over her. When he finally reached out to cup her breast in one large hand, she nearly gasped at the warmth of his palm.

“Perfect,” he murmured, thumb brushing across her nipple until it peaked under his touch. She hated that her treacherous body reacted to his toying like this. But Colin seemed to enjoy it. “Look, even your body wants it. You’re mine, Pen. You agree, don’t you?”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She only nodded, heart pounding, shame and something darker, hotter, thrumming through her veins.

And when he bent down to kiss her roughly, she hated how fiercely she kissed him back.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Chapter Text

October: I hope we never see October

(October, by Alessia Cara)

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

5 a.m. the moon went to sleep

Your friends speaking in tongues in the back seat

Just one little glance, I know what you mean somehow

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Every time Penelope told herself she had reached her limit, Colin found a way to push her further.

The stairwell incident should have been the end of it. The shame had clung to her like smoke, lingering even as she walked into class and sat between Michael and Eloise, pretending she was whole. But Colin thrived on that shame. Her reddened cheeks, her trembling hands, he wore it like a trophy.

It became a pattern.

During the first week of October, he slid a note into her bag: Meet me in the copy room. She went, pulse hammering, and he locked the door before guiding her hand to his cock, whispering instructions against her ear about how to wank him off properly. She was deeply disturbed by the way it turned her on, how much her knees shook, how soaked her panties had been by the time he came in her hand.

A week later, in the quad, he angled his phone just so and muttered, “Send me a picture later. Nude, Pen. Full nude. Don’t make me repeat myself.” She did, her stomach in knots the whole time, deleting the evidence the second it was sent but knowing he’d saved it.

And then there were the crowded places. They were his favourite to torment her. The canteen under the lunch table, he'd put his hand on her knee, when someone could duck their head below and catch them any moment. The empty back row of a classroom, where he played footsie with her. Even at the bus stop, when dusk had fallen and the streetlights buzzed overhead, his fingers slipped under her skirt while his voice stayed calm, teasing, as if they were only talking about homework.

Penelope hated him for it. Hated herself more. Because as much as she burned with humiliation, part of her thrilled at it too.

And then there was Michael.

The thought of him was like cold water down her spine. Smiling, oblivious Michael, holding her hand in public while she flushed with secrets he’d never be allowed to know. She tried to let him touch her, tried to summon affection, but it always felt borrowed, forced. And Colin knew it. He mocked her for it in private, low and sharp. “My slut, letting him parade you around while you kneel for me after class.”

Each word cut her deeper, made her long for a release she couldn’t name.

But Colin kept tormenting her, kept bossing her around, giving orders.

And she obeyed. Because she had no choice.

Because he had her cornered. Because he was relentless.

Afterwards, he would kiss her fiercely, so intensely she could hardly breathe, like he was rewarding her and punishing her at the same time. She hated how her knees wobbled, how the taste of his cum lingered even when she scrubbed her lips raw after getting him off by her mouth.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

We're stealing moments, moments away

Why are we just not as good in the day?

Is it too soon to know if it's too soon to say for now?

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

This went on for over a week.

In the daylight, she was Michael’s girlfriend. Sweet, pure Penelope, keeping up the pretence. But in the dark, or worse, the half-shadows where anyone could see, she was Colin’s whore, his dirty little secret.

It was exhausting, this double life, this constant gnaw of guilt and shame. Every time Michael held her hand, she heard Colin’s voice in her head calling her a slut. Every time Colin’s hands closed around her hips, she wondered how she could ever look Eloise in the eye again.

The breaking point came on a Saturday night during the third week of October. They were at the cinema, and had all gone together. Colin, Eloise, Penelope, Michael, a couple of Colin’s teammates with their girlfriends, and Genevieve Delacroix, El and Pen's classmate.

Penelope had barely sat down when Colin claimed the seat beside her, leaving Michael to take her other side. The darkness felt like a trap.

She knew full well that Colin wouldn’t just watch the film. She was fully expecting him to try to sneak a hand under her skirt. But it wasn't Colin, but Michael, who surprised her by his horniness that night by trying to feel her up in the dark of the theatre. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Colin tense, rigid, his gaze flickering not at the screen but at Michael’s hand that had encircled her waist and running up and down her sides, occasionally giving a squeeze to her love handles.

Twice Michael tried to slip his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, and twice she shifted politely away, murmuring excuses, cheeks burning with discomfort, as she told him only half-jokingly to behave, that they were surrounded by friends. Michael grumbled something about her being a prude, pointing at his two teammates and their respective girlfriends who had been busy snogging by that point. But Penelope did not reply. She just sat there motionless, not even daring to breathe loudly.

Colin didn’t say a word. Not then. He didn’t even look at her during the walk home. But she knew that he would have a lot to say later, when his sister wasn't around. So she used Eloise as a buffer during their way home, and quickly dashed towards her house once they were in their neighborhood, much to Colin's displeasure.

It didn't matter though. The next day, when he cornered her behind the school building, his fury spilled out.

“You’re going to end it with him, that's it,” he hissed, trapping her between him and the wall, his hand braced above her head, eyes blazing. “How dare he touch you like that? You belong to me, Penelope. Not him. Me. Break up with him or I will send him the clip.”

The words cut deep. She wanted to argue, wanted to remind him she had never truly been his, only coerced, only trapped. But the truth was she was tired. Tired of Michael’s oblivious smiles. Tired of Colin’s accusations. Tired of being split in two. Tired of pretending.

So she nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it. It isn’t fair to him anyway.”

For once, Colin didn’t smirk. He didn’t gloat. He kissed her instead, fiercely, hungrily, as though he had been starving for her and now could finally feed. Penelope let him. Because some part of her–dark, guilty, aching–wanted him to.

Maybe, she thought, this would shut him up. Maybe if she ended things with Michael, Colin would stop calling her names, stop making her feel like the world’s dirtiest secret.

Maybe he'd finally see her as a girl worth dating instead of secretly hooking up with her behind his best mate's back.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

The bubble we're living in

Setting me free again

I don't know what it is about this

… I'm gonna miss it when it's over

Yeah, yeah

I hope we never see October

Yeah, yeah

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

The next afternoon she found Michael by the benches near the sports field, where he and his mates always lingered after practice. He smiled when he saw her, and the guilt in her stomach twisted into something sharper.

“Hey, Penny,” he said, throwing an arm around her shoulders like he always did. “You alright? You’ve been a bit quiet lately.”

She stepped back, shrugging off his arm. Her palms were clammy, her throat dry. “Michael… we need to talk.”

The phrase was so predictable she saw the flash of recognition in his eyes at once. His smile faltered. “Talk?”

“Yes.” She drew in a breath, steadying herself as she dragged him aside and then spoke. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

He blinked, confusion furrowing his brow. “What? Why?”

“Because…” Her voice cracked, but she pushed on. “Because it isn’t fun anymore. For you, or for me. I’ve been trying, Michael, I really have, but my heart’s not in it the way it should be.”

His frown deepened. “Is this about the movie night? I—look, I didn’t mean to push you. I thought—”

“It’s not just the movie night,” she cut in quickly, before the guilt could crush her completely. “It’s everything. I’m not the girl you think I am, Michael. You deserve someone who wants what you want.”

Silence stretched between them. Around them, laughter from the other students drifted across the field, but Penelope only heard the thud of her own pulse.

Finally, Michael sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “So that’s it, then? Just… done with me?”

She nodded.

“Alright,” he said softly, almost resigned. “I guess I should’ve seen this coming. You never really looked at me the way you were supposed to.” He forced a crooked smile that made her want to weep. “Goodbye, Penelope.”

“Goodbye,” she whispered, and turned before he could see the tears prickling her eyes. Her chest ached, but not with heartbreak. With the realisation that it was really so easy for Michael to let her go. No tears, no arguments back-and-forth. Just a simple goodbye. But in a way, that was good, wasn't it? Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised, they had only been together just over a month. Relief flooded her, mingled with dread of what came next in the form of Colin.

As she walked away, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She didn’t have to check to know who it was. Colin.

She ignored every call, every message. Her phone buzzed endlessly against her thigh as she trudged home, head down, autumn rain clouds gathering heavy above. She wanted silence, space and time to breathe after what she’d done.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

I can't feel my hands, you laugh like you do

It happened like that according to you

It's only a month, but doesn't feel new somehow

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

By the time she reached her front gate, the sky cracked open. Sheets of rain drenched her uniform in seconds. She fumbled with her keys, teeth chattering, when an umbrella suddenly appeared over her head.

She froze.

Colin stood beside her, as if conjured from the storm itself, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he tilted the umbrella to shield her and steered her towards the door.

Her hands shook as she unlocked it. She slipped inside quickly, intending to bolt it behind her, but he was faster, bumping his shoulder against the door, following her in.

“Colin,” she whispered, exasperated. “You can’t just—”

He shut the umbrella, water pooling at his feet, and looked at her with that infuriating certainty. “I can.”

She swallowed, too tired to fight. “Fine. Wait downstairs. I need to change.”

She fled up the stairs, heart racing, peeling the damp fabric from her skin as soon as her bedroom door shut. But before she could wriggle free of her school shirt, the door creaked open again.

She gasped. “Colin!”

He leaned lazily against the frame, gaze sweeping over her half-undressed body. “Go on,” he drawled. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Heat scorched her cheeks. She darted behind the closet door, hands trembling as she yanked on a worn T-shirt and shorts, forcing herself to breathe. Only when she was fully covered did she step back into the room.

Colin was sprawled across her bed, utterly at ease, his slightly damp shirt clinging to his chest. He looked up at her, and for once his grin wasn’t mocking but blinding, a thousand watts of triumph.

“Did you break up with him?” he asked softly.

Penelope nodded.

The smile widened. Before she could blink, he had reached out, grabbed her wrist, and tugged her onto the bed beside him. She landed against his chest with a startled gasp, and his mouth was on hers immediately.

His kiss was different this time. Less taunting, more desperate. It seared through her until all she could do was clutch at his shoulders, letting him pull her deeper into the storm of him.

For the first time, Penelope realised he wasn’t only doing it to torment her. Instead, he was celebrating her breakup with his mouth.

She made a sound of protest, muffled against him, but he swallowed it like it only spurred him on. His hand cupped the back of her neck, the other sliding around her waist, dragging her closer until she was half draped across his chest.

“Colin,” she gasped when he finally let her breathe. “You shouldn’t… we shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t?” he echoed, his grin dangerous, breath hot against her cheek. “Funny, you don’t sound like you mean it, Penny.”

Her heart thudded painfully. “I do,” she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction. She wanted to push him away. She didn’t move.

His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her T-shirt, skimming the bare skin of her hip. Her whole body jolted at the touch. Heat curled low in her belly, treacherous, unstoppable.

“Liar,” he murmured, lips brushing the corner of her mouth before seizing her again in a kiss that stole what little breath she had left. His tongue coaxed hers, relentless, and her treacherous body answered, arching into him, craving more even as her mind screamed no.

She tore her mouth free with a gasp. “Colin, stop—”

“Stop?” He chuckled darkly, teeth grazing her throat as he pressed a line of kisses down to her collarbone. “You’re trembling for me. You don’t want me to stop.”

Her hands gripped his shoulders, not pushing, not pulling, caught in the middle. His mouth closed over the sensitive hollow of her neck and she bit back a moan, shoving her face into his damp shirt as if she could hide the sound.

“I hate you,” she whispered, but the words came out broken, breathless, nothing like the conviction she wanted.

“No, you don’t.” His lips returned to hers, softer now, coaxing rather than taking. His hand splayed across her stomach, fingers warm and steady. “You can say it all you want, but your body doesn’t lie, Pen. Not to me.”

And God help her, he was right. Every nerve in her skin reached for him, every inch of her body betraying her denials. She wanted this. She wanted him.

Only, she was scared. Every nerve ending in her body revolted against her mind which kept telling her how wrong this was. He was her bully. She shouldn't be enjoying this.

“My mom will be home soon,” she said as he pressed heated kisses to her throat.

“Then we better hurry,” he mumbled into the curve where her shoulder and neck met, biting down once before continuing on further.

The slow way his large hand slipped up her shirt, deliberate. She already felt overstimulated as his palm circled her breast, squeezing. While his mouth pressed kisses all along her chest, wherever her flesh was exposed.

“You smell so good,” he murmured as two of his fingers pinched her nipples, causing a small moan to leave her lips.

“Fuck.” His mouth was back on her lips, eating up the sounds she was making.

Suddenly he pulled away from her, causing her to blink at him with confusion.

“Sit up,” he demanded, barely waiting for her to react, before he was helping tug her shirt over her head.

“Colin, no!” she protested weakly and tried to cover herself up, hiding from his intense gaze. But he didn’t give her a moment, as his mouth was immediately latched onto her breast.

“Ow, slow down,” she begged as he eagerly rolled her nipples between his teeth. Her hand came up into his hair, trying to steady him.

He was going too fast, this was all moving much too fast. Her body was shaking, trembling, aching for something. And she didn't know whether they would be able to stop if they continued down this path.

Colin, though, had no such qualms. It seemed he had decided to go all the way this time.

“How wet are you?” he asked, rolling his head to rest on the top of her breasts, looking at her almost devilishly.

“I-I’m not really—” She was going to tell him she wasn’t, but he halted her words.

“Don’t lie, Penelope, we both know you are utterly drenched for me by now." He then turned his head, and started leaving open mouth kisses along her stomach.

She wished he was wrong, but she knew how he would find her. Slippery, wet, aching for him.

He shimmied the shorts down her legs, taking her panties with them.

She knew he had seen this before, with those pictures he had made her send him. Only this was so very raw and vulnerable, being spread open for him for the first time.

She gasped as he parted her thighs, his tall body slotting between them.

“Colin,” she gasped out as he parted her pussy lips with two of his fingers, before using his other hand to slide them through the mess.

“So wet, Pen. You're telling me to stop, but your body is clearly telling me to go on,” he said a bit condescendingly. She whimpered as he lowered his head and licked her from her slit to her clit.

She shuddered at the intense feeling, her hands coming to fist her sheets. Her head rocking from side to side as he opened his mouth wide, taking her clit into his mouth.

He sucked her clit between his teeth, nibbling lightly before pressing one of his thick fingers into her.

She gasped at the stretch, eyes popping open wide.

“You love it then?” He chuckled in delight at her reaction. “You little slut! You say you don't like it but I know how much you love it when I make you wet.” He breathed into her pussy, before going back to his work.

She really didn’t want this to feel good, but it did. His words, his mouth, everything was speed racing her to that finish line.

When he pushed a second finger into her, stretching her, she sucked in a deep breath.

“Yes, yes,” she said softly, not really wanting him to hear it, but it came tumbling out of her mouth regardless.

“Ahh, there we go,” he said a moment later, as her mouth opened in a silent scream. She refused to give him the satisfaction of her voice, so she forced herself to stay quiet as she rode out the most intense orgasm of her life.

“Such a good slut you are for me,” he said, pulling his fingers from within her. She was still pulsing as he tapped her clit three times before he was sitting up on his knees.

She had an almost out-of-body experience as he pulled his shirt over his head. The sound of his belt buckle unbuckling had her shaking. She noted absentmindedly how good, sturdy his chest, his abs looked, all muscles and veins, when he dropped his pants and his cock jumped out.

“Wait,” she whispered, this was going so fast. Was he going to put that inside her?

“Wait? It’s my turn, baby. Would you really leave me with blue balls?” he asked, as his body came down around her, boxing her in.

His presence was so overwhelming, so powerful that she felt like she couldn’t breath as he hovered over her.

“Be good for me,” he whispered, his mouth coming to claim her lips again as he nudged her legs further apart.

“Such a good girl,” he told her as the thick head of his cock pressed to her slippery center.

“Colin, no… we cannot have sex now! You're not even wearing a condom!” She protested desperately but undeterred, he pressed on, choosing to shut her up with a slow, deep kiss.

She made a small choked noise into his mouth as his cock slowly breached her. To her surprise, he didn't rush it, trying to ease her into it to make it less painful.

“My cock will be the only cock this pussy ever takes, okay?” he said as he parted from the kiss after biting her bottom lip with his teeth. She sniffled slightly as he pressed in more.

Once he was fully inside of her, he pressed his forehead to hers, looking down into her eyes. His were so startlingly blue at that moment, like a storm.

“Baby,” he said, almost like he couldn’t believe it, as he pulled from within her, only to press right back in.

“Yes,” he cried out as she whimpered, he pressed kisses to her mouth, her nose, her cheek as he started picking up the pace.

“My good, sweet girl.” His words were kinder, different. She was unsure where this sudden bout of tenderness came from and what it meant as he continued to slam into her body. The sensation was driving her wild, and a strange sensation started building in her tummy as he increased the pace of his thrusts. It felt good in a very very bad way and Penelope knew in the back of her mind that it was incredibly stupid of her to let him have her like this, here, now without using any protection.

Unsafe sex! Teenage pregnancy! All those cautionary tales jumped up in front of her eyes even as her body betrayed her with a small quivering orgasm.

“I am so close.” His eyes screwed up, as he too seemed about to reach his peak at the same time.

“Wait, Colin,” she said, grabbing his shoulders, trying to push him out of her. “Don’t come inside of me, I am not on birth control!” she said breathlessly. But she was no match in terms of his physical strength and moments after he was grunting into her neck as his cock began pulsing over and over into her pussy. She gasped at the feeling.

“Colin!” she said in shock, as he slumped over her body. He didn’t say anything, didn't even apologize as he pulled out of her, and rolled her onto her side. He just cuddled her, silently.

She could hear the clock ticking in the hallway, her mind stuck on the fact that he had just come inside of her.

She wasn’t ready to be a mother, she was just a teenager. Her heart was beating so hard. She could feel Colin breathing behind her, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

They both heard the sound of the front door opening, as Penelope’s mother got home.

“Penelope, I am home!” Portia called out into the silent house. Penelope took a thick swallow, as the quiet bubble they had been in popped.

“I am in my room Mom, I’ll be down to start dinner in a bit!” she shouted, she could feel Colin gathering his clothing behind her. She slowly pulled her discarded shirt over her head before risking a glance at him.

He was shoving his feet into his shoes, before he finally looked at her.

“Here.” He tossed a bundle of money at her. Her eyes darted down to the bills, utterly confused.

“What's this for?” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“I don't like the idea of condoms. And I won’t pull out, so you have to figure it out. Buy a pill or something, maybe…” he said lamely, shrugging his shoulders. Her mouth was parted in shock as he went to her bedroom door.

She watched him slowly crack it open, looking around for her mother, before he slowly slipped out.

Tears came to her eyes, as she heard him creaking down the stairs, before the front door opened and closed again.

Once he was gone, she let the tears flow freely, as she gingerly picked up the money.

She couldn’t help, in that moment, to feel like a whore. Truly. Was that how he saw her?

A small sob left her lips, as she wrapped her arms around herself.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Chapter Text

November: In the cold November rain

(November rain, by Guns N’ Roses)

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

When I look into your eyes

I can see a love restrained

But, darlin', when I hold you

Don't you know I feel the same?

Yeah

… Nothin' lasts forever

And we both know hearts can change

And it's hard to hold a candle

In the cold November rain

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

It rained every day the first week of November. Penelope was standing at the pharmacist, again, for another plan B pill.

Colin hadn’t been lying, they had had sex several times since that first time, and he had come inside her each and every time. She knew she was going to have to do something about it, the plan B pill couldn’t be her form of birth control.

Later that night, her mother was at the sink washing dishes when Penelope found the courage to broach her on the subject.

“Mum?” she asked softly, her mother pausing for a moment, before continuing.

