𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘌𝘔𝘗𝘛𝘠 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘚 𝘖𝘍 𝘔𝘌 - HOZIER

XVIII

EIGHTEEN.

"Woah," Gwen gawked at the resemblance as she held the photo strip of Emani and Vivienne at a younger age side by side to Vivienne's face, "Even your smiles are the same. You two could've faked being twins!"

"We did, a few times. Whenever one of us would stay home sick from school, the other one would get two lunches, and then tell the lunch lady that we both showed up that day." Vivienne finished her story with a giggle, earning one from Gwen, too.

"Didnt even know you had a sister," Ciarán commented through a mouth full of fruity pebbles, and Vivienne cringed as a few fell onto his chin. "Ya' never mentioned her."

Vivienne hid her emotion towards her past with her sister, convincing herself now that this was finally the light she wanted to see for years. The reconnection she hoped and prayed for. The sister she always wanted back. "Just didn't see it as important."

"Family's important, you should always mention it," Ciarán chewed down another spoonful of cereal, already halfway through the oversized bowl within minutes.

Vivienne nodded at the comment. She spent countless nights lying awake wondering how she could be less important than drugs, but maybe it was just as simple as it took Emani more time to figure out that family was important. The phrase helped Vivienne mentally justify the hoops she went through to get Emani a minute phone in Las Vegas and a hotel while they were already back on the road. She used it to forget the hundreds of dollars she had wired overnight, and the plane ticket for that next week that she had bought to get Emani back to New York to have her baby.

She used everything to reassure herself that Emani was changed for good now— but why was she still biting her nails into bloody stumps?

"Morning," Gwen called to Andrew as he slid through the half open door, and Vivienne's body tensed up at the scent of his lingering cologne before she even saw him. She kept her eyes trained on the photo strip clutched in her fingers on one hand, the other mindlessly tapping her ring against the bus window to a rhythm stuck in her head.

"Mornin'," Andrew's accent was thick from the sleep still floating in his voice, his outfit of a partially buttoned white long sleeve over a tank top and his slacks from the night before showing he never even changed before crawling into bed. Gwen wrote it off as the show running later than usual, but Vivienne knew— no, she hoped he was rotten with guilt, so much so he couldn't even bring himself to do anything but sulk.

"Lemme see this," Ciarán plucked the photos from Vivienne's fingers, giving her no time to protest before he began to examine it. "Shit, you weren't lying, Gwen. This could be a picture of Vivi."

Andrew couldn't help but peak over his best friends shoulder, hoping to diffuse some tension as he nodded in agreement. "You guys looked identical back then,"

"We don't look similar now?" Vivienne asked without a beat missed, relishing in the sight of Andrew silently stuttering for a response, but no words seemed to form. Vivienne's tone muddied with a fake sweetness was clear to Andrew— she was ready to humiliate him even more. "I mean, you saw her and all."