The Whole Wide World Is Mine

[Samantha Vaccari]

Spring, 2006 

Walking away was hard. Painful. Still, doing so was better than his disappointment. His anger. It made Sam angry, too. Fists were clenched even as she approached the school. The walk from downtown to Bellefonte doing nothing to calm the Boston girl down.

Briefly, she considered not going back to the dorm. She was aware of the way her hands shook, of how she acted when she was angry. And how she didn’t want her to see her like this.

But there was nowhere else to go. To hide. Samantha Frye wasn’t one to tuck herself away, but she desperately wanted to be away from any public areas.

So she made the familiar trip up to her dormitory. She tried her best to be quiet, knowing she wasn’t expected for at least a couple more hours. She slipped into her own room, closing the door behind her with a definitive click. Unlike her counterpart, the brunette never locked it when she was inside.

Being in her own room was hardly comforting. She forced her fingers to uncurl, stretching them before they inevitably curled back into a fist again. Sam knew she needed to calm down, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know how to.

Her fist slamming into the wall hadn’t helped, either.

[Ellis Vaccari]

There had been a very brief moment where Ellis saw Sam's father. It was literally a moment in time, fragmented by the presence of her counterpart and so she admittedly didn't pay all that much attention. But her dark eyes had caught his own - brief as it was - as she stepped towards her dorm room door, and she glanced away. To the keys in her hands, she gave her attention. It suddenly felt inappropriate to look at Sam the way she did; affectionately as she was learning to.

And for however long, she wondered. Not why, but how.

How did such a seemingly insignificant moment in time effect her so intently? How was it that she couldn't find the means to reach out to or even look at her roommate? How did a look from a stranger make her desires feel so wrong?

People were so fascinatingly altered when feelings were in play. Alone in not just the solitude of her dorm room, but the whole dorm itself, Ellis sought some kind of comfort in the six strings she only fiddled with when she knew she was alone. Or rather, when she could be almost certainly definite without having to leave to be definite.

So engrossed was she in her technical and methodical attempt to piece it together; she didn't hear the common room door open. Sam was a presence to enter with natural force, she knew. And she likely knew that the Boston girl struggled to walk past her own door. She knew Ellis would be there. She knew Ellis would be waiting.

It wasn't until she heard something strange that she reacted. Eyes open. Head tilted a touch to one side. Fingers resting against strings with little weight; halted to mute the alluding tones of her solace.

Seconds later, the blonde stood and settled the instrument at its stand. She breezed past the desk and curled her fingers around her keys before she left. Behind her, she locked the door, and she shifted the colour-coded metals between her hands as she took short steps towards Sam's dorm.

Briefly, Ellis waited at the door. She listened; she could always hear her.

Her hand pressed to the handle, and she found resistance. Locked. It wasn't as if Sam never locked the door, but as Ellis had stood at hers she'd noted how the Boston girl closed hers.

"Sam?" She asked, because she couldn't guess. They'd had a number of home invasions by complete strangers, and this could very well be no exception. While she knew this girl's voice relatively well, she wanted to be certain. She rested her free hand against the door, her forehead too as she listened. As she waited.

Until she simply couldn't any longer; "Can you hear me?"

[Samantha Vaccari]

Sam retracted her hand from the wall, the residual sting of the impact shooting through her knuckles up into her wrist. She registered the pain, but it could have just as easily been numbness as she looked down to her already reddening fist.

She squeezed it tighter, trying to focus on anything but what was rapidly taking over her thoughts. It never registered that the noise she made would draw attention, despite how quiet she tried to be only moments before. Again, she went to throw another definite punch at the drywall.

But a familiar voice stopped her. Her voice. Sam squeezed her eyes shut, bringing her hand back to herself as she ran it through her hair, tightening on her own dark locks as she took in a slow, burning breath.

She hadn’t meant to wait so long to respond. To make her counterpart feel the need to speak again. When she opened her eyes, she glanced at the handle. She didn’t hear the blonde try to turn it, but Sam was well aware Ellis was on the other end of it.

“Yeah.”

Taking slow steps, she walked towards the door and gripped the handle. Even then, it took her a few spare seconds to twist it and open the door.

[Ellis Vaccari]

The longer Ellis waited, the more she wondered if she'd actually heard something. Sure as she was, she couldn't be definite, not until she was aware that the room beside hers was empty. She'd likely wait as long as she had to to ensure it was correct one way or the other.

But she didn't need to. She caught the sound of her voice. Pressure on the handle meant the door was opening, and so she let it go and took a short step back.