“Yes, dear,” she responded and Penelope started wringing her hands in front of her.

“I wanted to ask about getting on birth control.” The words popped out of her mouth and Penelope cringed, she had not practised saying it like that.

“Whatever for?” Her mother had stopped the faucet and turned to look at her.

“It's not because…” she cringed again, hating that she was lying to her mother, “I’m sexually active, it's to regulate my periods. I’ve read online that it can help,” she said slowly as her mother looked her up and down.

“You never told me your periods were so bad,” her mother finally settled on and Penelope frowned.

“I am sorry,” she whispered and mother sighed before turning back around.

“I’ll make you an appointment to get on the pill, alright?” Penelope sighed in relief.

It was only short-lived, as an hour later her phone was ringing. It was him.

She thought about not picking up, but knew the threats she would receive if she didn’t. So on the last ring, she answered, speaking softly.

“Hello,” she said and he seemed frustrated already.

“Why did you let it ring so long?” he growled and she sucked in a breath. “Nevermind, just come down and let me in, it's freezing out here.” She gasped as he clicked the phone off. She wanted to ignore him, leave him out there shivering in the cold.

But she couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t. She was stuck in some weird sick relationship with him. They were tied in so many ways, and she couldn’t imagine how to detangle herself from this. From him.

Her mother was in her bedroom, Penelope could hear the TV as she crept down the stairs.

She slowly unlocked and opened her front door, seeing him standing there, his hair wet from the rain despite the umbrella he was holding.

In his other hand, he held a bouquet of flowers, thrusting them into her hands as soon as he passed the threshold.

“These are for you,” he said almost awkwardly. He was never usually awkward with her, always in control. But he seemed like he was waiting for some sort of response from her so she forced herself to smile lightly.

“Thank you,” she said in a soft voice and she could see his cheeks heat up in embarrassment before shrugging.

“It was nothing,” he said before following her into the kitchen. She moved slowly, to keep quiet as she found a vase to put them in.

She took her time trimming the stems, and placing them to her liking in the vase. Thought she could prolong whatever was going to happen with him. Once she could no longer stall, she took the vase and led Colin upstairs.

“Penelope,” her mother called from her bedroom. Both of them froze, Colin’s hand plastered to her back.

“Yes, Mum?” she asked, nervous energy rolling through her stomach. If her mother caught her sneaking a boy into the house she would be in deep trouble.

“What are you doing?” she called back, her voice questioning.

“Just got some water, going to bed now.”

“Alright, goodnight, dear,” her mum called back and Penelope was quick to move again, stuffing Colin into her room before shutting the door with a snap.

“That was a close one,” he whispered, as he started tugging off his shoes. She nodded in agreement as she went over to her nightstand, moving things around to place the vase down.

When she turned back around, Colin was stripped down to his boxers. She felt her face turn pink, as she quickly averted her eyes.

He was so lean, and toned and why did it give her butterflies every time she saw him undressed?

“My sweet, innocent girl,” he said, and she was unsure if he was saying it truthfully or sarcastically, as he walked over to her. Tilting her head, making her look up at him.

“Mhm, you smell so good,” he said, bending down and letting his nose graze along her neck.

Before long his mouth was on hers, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing, as he worked her shirt over her head.

She didn’t know when he had taken his boxers off, but he was slowly taking off her bottoms.

Then he was crawling under her covers, pulling her with him.

They kissed for a while, he didn’t seem to be in a rush. Then she found herself cuddling with him. Her back to his chest, one of his hands cupping her breast, the other one at her waist.

When he slowly entered her, there was no pain. She was so wet, he was able to slide in easily. He propped up her leg, so it rested on his, while he leisurely thrust into her.

Pressing kisses to her neck, her shoulder.

“Touch yourself,” he mumbled into her ear, as he softly pinched one of her nipples. Slowly her hand traveled down her stomach. When she grazed her sensitive clit, she gasped at the sensation.

They rocked in tandem with each other, soft gasps and murmured whispers. When she finally came on his cock, his thrust grew harder, spilling inside of her moments later.

“Fuck,” he whispered into her hair, before pulling her in closer.

Both of their breathing evened out, and soon she was lulled to sleep, his softened cock still nestled inside of her cunt.

She woke up to him pulling himself out of her at one point, but he told her to go back to sleep, and she couldn't help but drift away again.

The next time she awoke, he was gone.

She felt sticky between her legs, knowing she hadn't dreamed the interaction, and the flowers perched on her night stand.

She groaned thinking about having to get another plan B pill. She couldn’t wait to get on the pill already.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

I know it's hard to keep an open heart

When even friends seem out to harm you

But if you could heal a broken heart

Wouldn't time be out to charm you? Whoa-oh, oh-oh-oh

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

The second week of November and the rain had stopped, at least briefly, but the temperature had dipped, and it was freezing.

Colin had insisted that she wear skirts, for easier access. So she tried pairing them with thick woolen stockings, but he hated those as well.

Still, she ignored him and wore them regardless.

She was standing with Eloise at the skate park. Eloise had rushed over after last period, insisting Penelope come with her.

Penelope had tried to deny her friend, knowing that Colin would be furious with her for not telling him, but Eloise wouldn’t take no for an answer. So, here she was standing with Eloise in the freezing cold, while they watched people skate around.

“That’s your standing dick appointment, right?” Penelope asked, nodding her head in the direction of a teenage boy Eloise couldn’t take her eyes off of. She had only seen Theo a few times, and it was hard to tell with how fast he was moving on the skate board.

Eloise turned to her sharply, narrowing her eyes.

“I forgot you knew about that,” she asked flatly and Penelope shrugged.

“We tell each other everything,” she said with a nervous laugh, thinking about all the things she was lying to Eloise about. Her friend was quiet for a moment before starting again.

“I think he's cheating on me,” she said, before hastily continuing. “Not that we are labeled as anything, but I can just tell something is different.” Eloise’s voice sounded so sad, and Penelope felt bad for not noticing her friend was struggling.

She went to open her mouth, when the boy wandered over to them

“Hey, Theo,” Eloise said, seemingly trying to act nonchalant. It wasn’t working, Penelope could sense the tension rolling off her friend.

“Hey, who’s your friend?” Theo’s eyes rolled up and down her body and Penelope turned red.

“Oh, uh this is Penelope,” Eloise said awkwardly and Penelope’s eyes snapped to hers, trying to convey that this was weird.

“Cool, Penelope, Penny, Pen.” He let her name roll off his tongue, stepping closer to her.

“Didn’t you date Michael Stirling? I heard all about the stuff you guys did together.” Penelope pursed her lips, stepping back.

She had already known that Michael had lied about what they did during their relationship, boys were so fucking annoying, she thought.

“No idea what you're talking about,” she said just as she felt someone press against her back.

“Oh, are you talking about what a slut Pen is?” How had Colin found her? She cringed as Eloise glared at her brother.

“Shut the fuck up, Colin. Penelope is not a slut, boys are just fucking disgusting.” Eloise then grabbed up her arm, and started pulling her away.

“Come on, Pen, we don’t need to stay and deal with this bullshit.” Eloise had tears streaming down her face, hot and angry by the time they made it to the sidewalk. Penelope glanced back at Colin once, and could see the utter anger rolling off him in waves as he tracked their every move.

She knew later she was going to hear it.

“You know it's not me, right? That Theo is cheating on you with.” Eloise let out a small sob and nodded.

“I know, he’s a fucking pig and trying to make me jealous because I don’t want to put labels on things.” She shook her head, before wiping her eyes.

“I am Eloise Bridgerton, I don’t cry over boys,” she murmured to herself, and Penelope kept her mouth shut.

Several seconds later her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she cringed knowing how pissed Colin must be.

Slowly, carefully she pulled her phone out of her pocket. Eloise none the wiser, as she cried about her abysmal love life.

She cringed seeing her nude selfie.

He seemed unhinged as she quickly responded.

She could barely listen to Eloise, whose hands were waving frantically in front of her as she complained. She felt like she was swimming, as she tried to keep Colin from doing something rash.

She wanted to cry. She was doing everything to please this man, but it never seemed enough.

She begged and watched as the three dots appeared and disappeared over and over as he responded.

She took a shaky breath, hoping she could calm him down enough to see reason.

She paused at his bedroom door, her hand trembling before she forced herself to knock once.

“Come in.” His voice was low, dangerous, already simmering with fury.

She pushed the door open. He was sitting at his desk, his headset on and his fingers flying on his gaming keyboard as he continued playing some violent game on his laptop.

“Close it.” He didn’t look at her, but she obeyed, shutting the door until the click of the latch echoed in the quiet room. Not knowing what to do, she lingered there in uncertainty.

When he finally was done with the game, he turned to her, his eyes were hard, his smile cruel. “Took you long enough.”

Penelope swallowed, twisting her fingers together. “I came as soon as I could—” It was him who had been playing on his laptop and made her wait around for him for several minutes.

“You flirted with that wanker, Theo.” He rose from the chair in one swift movement, stalking toward her. “You stood there boasting about the things you did with Michael?”

She shook her head quickly. “It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t boasting—”

“Don’t lie.” He caught her chin between his fingers, tilting her face up roughly. “You think I didn’t see how that meth head was staring at your chest? You think I won’t remind you who you belong to?”

Her lips parted, a tremor running down her spine. “Colin, please. I—”

His mouth crashed onto hers, bruising, demanding. She whimpered into the kiss, half pushing at his chest, half clutching at him to stay upright. His hands were everywhere, at her waist, her back, pulling her against him like he wanted to erase the very air between them.

“You’re mine,” he growled against her mouth. “Aren’t you?”

Her heart thudded so violently she thought it might crack her ribs. Shame scalded her, but the heat of his mouth, the press of his body, it dragged a response out of her throat she didn’t know she was capable of.

“I’m yours,” she whispered, the words trembling, broken.

“Prove it, then,” he growled, dragging her forward until her knees brushed the edge of his bed. He sat heavily, legs parted, pulling her down to the floor between them.

She blinked up at him, heart in her throat. “Colin—”

“On your knees, Pen.” His hand pressed firmly on her shoulder, guiding her down until the carpet scraped against her skin.

Shame burned her, but her body obeyed. She knelt between his thighs, trembling, watching as he undid his belt with a quick, rough flick.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he bit out, breath harsh, “to sit there and hear Michael brag after every match. About how you let him fuck you in every hole. About how you begged for more.”

Her eyes widened, panic clawing up her throat. What the hell, Michael? “That’s not true, I—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snapped, tugging her chin forward, forcing her to look at him as his erection spilled free. “Every time I think of his hands on you, I go mad. So you’re going to wipe it out. You’re going to make me forget about his boasts.”

She wanted to scream that Michael had never touched her like that, never been let past some light kissing and groping, but her voice failed her as he pressed his length against her lips. His grip tightened at the back of her head, insistent.

“Open.”

Her lips parted reluctantly, and he pushed inside. Her protest was smothered instantly, replaced by his thick cock filling her mouth. He groaned low in his throat, his anger bleeding into pleasure.

“That’s it… sweet girl,” he hissed, rocking against her tongue. “This is my mouth… not his. Mine.”

Tears stung her eyes as he moved, shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, pushing until her throat tightened around him. She wanted to shake her head, to tell him Michael never used her this way, that Colin was the only one who did. But her mouth was full of him, her jaw aching, her breath ragged.

“Do you think about him when you’re like this?” His voice cracked with something raw, insecurity cutting through the fury. “Do you think of him… or me, Pen?”

She wanted to scream at him, It’s you I keep thinking about, you idiot. Even when she was with Michael, it was Colin who filled her head, Colin she dreaded, Colin she couldn’t escape from. Always bracing for the next time he would summon her, the next shameful thing he’d make her do.

Seriously, how could he even believe Michael’s outrageous claims? Half the time she was supposedly Michael’s girlfriend, she was on her knees for Colin instead…kissing him, blowing him, obeying him. When would she possibly have found the time to do any of those things Michael bragged about?

And what was it with boys, anyway? Their stupid contests, their boasts, their need to one-up each other by reducing girls to some kind of prize.

She choked a muffled sound, but it only made him groan, his hand fisting in her hair as he held her in place.

“I hate it,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “Hate knowing he touched what’s mine. But you’re here now, aren’t you? On your knees for me. For me.”

Her throat convulsed around him as he thrusted harder, faster, each word sharpened with jealousy and possession. The world blurred; her lungs burned; she clutched at his thighs, fingers digging into the denim as if it were the only anchor left.

And then, with a guttural growl, he spilled into her throat. Hot, sudden, overwhelming. She gagged, half in shock, half in reflex, but he held her steady, forcing her to take it.

When it was done, when he finally released her hair, she stumbled back onto her heels, chest heaving. His eyes were still stormy, but softer now, sated, almost tender.

“Remember that, sweetheart,” he said, voice low, shaky. “Let Michael remain in the past. You’re mine now. Not his.”

Something in her finally snapped. Her throat ached, her lips were sore, but the words forced their way out. “I was never his, Colin. Not for a second.”

He blinked, caught off guard.

“All those things he brags about… They never happened.” Her voice trembled, but her gaze held his. “Half the time I was with Michael, I was sneaking away to meet you. Letting you kiss me. Letting you… take from me what you wanted.” Her breath caught on the memory. “How could there be space for him, when you never left me any?”

Colin froze, his grip on her chin tightening as though to test the truth in her words. She pressed on, desperate now. “Think about it. Remember the times I ‘studied late in the library,’ the mornings I showed up early, the excuses I gave him to meet you under the bleachers... I wasn’t with Michael all those times. I was with you.”

Slowly, the storm in his eyes shifted. His jaw flexed, his breath shallow. And then, without another word, he hauled her up from the floor and kissed her. Hard, bruising, all-consuming. His hands buried in her hair, pulling her close as though he could drink the truth straight from her mouth.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead pressed to hers, his voice was a whisper, almost reverent. “God, you make me so happy, baby. I can't believe you're mine. My sweet, beautiful girlfriend!”

Girlfriend? Penelope blinked at him, dazed, her lips still bruised from his kiss. Yeah, I can’t believe it either… she thought bitterly. She had never agreed to that title, never been asked. One day she was Michael’s, and now? Now she was apparently Colin’s, without choice, without ceremony.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

And when your fears subside

And shadows still remain, ooh, yeah

I know that you can love me

When there's no one left to blame

… So never mind the darkness

We still can find a way

'Cause nothin' lasts forever

Even cold November rain

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

The very next day, a bouquet of daisies appeared in her locker. A glossy box of chocolates followed the day after, neatly tied with a red ribbon. Then roses. Then a silly plush bear that smelled faintly of his cologne. A box of sugar-dusted biscuits left on her study desk at home, accompanied by a note: For my sweet girl.

Colin.

She stared at each offering in turn, bewildered. Flowers? Candy? Sweet tokens that normal boys gave to their girlfriends—their real girlfriends—to woo them, to make them smile. Not after cornering them, not after forcing them to kneel on the floor and prove their loyalty with a BJ, not after threatening to send their nudes to the entire school.

It was… confusing. And wrong. And yet some fragile, stupid part of her ached at the thought that maybe this tenderness…this was what she’d wanted from him all along.

The morning after he sent those biscuits for her, he brushed past her in the hallway, without even glancing at her. His hand didn’t so much as twitch toward hers as he walked by, smug as ever, surrounded by his mates. At lunch, Colin sat at his usual table, laughing easily, and didn’t even glance her way.

But in private, when he messaged her to meet him in his room, as soon as his bedroom door was shut, he kissed her soundly and called her his girl. His voice was rough, his hands roamed over her body possessively. Mine. The word still echoed in her ears long after she left his room that evening.

The whiplash was starting to gnaw at her. The flowers. The candy. It should have been romantic. Normal. The kind of thing she used to dream about when she thought of romance and boyfriends. Only now it felt like another trick, another leash. Because if she was his girl in his bedroom, why couldn’t she be his girl in the school?

The confusion was eating her alive. Some nights she lay awake replaying his kisses, his gifts, the way he whispered endearments like prayers. Other nights, she curled up shaking, wondering if she was losing her mind.

She could feel herself unravelling under the weight of his contradictions. Sweetheart one moment, invisible the next.

Maybe she was the problem. Maybe she wasn’t enough.

She wasn’t thin like the other girls, wasn’t glittering with confidence or dressed in the latest things her mother couldn’t afford. She was plain. Forgettable. Fat. She hated how the thought came sharp and cruel, but it was always there, waiting.

Perhaps that was why Colin wouldn’t acknowledge her as his girlfriend.

Why would Colin Bridgerton want to claim her out loud, when he could have anyone? Maybe it was easier to keep her hidden, to pull her into his bed and have his way with her and whisper she was his, but never let anyone else know.

The worst part was how quickly she twisted it all into proof that she should be grateful. He hadn’t bored of her. Yet. He still texted her, still kissed her, still brought her sweets and flowers and plushies. Shouldn’t that be enough?

But it didn’t feel like enough. Not when it actually made her feel like a whore who he used and then paid with roses and Reese’s peanut butter cups. Not when Penelope herself caught her reflection in shop windows and wondered how anyone, especially Colin, could want her in that way.

And then the insecurity took root deep inside her heart.

“Let’s get ice cream after school,” he said one Friday, dropping his voice low in the crowded hall. “Just you and me. I’ll drive us.”

Penelope’s smile was small, nervous, and gone before it really landed. “I…I can’t. Homework.”

Colin’s jaw tightened. “You always have excuses.”

“It’s not an excuse!” Penelope defended. “I really do need to finish history homework—”

“Enough. Last week I asked you whether you’d like to visit the park, and you said you’d promised to help Eloise with something.”

“I promised Eloise I’d help her with something!”

“Oh yeah? What was that ‘thing’ that you helped her with? Because I was home all day that day and she did nothing but watch telly!”

Her throat had closed up, panic racing her pulse. So she’d said the first thing that came to mind. “I—I couldn't help her. Mum wanted me to help with dinner.”

It wasn’t even convincing, and she knew it.

The hurt flickered across his face before he masked it with a shrug. “Yeah, alright. Another time then.” But his eyes lingered, just for a second, and she felt it, his disappointment, sharp and heavy. And she hated how it made her feel guilty.

Later, in the dark of her room, she replayed it until she thought she’d go mad. She hated herself for lying. Hated herself for not being brave enough to just tell him she didn't want to go with him. But the fear sat like a stone in her chest, heavier than guilt. She imagined what it would have been like if she were a normal teenage girl and he was a normal teenage boy in a normal teenage romantic relationship. Ice cream. The park. Hanging out in his room. Those were such normal things, such sweet things. But all she could imagine was him changing his mind halfway through, mocking her in front of everyone, laughing about the fat, plain girl who thought she could be his girlfriend in front of the whole school.

It was safer this way. Behind locked doors, she had to give him everything. Out in the open, she might lose her mind if he degraded her further.

If he was going to humiliate her, and surely, it was always a possibility, better she control the timing than be blindsided by his secret sweet gestures.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

So if you want to love me

Then, darlin', don't refrain

Or I'll just end up walkin'

In the cold November rain

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

It was the last day of November and Penelope’s mind was swirling with anxiety and stress. Colin and his constant mood swings, ever changing attitudes. One minute he was shoving his cock down her throat in a possessive, jealous manner, the next he was showering her with gifts. Cuddling her and telling her she was his sweet, perfect girl.

It was all so confusing. It didn’t help that she still felt like his dirty little secret. Ignoring her at school, or hurling out mean taunts around his friends. Then in private ravishing her and calling her his girlfriend.

It couldn’t be both.

