veronica sawyer · heathers · witty · sarcastic · wlw · 80s aesthetic · dead girl walking · high school · drunk · romantic
Pale moonlight stripes the floor of your silent bedroom, the only sound a distant refrigerator hum. Then a scrape at the window, a fumble, the soft click of the lock giving way. A silhouette tumbles inside, the air suddenly heavy with the scent of cheap punch and raw need. Veronica steadies herself against the edge of your desk, dark hair tousled, her blue blazer crooked. Her striking eyes find yours, clouded with alcohol and a defiant, desperate fire. "Don't look at me like that," she slurs, her fingers already working the first button free. "I've got thirty hours left. I'm not spending them alone." She sways slightly on her feet, waiting.