Author's Note: This is just a little story that I wrote a few months ago, when I was in the school play with my crush. It's only a oneshot, as I was busy getting ready for opening night during practice and didn't have much time to attempt writing a sequel when the object of the story was in my sights. That being said, I hope you enjoy this, and if you do, make sure to give it a vote and a comment and share it with anyone else that you think might like it! Thank you and I love you all!

~ Em

Firstly, you have me.

I was plain. Ordinary. Nothing special. I was a girl with an oversized hoodie and sweatpants and barely brushed hair. I was the girl that didn't take care in my appearance one bit. I was the girl rushing down the stairs in a blind panic to get away from any judging eyes when I forgot my cue in the school play. I was the girl who had to press her nails into her cuts to avoid having a panic attack after accidentally getting in someone's way. I was the girl who dug a razor into her skin to cause herself pain, anything to distract her from the people around her, whom she was afraid were all thinking horrible things about her, and from her own thoughts, which tore her up inside and would one day send her to a mental hospital. I was the girl that no one wanted to be around.

Secondly, you have her.

She was everything but plain. Extraordinary. Special. She was a girl with a singing voice so powerful that she didn't even need a microphone, not really. She was the girl that everyone remarked, 'My god, she's so good' about. She was the girl that dominated the stage in the school play. She was the girl that was kind to everyone and laughed a lot. She was the girl that could focus herself and everyone around her when need be to get the job done. She was the girl that everyone wanted to be around. She played a dragon in the last school play, but that's not her; a phoenix would be a better description. She was a phoenix.

One day, I was changing out of my clothes that I had worn for the school day and into the ones that I had set out for the play. The prop closet didn't have a lock, so I asked my friend to guard the door and make sure that no one came in. This was especially important for someone in my situation. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, depending on how you look at it, my friend was (is) unreliable.

She burst in without warning, just as I was putting my shirt on. We locked eyes for the briefest of seconds before her gaze fell to my arm. She recoiled in horror. I followed her line of sight and saw, to my dismay, that my right arm was not in the shirt yet, and was completely uncovered. She continued to stare at it, at my skin contorted into wounds. It was covered in angry red cuts, almost all of them with dried blood caking them. A few were even bleeding again, having been jostled from the removal and gain of clothing.

Suddenly, my brain picked up to speed with what was unfolding in front of me, and I yanked the door to the prop closet shut, hoping to God that no one else would come in. I put my arm through the sleeve, wincing as I did so, and turned back to her, who was still standing there, shell-shocked.

"Please don't tell anyone," I whispered. "Please, don't tell anyone."

"I...I..." She seemed to be at a loss for something to say. I waited a few moments for her to recover somewhat. It didn't matter how long I had to stand there and wait for her to process this new information. The important part was making sure that she kept said information to herself. If it got spread around the school that the bubbly, cheerful, ditzy, lesbian was cutting herself, any chances I'd ever had of getting any peace from my ever-constant social anxiety would be completely gone. It couldn't get out. It just couldn't!

Finally, she looked up and met my eyes once more. "I have to tell someone," she said quietly. "You need help. I mean, y-you're really doing this to yourself?"

"Yeah," I admitted, hanging my head. "It's just...I just..." I shook my head in exasperation. "You wouldn't get it."

"Try me," she said, with her hands on her hips.

I cracked a slight smile at that, but I knew that no one truly wanted to hear what you had to say; they just said that because it seems like the right thing to do. No one actually wanted to sit there and listen to you talk about your pathetic life and your pathetic anxiety and depression and about a million other mental illnesses and your pathetic self-harm. I mean, who would?

So, instead, I said, "Look, I'm really sorry you had to see that. Please don't tell anyone, okay? Please. If this gets around the school, I'm done for."

She seemed angry, almost hurt, by my words. "What?! I'm not going to spread it around the school!"

I exhaled in relief. "Good."

"I would never do that to someone," she said honestly. "And especially not you."

I raised my eyebrow at her, but she simply turned a deep red, redder than her reddish-brown hair, and didn't say anything further for a minute or so. When she did speak, it was soft and warm and inviting. I found myself wanting to please her, no matter what the cost.

"Why don't we go somewhere else and talk about it?"

She doesn't really want to talk, I reminded myself. She just feels bad.

"Isn't your scene next?" I asked, referring to the music that was now coming to an end.