The first snow fall of the season, Penelope was looking out the large window in her sitting room. Watching as the small white flakes fell heavily. Her mother already called and told her they asked her to do a double today, and she wouldn’t be home for several more hours.

She already had warm potato soap simmering in the kitchen, and was just about to make herself a bowl when a sharp tap on her front door startled her. Turning her head from the window, she slowly approached the door.

Opening it, she found Colin on the other side. She shouldn’t have been surprised to see him, he appeared at her door most evenings. She could see small snow flakes in his hair, and watched him shiver as a gust of wind swept over them. She almost lost her breath over just how handsome he was, as his lips turned into a grin the second he saw her.

“Shit Pen, it's cold. Let me in,” he grumbled a second later, forcing himself by her and the doorway.

“Is your mom home?” He asked as she shut the door, cutting off the next breeze from sweeping through the room. She shook her head and watched him sag in relief. He slid his hands together, trying to warm himself up, before taking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack.

“I uh, made dinner… want some?” she asked awkwardly. She hated that she never quite knew how to act around him. His grin turned even bigger.

“Hell yeah! I want some, I am starving,” he said, making his way into her kitchen. She followed behind him quickly, a slight giggle on her lips. He was so cute when he was silly.

“Damn Pen, this smells delicious!” His tone sounded like he meant it, as she got down two bowls and started ladling them each a few portions. Then she gave them each a few pieces of the crusty bread she also made. They sat at the table together, eating in a soft silence.

It wasn’t awkward or stilted, just slow and sweet as they each spooned the food into their mouths.

“This is so delicious, baby,” he told her after his second serving. “Warmed me right up,” she smiled at him, the praise made her feel oddly warm and soft inside.

“Thanks,” she whispered. When they were both done eating, Penelope put away the leftovers for her mother, while Colin settled in the living room.

Since it was such a cozy night, she decided to make them each a mug of hot chocolate, heating the milk on the stove. When she was finished, she topped both mugs with whipped cream, and brought them into the living room.

Colin had gotten himself comfortable while she was cleaning, his shoes off, one of the blankets from her room warped around him. Her stomach fluttered thinking about him wandering into her bedroom without her there.

“Ohh, what’s that?” He asked as she hesitantly walked towards him.

“Hot coca,” she said softly and he beamed.

“My favorite, Pen!” He gently grabbed her arm, and guided her to sit down next to him under the covers, before taking his mug from her.

He had started a fire in the rarely used fireplace. The room was dim, as they listened to the fire crackling while watching the snow continue to fall out the window. Taking small, warm sips of their hot chocolate.

It felt normal, peaceful even, in this moment. Like they were a real couple, doing real normal couple things.

After a while they both placed their mugs on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Colin seemed to be vibrating with energy and she was unsure why.

“Pen, I can’t wait,” he said and she thought he was talking about sex, thinking he was going to start slipping her shirt off her body. Instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

“It’s still a little early for our three month anniversary, but this night feels too perfect to ignore,” he said, shyly handing her the box.

Her heart was beating out of her chest. Three month anniversary? Her mind did the mental math, leading her to September. Did he consider the first time he coerced her into sucking him off as them dating?

“Go on, open it,” he said after her long pause. She looked into his eyes, and could see the anticipation in them. She let her gaze drop back to the box, as she slowly opened the lid.

She resisted a gasp, at the silver necklace that laid inside. It was a thin chain, with a small letter C hanging from the end. She fingered the letter for a brief moment before looking back at him with wide eyes.

He was keeping her a secret, but he wanted to flaunt his initials around her neck? She was so fucking confused.

“What do you think?” He asked slowly, and she could see he was bracing himself for rejection. She could just tell by the way he was stiffening up, his shoulders tense. His eyes were almost shining.

“I love it Colin, truly,” he seemed to relax significantly at her words before he took the box from her and started taking out the necklace.

“I am so glad you like it, I spent forever fretting over silver or gold. Then I looked through the jewelry you already have, which isn’t a lot mind you. And most everything was silver.” He rambled on as he placed the necklace around her neck, locking it in place.

“I am going to change that you know,” he said as her hand came up to finger the initial once again, feeling the way it hung in the hollow of her throat. “Make sure you have more jewelry to pick from, only the best for my girl,” he said the last bit shyly as she dropped her fingers and watched him look down at the C.

“Looks beautiful on you,” he said softly, brushing a stray curl from her neck.

“Will you go to the winter carnival with me?” He asked out of the blue, his eyes lifted from her neck to her eyes. They were almost pleading.

“What?” She asked slowly and he took a thick swallow before asking again.

“The winter carnival the school hosts every year, the last day before winter break, it’s just a few weeks away?” He said and her mind went a mile a minute, thinking about all the possibilities, all the ways such a public appearance would fuck up her mind.

“Eloise already asked me to go with her,” she responded and watched his lips fall in a frown.

“Then tell her you can’t go with her anymore, tell her your plans have changed.” He said stiffly and her mind raced. She knew her excuses were always flimsy, half-cooked and full of holes.

“You know I can’t. You know she is a mess ever since Theo cheated on her with Cressida.” They had just found out who Theo had cheated on Eloise with, and the person was the worst case scenario. Cressida was the complete opposite of Theo and not even close to his type, Penelope was pretty sure he picked Cressida just to get under Eloise’s skin.

Colin slumped back on the couch, and she could see his eyes shining in anger as he glared at the fireplace, trying to keep angry tears from falling.

It was silent for several long moments before he turned back to her.

“Fine, come here, then,” he said as he grabbed the back of her neck and crashed his mouth onto hers.

The kiss was heated, possessive. Like he was reminding her who she belonged to. She didn’t need reminding, she knew every moment of everyday who owned her. Mind, body and soul.

He pushed her down onto the couch, shimmying down her skirt and tights. Barely pulling down his pants before he was pressing himself into her.

“Who do you belong to, Pen?” he breathed out as he roughly pressed into her over and over again.

“You Colin, only you!” She gasped out, clutching onto the back of his shirt at his relentless pace.

“That's right. Not my sister. Not anyone else. Your time should be mine and mine alone!” He bit down hard on her neck, causing her to gasp loudly.

It didn’t take long for him to find his release coming inside of her over and over again. She was thankful once again, for her mother allowing her to get on birth control.

As he slowly slipped out of her, she watched him stiffly place himself back into his pants.

“Don’t take that necklace off for anything other than to shower, you hear me?” He demanded and she nodded sharply.

Wondering in the back of her mind what she would tell her mum and her friends the C stood for. Then he left her house without looking back.

How had the evening gone from so perfect and sweet, to awful in the span of just a few moments?

She cleaned up the living room, and the dishes from dinner before going to bed.

She laid in her bed long after she heard her mother come through the door, her mind spiraling. How much more could she take?

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

… Do you need some time on your own?

Do you need some time all alone?

Ooh, everybody needs some time on their own

Ooh, don't you know you need some time all alone?

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Chapter Text

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

It was almost a slip of the tongue, Portia Featherington was chatting away with his mother in the supermarket the night after the winter carnival. Penelope had not appeared at the carnival, not even with Eloise, who, by the way, grumbled about getting stood up even by her best friend. Like that was the gravest thing Penelope had done that night. 

Honestly, did she even care how much he loved her? He had been calling and texting her ever since, to no avail. He was waiting to visit her in the morning to check on her, whether she was unwell or injured, his stomach twisting with worry for his girl. But before he could even leave the house, his mother had pressed him into joining her on this errand, insisting he carry bags for her on a supermarket run.

“She’s gone down to Brighton for Christmas,” Portia said, rustling through her shopping parcels as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world. As if she hadn't just detonated his whole world by that tidbit of information. “My brother and his wife asked her. Such a generous offer, really! Two weeks by the sea. I wish I could accompany her, but I can't take a day off during Christmas week, you know. Woes of a retail worker. Well I'm glad she could go. She could do with the air. The girl’s cooped up in the house all the time.”

Portia chattered away but Colin had frozen at the mention of Brighton. Pen hadn’t told him. She hadn’t even messaged. It was like she was trying to run away from him. Like she couldn't get away any faster. 

He knew she had been pulling away for weeks now. Dodging every invitation with flimsy excuses. Too much homework, too tired, her mum needed her at home, Eloise needed her for some bullshit reason or another. How many times had he asked her out? A movie, a walk in the park, an ice cream…anything, really. Somehow she always wriggled free. He’d told himself it didn’t matter. When they were together, she was still sweet, pliant, warm in his arms. She let him kiss her, let him love her the way he wanted, and she didn’t push him away. He’d thought that meant she was happy. He’d thought he was enough.

But what if he wasn’t?

What if she was planning to dump him all along?

The thought clawed at his chest, leaving his stomach roiling. Penelope could bend any boy backwards if she wanted to. Hadn’t she already proved it? She’d gone out with Michael, for God’s sake. Michael, the boy that the girls in senior year would’ve killed to date. Michael who, unlike him, was good in both sports and studies. Michael who, unlike him, didn't have to rely on the sport’s quota to get into a good college. Since Michael had fallen for the new girl right after she joined the school, only to dump him a month later, her popularity (at least amongst the horny boys in his football team) had skyrocketed. 

After they’d split, half his own mates on the team had asked about her, circling like vultures. Not that he didn’t know the actual reason behind it. Michael’s filthy boasting still rang in his ears, the way he’d bragged about her mouth, about how she had let him do everything with her, about how good she was on her knees, begging Michael to give it to her.

And didn't Colin know how good she was on her knees for him? Only for him...

But there was that nagging, gnawing thing again. The insecurity. The doubt. She swore she’d only ever been with him. Swore Michael’s stories were nothing but hot air. And yet, what if she’d lied? What if Michael hadn’t been boasting at all?

What if she dumped him next?

The thought was unbearable. A hot, suffocating weight pressing down on his ribs until he could barely breathe. He loved her. God help him, he loved her. And he knew that normally she would have been way out of his league. She was smart. Too smart. And he was always the idiot Bridgerton, the jock, the one who had difficulty figuring out ‘p's’ from ‘q's’ till year 5. He barely managed to secure the required grades to be on the team. What if she realised he was totally stupid? What if she dumped him and moved on to someone who actually was on her intellectual level? Someone like Michael, or Debling, the blonde fucker, president of the stupid debate club she had joined earlier, and left after a month, on Colin's insistence.

He couldn’t. Wouldn’t let her slip away. God knew how many sleepless nights he had spent twisting and turning, thinking about her since the first day she’d entered school.

The moment he saw her for the first time, he was entranced. Sweet, innocent, impossibly pretty, and tiny, like someone you wanted to tuck into your pocket and carry everywhere.

And yet…her body had enticed him in ways no one else ever had. Her breasts were round, perfect, a sharp contrast to the flat-chested girls around her. Her pert, jiggly little bum. Her thighs, he imagined being trapped between them. Her lips, so full, pouty, rosy, glossy in the sunlight. He could almost taste them. And her eyes, those summer-sky eyes, sharp and intelligent. God, she was smart, beautiful and sexy.

He wanted it all with her: closeness, friendship, kisses, dates, a future where they married and got a house and had babies. Maybe not immediately, but he had decades planned in his mind: a life with her. In his head. He was obsessed with her.

Then…she became best friends with his sister. And became Michael’s girlfriend. That’s when the spiral began. Jealousy, so raw and hot, twisted into anger, and then into deep, suffocating resentment.

He tried to hate her at first. He couldn’t. She had no flaws. None he could see. Perfect friend for Eloise. Perfect girlfriend for Michael. Perfect student. Until she wasn’t.

He discovered it by accident. A boy, paying her discreetly, a hundred pounds. What the hell was she doing with other boys when she was supposed to be Michael’s girl? His mind raced to darker possibilities. Was she whoring herself out?

No…she didn’t look like the type. But… What did he know? Everything he thought he knew about her had shattered at that moment.

He began watching her, sneaking to discreet corners, seeing what she did, how she moved, who she spoke to. Michael had already been boasting about her, loudly, crudely, as if the world should know what a prize of a girlfriend he had won. The accounts of his sexual escapades with Pen were so detailed, that it made Colin's heart curdle and his mind darken. If Michael's brags were true…if she really had allowed him such things in such a short span of a relationship…what else was she capable of doing? Was she really only Michael’s? or did she also...?

He planned to catch her, to test her, to bend her to his will. She had never given him the time of day before. But he began planning it in such a way that she wouldn't have space to wriggle from his grasps. He began spying on her, gathering evidence against her indiscretions. But soon he discovered that his initial assumptions were wrong. She wasn’t selling herself. She was selling her intellect. Selling assignments. Still wrong. Still not without consequences if she got caught, still a leverage.

Colin smiled, a thin, calculative smile. It did not matter what she sold or why; the leverage was the same. If he could pry her away from Michael even for a while, he told himself, he could show her what she was missing. He could show her he would be a better match for her. Michael’s crude boasts about their sex life were giving him an ick. If she was to be his girl, he wouldn't share anything that happened between them with anyone, even if they asked. It would all be private.

His resentment hardened into a resolve: free her from Michael, then make her understand the depth of his own feelings. She would see, he convinced himself, and she would acquiesce. She would be his. Until that moment came, he would use the one weapon he held… blackmail, to keep her where he wanted her.

And it had worked, hadn’t it? She was his now. They were going steady. Maybe not in the way other couples did, not with hand-holding in corridors or kisses at bus stops. But she came when he called, she let him touch her, she let him in her house when no one was around. That was what mattered. Right?

And if not consistently, then at least occasionally, he caught glimpses that made him believe she wanted to be with him too. The way her breath hitched when his mouth found her throat. The way her fingers lingered in his hair a second too long. The way her body hummed in pleasure when she was below him. The way she kissed him back. Those moments kept him tethered. Proof, he told himself, that she was his by choice. Her choice.

He knew he’d been rough on her in the beginning. Cruel, even. He’d seen how hurt she’d been, and somewhere deep down, it had pricked him too. He wanted to do better for her. After all, wasn’t that what he wanted? To be the sweet, loving boyfriend she deserved? Their start had been fucked up, twisted by circumstance, his own pride and bad choices tangling them into something jagged.

But then she’d told him. Her words had knocked the air from his lungs: it had always been him. Never Michael. Michael had never touched her the way Colin had. She’d saved all of herself for him. Colin’s chest had swollen with pride, with savage relief, with a desperate kind of affection. From that moment he’d sworn to try, to really try, to be what she needed.

And precisely that point onwards, she started pulling away. No to dates. No to films. Not even a walk in the bloody park. Always an excuse, always some reason why she couldn’t. It was as if she was ashamed of him. As if being with stupid jock Colin in public was beneath smart Penelope. He tried to understand, he really did. After all, school was all about reputations and appearances. So he kept quiet about it. He did get to have her at least in private.

But this…this silence over the holidays, disappearing without a word, cutting him off entirely, this was worse. This was a betrayal he couldn’t swallow. What the hell was she thinking? Was she using the winter break to line up her escape, planning to dump him when school started again?

The thought made his stomach twist, his vision blur. No. She wouldn’t...

By the time he stumbled out into the cold, the fury was already burning holes in his chest. His thumbs flew over his phone.

No reply.

Hours stretched into days, her silence gnawing at him until he couldn’t think. His messages grew sharper, more frantic, like a dog snapping at its chain.

The third night, madness tipped him over. He opened his camera roll, scrolled to the nude selfie she’d sent months ago under pressure, his thumb hovering. His chest heaved as he attached it.

Still no reply. His jaw ached from clenching, his thumbs raw from swiping the screen over and over. He’d typed messages, deleted them, re-typed, sent some, and regretted others. Nothing came back. Nothing but silence.

He was beyond frustrated now, past anger, past reason. All night he kept staring at his phone, willing it to light up with her name. Obsessively checking her “last seen,” only to find she’d hidden it. Hidden from him! That stung worse than any curse she could have hurled at him.

By three a.m. his eyes burned, but he still couldn’t let go. By four, he was dizzy with exhaustion, but his hands wouldn’t release the phone. At some point, he must have drifted into a shallow, haunted sleep. 

Then, around five, he was startled awake by his message notification tone, his heart hammering with a sense of dread he couldn’t explain. He blinked, fumbled, and saw the notification.

A reply from her.

A video clip.

With trembling fingers, he opened it.

Penelope’s tear-streaked, blotchy face filled the screen. Her eyes were red and swollen, like she had cried for long hours. She was speaking too fast, too breathlessly, as if she’d been holding it in for months and couldn’t stop it spilling out now. 

Her voice broke; she wiped at her cheeks, trembling. The words landed like blows on Colin's heart. He could feel them against his ribs even before the sound reached his ears.

Colin’s breath hitched. He saw nothing but her face on the phone screen—wet, raw, accusing, and the memory of every remark he’d made about her being a slut, a whore unspooled before him. He choked on a sob. In the dark room he felt unbearably small, as if the weight of what he’d done pressed him to the mattress.

She gasped for breath, her whole body shuddering as she spoke straight into the lens while fingering the chain around her neck.

“This locket? This chain? Feels like a leash to me, Colin. Like I'm a pet you're keeping. Like I'm not even worth your time if I'm not in your bed. You make me feel like a cheap whore who you like to fuck in secret, but won't accept as a girlfriend in front of the school, do you hear me?”

Colin stared at the screen in disbelief. Was that how she really felt? But he'd never wanted to keep her a secret. During the very early weeks after her breakup with Michael, he had mostly ignored her at school to protect her from everyone's judgement. He didn't want anyone to slut-shame her for jumping from Michael to him so soon. And out of that concern, he had initially been very discreet about their relationship. But after a respectful period of a fortnight, he had tried everything to get her to go out with him, and she was the one to reject the idea every time. Every single time! 

He wanted to argue with her over that point, to shout into the phone that she had turned him away as much as he’d hidden their relationship at the start. But instead he lay there, mute and reeling.

“I can’t take it anymore, Colin. I can’t keep living like this, not knowing who you’re going to be when I wake up every day. The boy who kisses me like I matter or the one who threatens me with my nude selfies. I feel like I’m losing my mind. And the only way I can get rid of you is if I get rid of myself… permanently.”

The camera jolted as she shifted. For a dizzy second, Colin saw the edge of a knife glinting in her hand.

“Fuck, Pen… what are you doing?”

she whispered, looking straight into the camera, tears streaming unchecked.

Then the phone slipped from her grip, hitting the floor with a sickening clatter. The last thing the camera caught was her knees folding beneath her as the knife glinted once more. 

Then the screen went black.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

“Penelope,” he rasped, voice cracking in the quiet night. “Pen… oh God… no—”

Colin’s phone slipped from his own hand. For a moment he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. He doubled over, clutching his ribs, the world tilting and spinning around him. His breath came fast and shallow, choking on tears that blinded him.

After that moment, he was barely a presence in his own body. His family noticed, of course. Eloise frowned at him when she found him cooped up in his bedroom, Anthony barked his name twice when he didn’t respond, and even his mother put her hand on his cheek, murmuring, “Darling, are you unwell? Don't you want to eat something?”

But Colin brushed them all aside. He wasn’t unwell. He was hollow. He didn't want to eat. He wanted to disappear.

He spent the rest of the day holed up in his room, waiting for the authorities to come and get him for murder. Or her mom to come and yell at him. Someone, anyone who would tell him any news about Penelope. But no one came. And scared to the core as he was, he couldn't muster up the courage to call her number.

On Christmas day, finally pulling himself together, he went to her house, to meet her mother, to apologise, to… he didn't know exactly what he could ask or say to her mother but… but her house was locked. Of course her mother wasn’t here. Of course the house was locked. He was too late to offer an apology.