"Hi." Ellis offered lightly, her fingers interlacing behind her back as she immediately felt tension in her neck. She wanted to glance down - to glance across her - but she couldn't.

She was far too caught in her eyes.

"You're back earlier than you said you would be." Ellis pointed out, noted as it was. "Why is that?"

[Samantha Vaccari]

And there she was. Ellis Vaccari. The girl Sam realized she loved. So why was it he was the first to hear such imperative words, when really she deserved to hear them. Sam felt the tension shoot up her back, into her shoulders and neck as she stood at the door.

She was caught holding Ellis’s gaze, and despite how her counterpart’s eyesight wasn’t as impressive as her own, Sam feared hers would give away too much. That Ellis could surely see the distress she felt in boiling in her chest. “Hey.” Sam tried to match the blonde’s lightness, but her tone lacked the usual bright connotations it held.

And the inevitable came next. The question that she would surely ask. Sam knew she couldn’t lie to Ellis; nor was it something she wanted to do. Her lips pressed into a hardened line, but Sam was never good at covering her expression. Not like she could.

“I left.” She tried, her hold tightening on the handle. “I—“ Sam cut herself off, feeling her voice threatening to crack. She took in a sharp breath. “Fuck.” She broke the imperative eye contact, turning as she stepped back into her room, leaving the door open for her counterpart.

[Ellis Vaccari]

The shift in Sam's expression wasn't lost on Ellis, but it also wasn't entirely clear either. For someone with such keen eyes, she certainly had little control over her expression today. It wasn't exactly strange, but it was rare.

Ellis felt the desire to argue that it was evident enough that she left, because here she was. But before she found the means to, Sam had given her a fragment of a sentence, sworn, and stepped back into her room.

Still, the blonde took a breath. At least the door was open.

Stepping inside, she closed it behind her and settled her keys in her pocket.

Ellis pressed her hands together on instinct. As much as she felt the need to breach the distance - and she did feel it immensely - she also registered that it mightn't be welcomed.

Sam stepped away. Therefore, she must have wanted some form of physical distance.

But she left the door open. She must have wanted a physical presence.

"Should I wait?"

[Samantha Vaccari]

As Sam stepped into her room, she looked around. Anything to stare at. Despite being able to really look at anything she wished – any detail of any object – Sam struggled to keep her gaze in one fixed point. Not until her dark eyes landed on the wall. It was barely noticeable, but the paint had cracked from the impact.

Her fists tightened as she felt the growing desire to hit again.

But again, Ellis’s voice cut through the air, and Sam felt the tension ease from her shoulder and arm. She turned back to the blonde, but couldn’t meet her gaze, instead at the floor. Jaw clenched, she took in another forceful breath. “No.” She said in time, already beginning to regret the distance she put between them.

“He—“ Again, she cut herself off, and Sam cringed as she did. She felt her anger boiling over again. Trying to explain felt impossible. She curled her fingers around her jacket, tearing it off and tossing it aggressively aside. Against the wall.

“I hate him.” She snapped.

[Ellis Vaccari]

Ellis noted the way Sam looked at the floor. Her hands tightened in their hold to each other; anything to try to settle the sudden twitch in her hands. Giving into the desire to touch her felt so strangely detrimental.

At least she wasn't being denied.

Still, she applied pressure to her hands when Sam threw her jacket, and she untangled her fingers moments later. To say that she hated her father brought forth the obvious question; why. But she didn't let it pass her lips. Not yet.

"Come here." Ellis said, settling her hands at her sides.

[Samantha Vaccari]

Sam didn’t know how to rid her anger. Nor did she know how to mask it in front of Ellis, despite how much she didn’t want the blonde to see her in such a wrecked state. With her eyes to the floor, she had missed the way her counterpart’s hands tightened.

She was trying to search for some physical way to dispel her aggression.

But when Ellis beckoned her, Sam looked up again. Finally. She caught those dark eyes and held her gaze. A moment passed before she finally stepped forward to the blonde. Distance was painful, and resisting reaching out to her was more so. So when Sam finally breached the space, shaking hands wrapped around her waist, pulling herself closer.

She hid her face in the nook of Ellis’s neck, squeezing her eyes shut.

[Ellis Vaccari]

Ellis wasn't sure if she should have expected Sam to move. Signs of distress were clear, even to her, but it didn't feel like her place to take that first step. She was still difficult to read, because usually she was so overtly open with the blonde. Even as she caught her gaze, she had to wonder what she was supposed to do. How she was supposed to act.

