flying away from reality

Berlioz resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course he didn’t look like an Edgar, he wasn’t an Edgar. He could have picked any other name like Fred or George or even Mary and it would have made more sense than Edgar did. Still, he plastered on a smile and laughed nervously. “I have heard that one before. It’s a family name.” 

He was almost shocked Wendy Darling had actually agreed to leave with him. she didn’t seem like she was in the mood for anything, really. Still, it happened, and now they were both outside with nothing to do. He looked down the road, mostly taking in his surroundings. He had been in this part of Disney a few times so he knew it, just not very well. Berlioz contemplated telling Wendy Darling he was going home but – he didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to be at the party, either. Apparently he didn’t want to be anywhere.

…Actually, that was a lie. He knew where he wanted to be but he couldn’t go there. Berlioz sighed in spite of himself. So then – what to do? He couldn’t go where he pleased. What would he and Toulouse do if they were in this situation then? Now there was something he did know the answer to; cause some trouble. He grinned a little at the memories, took a sharp glance at the convenience store down the street, and then looked back at Wendy Darling who was still awaiting his reply. “Oui, possibly.” He gestured for her to walk with him down the road. “I hope you don’t mind breaking a few rules.” 

It was a short walk. They reached the convenience store quickly and Berlioz pushed open the doors, holding one open for Wendy and then following her inside. “The paint section.” He directed simply, smirk twisted with mirth already. “We’re going to be modern Picasso’s!” When they reached the shelves of spray paint he started walking down the isle quickly and selecting a random assortment of colors. He got two different shades of blue, just because. “You can pick a few out as well, it’s on moi.” 

Wendy hesitated for a half-second. Maybe she should just back out now. After all, she had no obligation to go with him; they had just barely met. But the thought of crawling back home alone only to lie in bed awake until 4AM again just seemed so… pathetic. And it wasn’t as though this would be the first time she had let a boy whisk her off to have adventures at night. And at that thought Wendy quickly picked up her pace to join Edgar at his side.

Breaking a few rules? At that, Wendy’s mouth tilted up into a smile. “Never."

She was confused and uncertain when Edgar began making a beeline for the convenience store, wondering whether, by “breaking a few rules”, he had meant shoplifting. Her father would absolutely hit the roof if she was arrested. Things took a turn for the interesting, however, when Edgar led her to the paint section. Her smile turned genuine now, and a spark that had been absent for a very long time entered her eyes. “Modern-day Picassos… I like the sound of that.”

“Oh, well that’s awfully nice of you, thank you!” Her instinct was to reach immediately for the blues, but Edgar had already chosen two, so there was probably no point getting more. Wendy opted instead for a deep violet, a mossy green and a bright red (she tried not to read into her first two choices, but they were embarrassingly obvious). Thinking she might get one more, she shot a look at the colours already gathered up in Edgar’s arms before selecting a dark grey.

to: wendy ♡♡♡ [10:12] he did. he walked in on us getting ready and he was teasing marie [10:12] and I might have told him off for it and then it was just me and him [10: 13] and then he kissed me, and I kissed him back, and Toulouse saw us and

wendy was still writing. alice’s fingers hovered above her phone screen as she watched the little ellipses. funny? wendy would never call anything like this funny. she scrolled up to re-read their conversation again, just to make sure that she hadn’t missed anything, only to find that when she reached the bottom, she had several more messages. shocking messages, ones that made her put her hand over her mouth in surprise. wendy, kiss someone else?

surely, that was impossible! she’d been in love with peter for years, she wouldn’t just go and kiss someone else for the sake of it! she hesitated a moment, unsure of how she would reply, but first thing was first. wendy clearly needed some comfort too. and if she was keeping busy making sure wendy was okay, she wasn’t thinking about how much of an idiot she was herself.

to: wendy ♡♡♡ [10: 16] you kissed someone else too? [10: 16] or did they kiss you? [10: 17] you’re not a mess, wendy, don’t say that, you’re still the same perfectly lovely person you always were, regardless of any silly mistakes. [10: 17] do you want me to call you instead? [10: 20] have you told peter?

to: ✿ alice ❀

[10:14] would you like me to give berlioz a lovely bruise for you? by the sound of it, he deserves it.

Have you told Peter?

It was the obvious thing to do as well as being the most decent, but the idea of telling Peter had been kept stewing in the back of her mind for the past few days. The longer she delayed the terrible conversation they were to have, the more she dreaded it, and all the while her fingers itched to slide open her contacts list and call Andrina, ask her forgiveness for being pathetic and running away, ask her if… well, Wendy still wasn’t sure what she wanted from Andrina.