Colin stepped back onto the pavement, his throat tight, staring at the unlit house as if by sheer force of will he could make her appear behind the curtain, alive, smiling. But there was only silence.

He became a ghost of the person he was after that. He couldn’t eat. Every bite turned to ash in his mouth. Sleep was worse. When it came, it was jagged and restless, her voice chasing him through his dreams, broken and despairing: I must die. That’s the only way you’ll leave me alone.

He had the urge to go and confess about everything that had happened to Anthony multiple times. But each time his legs turned wooden and words crumbled before he could utter anything. When he was alone, he pulled up the video. Over and over again. The pixelated image of Penelope’s tear-streaked face, her hand trembling as she raised the knife, it haunted him more than anything else ever had. He memorised the exact cadence of her words, the crack in her voice when she accused him of blackmail, the fury in her eyes when she said he’d made her doubt herself.

And he thought back to every time he humiliated her, every cruel word, every command, every moment he’d convinced himself his actions were justified.

The first time he forced her to take him in her mouth. He’d told himself it was fair. She was cheating anyway, wasn’t she? If not Michael, then the education system. She owed him her silence, loyalty. It was a way to bind her to him. He’d been terrified she’d take one look at him and walk away otherwise.

The times he called her a slut, a whore. He’d told himself it was all a part of the dirty-talking bad boy persona, that she’d understand he didn’t mean it that way, not really. But looking back, all he saw was the flinch, the way she folded inward as if he’d struck her.

The pendant. God, the pendant. He’d chosen it because he thought it would keep him on the top of her mind. But when he pictured her face as she’d opened the little box, was it really joy, or resignation? The pendant, something he had meant as the symbol of his devotion to her, had become a collar for her.

And the public silence…the way he kept her hidden in shadows during those initial weeks, never daring to touch her hand in daylight. He’d told himself he was protecting her, sparing her the whispers about moving from Michael to him so fast. But really, wasn’t it cowardice? Wasn’t it selfishness? She must have thought he was ashamed of her. Maybe he had been ashamed of how much he wanted her, ashamed of the desperate way he needed her to be his.

Each memory flayed him raw. Each reasoning ricocheted in his head until it looked like what it was: excuses. Lies he’d fed himself because the truth was unbearable. That he had bullied her, again and again, and deluded himself into believing it was love.

He’d sit in his room, knees drawn to his chest, staring at the dim glow of his phone as her video replayed. His hands shook every time she said I must die. He mouthed apologies into the silence, over and over, as if somehow she could hear him through the phone.

Colin was reduced to a wreck who could barely lift his head at the dinner table. His family whispered in worried tones, but he barely heard them. The only voice that mattered was Penelope’s, looping endlessly, accusing him, breaking him down until there was nothing left but grief and a gnawing certainty.

He had destroyed her.

He wasn't just her bully, but her murderer.

The days that followed became a rerun of the video and small, self-inflicted mortifications. He could not finish a meal. Food sat cold on his plate. Sleep came in jagged bursts, each waking to the phantom echo of her voice: I must die.

The outside world clattered on regardless. Shops strung tinsel; school mates posted party photos; the city center played carols that sounded like mockery. Social media was a constant, glittering carnival he could not bring himself to join. Every cheer, every cheap festive snap, felt like a reminder that everyone else still had the right to look forward to the new year. For him though, the thought of a new year without her made the year ahead feel obscene. What future did he have left? What good was a calendar if he had driven the only person who had ever mattered to her death?

He wandered the house at odd hours, phone warm from holding it to his ear and then from the moments he could not bring himself to play the clip again. He began to feel like a caricature of himself…A hulking figure who had learned to use his size and charm to drown her into him. The irony that the same physical strength did nothing to soften the constant pain in his chest.

The holidays closed in like a soft trap. New Year's party invitations piled up unanswered. The family worried, then tried to give him space, then pleaded. He did not respond. 

After the third day, family had given up on coaxing him to celebrations; the fireworks lit up the sky outside, but he sat in the darkness of his room, face lit only by the glow of his phone. 

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠️ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒

As the calendar began sliding toward New Year’s Eve, a certain bleak logic took hold. If she was truly gone, if the last thing she had seen of him was the face of the boy who had cornered and controlled her, then nothing in his life was worth continuing. He moved through the last festive days in a fog. Fireworks faded into the distance. People hugged and kissed and promised new beginnings. To Colin, those promises felt obscene, as if he had no claim to a future, as if he had forfeited the right to wake up.

The idea of leaving, of making the pain stop by removing himself from the equation, lodged and took root. In the most private corners of his mind the solution hardened into a plan that felt, to him, like penance. At first it was a thought that came and went; then it was a thing he rehearsed. He told himself the world would be better off without a bully like him. He told himself he deserved no forgiveness. No apology, no grand gesture, no plea could erase what he’d done. He had loved her, wanted her more than anything. But in his fear, his desperation, he had destroyed her. 

So he left the house just after midnight on New Year's Day, wrapping the blue scarf he had bought for her as a Christmas gift tight around his throat, coat unbuttoned despite the winter chill. He walked through the silent streets, past revelers shouting Happy New Year! as if they were in another world entirely. He didn’t hear them. He kept walking through the streets of Mayfair, around their school, over and over until he was exhausted, truly exhausted, unwilling to go on with this life. By the time the sky began to lighten, his feet carried him to the river, the pedestrian river bridge near the station.

He sat there for a while, staring at the sky as the first rays of sun began to show. For some, it would be a hopeful beginning. But for Colin, this was going to be the end of his hopeless existence. Colin pulled his phone from his pocket. The video started again, her voice raw, her eyes wet, her hand trembling as she clutched at the chain he’d given her.

"I must die."

The words cracked him open afresh. His chest heaved as if he’d been kicked, air rasping out of his throat. God, what had he done? He’d killed her, broken her down until there was nothing left. If only he could take it all back. The blackmail, the cruel names, the fucking locket she’d hated. But it was too late now.

His knuckles whitened around the phone as he whispered hoarsely, “I’m sorry, Pen. I’m so sorry.”

The phone slipped from his trembling hand and clattered onto the wet metal grating at his feet. He hardly noticed. His shoes edged closer to the rail, his toes hanging above the dizzying drop. He gripped the iron tighter, bending forward, tasting the sting of the icy wind on his tongue.

One more breath. One more step. And then—

Everything would be blissfully silent.

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠️ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒

Chapter Text

December- Part Two: If we make it through December, we'll be fine

(If we make it through December, by Merle Haggard)

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Over the next few weeks or so, Colin’s attitude towards her had hit an all-time low. He seemed partially frustrated with her at all times, and seemed to have very little patience with her.

So, one cold December night, when she was sitting with her mother eating dinner, she all but jumped at the opportunity that was presented to her.

“Penny, your aunt and uncle asked if you’d like to spend the holidays with them?” Penelope looked up from her food, startled.

“Oh, really?” she asked and her mother nodded.

“Since I have to work basically your entire winter break I thought it might be best, so you aren’t just here all alone. Plus your cousin Marina is set to be around, I know how much you adore her,” Portia responded and Penelope nodded.

“Yes, Mum, I’d love to go!” she told her mother, who said she would start working on the arrangements.

“But you won't be lonely without me, will you?” she asked softly and her mother shook her head, patting her hand sweetly.

“It’s kind of you to worry, but I will be fine, plus I’ll just go visit one of you sisters if I so fancy.” Once Penelope knew her mother would be taken care of, she allowed herself to feel excited. Maybe getting a break from Colin would help her figure out her thoughts and feelings. Maybe some space would be good for both of them.

She was leaving the day before winter break started, and she packed her bag eagerly.

She debated with herself for hours, if she should tell Colin she was leaving. In the end she decided against it. She knew if she told him, he would just blackmail her into staying. She wanted to go. She wanted… no needed this time away from him.

“Be good for your aunt and uncle, okay dear?” her mother asked, dropping her off at the train station. Penelope nodded quickly, her fingers playing with the C on the necklace Colin had given her.

Despite everything, she couldn’t seem to take it off.

“Penelope, I've been meaning to ask you,” her mother said, narrowing her eyes to look at the necklace. “Is that a new necklace? What does the C stand for?”

Penelope forced a laugh, heart hammering. “Oh, um…yeah. It’s… it’s for that band. Crimson Shards. You know, they’re really popular right now. Everyone’s wearing these necklaces.”

Her mother nodded thoughtfully, then said, “You keeping up with the latest trends itself is a small miracle. But good, at least you're enjoying one thing. I sometimes worry about you staying indoors all the time.”

Yeah, all the staying indoors was for a reason, Mum. The words almost tumbled out of her mouth. This pendant itself was the reason – a collar, a leash, fastened tight. Every time she touched it, she thought of Colin’s hand on her, his voice in her ear: Mine.

Stepping out of the car, all she could think about was how Colin was going to react. She had put her phone on airplane mode, so even if he was asking her why she wasn’t at school she wouldn’t see them. 

She was going to miss the winter carnival that night, and she wasn’t the least bit sorry. Though, she knew Eloise would be furious with her. But in the end, Penelope had to put herself first, even if it was just this once.

The train ride was short, just a few hours, and Penelope sat with her eyes closed, trying not to think. 

She didn’t want to stress, dwell on things she couldn’t change.

When she finally arrived at her destination, her eyes almost pricked with tears as she ventured off the train cart.

The air outside was crisp, somehow colder than where she had just departed from.

“Penelope!” She whipped her head around to see her cousin, Marina. 

“Marina!” Why did her voice catch? Why was she on the verge of tears seeing a familiar, comforting face?

They embraced each other tightly, Marina having to bend down since Penelope was so short.

“Are you crying, little red? It’s only been a few months since we’ve last seen each other!” Rina joked, pulling out the nickname from their childhood.

“I know, I’ve just missed you.” She messily wiped her face with her gloved hands.

“Now who is this?” Penelope asked, staring up at the tall, handsome man that was standing awkwardly behind her cousin.

“Oh, this is my boyfriend, George Crane.” Penelope snorted, trying not to giggle. Last summer, before Penelope moved, all Marina did was talk about this man. She was pleased her cousin was able to bag him after all. 

“And George, this is my favorite cousin, Penelope Featherington.” Penelope found herself smiling, and rolling her eyes.

“I'm basically your only cousin, Rina.” Marina shrugged before throwing her arm around her shoulders, pointing to her discarded bag. Penelope didn’t count her older sisters, they were never around and Marina didn’t get along with them.

“So, that makes you my favorite. George, please take her bag, we have so much to catch up on.” Then Marina was leading her from the train station, and for the first time in months, she was able to take a full breath.

Getting to her aunt and uncle's house was a whirlwind of hugs, and greetings. Laughter, and catching up.

She felt home, for the first time in ages. 

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

It wasn’t until dinner that Colin even came to her mind.

“Hey, I just noticed, what is that necklace?” Marina asked, pointing at the silver chain around her neck. Penelope’s hand flew up and fingered the delicate C hanging at the hollow of her throat.

“Oh, um…” She knew she couldn’t use the same excuse she used on her mum. Marina was more up to date on current events than Portia was. After she hesitated too long, she saw a sparkle in Marina’s eye before she spoke again.

“Is that a necklace from a boy?” She should have known Marina would clock her instantly and Penelope felt herself blushing.

“Oh, I see, I was thinking of introducing you to George's younger brother, Phillip, but if you already have a boyfriend I won't even bother.” Marina shrugged, and thankfully the conversation moved on.

For some reason her heart was in her throat, finally thinking about how angry Colin must be with her. She should have been at the winter carnival right now. With him.

She decided to leave her phone on airplane mode for the remainder of the day. She did not want to read any of the unhinged messages she was sure he was hurling her way right now.

That night she laid in her bed awake, her mind unable to stop spinning and spinning to let her get any rest.

It was about three a.m. when she eventually forced herself out of the bed, and tip-toed down the stairs. She got herself a glass of milk, and warmed it up. She took small sips, sitting in the dark in the kitchen.

What was she going to do?

She eventually shook her head, dumped out the remaining milk and wandered back upstairs.

It was fairly late at this point, everyone else should be asleep.

She heard noises through Marina’s door, and couldn’t help but linger in front of it, slowly pressing her ear to the cool wood of the door.

“Fucking take it, my little slut.” Penelope covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide.

“Yes, please, give it to me, I am your good girl.” Marina responded to the degrading words of her boyfriend, and she sounded like she liked it.

“You like it when I fuck you hard like this? Don’t you, my little cock whore?” She heard Marina whine and Penelope quickly turned from the door, running to her room.

Was Marina in the same situation that she was in with Colin? She couldn’t believe it, not with the way her cousin looked at George. Not with the sparkling eyes, and the doting words.

She got a fitful hour or two of sleep that night. 

It was well into the next day, when she finally got the courage to turn her phone off airplane mode. Mostly just so she could check in with her mum.

It didn’t stop the other texts from rolling in. Several from Eloise, a few from her mother. And of course, the ones from Colin.

She sucked in a breath as she read over his words.

She was shaking as she quickly turned her phone off, breathing heavily.

“Everything alright, little red?” Marina asked, coming up behind her.

“Oh, um, yeah.” She found it hard to look her cousin in the eyes after what she heard last night.

“Marina, could we maybe talk?” Penelope felt like she had left too much up to guessing in the past. She had to ask her cousin what all that was about. She couldn’t be worried about everything with Colin and worry about her cousin on top of it.

“Of course.” Marina looked concerned, as she led her up to her bedroom.

Marina’s room was cozy, and Penelope chose to sit at her computer desk, instead of the bed. All she could picture was Marina getting railed by George on the mattress.

“What’s the matter, Penny, you know you can tell me or ask me anything,” Marina said softly and Penelope took a deep breath before starting.

“I am really sorry if this is an intrusion into your private life, but I heard you last night,” she trailed off, a blush forming on her cheeks.

“Oh,” Marina said slowly and then Penelope started word vomiting because she felt so anxious.

“I didn’t mean to listen, I am sorry. But I heard the mean, nasty things George was saying to you and I got scared you needed help!” she said all in a rush, and Marina ended up crouching in front of her, placing both of her hands on her upper arms.

“Slow down, Penelope,” she said and Penelope nodded, biting her lip.

“First off, I am sorry you had to hear that, I thought everyone was sleeping,” she said and Penelope could see a small blush form on her cousin's neck.

“Second off, sex comes in many different forms, Penny.” She dropped her hands and stood back up slowly.

“I like when George talks to me like that. It was my idea actually,” she said and Penelope furrowed her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” Sex, to her, seemed black and white. Why had it taken her until just now to realize there were many different kinds?

“This is going to be awkward,” Marina said with a slight laugh. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of BDSM?” Penelope tilted her head, nodding. She thought it was all about latex suits and whipping people.

“Well there are multiple different meanings to that term. George and I are both into Dominance and Submission. He’s my dom, and I am his sub. I like when he controls me, what we are doing. A lot of this includes roleplaying of sorts.” She seemed to cringe at her own words, but Penelope was suddenly fully invested in what her cousin was saying.

“We like to play out scenes or scenarios where he is my master, and I am his little pet.” Marina rubbed her face in her hands.

“Oh god, I never thought I would be saying these words to my little cousin,” she muttered to herself but Penelope was enthralled.

“So you like when he calls you cock whore?” Penelope's voice and Marina’s head shot up, beet red.

“Yes, Penelope,” she said almost sharply and Penelope nodded. Okay, okay.

“But the most important part of BDSM is consent, Penelope, okay? I don’t want you to be fearful of sex, but I also want you to make sure you understand that everyone needs to be a willing participant in anything sexual.” Penelope nodded, but her mind was still reeling.

She left Marina’s room after that, already planning on doing some research on her own. Plus, it looked like Marina could use a moment to recover from what Penelope was sure she thought was a super embarrassing moment.

For Penelope, it felt like everything had changed.

Maybe this was why she was always so turned on when Colin spoke to her like that? She felt a little less disgusted with herself, after hearing about BDSM.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

It was on her third evening staying with her family, which was Christmas Eve, when she glanced at her phone again. They had just finished having a lovely afternoon. They had taken a walk around the main street in town, and Penelope had gotten Eloise and her mother a souvenir.

She hoped the book she got Eloise would settle her anger once Penelope returned.

She also couldn’t help but purchase something for Colin.  

She had noticed him writing in a journal once in a while, and bought him a beautiful leather bound journal, along with a nice fountain pen. She wasn’t sure what compelled her to buy those items, not when she was so lost and confused about everything with him.

It was late evening, her cheeks were still rosy pink from laughter with her family, as she settled herself onto her bed.

She grabbed her phone from the side table, powering it on.

She ignored all messages at first. Sending off a message to her mum, letting her know she was okay and she hoped she had a good Christmas Eve, and one to Eloise asking for forgiveness and maybe a hint at a gift.

Finally she opened Colin’s message, and her heart sank. A nude picture of herself had her gasping, tossing the phone onto the bed in shock.

Tears fell down her cheeks. He was blackmailing her, again.

Couldn’t he give her space?

She couldn’t do this anymore. She grabbed a pillow and shoved it over her face, using it to muffle the screams that came from her lips in frustration.

Over the next several hours, Colin’s messages became more unhinged, more scary.

She truly thought he must have sent the pictures to the whole school with the way he was acting. And if he hadn’t he was going to soon. She felt like she was on edge, of what, she was unsure.

All evening she could see that Marina was concerned for her, able to tell something was wrong. But Penelope couldn’t seem to muster the courage to voice what was going on.

She felt embarrassed, everything was her fault. Wasn’t it? She shouldn’t have gotten in so deep, shouldn’t have allowed Colin to have such power over her.

When her family wasn’t paying attention she drank some of the spiked eggnog, and once it was late, already well into the next day, made her way upstairs. It was Christmas morning and she felt spinny, and nauseous.

Nothing felt right, she felt like she was in a black hole of despair. 

“There is only one way to end all of this,” she said, staring at her reflection in the mirror, watching as empty hot tears leaked down her face.

She felt like she was outside of herself, as she silently wandered into the kitchen, finding a kitchen knife, before going back into her room.

She shut and locked the door with a small snap. Her breathing was coming out in ragged pants as she sat at her vanity, pulling out her phone and setting it up to record. She took in a small breath, before hitting play.

“Do whatever you want, you monster. Send it to my mum. Send it to the prime minister, if you want,” she began, the words pulled from her mouth like she had rehearsed them.

It poured out of her, the anger towards Colin. The anger at herself, all of it. She was done. She barely took a breath as she spoke.

Why did he blackmail her one second, and then buy her flowers in the next? Why did he fuck her raw, then cuddle her?

She couldn’t take the mind fuck any longer.

She arched forward shaking the vanity, causing her phone to fall, knife still in hand, she picked it up with a sense of finality.

“I must die. That’s the only way you’ll leave me alone. That's the only way to stop you from blackmailIng me.”

Then a knock startled her, the phone falling to the floor again, but this time she could see it turned her video off.

She was shaking, the knife in her hand felt like it weighed a ton as she stared at the door. Her thoughts were wild, panicked and desperate.

“Penny, are you alright in there?” Marina’s voice came over the other side and Penelope started crying once more.

With a shaky hand, she placed the knife on her vanity, before opening the door for Marina.

“Oh, little red,” her cousin’s voice ached, as she took Penelope into her arms.

Marina walked them over to the bed, sitting them both down on the edge. She took Penelope’s face into her hands and looked at her.

“I need you to tell me what’s going on, I know something’s wrong. I’ve known since the second you got off that train. I was trying to wait for you to come to me, but I can’t let this go on any longer,” her cousin said sharply, and Penelope took a deep breath before starting.

