Characters: Tatum and Frankie.
Setting: Tatum/Bekka's room, Thursday afternoon.
Content: SFW, language and drugs as usual.
Summary: After the incident with Mack a few days ago, Tatum can't hold it in any longer and needs to have a talk with Frankie.


Tatum wasn't sure what to do with herself to pass time anymore. It was three days now since she had went out to the field to try to fight Mack, and it had now been three days since she had even seen the blonde. She didn't know how to act around her now, how to treat her, how to just let it go. And now every second she was around Frankie, things were even worse, the guilt of holding in the truth weighing down on her.

She spent most of the last three days just going to classes and then coming right back to her room. She had been working on strumming out something new on her guitar, but she couldn't seem to focus. The redhead had skipped her afternoon periods for the last two days, the current one included. Other than going to Charlie's to pick up, and briefly visiting Sera to get a CD back, she just didn't feel much like leaving her room.

The crying had subsided, mostly. She had taken a few of the ativan that she hadn't given to Apple, but even sitting around in a calm stupor did nothing for her. Whenever she thought about the two of them, about leaving her room for too long, she wanted to cry all over again. And she did.

If she was out there, she would run into Mack. If she was out there, she couldn't avoid Frankie's eyes and fake her smiles forever. She could still feel Mack's lips when she thought about it, soft and careful. She had tasted vaguely like cigarettes, the same as Frankie, and that thought brought a painful fluttering to her stomach. She couldn't have both of them, and no matter how this went, no matter what Mack told her to do, somebody was going to end up hurt.

There was no sense in avoiding it. She needed to tell Frankie that something was up, and she'd just have to be clean about it. She'd lay everything out on the table, and tell her that if she wanted her, she was her's. There was no other way to approach it. If she lied, trying to avoid or skim over the details, it would only make her look like an idiot in the end. Frankie would know she was full of shit; wouldn't she? Mack always did.

Tatum was sprawled out onto her bed, and she stretched an arm up, grabbing her phone from her nightstand and bringing it closer. She hesitated for just a moment, finger held over the touch-screen, before she sighed heavily and began typing out a quick text to Frankie, asking her to come over.

She wasn't looking forward to this, but if she had to keep dragging all of this guilt around with her, she was going to have a panic attack or something.