She wished more than anything that it wasn’t Peter she had to hurt. That it was someone else, and so she could call him and talk about it, or perhaps he’d simply fly her off somewhere and they could forget about everything as they sucked on toffee bon bons and spied on pirates through the cloud cover. That was childish of her, though. That was still running away.

She was an adult now, an adult who did adult things. Like going to college, writing resumes. And breaking her friends’ hearts.

to: ✿ alice ❀ [10: 17] she kissed me, but i kissed her back. [10: 18] andrina, i mean. you know, the new friend i’ve been telling you about. and then i ran away. [10: 18] so i’m simultaneously the worst friend and girlfriend in the world. [10: 19] it wasn’t a silly mistake. i knew what i was doing. mostly.

[10: 24] i haven’t told peter. i know, i can’t believe myself either. and yes call me, please. or come over tomorrow, if you can. also i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make this all about me. [10: 25] if toulouse is at all decent, he’ll forgive you. i suspect berlioz couldn’t stomach seeing you with his brother on a date and that was why he acted the way he did. which isn’t your fault at all.

She looked a little out of place here, he noticed. Not that he meant it in a bad way, in fact he really related more to people who didn’t fit in with a bunch of idiots shotgunning beers. It wasn’t just that. She looked genuinely dejected, even when surrounded by a hoard of drunk strangers cheering obnoxiously. He wasn’t usually one to stick around for random people’s feelings, but Berlioz had felt his fair share of dejected recently. 

Wendy Darling. His eyebrows shot up unconsciously. Of course, Wendy wasn’t the most unique name but… no. Somehow he knew, because his life was an ironic joke to everyone but him. This girl she was – she was Alice’s friend. He glanced to the corner of the room unconsciously, thinking of all the possible scenarios that could come out of this conversation. If he told the truth he doubted it would take her long to realize who he was. There weren’t exactly a lot of teenagers named Berlioz with French accents running around. There was so much going on with Alice already – and his brother – if this girl knew everything then – His brain was blanking out. Oh, fuck. Merde. He should definitely be saying something. “I’m – uh, Edgar!” He smiled nervously and gripped the cup he was holding a little tighter.  “Sorry, ah, my name is Edgar. Uh, oui. I am… a freshman.” Berlioz glanced at her carefully. “I’m studying music but it’s mostly for the experience. Ah, what about you?” 

This was going nowhere good.  Edgar? Why did he have to say that? He could’ve picked a better name, too… But Wendy Darling looked so – alone. He couldn’t even begin to explain how that was connected to why he lied about his name but it did. It was too late now, whether he liked it or not, he was Edgar. At least for now. Berlioz lifted his cup to his lips, downing the rest of it’s contents. There, that might help a little. 

He wondered what Toulouse might do, then realized his brother was nearly as stupid as he was and wouldn’t even be in this situation in the first place. He would have told the truth and apologized and probably painted her some abstract painting and told Wendy Darling that it was how he expressed himself and this was what he was trying to express. Or something. Stupide. Still, even painting sounded like more fun than this party was turning out to be. Someone had turned up the music and it was at full blast. Usually he wouldn’t mind, but whoever was in charge of music had awful taste. Honestly. Berlioz glanced at Wendy Darling, catching eye contact, then pointed to the door and mouthed “wanna leave?” Apparently he couldn’t stop engaging with people he should stay away from.

He was taking so long to answer that Wendy was almost beginning to think that he hadn’t even heard her in the first place. She was about to repeat herself before he finally said something. “Oh, Edgar. It’s a pleasure.” He didn’t really look like an Edgar, she couldn’t help thinking. In her mind, an Edgar had dark circles under his eyes, a nervous temperament, and probably wrote poetry about ravens. He didn’t look the type, and she said as such. “If you don’t mind my saying so, I wouldn’t have picked you to be an Edgar.”

 She was getting a little better at keeping the smile plastered on her face. “Music? How lovely, do you play a musical instrument then? …Oh, I’m doing Creative Writing. It’s my ambition to become a published writer, you see.” 

 Once they fell back to being silent, it became a lot harder to keep her incredibly fake smile on. She cast her gaze around the room again, before realising that Edgar had been trying to catch her attention. Wanna leave? Wendy certainly hadn’t been expecting that. She couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to leave the party with her right now, considering how mournful she looked. And she couldn’t help feeling hesitant about going off with someone she had just barely met. What on earth would her father say? Still… maybe she should take him up on it. It certainly seemed a better alternative than sitting here for the rest of the night, drowning her sorrows in red cups. And it would take her mind off of the train wreck her life was at the moment. 