She told her about Colin, skipping over the blackmailing bit. She felt like she could also get in trouble for the cheating and stealing test answers. She just made it seem like she slipped into a bad relationship.

“Penelope, you know this is toxic as fuck, right? You need to break up with him,” Marina told her once she finished, wiping a tear from her cheek.

Why did it hurt to think about it? Why did she not want to break up with him? Why did she enjoy his attention? Was there even anything to break? They weren’t actually boyfriend and girlfriend…right?

“You deserve the kind of love that makes your heart flutter, for the thought of him to bring a smile to your face. Not for you to be crying in your room, wanting to hurt yourself. Do you understand? I know you are only seventeen, and don’t know what love is, but, baby, it is not this.” Marina was searching deep in her eyes, as she said this. Penelope let a small wet hiccup out of her mouth as she nodded slowly.

Her cousin was right, even if Penelope wasn’t sure what to do with that information. 

After their talk, Marina took the knife from her room, telling her to come find her if things felt like too much again. Marina wouldn’t leave the room until Penelope promised.

After Marina finally left the room, the door open this time, Penelope picked up her phone and without rewatching it, sent that video message to Colin.

She wanted him to know how fucked up he had her. How she wasn’t even in her right mind any longer because of him.

Then she turned off her phone.

She only got a few hours of sleep when she was woken up. It was Christmas morning after all, so she had to put on a brave face and pretend everything was okay. She sat on the couch with her family, and watched everyone open gifts.

She felt raw and hollowed out after the previous night's emotions. She was glad Marina stopped her from doing something rash, and stupid. She didn’t actually want to hurt herself, or kill herself. 

Despite what her cousin said, she still had no idea what to do about Colin. How did one break it off with their blackmailer? Did she just let Colin ruin her life so she could move on?

She decided that might be best. Tell him to send off what he got. Let the fallout be what it was.

At the end of the day she might be a disappointment to her family, but at least she would be free.

She also decided to go home early, wanting to have this discussion with Colin before the New Year.

So on New Years Eve day, in the late afternoon, she loaded onto the train, after a tear-stained goodbye with Marina.

“Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything, little red, I’ll come running in a heart beat,” Marina said. “Don’t forget what I told you,”

Then she was alone with her thoughts as the train rolled her home.

After several delays, due to ice on the tracks, she didn’t get home until much later than anticipated. It was already past midnight when they rolled into the station, and she also had to take an uber home because of the late hour.

Her mother wasn’t home, she had plans that evening, so Penelope dumped her stuff into her room before heading over to Colin’s house.

She was shaking with anticipation, but she needed to have this talk with him, she couldn’t wait any longer.

The Bridgerton house was bustling with music and noise as she approached the door.

She ended up just walking right in, after no one was able to hear her knocking over the music. Their New Year’s Eve party was still in full swing, despite it being well past midnight. 

She crept around, looking for Colin. He wasn’t in the main house, and she even looked in his room and couldn’t find him.

She ended up stumbling into Violet, who looked almost shocked to see her.

“Oh, Penelope, I am so glad you could make it, but Eloise went to another party this evening,” she said slowly and Penelope could tell the older woman was a bit tipsy.

“I am actually looking for Colin,” she said slowly, and she watched as Violet’s face changed into surprise.

“Oh?” she asked and Penelope nodded.

“I am not sure where he is this evening, he didn’t say where he was going when he left.” Concern flicked on her eyes as she pulled out her phone.

“Let me check the family tracking app.”

Penelope watched as Violet found Colin’s picture, zooming in to get a better idea of where he was.

“Oh, he’s at the pedestrian bridge, for some reason,” she said slowly and Penelope frowned.

“Sometimes the jocks hang out there, thanks Mrs. Bridgerton, I’ll go find him,” she said, leaving a startled Violet behind as she ventured back out into the cold.

What the hell was he doing at a random bridge with how cold it was out?

She was frustrated, at first she tried to get an uber, but none seemed to be around, all busy shuttling drunk people home from their parties.

So she ended up having to walk. The freezing wind whipping deep into her bones.

She grumbled the entire time, ready to let loose on him the second she saw him.

As she came up over the hill she saw him standing precariously at the edge of the bridge almost teeter tottering. What was he doing?

She watched as his phone slipped from his hand, clattering down loudly onto the metal bridge.

Then he leaned forward again, and she was running.

“Colin!!” she shouted, watching as his head snapped to look at her, shock clear in his eyes.

“Pen?” His voice came out a whisper, and she was grabbing him, pulling him from the edge.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she shouted over the wind, as it whipped over them, causing them both to shiver.

“I-I-I thought you-” he trailed off, as he seemed to sag, she had to help keep him up right.

“I am okay, we’re okay,” she whispered, as she threw his arm around her shoulder.

Things were far from okay, but it felt different, as she turned and started leading him away from the bridge.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Chapter Text

January: My January Friend, I’m wanting you again

(January Friend, by The Goo Goo Dolls)

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

One more breath. One more step. And then—

“Colin?”

“Colin,” she called, her voice high and thin in the morning air. “Take my hand before you do something stupid… come on, damn it.”

For a moment he froze, unable to breathe, unable to move. Then, gingerly, as though afraid she’d vanish if he touched her, he reached out, his frozen fingers brushing hers, and let her pull him down.

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

His body pressed against hers, trembling, shaking, and for the first time, the full weight of his emotions— panic, guilt, despair—everything surged forward. “I-I-I thought you-” he trailed off, sagging against her body, while she seemed to struggle to support his body weight.

“I am okay, we’re okay,” she whispered, as she threw his arm around her shoulder.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, choking back sobs that ripped from deep inside him. Penelope’s own heart raced, her hands moving to press against his back, soothing in small, uncertain circles.

“I… I thought… I thought I killed you,” he gasped between ragged breaths, voice shaking, cracking. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t live if you were gone…”

Tears were flowing freely down his cheeks, soaking into Penelope’s coat. Her own eyes stung, not just with fear but with relief that he was alive, that he was here, finally broken in a way that matched all the hurt she had endured.

“I’m here, Colin,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I’m alive. That’s what matters. Nothing else matters right now.”

His trembling slowed slightly, though his arms remained tight around her. His forehead pressed to hers, wet tears mingling with the sting of the cold night air. The world around them fell away, leaving just the two of them, chaotic and raw and human.

“I—I’m so sorry,” he whispered over and over, voice ragged. “For everything. For being… mean. For making you… scared.”

Penelope’s fingers threaded through his hair, holding him steady. “It’s okay. You’re here now. That’s enough. You’re alive. That’s enough, Colin.”

But as she soothed him, patted his back, a surge of anger coursed through her. What an idiot, she thought fiercely, gripping his shoulders a little tighter. How could he attempt to kill himself like that, without a thought for his family? How could he not think of me? Of all the people who care about him? And after everything he’s put me through, why the hell am I the one putting together his broken pieces…?

Her mind flashed back to every cruel word, every controlling gesture, every moment she had bent to his will, terrified of angering him. The relief of seeing him alive warred violently with her fury.

Colin, still trembling in her arms, pressed his forehead to hers, unaware of the storm raging behind her eyes. He thought he’d reached her with his vulnerability, that her closeness meant forgiveness.

But Penelope’s gaze was wide and blazing now, not just with worry but with the fire of someone who had survived his chaos. “You—what the hell were you doing? Do you even realise what you were going to do to your poor mother? Your siblings?” she demanded, her voice sharp, trembling.

Colin froze, her words striking him harder than any physical blow ever could, and she felt the weight of her anger settle over him, suffocating him, even as she continued to hold him in the comfort of her arms.

“I—I thought…” Colin’s words stumbled out, raw and ragged. He closed his eyes for a second, swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I thought if you… if you were really gone, I couldn’t live either. I—I didn’t know how else to cope with the situation. Your video— I… I dont…I love you, Penelope. I love you so damn much I… I couldn’t figure out any other way.”

Her chest tightened. She wanted to scream, to punch him, to shake him for terrifying her, for being her everything and nothing at once. But the sight of him, standing there trembling in the wind, tears tracking down his cheeks, confessing his love for her, broke something inside her.

Could he really be in love with her? she wondered. All those sweet, soft moments, all those flowers and candies and the locket, all the nights he held her in the warmth of his arms… and then… and then ruined the memory of it by doing something stupid and mean… anger flared in her chest once again.

“I thought you hated me!” she shouted, her hands balled into fists at her sides. “I liked you so much when you were… nice. When you were sweet. But when you’re… demanding, when you’re mean… it’s scary, Colin. I don’t know what I am supposed to do around you. I don’t even know if I can trust you!”

Colin flinched, guilt slamming into him like a tidal wave. “I know. I know. I’ve been… I’ve been doing everything wrong, Pen. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I just…” he swallowed, voice breaking, “…I thought if I pushed, if I—if I controlled it—I’d keep you. And I see now… I see how wrong I was. I’m so sorry.”

For a long moment, the wind and the river below seemed to still, as if the world had paused to let them breathe. Penelope’s anger faltered slightly, her eyes filling with tears she tried to hold back. “I thought I was just a toy for you,” she said in a very small, broken voice.

“No! No, Pen! You’re everything,” Colin blurted, frantic, the words tumbling out in jagged fragments.

She swallowed, eyes burning. “Then why would you treat me like your whore, Colin?”

He flinched as if struck. “I’m sorry, Pen. I just… I was too insecure. All that alpha male shit was just me hiding my own failures. I didn’t know how else to keep you. But I love you. I really do.”

Her hands curled into his coat, knuckles white. “Honestly? I don’t even know how I feel about you, Colin. I just…”

“Do you hate me? Are you breaking up with me?” His voice cracked on the last word, suddenly small and terrified.

“Breaking up!” She scoffed, then closed her eyes for a second, the sounds of the river and the wind filling the hollow between them. How can you break up with a bloke if you don't even know whether what you're doing with him qualifies as a relationship? It seemed he had built up a whole relationship with her in his head, while she kept second guessing the nature of their arrangement at every step. But here was the time to face the truth. Did she want to break up with him? —No!

Penelope exhaled noisily, tired of making sense of her own conflicting emotions. “I… I don’t hate you. I just—Colin, I like being with you when you’re good.”

Relief and raw need collided in his face. He stepped closer; his hands trembled as he reached to cup her face gingerly and touched his forehead to hers. “Then I will be good, Pen. Please—give me a chance.” He sounded younger than she’d ever heard him, almost pleading. “I don’t want to lose you ever again. Not like this. Not ever.”

She looked up at him, anger and exhaustion and something tender all braided together. For a long moment they simply stood there, forehead to forehead, breath mingling in the cold. She wanted to be furious; she wanted to run. But beneath the fury was the tired, traitorous flicker that had always warmed at him when he was gentle.

Slowly, almost as if testing the world, she nodded. “One chance,” she said, voice low. “But you have to mean it, Colin. No more threats. No more blackmail.”

He closed his eyes and let out a broken laugh of relief, catching her hands in both of his. “I mean it,” he whispered. “I’ll prove it.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes, two messy, imperfect teenagers clinging to the fragile thread of something that might, or might not work at all. Penelope was aware what kind of risk she was taking with him. But she could also feel his guilt, his desperation, and despite everything, the love radiating off him in uneven waves. She let herself lean into it, her own anger dissolving into relief that he was alive, that she had come in time to pull him off the ledge.

So in the cold, swirling wind of the new year morning, she let him cling to her, and eventually she let him hold her hand as they began walking back to their neighborhood. They didn’t talk about the months of manipulation, the cruel games, the coercion. Not yet. For now, it was enough that nobody was dead.

“You… you always get what you want, Colin,” Penelope suddenly said in a sharp, unflinching voice, eyes blazing even as she clutched her coat tighter. “You don’t know what it’s like to have to scrape by. To have to sell yourself in little ways just to survive. You don’t have to earn a single pence, so you’ll never understand why I sold the assignments.”

The sting of it drove him silent for a long moment. He could feel the truth of it, the weight of his privilege pressing down on him in a way it never had before. She wasn’t angry at him just because he had hurt her, she was angry at the world, and how blind he had been to her ordeals.

He looked at her then, really looked. Her shoulders were tense, her jaw tight, her lips pressed into a line of quiet determination. The girl who had suffered in silence, who had done what she needed to do to survive, had lived a reality he could barely imagine. And yet, he had taken advantage of her vulnerability, her helplessness. It was unforgivable. If he knew, he would not have forgiven himself. But here she was, trying to give him a chance. 

“I… I can change,” he said finally, voice low but steady. “Not because you’re angry, or…or because I want to fix this overnight. I want to be better, Pen. For you. I want you to see me as someone who can… meet you where you are. Not just take, not just control. I want to be someone who can…give you something worthwhile.”

Penelope’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering there. “And how exactly are you going to do that?”

Colin’s jaw set. “I’ll get a job,” he said, as if the words themselves anchored him. 

Penelope scoffed, “Oh, right. You mean you’ll get a summer internship in one of your late father’s companies? Because if it was that easy to get a job for a highschooler, then I wouldn't have resorted to selling assignments, Colin.”

“I will do what the other teenagers are doing to earn their allowance, Pen,” Colin said, his jaw set.

Penelope raised an eyebrow, almost laughing despite herself. “Really, Colin? You know what Cho does? He waits tables in a cafe. Carrying greasy trays between the kitchen and the tables til midnight.”

Colin didn’t flinch. “So? I can do that.”

“And Mike Straton?” she pressed, her tone sharp. “He works weekends shovelling snow off people’s driveways. Freezing his fingers off for twenty quid a day. Do you even own a snow shovel, Colin?”

Colin’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t back down. “Then I’ll buy one.”

“With your family money, yes?” Penelope let out a short, incredulous laugh, though there was no humour in it. “You? Out there in the cold, knocking on doors, begging for work like the rest of us mortals?”

“Yes,” Colin shot back, eyes fierce, almost desperate. “If that’s what it takes to prove to you that I’m serious about us, then yes. I’ll shovel every bloody driveway in Mayfair if I have to.”

She stared at him for a long moment, searching his face for any hint of a joke. There wasn’t one. His expression was deadly earnest, and it unsettled her more than any threat he’d ever made.

Colin held her gaze unflinchingly. “Pen, I will work where I’ll earn my own money. Every penny. And I’ll give it to you. Every paycheck, every single time. I don’t want to just throw money at you, making you feel like a…” he choked on the word 'whore'. He simply couldn't say it. “like something you’re not, or pretend I understand what it’s like to struggle. But I want to show you that I can step out of my bubble. That I can change. That I can be… responsible. For you.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his eyes. The angry fire that had been blazing in her eyes softened, just slightly, into something like cautious hope. “You… really mean that?” she asked, voice quieter now, unsure if she wanted to believe it.

“I do,” he said firmly, tilting his head to meet her gaze. “I want to do better. I want to be someone who doesn’t scare you. Someone who can… help you, not make things worse.”

Penelope’s lips pressed together. Part of her wanted to laugh at the idea of Colin Bridgerton working for a paycheck like the rest of the world. But another, quieter part of her, deep in her chest, where her exhaustion from the past months still throbbed, wanted to believe him.

And then there was a third part, a really dark part of her heart, that whispered insidiously— Let him experience what it feels like to be poor. Let him suffer, like the rest of us.

“Alright,” she said finally, a hint of a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll hold you to that. But don’t think for a second that your family money can fix everything between us.”

Colin breathed in relief, reached for her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I know it can’t,” he said softly. “But this chance you're giving to us? Maybe it’s the start of something good, Pen. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I can be better than I was.”

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Colin knew he was too much. His presence too much, his constant need for validation, too much. The way he treated Penelope, too much.

He made mistake after mistake, and after the awful week where he thought he had ruined everything, he vowed to fix it. Fix himself. Willing to do anything to make it better.

He was unrelenting in his search for a job.

Placing applications to several different fast food restaurants, retails stores, and small shops. He was willing to take anything, any payment at this point.

He had to prove to Penelope that he was serious about changing. About treating her right. He needed to be the man she deserved all along. It was time to get out of his own head and act like the gentlemen his parents had raised him to be.

He was hard-pressed to find a job, the season slowing down for everyone now that the holidays were over. He could barely face Penelope without one. Every evening she asked how the job search went, and then he had to endure the disappointed look that graced her face when he let her know he hadn’t found one yet.

It was like she didn’t believe he was serious, that he was fucking it off. That was far from the truth.

He knew if he went to Anthony, he could help him find one, and a good one at that. But he couldn’t, not after everything she had said to him, thrown at him. His privilege. He needed to do this on his own, needed to prove to her that he could do it.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

He was so desperate that during the third week of January, he went to Cho. He remembered Penelope mentioning he worked at a chip shop. Colin was willing to take anything at this point he thought as he approached the guy on the steps after school.

It was cold as Colin pulled his beanie over his head, tucking his ears into it, trying to stay warm.

“Hey, Cho,” he said almost awkwardly. Cho was pulling a bike from the bike rack. Colin knew that Cho’s family didn’t have a lot of money, much like Penelope. He humbled himself as he thought about how Cho had to ride his bike in the freezing cold, dealing with snow and rough terrain every day. While he had a car handed to him on his sixteen birthday like it was a piece of cake.

“Sup, Bridgerton.” Cho raised a brow at him, like he was wondering why Colin was speaking to him. They had known each other since primary school, but they had never really been friends.

“Hey, uh, you work at that chip shop down the street right?” he asked, acting as if he hadn’t seen him several times at said shop.

“Yeah,” he said slowly.

“I was wondering if you could put in a good word for me, I really need a job and nowhere seems to be hiring.” He wondered if his utter desperation was leaking from his pores as Cho’s eyes widened.

“What do you need a job for, Bridgerton, get cut off or something?” he joked, but Colin wasn’t in the mood. Plus how could he explain why he needed this job?

“Something like that,” he said awkwardly. “Please mate, I really need this,” he said and Cho sighed.

“Let me talk to my manager, I’ll text you if we have something.” Colin thanked him, before watching him ride off.

He really needed this.

Several hours later he got a text from Cho, he had worried that the other boy was going to shrug him off.

Colin almost cried, finally after a week he had an interview.

Colin: Thank you thank you! I promise I wont mess this up.

Colin decided not to tell Penelope he had an interview, just in case it didn’t work out. He wouldn’t be able to handle the judgemental look in her eyes if he didn’t get it.

He dressed to impress, following Cho to the chip shop after school. He was nervous and despite the cold temperatures his palms were sweating, as he wiped them down his pant legs. 

“So, Mr. Bridgerton, why do you want to work here?”

He was better dressed then the manger he noted, but didn’t comment as he launched into the whys.

“It’s minimum wage, plus tips. You work nights and weekends, and no calling out unless you are dying, got it?” the manager said, thrusting an apron into his hands.

“You start to tomorrow, don’t fuck it up, kid, I can replace you in a heartbeat.” Colin was over the moon that he finally got a job.

His heart thundered in his chest as he thought about telling Penelope.

It was so stilled and awkward between the two of them ever since the bridge. 

His main focus had been proving to her that he could change, get a job, be the man she needed. She seemed to be focusing on school, and herself. Which was fine, but he wasn’t willing to give her up, or let her down.

The few times they had hung out nothing more than cuddling happened. If his hand even inched anywhere she didn’t want, she was flinching. He was trying to respect her boundaries.  

But he was just a man, and fuck did he miss her body. He hoped once he proved to her how serious he was, things could go back to how it was before. Not the blackmailing, but the intimacy. 

He decided to surprise Penelope that he got a job. He wanted to buy her flowers, but refused to use any of his family money for things for her. So until he got his first pay check, he had nothing but his hands.

