The Valkyries were in mourning, and Harlow most of all. She sat in her usual spot, daintily perched on one of the few pieces still in good condition; the oversized loveseat with floral print stood at odds with its fellows scattered about the room - a legless dining room table, it's appendages long since fed into the fire, and an overturned couch with springs akimbo and cushions long-since pilfered. Harlow brushed her sleek, soft brown hair back from her iridescent blue-green eyes and sighed softly. It spread through the other young women in the room like wildfire, as if melancholy were a disease, each one rubbing at their eyes or their noses or both.
"I-it just ain't right," sobbed someone.
"
Isn't," corrected one of the older girls, tugging the younger one so she leaned against her shoulder. "It just isn't."
Harlow resisted the urge to press her fingers to her throbbing temples, to her gritty eyes. First Bonnie had disappeared, and the light in Harlow's life had gone out. They'd been best friends since they were tiny little things, far rowdier and dirtier than now (though many who met Bonnie would be reluctant to believe it). Bonnie was the fire to her ice, the bouncy warmth to her aloof chill, and together they'd made something beyond imagining: a family, and a profitable one at that. They'd hardly been apart more than a few hours - on gang business or with lovers, or rarely, both at once - since then. And then one day Harlow had woken up, rolled over, and found the space beside her - the spot Bonnie always claimed whenever her bed was vacant, crawling in in the middle of the night and announcing, usually in slurred tones of drink, drug, or exhaustion, that it was "SLEEPOVER TIME!" - cold and empty. Bonnie never rose before noon if she could help it, so this was strange on its own, but then further searching had revealed...
nothing. Hide nor hair nor pottymouth to be found. Even the Valkyries had grown concerned. It wasn't like her to up and disappear, after all.
Then the rumors began, whispers of a strange place called Love Island where people went whether they wanted to or not. Harlow would never have admitted it to the gang, but she'd gone to a fortune-teller; paid her a pretty penny, too. The woman, after much consideration, reassured her Bonnie was alive and well, and indeed on the Island. She hadn't run away, hadn't left Harlow alone on purpose. But alone she was, and that was how trouble began. She was the iron fist, calculating and, when the situation called for it, cruel. She kept her women in line, but Bonnie? Bonnie kept them
together. Bonnie took a ragtag group of girls and made them a family, made this shabby old foreclosed house a home, just by being her. She was always there, boxing ears, settling arguments, and passing out sweets like some sort of strange, swearing fairy godmother. The girls respected Harlow, but they loved Bonnie.
And then, just when she'd found some semblance of relief in the knowledge her partner actually hadn't up and died on her, the turf war had begun. It had been just bumps and bruises to start, spats here and there but nothing more than what they'd dealt with, and suppressed, a million times before. But tonight? Tonight they'd lost one of their own. The pain rippled through her, shattered her and left her breathless. She got abruptly to her feet, and all eyes fell on her. The words curled up and died in her throat before she could issue them. False promises, pep talks... these were things she failed at.
"I'm going to bed," she said instead.
"Tomorrow we'll..." "When is Bonnie coming back?" whispered one of the smaller girls. She was promptly punched in the arm, going wide eyed and teary all over again.
Harlow forced a smile, hoping her icy mask would not crack.
"Bonnie is coming back soon, don't fret," she reached out, touching the girl's chin and gently stroking her hair. The girl quieted, mirroring her smile with a touch of hero worship in her eyes. She was so young, but then, Maeve hadn't been much older.
"Tomorrow we'll come up with a plan that will make her proud of us. Don't you want to tell her how successful we were while she was on her vacation?" A chorus of "yes!"es rose around her. Once again, Bon had saved the day. Harlow's smile was softer, more relaxed, as she nodded.
"Very good, Let's get to bed, then, so we're all our best in the morn." The girls began to shuffle into movement, departing for the various nooks and crannies they'd claimed as their own, and Harlow took advantage of the moment to disappear. She slipped outside, closing the door slowly behind her. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly, and she took off for... somewhere, anywhere.
Eventually her feet drew her to a halt before the restaurant, one of the few open all night. It wasn't a bar, or a drug den, or anything exciting or fun. It was just a diner, with greasy food and bad coffee, just like on Earth. She stepped through the door cautiously, feeling decidedly unwelcome and unsure or herself.
Harlow
You only cry when I love you ; I only lie when I make a sound