 No, it’s not a train wreck. She ran her finger carefully and precisely around the rim of her cup. It’s a car crash, and I’ve hit two of my best friends. 

Wendy nodded, mouthed back, oh, why not, and rose to head out the door. Once they were at least outside the immediate party area, where it wasn’t so loud she’d have to yell to be heard (and she had to admit, she was already feeling degrees better outside, away from the partiers), she asked. “Did you have something in mind to do?“

Alice’s phone buzzed in her hand and she fell on it like a wild animal, entering her password wrong twice in the rush to open Wendy’s messages. She laughed aloud for a moment as she read them, short and bitter. Wendy was certain it wasn’t her fault? 

Alice was certain her best friend didn’t know her at all. It was always her fault. Curling into a tighter ball, she retreated under her covers, furiously tapping at her phone’s keyboard, her emotions spilling messily out of her.

to: wendy ♡♡♡ [10:07] yes it was [10:07] i’ve done the stupidest thing wendy [10:07] i was supposed to go on a date with toulouse bonfamille tonight. [10:08] and i kissed his brother. berlioz. i kissed berlioz instead. [10:08] i think i still like him. a little. i don’t know. i don’t know how i feel right now. i hate this. [10:08] i’ve messed up so much wendy what’s wrong with me why would i do that [10:09] his face was the worst thing i’ve ever seen. i’m the worst person in the world. they should lock me up again.

Wendy’s hand maintained a fierce grip on her phone until Alice texted her back. She jumped when it finally vibrated to signal an incoming message and scanned them all hurriedly as they came. Finding out that Alice had intended on going on a date with Toulouse Bonfamille came as a bit of a surprise. She had known that Alice dated Marie’s younger brother Berlioz a while back, but she couldn’t remember Alice ever expressing an interest in Toulouse or even mentioning him. 

The real shock, however, was learning that the very terrible thing Alice had done was to kiss somebody she shouldn’t have. The striking similarity of their situations sent a stabbing sensation through Wendy’s heart. Oh, Alice. What have we both done? Alice’s last text started up a note of panic in her, and she quickly opened up a new reply, mind racing desperately to think of the right words to say. Did she tell her? Tell her that if Alice was the worst person in the world then she was equally deserving of the title? Or more deserving, probably, definitely more deserving considering Alice had just been planning on going on a date with Toulouse, while she had been in a relationship for almost two years. Would Alice judge her? She was friends with Peter too.

to: ✿ alice ❀  [10:10] alice please, please, don’t ever say that again.  [10:10] you’ve never half-deserved to be locked up and there’s nothing wrong with you. [10:10] so don’t you ever, ever say or think that again. [10:11] did berlioz know you were going on a date with toulouse? because if so i’d say he’s far, far worse than you [10:11] i [10:11] sorry, accidentally pressed the send button.

Wendy pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, worrying at it while she thought of her next response.

He wasn’t sure exactly where, but Berlioz was pretty sure he had seen this girl before. Maybe they had gone to school or something together, he didn’t know. He tried to place it, staring a little too intently on this girl, who he was a stranger too. That was probably bad and creepy. Also, he realized the drink fetching thing could have been a little weird. Merde. Music concerts? One of Marie’s friends? That could have been it, maybe. Marie had lots of friends he couldn’t keep track of. The only ones he had really ever bothered with were Melody and – and Alice. 

He hadn’t seen her at university at all and he didn’t know if he should be relieved or… otherwise. As far as he knew, she hadn’t spoken to his brother at all. But, then again, Berlioz had also not spoken to Toulouse, so really they could be talking and he would have no idea. 

Berlioz came back to reality only to realize he had definitely been staring for a little too long. “Uh, sorry, you just look very familiar…” He shifted awkwardly and took a sip from his own cup, trying to mask his discomfort but he doubted it was working.

He really didn’t need to go get her another drink, considering she had barely taken a sip since she had first gotten the other one and would probably just end up nursing it for the rest of the night. Wendy didn’t get a chance to say no, though, as he plucked the cup away from her.

When he handed the cup back to her, she thanked him, voice so quiet her words barely carried over the din of the party. “Water’s fine.” Why was she there, honestly? Her eyes caught on the sight of a few rowdy people in the corner, chugging beer can after beer can, before scanning the rest of the room. Everyone there was buoyant, exuberant, filled with party cheer, and here she was, moody, lifeless, and wearing something drab and dull that absolutely did not qualify as party attire. This really wasn’t how she had pictured her first proper college party, and a boy spilling her cup and bringing her more drink as an apology probably did not count as her engaging in college party shenanigans.