He looked up a tutorial online on how to make paper flowers with tissue paper. He sat in the kitchen trying for over an hour, when Daphne found him.

“What are you doing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Colin had never put this much effort into a girl before, he knew she was going to ask questions.

“I am trying to make flowers,” he said, holding up the one pathetic one that looked closest to a flower.

“Why?” she asked and he frowned. He didn’t want to keep secrets anymore, it was part of what almost ruined him and Penelope to begin with. (That and him blackmailing her, but he refused to think about that part.)

He shrugged and she sighed, joining him at the table.

“Let me help you.” Daphne was a better teacher than YouTube, and thirty minutes later he had a beautiful paper bouquet.  

“I hope this girl is worth it,” she said with a wink and Colin nodded.

“She is worth everything,” he said honestly.

Despite the freezing cold, he trudged over to Penelope's house, his paper flowers in hand.

He knocked at the door, and waited for her to answer.

She looked beautiful when she answered the door.

Her hair was in a loose pony tail, some of her curls escaping and curling around her face. Her lips were extra pink like she had been biting them. Black legging and an over size sweater. The sweater was over her hands and she was fisting it as she looked up at him.

“Can I come in? It will be quick, I am sure you’re busy.” He suddenly felt unsure of himself.

“Oh yeah, okay,” she said, letting him in. It looked like her mother wasn’t home as he followed her over to her couch.

“These are for you,” he said, thrusting the paper flowers into her hands. She took them with a curious look on her face.

“I wanted to ask you on an official date. I finally got a job, and once I get my first pay check I want to bring you on a date, and give you the rest,” he told her and her eyes widened as she started chewing on her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Oh, where did you get a job?” she asked, and he told her about the chip shop that Cho worked at.

He couldn’t tell if she was pleased with him or not. He needed her to give him some kind of reassurance, but at the same time she didn’t owe him anything. 

So, when he left with nothing more than a small kiss on the lips, he felt defeated.

This is what she wanted from him, wasn’t it? 

She wanted him to get a job, to prove to her that he wasn’t the man that he had proven to be so far.

He had to swallow down the lump that was his own expectations. They were going at her pace, not his. It wasn’t fair to expect a certain type of reaction from her. Even if he needed it desperately.

Maybe if she saw how hard he worked, then she would believe him. That he was true in his promises to her.

So he quickly focused his mind on the job itself. He started in the last week of January, walking over to the chip shop with Cho while he pushed his bike along.

“You should get a bike, Bridgerton, it’s faster,” Cho commented and Colin nodded. Wondering if he should ask Anthony to buy him one, or wait for Penelope to take pity on him and tell him to buy one.

His mind felt fractured in who he had been, and who he was trying to be. 

Two warring, confused parts of him.

He asked Penelope to give him time to settle at his job for a week or so before visiting. He couldn’t handle her watching him struggle at this.

It quickly became apparent that he was awful in the kitchens. Burning the first basket of chips he dropped into the hot oil. Then he spilled tartar sauce all over the ground.

He felt embarrassed, and on the verge of tears when the boss took pity on him and he sent him to the front of house.

He felt much more sure of himself as he helped the waitress with her orders, and even helped the host seat people as they came in. He also became the bus boy, cleaning tables and bringing dirty dishes into the back.

He was hot, tired and sweaty as the night ended and everyone started cleaning up.

“Well, Bridgerton,” the boss said, coming up and clapping him on the back.

“You're right shit in the kitchen, but I must admit that you worked wonders in the front of the house. I’ll have Cho show you the ropes, and soon you can start waiting on your own tables.” Colin thanked him, and even got a small portion of the tips.

As he walked home that night, he couldn’t help but feel like maybe he wasn’t worthless after all. He also realized that perhaps he could buy Penelope a Valentines Day gift, since the holiday was coming up in a few weeks.

Maybe things were turning around after all.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Chapter Text

Lost in a February song, Tell him it won't be long 

(February Song By: Josh Groban)

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

For Colin, who had never worked for a single day in his life, it had been humiliating at first: the scrape of leftover food onto trays, wiping sticky surfaces, carrying heavy tubs back and forth. His shirt kept clinging to his back with sweat, and more than once he thought about walking straight out the door. But when Penelope’s face flickered in his mind…her disappointment, her hurt, the way she would whisper that he didn’t know how to earn a single dime, he squared his shoulders and kept going.

A week of bussing tables later, Colin finally got the opportunity to wait tables of his own. The boss had noticed how quick Colin was on his feet, how he smiled easily at customers, how he convinced them to order a few extras with his natural charm and a few recommendations. The boss hadn't yet realised Colin's recommendations were genuine—not a plot to make people order more food, as he himself liked good food, and loved to talk about the dishes he enjoyed with other people. Nonetheless, the boss took note of this and approached him on the first Friday of February. “You, Bridgerton. Enough bussing. Try waiting tables,” he said with a gentle smile, tossing him a notepad.

It turned out Colin was a natural. He remembered orders, chatted with diners, cracked a joke here and there. Tips began to fill his apron pockets. For the first time in a long while, he felt useful, like he wasn’t just drifting aimlessly but actually building something of his own.

When he went to meet Pen late that night, smelling of grease and exhaustion, Penelope blinked in surprise as he placed a small wad of crumpled bills in her hand.

“I earned these tips,” Colin said simply, voice rough, but there was a quiet pride in his eyes. “I'm promoted to waiting tables now.”

Penelope stared at the slightly crumpled bills, her brows drawing together. For a moment she said nothing, just pressed her lips into a line. Colin shifted under her silence, shoulders tense, waiting for the smile, the teasing remark, some spark of approval that never came.

“That’s good, Colin,” she said at last, carefully measured, her voice too neutral. “I’m glad you… earned it.”

He searched her face, but she had already turned away to look at the moon.

“You don’t believe me,” he said, frustration edging his words.

“I didn’t say that,” she said curtly. “I just… I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Your hopes up?” he repeated, hurt flickering across his face.

Penelope’s back stayed rigid. “I know how hot and cold you can be with me. How… mercurial you are. What if you treat this job the same way you've been treating me? You're doing good now, but what if you slip, or you get careless, or you—” she stopped, swallowed. “I don’t want to start thinking this will last unless it really does.”

Colin stood there with his grease-stained apron still tied around his waist, pride slipping into something raw and vulnerable. “It is different,” he whispered. “I’m trying, Pen. With you. For you. I'm trying with everything I have…”

She turned her face then, her eyes softening just a fraction, but still guarded, as if she were holding herself back, afraid that if she let go she might believe him too quickly.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Next Friday evening, Colin walked towards the newly occupied table when Penelope’s voice rang out clear as a bell.

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t Colin Bridgerton, everyone’s favourite golden boy. Did big brother finally decide your allowance was too much, so now you’re waiting tables for us mere mortals?”

Her group of friends erupted in laughter. Genevieve slapped the table like it was the funniest thing she had heard, James Basilio whistled, and Colin felt the blood drain from his face.

“Pen…” he warned under his breath, forcing a tight smile.

But she leaned back in the booth, grinning wickedly. “Hey Colin, weren't you cleaning the tables just last week? I think you missed a spot there—oh wait, never mind, that’s just your pride leaking all over the floor.”

His ears burned, but he stood there, taking measured breaths, jaw tight, enduring the teasing. He deserved it afterall, didn't he?

And yet, as he took their order, meekly nodding along, trying not to let it get to him, he wondered. Fearing what it meant… her humiliating him this way. He understood her need to get revenge. To make him feel small, the way he had done to her. But did that mean she was going to leave him? His eyes flickered to Basilio. The boy was in her class. Average grades, average looks. Average financial background. But maybe he was kind to her? Could she really…

Colin kept thinking about it for the rest of his shift long after Penelope and her friends had left.

But then, as soon as his shift ended, she cornered him in the storeroom. The door clicked shut, and before he could breathe, her lips were on his—rough, hungry.

He gasped in delight, hands instinctively catching her waist. “Pen, I thought…I thought you were mad at me, all the things you said about me out there—”

“And you loved it, didn't you?” she murmured against his mouth. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

“What? No… I… Pen, I am trying hard for us—”

“So you don't like when I humiliate you?” she said, pulling him even closer, as she rubbed her palm on the rapidly growing bulge in his pants. “Then why the hell did you think it was okay to humiliate me, Colin? What the hell were you thinking then? You made me feel small before. Now it’s your turn.”

His heart thundered, torn between shame and desire. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t,” she said, tugging his hair before kissing him again, hard enough to bruise. “And still I will have you.”

And with that, she unzipped his pants, took out his erection and began stroking him till he came on her hand.

˚₊‧⋆.✧˚

It had become a ritual now. A jab here, a joke at his expense there…Penelope sweeping into the diner like a queen into a court, her girl gang trailing behind her most of the time, her laughter too bright, too sharp.

“Look at him,” she’d say, gesturing at Colin in his apron as he wiped down a table. “Golden Bridgerton slumming it with us commoners. What’s next, Colin? Washing dishes in the Thames?”

Everyone would laugh. Colin would grit his teeth and smile like it didn’t matter. And every time, without fail, as soon as his shift ended, she’d be waiting for him at the back door. No words, just hands in his shirt, mouth on his, dragging him into the alley behind the diner where the smell of fryer oil and cigarette smoke clung to the bricks.

Tonight was no different. Her nails scratched lightly down his chest as she pressed him into the cold wall, her lips hot against his neck. His breath came fast but not from desire. Something in him snapped.

He caught her wrists and pulled back, eyes wild. “Why are you doing this to me, Pen?” His voice cracked like glass. “Do you hate me that much? Do you just want to watch me crawl?”

For a heartbeat she was still. Her hair fell forward, a red curtain hiding her eyes. When she finally looked up at him, there was a flicker of anger—reflexive, defensive—but then guilt bled through, softening her face. She lifted a hand, thumb brushing his cheek as if wiping away something invisible.

“I don’t think I hate you,” she whispered. Her voice trembled but didn’t break. “But you broke me, Colin. And maybe this is the only way I can stop feeling so powerless. If I make you small, I feel big again.”

He stared at her, words dying in his throat. She wasn’t mocking him now. She was confessing a raw truth.

Something inside him collapsed. His grip on her wrists loosened, and instead he caught her hand, kissing it with a desperation that tasted of shame. “Then let me be small, Pen. Just… don’t leave me.”

Her eyes searched his, caught between vengeance and longing. Her fingers hovered near his face, trembling. For a moment neither of them moved, as their breathing grew shallow and uneven.

After a moment—or it could have been an hour— time had stopped making sense, Colin pressed his lips to hers again, hungry, desperate, catching whatever scraps of affection she was willing to throw his way. His hands cupped her face, then slid down to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, as if proximity alone could erase the weeks of humiliation and fear.

Her body stiffened at first, fighting him, but there was always a softening, a betraying tremor in her fingers, a shiver that told him she wanted this just as desperately, even if she wouldn’t admit it. That hesitation, that duality, made him ache in ways words could never touch.

I haven’t just broken her, he thought, though he wouldn’t dare speak it aloud. I’ve broken myself too.

Every sharp word he’d thrown at her, every public jab, every laugh at her expense…it all came back in a rush. And yet, here she was, in his arms, letting him taste even the smallest fraction of her warmth.

His lips moved against hers with a fervour born of guilt and longing, and for the first time, the alley, the cold, the diner, even the laughter of her friends…they all faded into the background. There was only this…her, him, the messy, jagged ache of wanting and fearing, giving and taking, loving and hurting.

She finally responded with a shudder, a softening in her arms, and he let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He didn’t pull away, didn’t speak. He just kissed her harder, holding on as if sheer force of will could mend both their fractured hearts.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Penelope wondered if something was really very wrong with her. At first, torturing him had felt exhilarating. Cathartic, almost liberating. Every jab, every tease had given her a sense of power she’d never had before, a fleeting balance to the months she’d spent under his control.

But now… now it hurt. Hurting him, even in small ways, left a bitter ache in her chest. She hated that she could see the way his eyes softened, the way he trembled just slightly under her fingers, and feel… pleasure. Pleasure in seeing him surrender, in seeing him fold to her whims as completely as she had once bent to his.

There was no rhyme or reason to it. He had been so good these past few days. Calm, gentle, thoughtful. Almost predictable. And yet she couldn’t stop herself. She feared it wasn’t because he’d changed at all, but because she had carefully, deliberately kept him under her thumb, humiliated him in public, mocked him in front of friends, and then stolen his breath away in private.

Boy, did it feel good.

To see him completely surrender, to watch the golden Bridgerton…her Colin…fold like wax beneath her hands, shivering and helpless, made her pulse race. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t stop. The thrill of power, the rush of domination mixed with fear and desire, held her tight.

And yet, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this wasn’t healthy, not for him, not for her. She was dancing on the edge of something dark, something she couldn’t quite name, and every time she looked at him, every time he gave her those soft, desperate smiles, she questioned whether she was in love, or just addicted to the way she could hurt him… and still have him come back for more.

˚₊‧⋆.✧˚

Colin’s fingers trembled slightly as he counted the bills from his first real paycheck, the crisp notes heavier with meaning than they should have been. Weeks of sweating in the diner, balancing trays, taking orders, juggling exhaustion with the gnawing need to prove himself. Every penny now felt like a tiny declaration. And he had only one person in mind to give it to.

He packed the money carefully into a small envelope, tucked it into his jacket pocket, and set about transforming his room. Candles flickered along the shelves, casting soft shadows that danced across the walls. Music played quietly from his speaker—her favorite playlist, a mixture of soft acoustics and slow jazz. The bed was made neatly, a blanket tucked at the foot, and on the nightstand sat a steaming mug of hot cocoa, whipped cream piled high, with the chocolate sprinkled carefully on top—her favorite. A pizza box rested on the floor, the scent of her favorite toppings filling the room and making his stomach rumble.

He placed the small velvet box carefully next to the cocoa. Inside, a delicate silver ring—a promise ring, subtle but perfect, showing her just how serious he was about them—glimmered under the candlelight. He had hesitated over it for hours, picking the one that felt like it spoke of commitment without suffocation, of love without ownership. He didn't want to repeat the same mistake again and gift her something that would feel like a collar or leash.

Then came the hardest part: waiting.

He had texted her earlier to meet him in his room for their Valentine’s date night. So now, he sat on the edge of his bed, back straight, trying to look calm, though every tick of the clock made his heart hammer harder. He imagined her walking through the door, hair slightly messy from the wind, eyes curious, the little smile that always set him off, making him forget everything else.

She’s going to like this, he told himself, though a small pit of fear and doubt churned in his stomach. She has to.

He rehearsed what he would say, over and over: “I want to date you, Pen. Properly. Publically. No hiding, no games. Just us.”

The room smelled of cocoa and pizza, candles flickered, and the ring sparkled like a tiny promise of something better, something steadier than their usual chaos. Colin hugged his knees, listening for her steps outside, heart thrumming in anxious anticipation, silently counting down until she would arrive.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

He watched her eyes widen as she stepped into the room. His own breath was taken from him, as he watched her look him over. She was so pretty in her red sweater, decorated with pink hearts. A black skirt, paired with heart tights.

Could she be any more adorable? The sting of his unworthiness shot through him again as she closed the door behind her.

“Pen,” he said, nervousness catching in his throat. He needed this to go perfect, more than anything. He couldn’t take it if she rejected him.

“Wow Col,” she said softly, before he could continue.

“What’s that?” she asked and he couldn’t help but smile, of course her keen eyes caught her gift immediately.

“This is for you,” he spoke softly, picking up the small velvet box, presenting it to her carefully. 

“I-I got you this,” she handed him a bag, which he took gratefully.

 She cracked open the box, and he heard a small gasp come from her lips.

“Pen,” he said thickly. “That is a promise ring. My promise to you is to be better, to work everyday towards being the man you deserve.” He placed the small bag she had gotten him onto the floor before taking out the ring from the box and putting it on her ring finger. Then he pulled out the envelope with his hard earned money inside.

“This is also for you,” he said, watching as her hands shook slightly as she took the envelope and peered inside. “It is the money from my first paycheck, like promised," he said weakly and her eyes were shining as she looked back at him.

He didn’t even get a chance to open his own gift, before her mouth was latched onto his own. The envelope of money haphazardly placed next to the ignored pizza and hot cocoa. She pressed him down onto his bed, peppering hot kisses on his face and neck.

They were both panting as she fumbled to get his shirt off, then worked on pushing his pants down.

“Slow down, baby, we have all night,” he whispered at her frantic pace. He didn’t even get to tell her what he wanted to say yet. Didn’t get to ask her to be his properly. Tell her how he wanted to take her on dates, to let the world know she was his, and he was hers.

“I want you so bad,” she mumbled into his neck, so he took charge and started helping pull her sweater over her head and tights down her legs. If she needed him, he would never deny her.

“Fuck, you taste good,” she said as they both ignored her skirt, just rucking it up around her waist. 

He rested his back against the head board, as she sunk down onto him slowly, and he clung to her back.

“Penelope, please,” he begged as she rocked on top of him. He clung even tighter, more desperately at the small noises that escaped her mouth. She had been driving him mad, with her hot and cold behavior. Not that he wasn’t undeserving.

He just needed her validation, needed to feel closer to her. Needed to feel like he wasn’t going to lose her.

Her breath was hot on his neck as she ground on him, over and over driving them both to the brink.

Her mouth ghosted over his own as she came, and he sucked in her gasps. He needed to claim them. She slowed down after her orgasm, and he gladly took over. Grabbing her hips, and trusting up to meet her.

It wasn’t long before his lips parted in a silent gasp, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

When it was over, she slumped onto top of him, her head on his chest.

After they caught their breaths, they both redressed. Colin had just put his shirt over his head, he was worrying about how to ask her to be his girl, out in the open, when she turned to him. Even further in the back of his mind he was thinking about reheating the pizza, and remaking her hot chocolate. 

She cleared her throat, startling him.

The envelope of money was in her hands, and he watched her rifle through it, before handing him a wad of bills.

“Here,” she said softly, pulling the rest of the money into her pocket.

“Huh?” he said slowly and she furrowed her eyebrows.

“You know, for doing such a good job,” she said and it felt like his entire soul left his body.

“Oh.” He let the money fall from his grip, dropping to his carpet, as his reality shattered.

She was paying him for the sex they just had. Just like he had done to her all those months ago.

All this work to change, to fix things, it wasn’t enough.

He completely caved into himself, as the tension grew awkward.

“Well, um, thanks for everything,” she said softly, fluttering out of his bedroom like she hadn’t just imploded his entire life.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

As Penelope walked across the street, something coiled deep in her gut. The look on his face, as she handed him the money.

It was like she had broken him.

She had taken it too far. What he had done to her was wrong, but what she was doing to him was just as wrong.

Tears welled in her eyes, as she got to her room.

Was everything too broken to fix? Was she going to constantly hurt him, over and over at every turn? Was he just going to keep taking it without even fighting back? When would she feel satisfied, like the wrong against her had been rectified?

All night she kept pondering over it. Her breathing came out shallow, and she knew that either this had to end, or they needed help.

She called him the next day, he answered on the first ring.

“Pen?” he breathed and his voice sounded wrecked, like the second she left him he started sobbing.

“Colin,” she whispered back, tears dripping down her own face.

“I am so sorry, that wasn’t fair.” She sniffled as he started stuttering out that it was okay.

“No, Colin, it wasn’t okay. Me hurting you doesn’t change that you hurt me, it just makes it all worse,” she said sharply.