"I've got all of my lines memorised," she said. "And my songs are good, too. It's just one practice. They won't miss me."

I gaped at her in shock. She wants to skip play practice just to talk to me?

"How would you even manage that?" I asked her, a slight challenge in my voice. She rose to meet it without hesitation.

"Easy," she replied. "I'm an actress; it's why I'm in this play, after all. And acting skills come in handy offstage, too." She began to walk towards the door, and just before she opened it, she said, "Change back into your regular clothes and meet me outside, okay? By the wall, through the door in the weight room."

"What about you?" I asked desperately, trying to find some way out of the situation.

"I had a 'family emergency'," she responded, and winked at me. With that, she disappeared.

I know, I know. I know what you're thinking. If she really didn't want to go talk to her, why didn't she just stay where she was and pretend it never happened?

The answer to that question was, in itself, a question.

Is there a chance in hell that yes, I might actually want help?

Despite every fibre of my being wanting to run far away from her and her dazzling disposition, there was still a small shred of hope in my heart that just refused to be extinguished. It was this small shred of hope that made me change back into my regular clothes, steal across the backstage area and down the stairs, and soundlessly and stealthily make my way to the weight room. From there, with almost everything in me telling me that it was a bad idea, I snuck out of the door and into the outdoors.

She, who I will call the Phoenix, was sitting on the wall that divided our school space from the parking spaces beside it. I looked up at the wall doubtfully. It was very tall, and I was very short.

"Come here," said Phoenix. Her voice was surprisingly soft, softer than I had ever heard it before, and I found myself obeying without hesitation. "I've got you," she said. I felt gentle arms circling my waist, and as I frantically tried to suck my stomach in, she lifted me like I weighed nothing and settled me beside her, a little closer than strictly necessary.

I desperately wanted to fill the silence, as I hated silences of any kind, but she was the one who had called me out there, so I was going to let her make the first move.

"So..." she finally said, trailing off.

"So..." I mimicked her.

"Why?" Phoenix blurted out suddenly. I blinked twice at her, confused. She continued, "Why do you do that? You just sucked in your stomach when I picked you up. Like I care how much you weigh! Like it should even matter! Why'd you do it? Why do you...c-cut yourself?"

"There are so many reasons," I said tiredly. "I could never pick just one."

"Then tell me all of them," she said, turning towards me with a serious look on her face that told me, even more than I already knew, that she was a force to be reckoned with. "I'm listening."

I shook my head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you wouldn't understand," I mumbled. "You just wouldn't. Hell, I don't even understand myself, and I know myself better than anyone."

"It doesn't have to make sense," Phoenix said, putting her hand on my arm. "I don't know why you think it does. I'm not here to judge you. I don't know what shit you deal with, so who am I to make assumptions about you? It's not my place."

My eyes popped, not only because of what she had said, but because that was the first curse word that I had ever heard her utter before.

"Seriously," Phoenix said.

I nodded slowly in acceptance of her words. "Still...I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just don't...you know, do that."

"Do what?"

"Talk to people," I admitted shyly, looking up at the blue sky overhead and the thick, white clouds that peppered it like a lamb's wool.

She responded by singing a line from a well-known song. "There's a first time for everything."

I chuckled at this, but was still firm in my resolve to not entwine her in the details of my pathetic existence.

Phoenix smiled and said, "Look, I don't know what you have to deal with. It's probably pretty bad. That's why I want to know. And I really do want to know. Everyone should have someone to talk to, even if it's the most unlikely person ever."

A small half-smile painted my face at her words. They were true; we were a pretty odd pair. Her, a beautiful singer capable of winning a Grammy despite not even having graduated high school yet, and me, a tone-deaf girl with about 101 different mental problems that all spelled out 'fucking crazy' in the end.

"Talk to me," Phoenix implored. Her hand moved down my arm until it found my hand. She interlaced her fingers with mine and held my hand with a gentle but firm grip that grounded me like nothing else in my life ever had before.

"What do you want to know?" I all but whispered. I was so unused to this kind of treatment that I had no idea what to do with it.

"Everything," she responded. By that point, she was dangerously close to me. I almost pulled away, but then I realised that, even though she most likely wasn't, if she was thinking along the same lines as I was, I didn't want to communicate any disinterest.

As she began to unconsciously move towards me, a hazy thought formed in the back of my mind: there had been rumours; whispers, and gossip told in confidence. She hadn't dated anyone since her last boyfriend two years ago, and she'd been seen in...intimate positions with girls before. Of course, that was all just high school talk - who's to say that there was any truth to it?