Lost in her thoughts, it took a while for Wendy to realise that the boy had been staring. Was her failure of a love life written across her face or something? She unconsciously mimicked his actions, taking a sip from her own cup as she tried to feel a little less uncomfortable.

“I… I do?” She finally gave him a proper once-over. The most distinctive thing about him was his accent (French, definitely), really, but if he was an exchange student he wouldn’t be telling her she looked familiar, right? Wendy couldn’t say for certain that she had never met him, but she also couldn’t think why he would recognise her.

She settled on introducing herself. “Um, I don’t think we’ve ever met, but my name’s Wendy. Wendy Darling. ...You’re a freshman too, aren't you? What are you going to be studying?" There. Her words might have come out a little flat (actually, a lot flat) but least she had begun making an effort.

Haha, thanks Wend.

Oh yeah, we’ve been good. Really good, both been pretty much occupied by work, but that’s just one of the unfortunate perks of getting older. What about you? How have you been keeping yourself entertained lately?

Oh and how’s your Jane? Has she finally warmed to this place yet?

Oh, well now don’t you two work yourselves too hard! Especially Jane, you should look after her, I know how she gets about her work. Me? Oh, not much really... just started university, so it’s all a bit hectic for me at the moment. Oh! Did I mention I made a new friend? She’s lovely, her name’s Andrina, you might know her from being one of the Triton princesses! That’s still so exciting to say! Not that I’m friends with her simply for that of course, she’s just an incredibly lovely person.

Oh, that’s very sweet of you to say, Alice! It’s a little hard to believe we’ve been together for so long now, but here we are.

You’re quite right, Alice, it is only fair… but how could you send me both you and Peter?! 

Well, I’m afraid I’d have to behead John because I simply couldn’t imagine ever doing either of the other two with him. And, oh… I’d… no, I’d simply have to marry the both of you, legality be damned. 

There isn’t much in the way of words when Alice tugs her down onto her own bed, only short kisses and quiet sighs filling in the silence as they tumble over, under and into each other. Hands are twisted into clothes, tongues sweeping across mouths, bodies pushing and pulling as they try to find anchorage. Wendy almost forgets, then, but she makes an unhappy sound as she realises, and insists on stopping until both her shoes and Alice’s are off their feet and on the ground where they cannot dirty the sheets of her bed.

Later, she is already slipping them back on when Alice, still lying along the length of Wendy’s bed, flops over onto her stomach. She’s wearing Wendy’s shirt, one of them, and somehow it looks far better on Alice than it ever has on her, despite the fact it is the only thing keeping her decent (or perhaps because of it). 

Wendy prods her with urgency to get a move on, because it is probably two minutes past Late For a Very Important Date with Bernard or Bertie or whatever Alice’s boyfriend’s name is. No, neither of those are right, because she distinctly remembers wrinkling her nose at how offensively exotic, how disgustingly French it was. Is it bad that she can’t remember the name of the boy whose girlfriend she has been seeing secretly in her bedroom? (And God, when had she become the person who messed around with other people’s girlfriends? Who are you anymore, Wendy Darling?)

Before the guilt can rise up any further, Wendy picks up Alice’s clothes from where they are scattered all over the floor and pushes them into her arms. She lets the other girl get dressed on her own - for a little while, anyway, but when Alice almost leaves with her shirt on front-to-back Wendy sighs and gently pulls her back (and does he do this for her, dress her carefully and brush her hair back with whispered words of affection) - and just a short while later, she is alone in her room again. 

Alice is driving off to meet up with whatever-the-fuck-his-name is, and Wendy is left still reeling, still unsure what the both of them are doing, what she’s doing.

Wendy looked up in excitement at hearing Alice’s voice; she abandoned the book she had been reading immediately and jumped to her feet, running over to her friend.

“Alice!” She flung her arms around the other girl (and it always occurred to Wendy every time they embraced that the shape of Alice seemed made for her, a similar height that allowed Wendy’s arms to fit perfectly under hers, neither one having to stretch nor stoop) and peppered Alice’s cheeks with light, butterfly kisses in greeting.

She laughed upon finding out she had, quite unintentionally, pre-empted Alice’s request for a kiss. “One more then, though I’ll always have plenty of kisses for you, Alice,” Wendy grinned as she tilted up to brush one more onto Alice’s left temple.