“Then how do we make it better, Pen?” Colin asked in a small voice. “Because I do want to make it up to you.”

“I-I think we need help,” she whispered and he was silent on the other line.

“I can’t lose you.” The way his voice caught almost took her breath away.

“I don’t want to lose you either. Would-would you do couples therapy with me?” she asked, immediately berating herself for suggesting it. They were only teenagers, so going to couples therapy seemed extreme. They should just break up at this point. Yet, for reasons unknown to her, she couldn’t find it within herself to give him up, as he couldn’t seem to give her up as well.

“Yes, anything Pen, please,” he begged and she knew for certain that he was unwilling to let her go, just as much as she was unable to let him go.

She was able to make them an appointment, out of pocket, using the money from Colin’s first pay check.

As she sat in front of her vanity, getting ready for her therapy session, she felt like she was about to walk into a war zone. After tying her hair into a high ponytail, her gaze lingered on the necklace Colin had gifted her. The one with a ‘C’. First the necklace, now the ring. She glanced at her finger, where the ring sat, his promise to be better, burning into her skin. Maybe he meant it. No, she was 99 percent sure he meant it. And try as she might, she couldn't pry away those pieces of jewelry from her body. She slipped the ring from her finger and threaded it into the chain of the necklace, so his promise now rested against the 'C’ that seemed to brand her as his.

They both sat awkwardly on the couch, as Dr. Arnold watched them with curious eyes.

“You're both a bit young to be seeking couples counseling, aren’t you?” she asked, tapping the pen in her hand on the notepad propped on her knees.

“Maybe, but..” Penelope trailed off, looking at Colin for help.

“But we both want to stay together and fix things, we just don’t know how on our own,” Colin said and she nodded her agreement.

“Why don’t you start with why you are here,” she said simply, and Penelope launched into a watered down version of events.

Neither of them wanted to get the other in trouble for their behavior. They didn’t really touch on the blackmail, or her stealing the test answers. Mostly painted a picture of terrible treatment from him, the secrecy of their relationship, the explosion of emotions at Christmas time, and then her treatment of him since then.

“This is a lot, for kids of your age,” Dr. Arnold said, sitting up, looking at them with a frown on her lips. 

“We just need your help, please,” he begged and she sighed.

“Honestly, my recommendation is you both need therapy on your own. You need to start with yourself, before you can work together. Both of you have a lot of internalized issues that I don’t think we can figure out in a couples session such as this,” she said plainly and Penelope looked at Colin to see his reactions.

He looked resolute, like he would do anything for her. He looked at her, reaching across the couch to take her hand into his.

“We will do whatever you suggest,” he said quickly. “I would like to pay for both Pen and I to take individual sessions,” Dr. Arnold nodded. “Please see the receptionist to schedule, I look forward to speaking to you both, individually.”

Things hadn’t gone quite as she thought they would, but as she walked out of the therapist's office with Colin, she felt like they were at least going in the right direction.

“Everything will be okay Pen, we can do this,” he said, squeezing her hand. He looked oddly convinced that therapy was the answer to fixing everything wrong between them, and she, though not fully convinced, told him she thought so, too.

˚₊‧⋆.✧˚

After dropping her off at home from their therapy appointment, Colin had to rush over to the chip shop for his shift. Waiting tables was a much better gig than bussing, and he enjoyed it.

By the time his shift was over he was exhausted as he headed out.

“Yo, Colin!” he heard from behind him. He froze, as his best friend Micheal strolled up to him. The pair had drifted since Colin started messing around with Pen, who was Michael’s girl at that point in time.

He felt guilt coil in his stomach, knowing he was the reason for the rift between them.

“Sup, mate,” he said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. It was still freezing out and he shivered as they both started walking in the same direction.

“Why are you working at the chippy? Ant finally cut you off?” he joked and Colin frowned. It was so weird, that he didn’t know what to say to him. Michael had been his best mate since they were five. Now it was like he barely knew the guy.

“Something like that, plus it will look good on my resume that I had a job,” he said shrugging.

“Cool, cool…” he trailed off.

“So, why have you been avoiding me?” Michael asked and Colin looked towards the ground.

“It’s because of Pen, isn’t it? I see the way you look at her, I saw the way you’ve always looked at her,” Michael said bluntly and Colin stiffened.

“I-I’m sorry-” he tried to get out, but Michael cut him off.

“It's whatever, man, I just wish you would have told me. Pen is great and all, but we barely dated. Seems crazy to throw away a whole ass friendship over it,” he said with just a hint of anger in his tone.

“I know, I should have just told you,” he said, but Colin knew at the time he mentally wasn’t well enough to say anything.

He was blackmailing Pen at the time. Doing wild, crazy shit. Michael would have never understood.

“Are you guys dating?” Michael asked after a brief pause and Colin shrugged.

“I think so,” he trailed off and Michael laughed.

“Pen is quiet, but she certainly is wild. You should at least define the relationship, ain’t fair to string each other along,” he said and Colin knew that he was right. He wanted to do it on Valentine’s Day, but things had taken such a quick left turn he never got the chance.

“You're right,” he said and Michael clapped him on the back. Colin knew he should be angry at Michael for spreading rumors about Penelope, but he couldn't seem to find it within himself. He had done worse, much worse. 

“Since that’s all worked out, I better start seeing you around more, yeah?” he said and Colin nodded. He was right, it wasn’t fair to hide in his non-relationship with Penelope. It wasn’t fair to make his entire existence based on one person.

“Yeah, text me.” Then Michael was bounding away and Colin truly felt like things might be turning around in all aspects of his life. 

Him and Michael were starting to work things out. Him and Penelope were going to get therapy. 

As he walked in the door, the loud noise and the smell of dinner hit him in force. For the first time since the whole suicide video thing, he felt properly hungry for a good meal.

“Colin, you’re home!” Hyacinth called and he smiled as he took off his coat, hanging it by the door.

“Come on, Col, join us for game night!” Violet called as he wandered into the kitchen. It was Friday night and it looked like everyone was home for once.

“Yeah, join us,” Anthony said, looking at him with a soft glint in his eyes.

“What are you playing?” he asked as he found a spot next to Eloise.

“Half the table is playing monopoly, the other half scrabble,” she said, concentrating on the letters she had in front of her.

“I call dibs on winner,” he said, reaching over Eloise to grab a bowl of popcorn.

“Ew, get away from me,” Eloise said, shoving him away. “You smell like a chip shop!” she said disgustedly.

“Duh I work at one,” he said with an eye roll, and for the first time, he wasn't ashamed to admit that he was working for his pocket-money. In fact, he felt proud of it.

He felt more like himself in that moment than he had in ages, maybe even since before Penelope arrived. It was warm in the house, as his siblings lightly bickered with each other.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He wanted to have Penelope in this moment with him in some way.

He wondered if she would reply, but he decided to not linger like he normally did. 

Three seconds later his phone chirped, and he looked at it in surprise.

His heart fluttered, his cheeks warming.

“What are you grinning like that for!” Gregory lobbed half a cookie at him, and Colin looked up.

“None of your business,” he said hotly before tossing a chip at him. Gregory parted his lips, moving his head to catch the chip in his mouth.

Greg went to throw something else and Colin opened his own mouth, ready to catch it.

“Stop it, you gremlins!” Eloise shouted again and Colin laughed.

Now this felt like coming home.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Chapter Text

Can you hold on through the seasons?

(Seasons By: Thirty Seconds to mars)

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

As Penelope waited for Dr. Arnold, she kept fidgeting in the chair, her fingers twisting the hem of her sweater. Last time she had been in the office she was too focused on not breaking into a cry in front of Colin. But this time around, Colin wasn't there to pick up on her vulnerable state. So she observed her surroundings. The office smelled faintly of lavender, the dahlias in the case in front of her were real. Her eyes were darting over the walls when Dr. Arnold entered the room. Immediately, Penelope's eyes lowered on the floor, watching the pattern in the carpet as if it could somehow shield her from Dr. Arnold’s gaze.

“Hi, Penelope. I’m glad you decided to get individual therapy first,” Dr. Arnold said, voice gentle. “So tell me, what brought you to the decision to seek therapy?”

Penelope hesitated. She wasn’t sure how to begin. Part of her wanted to lie, to say she came because she wanted to feel better, not because she had any issues or something. Another part—the darker, angrier part—whispered in her mind that she was coming because she had caused so much chaos in the last couple of months and there really was something wrong with her. “I… I don’t really know,” she said finally, voice soft. “I thought I should. Maybe someone should help me figure out why I do the mean things I do.”

Dr. Arnold nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“I’ve… I’ve been cruel to my boyfriend, Colin,” she confessed, her throat tightening. “I humiliated him. Teased him in front of people. I pushed him to prove things… to me. I don’t even know why I did it sometimes.”

Dr. Arnold leaned forward slightly. “Why do you think you did those things?”

Penelope swallowed. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “At first… I was scared of him. For months, I was scared of what he might do if I didn’t obey him—if I didn’t do what he wanted. And now…” She exhaled shakily. “Now that I called him out on his bullshit, I’m not scared of him anymore. But… It feels good. It feels… powerful to keep making him squirm. And I know that’s wrong. I know it’s cruel. But I… can’t stop.”

Dr. Arnold nodded slowly. “It sounds like the fear you experienced shifted into needing control over him.”

Penelope’s chest tightened. “Yeah… maybe. And the worst part is… I kind of like it. That feeling of power. That feeling that I’m not… powerless anymore.” She swallowed, voice small. “But then I feel horrible afterward. Like I’ve become someone… unrecognizable. Someone I don’t want to be. I am—I am not this vindictive person at all. Then why do I keep hurting a person I’m supposed to love?”

“You keep implying that the start of your relationship with Colin was less than ideal.”

“I did not say that.”

“No, you didn’t. I just felt that was the case from your word choice.”

“What word choice?”

“You said earlier that you were scared of him. You just said you’re supposed to love him. ‘Supposed to love,’ not ‘love.’ Penelope, whatever we discuss will remain within these walls, so if you want to talk freely—”

“I am talking freely.”

“Did Colin bully you into this relationship?”

The words hung in the air like smoke, impossible to wave away.

Her first instinct was to shake her head — to defend him, to insist that it hadn’t been like that. And it hadn’t. Not really. Or maybe it had. Once. A long time ago.

“No,” she said finally, her voice uncertain. “Maybe at the start… but not now.”

She trailed off, pressing her palms together until her knuckles went white.

Dr. Arnold waited.

“He never hit me or anything,” Penelope added quickly. “He just… had this way of making me feel like I couldn’t say no. Like saying no would make everything worse. So I said yes. And then one day it stopped feeling like I was pretending, and I actually wanted him. I do want to be with him. Really. And that is even more confusing.”

Her eyes pricked with tears she didn’t want to shed. “And now it’s like the power flipped, and I don’t know when that happened. I get to decide when we talk, when we touch, when he can kiss me, or beg me to forgive his mistakes. He’ll do anything to keep me. And it’s awful, because part of me likes it. The control. It makes me feel safe. And powerful. And then I hate myself for liking it.”

Dr. Arnold’s tone stayed gentle. “It sounds like neither of you felt entirely safe at the beginning. You both learned to protect yourselves — just in very different ways.”

Penelope’s fingers fidgeted again. “But…But why is it so confusing though? I don’t even know if I love him the way he wants me to. I like him. I want him. But sometimes… I think I only want him because he’s hyperfocused on me, like his entire existence revolves around me, which makes him easy to control and I love it, because I can’t control anything else in my life.”

Dr. Arnold waited patiently, letting her thoughts spill out in uneven fragments. “It sounds like you’re struggling with desire for him and guilt.”

Penelope nodded, tears pricking the back of her eyes. “Yes. And sometimes… I think maybe it’s too late. Maybe the person I’ve become… is permanent. That I can’t go back to who I was before any of this. And the scariest part… I don’t even know if I can ever love him the way he wants me to or…or needs me to… or if I even know what that would feel like anymore.”

“That’s a lot to carry,” Dr. Arnold said, voice calm. “You’re here to start untangling all of it—your feelings, your actions, your fear, and your guilt. There’s no judgment here. We’re going to explore it together, love.”

Penelope bit her lip, staring at the pattern in the carpet again. She felt a shiver run through her—a mix of relief, fear, and shame. She had come here hoping to understand herself, but the truth was heavier than she expected. She wasn’t just scared anymore. She was angry. Angry at herself for enjoying the power. Angry at him for being so impossible to resist. Angry at the past year for shaping her into someone she barely recognized.

And yet… part of her, deep down, wanted to get better. She wanted to untangle the mess she’d made of herself and of him. But even as she nodded faintly, promising herself she’d try, she knew it wouldn’t be simple. The bitterness and the longing—the cruelty and the love—were all tangled together, and she wasn’t sure if she could ever sort them out.

Dr. Arnold smiled gently, a small anchor in the storm of her thoughts. “You’ve taken the first step by acknowledging all of this. That’s important. That’s progress.”

Penelope nodded again, letting the words sink in. It was a small, fragile step… but it was a start.

When she stepped out of the therapist’s office, Colin was standing outside, waiting for her. 

“How was it?” he asked and she shrugged noncommittally. “How was yours?”

“It was fine.” 

She knew it wasn't. It was just as awkward and stilted for him. But she didn't say anything. They walked home in silence after that, but just as they reached their neighborhood, Colin suddenly took out a box of homemade cookies from his bag and handed it to her. “What’s this?” 

“My favorite coconut cookies. Mum makes it for my birthday every year. I wanted to share them with you.” 

Fuck! 2nd March… It was his birthday the next day. She wondered whether she should have done something special for him. But then…

“Happy birthday in advance, Colin. I am sorry I didn't even plan a surprise for you,” she said apologetically, but he waved her off. 

“Pen, you just being by my side is enough.”

“Still, I should at least get you something.”

“Well if you do give me something…” Colin gulped nervously, as if his demand was something monumental. “Can we… Can we go public with our relationship?”

“Public?”

“Yeah, family, close friends. Are you…are you okay with that?”

Penelope considered it. After all, they were going to therapy to sort out whatever was wrong with them. This could work, right?

“Okay. Cool.” She said it casually and saw a flicker of doubt cross his face. She knew her lack of enthusiasm bothered him but right now, this is what she could give him.

And so, the next day as they rode to school with Daphne and Eloise, Penelope sat in the passenger side of the front seat. After parking the car when he reached for her hand, she let him hold it, ignoring the surprised, sharp looks his sisters kept throwing at them. 

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

During her next session, Penelope sat stiffly, tracing the edge of her notebook. Honestly, she was a bit bummed by the reaction of Eloise to their relationship. While Daphne and the other siblings seemed okay with her and Colin dating each other, El refused to buy it. 

“You seemed to dislike him so much, going out of your way to insult him all the time and suddenly you like him now?”

Penelope retorted. “Well he was horrible to me for months! I was just returning the favour.”

“But that's what my point is. You and Colin hate each other. You can't possibly date each other.”

Penelope shrugged Eloise's concern for the time being but in her mind she too harboured these doubts.

“So, how are you today, Penelope?” Dr. Arnold's voice broke her reverie.

“Since last time,” she began hesitantly. “I… keep thinking about how I treat him. How I humiliate him in public, tease him, make him do things… it started as a way to cope with fear, but now…” her voice faltered, “…now it feels like I’m addicted to it. I feel powerful, but also… wrong. And I don’t know how to stop.”

“You’re noticing a pattern, then?” Dr. Arnold said gently. “What do you feel after those moments?”

She frowned, wringing her hands. “Guilt. And… maybe shame. But there’s also this twisted thrill… seeing him surrender. And then I hate myself for enjoying it.”

“That conflict—enjoying power while feeling guilt—is important to unpack. It shows how past trauma can manifest in your actions.”

Penelope nodded slowly, the knot in her chest tightening. She thought of the diner, the alley kisses after humiliating him, the way she had laughed at his expense in front of friends. She had started as a victim, but now she realised she had become a tormentor too.

When Dr. Arnold gently asked what “making him do things” meant, Penelope’s face coloured. She hesitated, then spoke in fragments—of the ways she’d used intimacy as leverage, of how their relationship had blurred lines she wasn’t sure either of them truly understood.

Dr. Arnold listened carefully. “You’re both very young,” she said finally. “At your age, consent can sometimes feel complicated. Not because you don’t mean it, but because the emotional maturity behind it is still forming.”

Penelope bristled slightly. “I know what I want. I want him. I… crave him.”

Dr. Arnold nodded, neither judging nor agreeing. “And what does that craving give you?”

Penelope stared down at her lap. The silence stretched.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It makes me feel… seen. Needed. But also scared. Like if I stop, if I don’t keep control, either I’ll disappear or… he will.”

Dr. Arnold folded her hands. “That fear of disappearing—of losing control—often drives people to recreate situations where they feel powerful. The question is whether that power actually helps you heal… or keeps you trapped.”

Penelope didn’t answer. Her throat felt tight. “Is that… a bad thing, being trapped?” she murmured at last.

Dr. Arnold’s voice was soft. “It’s not bad. It’s human. But it’s also something worth understanding—before it defines who you become.”

That evening when Penelope walked home with a heavy head, she did not stop by his diner as per her usual habit.  

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Her next session was two days before Easter Sunday. She was dreading the holiday as Colin had informed her that Mrs. Bridgerton wanted her to join them on the Easter egg hunt, and later, the brunch. Easter was on 9th April that year, just a day after her birthday. Colin seemed thrilled by the idea of her attending a family event as his girlfriend and celebrating her birthday with them, but she wasn't so sure about it.

“Tell me honestly,” Dr. Arnold asked after Penelope expressed her doubts regarding joining the Bridgertons for the holiday and her late birthday celebration. “What are your true feelings for Colin?”

Penelope let out a breath that sounded like a small surrender. “I don’t know what’s real anymore,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I feel love for him when he’s gentle, when he smiles at me, when he does something thoughtful. Those moments feel… right. Warm.” Her fingers toyed with the cuff of her jumper as if the fabric might steady her.

“And other times?” Dr Arnold prompted.

“When I remember how demanding or cold he used to be, I feel scared,” Penelope said. “And then I want to punish him. I don’t know if this is love, or if it’s me trying to feel in control by punishing him again and again.” The confession dropped between them, raw and shaming.

Dr Arnold nodded slowly. “Can you separate your desire for connection from your desire for power?”

Penelope closed her eyes. When she opened them there was a small, stubborn shake of the head. “I don’t know. They’re tangled together. I want him. I crave him. But I can’t tell if I want him for the comfort of his company or because he’s someone I can ask to kneel before me. Sometimes I think I want him, and sometimes I only want him to hurt.”

Silence filled the room for a beat. The therapist’s voice was steady. “This awareness is important. It doesn’t excuse what you’ve done, but it does give you a clearer place to begin. Awareness lets you choose differently.”

Penelope’s shoulders slumped a fraction. The confession, the shame, the thrill, the fear…sat heavy inside her like a knot she could not unpick. “What if it’s too late?” she whispered. “What if I’m already… poisoned? What if I’ve changed so much I can’t be the person I used to be?”

Dr Arnold shook her head very slightly. “It is not too late to change. These feelings are not your destiny. They are signals, and we will learn how to read them. Step by step, you’ll find what is yours, and what is a reaction to hurt.”

Penelope listened, skeptical but oddly relieved. For the first time in a long while, the confession did not feel like the end of the world. It felt like the beginning of something difficult and necessary. She folded her hands in her lap and let the words in, fragile as they were.

“I think… this whole year has made me bitter,” she said finally, letting some tears slip. “I’ve been hurt, scared, trapped… and now I feel like I’m a different person. Someone meaner. Someone… darker. I don’t know if I can ever go back to who I was before.”