Turns out, there was more than a little bit of truth to it.

For once, the rumours were pretty spot-on.

When I felt her warm lips press against mine, the sensation absolutely overwhelmed me. I was consumed by a feeling that I had never experienced before in my entire life. I was floating through an endless, cloudless sky, but at the same time, I was shooting down a tunnel lit with brilliantly bright colours at a speed that was so fast, it was almost inhuman. So many emotions rushed through me all at once, and I found myself pushing back against her lips and opening my mouth, allowing her more access.

My hands found their way to her neck, and hers found their way to my waist. She pulled me even closer, until I was practically on her lap. I felt her eyes flutter shut against my own, which had been closed for a while. Something - adrenaline, attraction, arousal, something akin to hero worship - dare I say love? - rushed through me. If I had to describe it as a colour, I would have described it as gold.

It was a few minutes before we eventually pulled apart for the simple need of oxygen. I rested my forehead against hers, breathing hard. She did the same. I noticed that her eyes were still closed.

Eventually, we disentangled ourselves and sat back in our original spots. It was quiet for a few minutes, each of us waiting for the other to break the silence.

Finally, Phoenix spoke up. Her voice was soft, and I realised later that I had never heard her sound so vulnerable before.

"That was okay, right?"

"That was most definitely okay," I responded, licking my lips, desperate for one more taste of her.

She closed her eyes in relief. "Thank God. I was worried that I read you wrong and just offended you like crazy."

I laughed. "Not at all. That was, uh - very...well, it was fucking wonderful, to be blunt."

"I was hoping you'd feel that way," Phoenix said, smiling. "Look, I know this is all really premature and the timing really sucks, but I've liked you for a really long time, and I've dreamed of this moment for only about a hundred nights, so please, would you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes," I answered immediately. "I've liked you for forever, too. Ever since two years ago, when you were a dragon in Shrek."

She covered her face in embarrassment. "I was so awkward on the stage then!"

I scoffed in utter disbelief. "Whatever, you were. You were amazing!" On an impulse, I leaned closer to whisper in her ear, "You made one hot dragon." I delighted in the shiver that ran down the length of her spine at that.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to me.

"Are you okay with...like...showing that you're my girlfriend?" I asked her hesitantly.

"You mean, do I want you to be my side hoe?" she retorted bluntly. I cringed at her tone of voice, hoping I hadn't offended her with the question.

"The answer is no," Phoenix said, laughing a little. "I'm not going to be your side hoe or your secret lover. I'm going to actually be your girlfriend, which I think should include basic acts of PDA, like kissing in the hallways to piss off the rednecks. And no, I haven't officially come out yet, but that's just because I don't want to. I don't like labels. I've liked girls my entire life, but I loved my ex-boyfriend, too. For now, I'm fine with just being me, and if that's not good enough for someone, then they can take a hike, because I'm not worried about it."

"That's great," I said happily. "I wish I was the same way."

She cocked her head like a lost puppy, confusion evident from her expression. "What'd you mean?"

"I wish I could have that kind of confidence," I admitted. "I came out as a lesbian, and that's fine, because that's the label that I identify with, but boy, did it put a target on my back. And I wish I could be that confident and not give a fuck what people think of me, but that's just not who I am."

"Yeah," Phoenix nodded to my statement. "I can see what you mean. Some people are just that way. But, hey -" she broke off to take my face in her hands so that she could look me in the eyes as she spoke, "I can help you with that, if you trust me. I can help you to build your confidence in yourself and your abilities and I can help with other people, too." She brandished a fist in the air jokingly and said, "I'm tougher than I look."

"I'm here," she continued on, in a more serious tone. "I'm here for you to talk to, rant to, cry to. Whatever you want. No, I don't understand, but I think with your help, I can in time. Can you do that? Will you do that? Will you try and let me help? I don't know how much I can do, but I'm willing to try. I'll always be willing to try."

I smiled softly at her. "Thank you, Phoenix. I-I'm willing, too. I can't promise results, but I can promise I'll try. I...I do. I do trust you."

She beamed at me. "I'm so glad to hear that." She hopped off of the wall and held out a hand for me. I took it without hesitation, and when she gestured for me to jump down, she promised, "I'll catch you."

And I had no doubt that she would.