Briefly, none of it seemed to matter, as her counterpart was taking short steps towards her. She took a slow breath when she felt her hands circle around her waist, but she chose to draw herself in instead of applying any kind of pressure to Ellis herself. She felt the shake in her hands as her palms were pressed against her back. At least, she was almost certain it was so.

After a moment, Ellis raised her hands, curling one arm around her shoulder and breezing her hand around the back of her neck. Her fingers breached the line of her hair, shifting to rest at the back of her head.

There, she waited. It only seemed logical to wait. To sit in the moment and breathe through time, slow as it was.

"Why?" Ellis asked, a question that had never been her favourite, "Why do you hate him?"

[Samantha Vaccari]

Sam was acutely aware of her own aggressive behavior in that moment. Or rather, she was aware of it when around Ellis – so much that as she pulled herself in, she applied as little pressure as possible to her counterpart. Despite her shaking hands, the Boston teen tried to be calm. Gentle, even.

The hand placed to her neck drew Sam in closer, her own palms keeping her close. She felt the urge to curl her hands into fists, to grip the fabric of her counterpart’s shirt, but her fingers only twitched as she fought the urge to do so.

She took in a sharp breath at the inevitable question. She knew it was coming, but that hadn’t made hearing it any easier. With her head kept pressed to the blonde’s shoulder, parted her lips, but all that came out was a wavering exhale.

But she tried again. “He doesn’t understand.” She managed, but she knew well it wasn’t enough for her counterpart. “I can’t just not be gay. I can’t change that.” Finally, she gave into the ache of her palms and curled her fingers into Ellis’s shirt. “I don’t want to.”

[Ellis Vaccari]

Stringing the concepts together, Ellis had to denote that Sam felt some level of hatred because he didn't understand her. She knew that there were many in this world who didn't approve of the sexual identity of others, but she never considered that she'd be faced by such a thing - even by proxy - now of all times.

Eventually? Yes. Because it was more than likely.

Regardless, what she was offered didn't feel like enough, like there were pockets of important information still missing.

It was precisely why Ellis so rarely opted to ask why over how.

She tried not to seem so struck by the concept of change; that she didn't want to, almost as if it were an option. Sam's choice in words felt disjointed, as if they weren't her own.

"Do you have to change?"

[Samantha Vaccari]

“He—“ She paused, shaking her head briefly as she tried to give herself the willpower to continue, “Fuck. He wants me to. So—I told him I not to call me his daughter.”

There was a brief pause, but Sam realized she couldn’t stop. “I know I am his daughter, and nothing can change that. But—“ Finally, the brunette pulled Ellis in closer to herself, even if there was little space to even do so. “I don’t want to pretend I’m something I’m not.”

Sam tilted her head up, pressing her face into the mess of blonde hair. She couldn’t stay still; despite how comforting her hold was, Sam struggled to relax. “I don’t have to change.” She finally answered Ellis’s question, realizing she skipped around it. “I’m not going to.” She took in a short breath. “But— I’m not welcome home now.”

[Ellis Vaccari]

Change was an adequate part of life. It was necessary, but not always agreeable. Inevitable. Potentially wonderful. Frequently irritating. Change carried variable waves of emotional discourses in tow. But this? Was it really something to change?

Did she realise she physically couldn't stop being his daughter? Was that what made such a statement so stressful? At least she thought to answer that for the blonde before it burned a hole in her focus.

"You don't pretend." Ellis said lightly. From what she knew of Sam, she knew she was her own person. Even when it had been irritating, it was still a fact.

The blonde felt a strange rush of relief when Sam finally answered her.

There was nothing to compare the Boston girl's predicament to. It was tragic, and it was clearly upsetting. Life changing in its own right. Tilting her head, Ellis pressed her lips against her hair. And there she lingered for a few extra moment of time. It felt better to simply say nothing.

[Samantha Vaccari]

Sam didn’t pretend. It was a fact – and even more was that she knew Ellis wouldn’t point out such a thing if it wasn’t fact. It was pointless to pretend to be someone she wasn’t – the thought of being asked to do so irked her.

Because somehow she wasn’t good enough as she was.

It was impossible to deny the kiss placed to her hair. It was the perfect move; a necessary one, Sam realized. But just as necessary as it was, it was completely overwhelming. Samantha Frye – the teen one who usually was overwhelming in every sense of the word didn’t know how to handle the physical response from her counterpart.

With nothing to verbally respond to, Sam kept her eyes shut, her face hidden as she shifted it back onto Ellis’s shoulder. There she parted her lips, exhaling slowly hoping to say anything, but her breath betrayed her as it hitched in her throat.