“It’s possible to heal, Penelope. But it takes time and honesty with yourself. You’re beginning to recognize how this trauma has shaped your behaviour.”

“And Colin… I care about him. I want him. But I don’t know if I can love him the way he wants me to. And maybe… maybe I shouldn’t even try.”

Her voice cracked. The thought of losing him, while knowing it might be the right choice, made her chest ache. But even as she admitted it aloud, a small spark of clarity emerged: she needed to heal individually before she could be with him in a healthy way.

.✧˚₊‧

Penelope arrived at her fifth session calmer, though still tense.

“I’ve thought a lot about us,” she said. “About Colin and me. And… I think the truth is, I can’t give him the kind of love he deserves right now. I don’t even know if I can. I’m still angry, still bitter, still… haunted by what’s happened between us. And I can’t undo that. I just don’t have the energy to validate his feelings, when i can barely validate mine.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“I… I think I need to end it,” she whispered. It was nearly the end of the school year, with only a few weeks til his graduation day. She thought of maintaining the status quo til then, but would it really help them in any way if she was going to break up with him after his graduation? Might as well do it now—she thought. 

“It’s terrifying, but staying… would only hurt both of us more. I see he’s making genuine efforts. And I want to make such efforts myself too… I care about him. I want him to be happy. But I can’t give him that in a way that’s fair. Not yet. Not like this.”

Dr. Arnold nodded. “Ending the relationship can be an act of care, if it’s done thoughtfully. It doesn’t erase what happened, but it can create space for both of you to heal.”

Penelope felt the weight in her chest lighten slightly. The decision hurt, yes. But there was clarity now. She could choose a path where she took responsibility for herself, instead of staying tangled in the chaos of their complicated past. 

After the session, Penelope sat in the small café across the street from Dr Arnold’s office, stirring her untouched tea until it turned cold. Her head was heavy with thoughts that refused to quiet.

She’d spent so long trying to untangle the knot between love and control that she’d forgotten what love was supposed to feel like. It wasn’t supposed to bruise or choke or twist her into someone unrecognisable. It wasn’t supposed to make her feel powerful one moment and hollow the next.

They were young. Too young, perhaps, to be trapped in something this complicated, this dark. They were meant to be stupid and happy… the kind of foolish, light-hearted love that made life brighter, not smaller.

She looked down at her phone, Colin’s name glowing faintly on the screen from a missed text. Her thumb hovered over it, trembling.

Maybe they could have been that once, if things between them played out differently. Maybe they still could, years from now, when they’d both learned who they were outside each other.

But right now?

If happiness meant being apart rather than being sad together, then maybe breaking up was the kinder choice.

For both of them.

She exhaled, a single tear slipping down her cheek, and typed a quick text.

Pen stared at the last message for a long time before putting her phone down, her chest tight and heavy with the words she knew she’ll have to say.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

She spotted Colin as soon as he entered the cafe, a lone curl fallen on his forehead, and felt that familiar jolt of both desire and dread. His eyes searched for her and softened the moment he saw her, but she couldn’t let herself be swayed this time. Not entirely.

“Hey,” he said, voice warm but cautious, as if sensing her unease. “You look… beautiful.”

She gave a small, forced smile, as he slid into the seat opposite her. “Thanks,” she murmured, keeping her gaze low.

For a moment, there was silence, filled only by the faint hum of conversation around them. Colin reached for her hand, but she pulled back slightly.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, and Penelope winced.

“Please don’t be. I… I need to say something,” she began, her voice trembling. “Something important. And I am afraid I won’t be able to if you keep holding my hand.”

His brow furrowed. “What is it, Pen? You’re scaring me a little.”

She drew a deep breath. “Colin… I can’t do this anymore. Us. Like this.”

His hand froze midair. “Wait… what do you mean?”

“I mean… I’ve realized something about myself,” she said slowly, choosing her words. “This past year… everything that’s happened between us… I’ve become someone I don’t like. You’ve hurt me, and I’ve hurt you back, and I’ve hurt myself in the process. And… I don’t even know if the way I feel for you is real love or just… attachment, or fear, or… some messed-up thrill.”

Colin stared at her, silent, and she felt the weight of all the unspoken things between them pressing down. “Pen… I don’t understand. Are you saying you don’t love me?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, that’s not it. I care about you, more than I can explain. I like being with you. I want you in my life. But I can’t give you what you deserve. I can’t love you the way you need to be loved, not right now. And it wouldn’t be fair… to either of us, to keep pretending I can.”

“But…but I’m doing whatever you tell me to do… we are getting therapy, right? We are healing, aren't we?” Colin’s voice was low, almost a whisper, tight with pain. “You think breaking up fixes this? All the chaos, the mess… everything we’ve been through?”

“I think it gives us a chance to breathe,” she said, tears threatening her composure. “A chance to heal, separately, before we figure out if we can ever be together without hurting each other again. I can’t keep being… mean, or scared, or… tangled in all of this, Colin. And I can’t risk making you small just because I want to feel better about myself. I don’t know how to handle my own feelings right now. Let me learn it.”

He slumped slightly, his hands tightening into fists on the table. “So… that’s it? You’re just… leaving me behind?”

“I’m not leaving you,” she whispered, her own voice cracking. “I’m trying to save us—from ourselves. From the version of us that’s toxic right now. I don’t want to hate you, and I don’t want you to hate me. But this… staying together… It’s not healthy. It will damage us further.”

Colin’s eyes glimmered with something between anger, guilt, and heartbreak. “I just… I don’t know how to live without you, Pen. You’ve been my everything for the past few months..”

“I know,” she said softly. “And I know I’m going to miss you too. Every day. But… this is the only way I can try to be myself again. And maybe…if we’re both strong enough, maybe someday… we can try again. But not now.”

He let out a choked laugh, shaking his head. “You’re dead set on this then?”

“I have to be,” she replied, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I have to be, Colin… for both of us.”

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the noise of the café pressing around them, neither fully letting go, neither able to fully reach each other. Finally, Colin leaned back, covering his face with one hand, a shuddering exhale escaping.

“I… I guess I understand,” he whispered. “Even if it kills me a little inside.”

“It won’t kill us,” Penelope said, quietly but firmly. “It’s the only way we survive. We need to fix ourselves first. Then… maybe we can decide what comes next.”

He looked at her then, eyes red, chest heaving. There was pain, yes—but also a fragile understanding. A silent promise that they weren’t erasing each other, just… stepping back for a while.

And for the first time in months, Penelope felt a strange kind of peace. Not joy, not relief… but clarity. She had made the choice that scared her the most. She had chosen herself, and, in a way, chosen the possibility of love that was healthy and real, even if it meant leaving the one she cared for most.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

She felt empty, almost hollow that first week. She was resolute in her decision, but that didn’t mean it was easy. She avoided Colin in the hallways at school. People would hover, and whisper, and ask if they broke up. The months from March til May, they had acted like a couple, while they tried to work things out in therapy.

So, she wasn't surprised that fellow classmates were surrounding her like flies, trying to get that juicy gossip. She avoided talking about it as much as she could, since it was none of their business. Brushing them off, explaining that it was just a break.

It was the end of second week after the break up, when Penelope realized she hadn’t seen Colin, not once. Usually she saw him often, and had to duck into a different hallway or classroom. But recently she hadn’t spotted him anywhere. It was like he hadn’t been at school at all.

She grew worried, and her fingers hovered over her phone, thinking about texting him. But, how could she do that, when she was the one who ended things. She was the one who told him she couldn't give him what he wanted, needed.

No, it was selfish of her to need to know if he was okay. It was no longer her concern. It would only make things worse, blurry the already shot to hell lines between them. Instead, while she was studying with Eloise after school one day, she brought it up as sneakily as she could. Eloise had noticed that they had broken up or something, but was apparently trying to not pick sides.  

“Hey, El, where has Colin been? Haven’t seen him around in a bit?” she said, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. Eloise didn’t even look up from the book she was pouring over. Her bright yellow high lighter in her hand as she highlighted a passage.

“Oh, didn’t he tell you? He went to this six-week football program he applied for last summer,” she said and Penelope nodded, her mouth forming a little ‘oh’. She vowed to herself not to ask about Colin again. 

Because why did it hurt so much that he didn’t tell her he was leaving? It was none of her business. She had made sure of that.

Yet, it stung. 

The next afternoon was supposed to be her next session with Dr. Arnold, but she ended up canceling. She and Colin had broken up, And Colin had been the entire reason for her going to therapy.

No, she didn’t need therapy. She was fine, everything was fine. 

With Colin no longer even in the country, she decided now was the time to figure out herself. Who she was, without him. Who would she have been, what were the things she would have done, the people she would have dated, if he hadn’t changed everything?

This was what teenagers were supposed to do. They were supposed to party, have fun, and get drunk. Mingle with the opposite sex. Date, fuck around. It was her time to do all those things, and more.

The first week of June, Penelope decided it was time to move on, put her plan into action. It had been two weeks since she broke up with Colin, and a week since he had left without saying anything to her.

She had broken up with him for herself. To find who she was without him. To have the proper teenage experience that she had been longing for. So she was going to do it.

She rejected another call from Dr. Arnold’s office, as she left school that day. It was Friday, and she was looking to have some fun.

She found Michael, and his gang of friends, behind the bleachers next to the football field.

“Look who it is,” he joked, coming over and throwing an arm around her shoulder.

“Long time no see, red,” he teased. “Did you and Bridgerton break up, or what?” he asked and she shrugged.

“Something like that,” she quipped, and stood with the group as they discussed their plans for the evening.

That’s how later, she found herself at a party. She ended up sticking to Daphne, not knowing anyone else besides Michael. But he was off flirting with some cheerleaders.

“Penelope, have you met my friend Remington?” 

Daphne introduced her to him, he was in a wheel chair with a bright smile on his lips. He was nice, funny, and cute.

She spent the rest of the night giggling at everything he said, while she sipped on a wine cooler. At the end of the evening she agreed to go on a date with him.

It felt weird to be sitting out at a restaurant with him. Laughing and joking. Her mind kept sliding back to Colin. The moments when he was kinder, sweeter. He had brought her to this same restaurant once. Her smile felt false, as she spent the evening thinking of another man.

Later, back at his place, they fooled around a bit.

Kissing, groping, the full teenage experience. It wasn’t quite what she wanted to do, but it felt expected of her. She kept repeating in her head that this is what she had been missing. This was why she had broken up with Colin in the first place, right? To find herself?

Only Penelope felt nothing. No passion, no heat. His kisses and touches didn't leave goosebumps on her arms. Instead she felt a lump in her throat, and tears in her eyes.

Thankfully, when she talked to him the next day, he felt the same way and they were able to break things off mutually. They agreed to remain friends, no hurt feelings. 

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

By that point, it was the end of June and she was starting to go out to parties more and more. She was determined to find another guy to date. Remington just hadn’t been the right fit, she thought. She was determined to find someone that made her feel like Colin did, when he was being good to her.

Then she met Fred, he was an Irish transfer student and had never even met Colin. He was the opposite of Colin. Blond hair, light blue eyes. He had a slight accent, which did send a shiver down her spine.

They went on several dates, before she finally convinced him to sleep with her.

He was on top of her, in the backseat of his car, grunting and groaning in her ear, and all she could think about was Colin and his deep blue eyes. He was living rent free in her head, and she felt frustrated that Fred wasn’t doing anything for her.

No passion, no desperation. Barely any foreplay. When he came she actually snorted.

“What,” he said almost defensively.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, but she knew that was the last time that she would see him. She wasn’t really upset about it, he had been a rebound after all…but so had Remington. She tried not to think too deeply about it as he dropped her off at her house afterwards. When she told him that this wasn't working, he just grunted, it seemed he had reached the same conclusion on his own. 

She exited his car and ran up the stairs to her room, thinking all she needed was a good night's sleep to get over it. But as she rubbed lotion on her face in front of her dressing table, getting ready for bed, her gaze fell on the necklace and the promise ring woven onto its chain and in that instant, every feeling she’d suppressed came rushing back: longing, heartache, the memories of his touch. 

Why couldn’t she be free of this torment? Why did it feel like she was betraying Colin, even when there had never truly been a relationship between them, not in any typical sense? Why did her heart insist she had committed some unforgivable sin?

No. No, she couldn’t go on like this. She had to reclaim her life from the grip of his memories. It was the only way she’d survive. 

So she took off the chain and the ring and placed it in her jewelry case and pushed it to the back of the drawer, hoping she could do the same with the memories of Colin.

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

────── ‧⋆✧˚₊‧⋆.✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ──────

Things were starting to escalate. She was drinking more, it was the only way her mind would stop buzzing. Rolling around thoughts of Colin, or their relationship. On everything that went wrong. How she was the problem, how she fucked up everything good in her life.

It was at the end of July summer bash, where she was finally called out on her out-of-character behavior by one of her friends.

She was in the corner, making out with someone. She didn’t even know who, when Daphne yanked her away.

“What are you doing?” Daphne hissed and Penelope tore her arm away from the older girl.

“Whatever I want, Daphne,” she said, slurring her words.

“No, you're coming with me.” Daphne tried to tug her away again, but Penelope wouldn't let her.

“No, I want to say here,” she said and the guy piped up. 

“Yeah, she wants to stay here,” he said, pulling her waist back to him.

“You're being so dangerous and reckless lately, Penelope, I can’t babysit you anymore,” Daphne dropped her arm, leaving her to her own devices.

But that was what she wanted. She was broken inside, and the only way she would heal was if she found herself. And this was what she had convinced herself would heal her.

She didn’t even have time to think before the guy was pulling her back to him, pressing her deeper into the corner. She was lost again, her mind numbing.

Eloise had missed her falling out with Daphne, because she had been away on a trip. She thought Eloise would bring it up, but she never did. She didn’t know if it was because Daphne didn’t tell her, or because she was too nervous to bring it up.

It felt like Eloise was tiptoeing on eggshells around her lately, but Penelope had no idea how to even bring it up. Instead, she ignored it. Kept going to parties, kept having fun. Kept being risky. Trying to capture something, at this point her mind was so muddled she didn’t even know what she was searching for.

It was the middle of August, and Penelope was getting ready with Eloise in her room. Eloise didn’t want to go to this party, but Penelope was making her.

“Ugh, I don’t want to go,” Eloise groaned and Penelope ignored her, applying more mascara.

Next to them Eloise’s phone chimed and they both looked down on the carpet where it was resting face up between them. They both saw it was a message from Colin, and Penelope's heart beat picked up.

Eloise looked at the message, a smile coming to her face. She saw her friend hesitate, but Penelope was looking at her with such intensity that Eloise finally said something.

“He’s doing really well, he’s in Paris right now, he comes back soon for freshmen orientation.” Eloise turned the phone over and showed the picture Colin had sent her.

He looked good, like so good. Grinning from ear to ear, she could see his hair had grown a bit long. Some of the curls flopping into his eyes. He was tan, and looked studier.

“Oh, that's good,” she said but for some reason it felt like ash in her mouth as she voiced the words out loud.

“Yeah,” Eloise said awkwardly, before replying to her brother. It had been an unspoken rule that Colin was an off limits topic between them. This was the first time they had spoken about him since Penelope asked where he was back in May. 

It was awkward and stilted as they finished getting ready.

The second they walked into the party, Penelope was slamming down shots. She needed to get that picture out of her head. 

He was doing so good, it kept repeating over and over in her head. She was doing good as well, wasn’t she? Yet her mind went back to that huge row with her mother, where she threatened to send Penelope back to her Uncle’s if she didn’t get it together. Daphne didn’t like to party with her anymore because she said Penelope was “too reckless.” She was just doing and behaving like a normal teenager, right?

Right?

Hours later, she was drunk. Much drunker than she should be. She might have even smoked a bit she couldn’t remember. 

“Penelope!” her best friend's voice shouted across the living room. Eloise’s dark hair whipped into her face, as she stormed across the sea of beer cans to make it to her.

“What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?” she hissed and Penelope swayed. She was too drunk, too high, to deal with this.

“I am just having fun, Eloise,” she said snarkily, and Eloise looked enraged.

“By fucking my ex?” she said bitterly, and Penelope smirked, she wanted to say they didn’t sleep together, but instead she did.

“It’s not like you guys actually dated.” She didn’t know why she was goading Eloise as her friend opened and closed her mouth, before shaking her head and turning.

“You’re pathetic, Penelope, I thought we were friends. I understand what Daphne was saying now.” Then she left and Penelope felt something coil in her stomach.

What she had done was wrong. Why had she said that? She hadn’t actually slept with Theo. He had tugged her into a room earlier in the evening. He might have tried to kiss her a little but she had quickly put a stop to it. So why had she lied? Why was she trying to destroy everything?

A guy next to her tried to touch her, but she smacked his hand away.

“I am going to be sick!” she declared, sprinting to the bathroom, throwing up everything within her guts.

The next morning she could hear the birds chirping, feel the sun on her skin, as she laid on her bed. She was sticky from sweating and sleeping in the clothing she had partied in. 

She groaned as she sat up, it took her brain several moments for the events of the night before to come pouring back into her mind.

The party. The empty hollow feeling she had welling in her stomach when she heard how well Colin was doing. That picture of him, tan, smiling, happy.

Happy without her. Looking healthier than he ever did when he was with her.

She had been the problem all along. She had known it, tears started streaming down her face. She had gone and ruined everything with the one person that was still on her side. Lying to Eloise, letting Theo get close enough to even try anything with her in the first place. All because she needed to feel something, anything instead of the emptiness inside of her.

She started crying harder, as she angrily wiped the streaks of mascara from her cheeks. 

She was supposed to be happy, living the teenage dream. The one she had been certain she had been deprived of because of Colin.

Then why did it hurt so much? Why did she feel so hollow inside? Why was she disgusted with herself? Why did she do so many awful terrible things?

She took a shaky breath, picking up her phone. It was Friday afternoon, she noted as she started scrolling her contacts before hitting the call button on one of them.

“Thank you for calling Dr. Arnold’s office, how can I help you?” the receptionist said on the other line.

“Hi, can I make an appointment please?” she asked. She knew she wasn’t okay. She had tricked herself into thinking all of her problems had rested solely on Colin’s shoulders. She realized now that wasn’t the case. Not even a little bit. She needed help. She needed to fix herself, before she could even think about fixing things with everyone else around her. 

Dr. Arnold was able to squeeze her in for the following week. 

She spent the rest of the week hiding in her room. Ignoring everything. No more drinking, no more smoking, no more risky behavior.

When she walked into Dr. Arnold’s office she was nervous, worried. The therapist had tried to reach out to her several times, but she had ignored her over and over again. Would she be angry, disappointed?

“Penelope, I was so glad to see you back on my books,” she said, making Penelope give a soft smile.

“I was worried, did something happen?” she asked kindly and Penelope bit her lip before starting.

“I-I thought I didn’t need therapy, Colin and I had broken up,” she said slowly and Dr. Arnold frowned. 

“Well, what made you decide that outside of your relationship, you might need guidance on your own now?” she asked and Penelope hesitated for a moment before starting.

“I have started making some really reckless choices, and I can no longer dodge or place blame on anyone else. Every choice I am making, every friendship I have ruined is all my own doing,” she sniffled, tears coming to her eyes. “That maybe I am not okay, after all.” 

Dr. Arnold's eyes softened, handing her the tissue box. 

“I am really glad you returned, Penelope, I believe these sessions will be really beneficial to you,” she said and Penelope let out a long sigh. 

This felt like the first good decision she had made in a really long time.