goodbye :  my  muse  kissing  and/or  hugging  your  muse  goodbye.

secrets :   my  muse  sharing/confiding  their  deepest,  darkest  secret  with  your  muse.

nightmare :   my  muse  coming  to  your  muses  aid  when  they  awake  from  a  nightmare.

push :   my  muse  pushing  your  muse  out  of  the  way  of  danger.

embrace :   my  muse  abruptly  throwing  their  arms  around  your  muse,  hugging  them  tightly.

bloody :   my  muse  coming  to  your  muse  with  blood  stains  on  their  clothes  and  hands,  shaking.

drunk :   my  muse  takes  care  of  your  muse  while  they  are  in  a  drunken  state.

bed :   my  muse  wakes  up  in  the  same  bed  as  your  muse  with  little  recollection  of  the  night  before.

slap :   my  muse  slaps  your  muse  across  the  face  out  of  anger.

gone :   my  muse  stays  by  your  muses  side  while  they  take  their  last  breath.

scream :   my  muse  hears  your  muse  scream  and  quickly  runs  to  their  side.

sleep :   my  muse  falls  asleep  on  your  muse,  making  it  hard  for  my  muse  to  leave.

stalk :   my  muse  gets  caught  by  your  muse  trailing  behind  them,  watching  them.

sacrifice :   my  muse  jumps  in  front  of  your  muse,  sacrificing  their  life  for  your  muses  life.

trail :   my  muse  watches  as  your  muse  traces  one  of  my  muses  scares,  asking  them  about  it.

love :   my  muse  confronts  your  muse  about  why  they  never  say  ’ i  love  you ’  back.

piggyback :   my  muse  jumps  on  your  muses  back,  my  muse  gives  yours  a  piggyback  ride.

jump :   my  muse  runs  to  your  muse  and  jumps  up,  my  muse  holding  yours  up  by  their  thighs.

dance :   my  muse  holds  their  hand  out,  waiting  for  your  muse  to  come  out  and  slow  dance  with  them.

carry :   my  muse  carries  your  muse  to  their  house,  either  drunk,  or  a  weakened  state,  can  specify. 

lighter :   my  muse  pulls  out  a  lighter  and  lights  it  for  your  muse  to  use  to  light  their  cigarette.

shot :   my  muse  gets  shot  and  struggles  to  your  muses  house  for  aid.

wound :   my  muse  patches  and  bandages  a  wound  your  muse  has  gotten.

fight :   my  muse  stops  your  muse  from  getting  into  a  physical  fight  with  someone  else.

arrest :   your  muse  finds  my  muse  arrested  in  cuffs  with  swarming  police  everywhere.

hospital :   my  muse  awakens  in  a  hospital,  finding  your  muse  by  their  side,  asking  what  happened.

gun :  my  muse  pulls  out  a  gun  on  your  muse,  your  muse  tries  to  talk  them  into  putting  the  gun  down. 

betrayal :  my  muse  finds  out  that  your  muse  has  betrayed  them  in  same  way  and  confronts  them  about  it.

nude :  my  muse  walks  in  on  your  muse  accidentally  seeing  them  naked.

karaoke :  my  muse  pulls  your  muse  up  on  stage  with  them  to  sing  some  karaoke  songs. 

laughter :   my  muse  hears  your  muse  laughing  uncontrollably  and  approaches  to  see  if  they  are  okay.

murder :   my  muse  walks  in  on  your  muse  committing  a  gruesome  murder.

We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others, that in the end, we become disguised to ourselves.

i dropped onto the couch harder than i intended, expecting the landing to be like the couch back at milena's house, and not the bargain shit i garbage picked up off the street. the faux leather sides were busted, no blankets or couch covers to shield it from the boiling los angeles heat; no curtains on the windows, just a few sheets hoisted up with duct tape. a certain time of day brought the cruel, metallic reflections of the beating sun bouncing inside from the abandoned used car lot where i lived. STORAGE NUMBER TWO, i called it, for barely a tenth of my art collection - the real art, not my forgeries - was located deeper within the warehouse.

warehouse. perhaps that wasn't the right word for it. before i was kicked out of milena's, i had gutted the old mechanic garage lodged in the center of the car lot. from the outside, the building still looked like a garage. busted windows in the back, boarded up with what looked like cardboard was actually a layer of dry wall and concrete. the car garage itself was also boarded, both coiling doors bolted shut and bricked up from the inside. a "closed" sign sat out front, and where i lived and breathed and suffered, bumped heroin and drank, cross-fading myself until i was COMPLETELY OBLITERATED, was once the lobby of the old shop. my makeshift bed, made up of an old, dirty mattress and clothes for pillows and blankets, was located behind the counter and away from the sun. the place still reeked of must, car oil, and washer fluid.

" huh? no no, i— " i was drifting in and out, somewhere between LAUGHTER AND TORMENT. despite boris standing beside me his voice sounded distant, like i was an insect trapped inside a jar.

i lifted my shirt again, trying to prove a point, but he wasn't kidding. the scar was red and angry, the corners where i had ripped out the stitches myself were puss filled and green around the edges. because it didn't hurt, likely from the copious amount of drugs i was on, i guess i didn't really think anything of it. shit, i thought. truth be told, i couldn't look at it for long. the furious red made my stomach turn with such a grotesque and menacing vigor that left me feeling nauseated down to the bone. i closed my eyes, and there formed the ghost images of sharp knives, HORRIBLE AND UNCARING, with kit's satisfied smirk as they hovered over me . . . ("and i, your dutiful apollo, will always be untouchable.")

❝  Nie,  no  hospital.  But  you  will  need  one  if  you  ignore  this  fucking  wound  much  longer.  Very  bad  infection,  that,  ❞  Boris  tutted,  the  corners  of  his  mouth  pulling  down  in  disgust  and  disapproval.  He  wasn’t  especially  sensitive  to  gore  or  infections  or  anything  of  the  sort,  but  it  did  look  pretty  nasty  and  could  become  genuinely  dangerous  if  left  untreated, and then once again Casper would find himself staring at the stark white walls of the hospital room. Perhaps it was a little hypocritical of him to reprimand Casper for it, being that he was also someone who downplayed his injuries and was stubborn to allow people to tend to him. However, this wasn't about him or the hypocrisy of it all.

Kayley took a long drag from her cigarette, a sweet vodka cooler held in her other hand. She was sitting comfortably on the couch of Boris's flat, her feet resting in his lap while she watched him fondly and revisited their days in Las Vegas in her mind. She could still see hints of the teenage boy she'd fallen for, most prominently in the way his hair was still messy and he was often pushing it or flipping it out of his face.

ɴᴏ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ʜᴏᴡ ꜱʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛ, Boris has been lying to her.

Under the guise of darkness in a warehouse long abandoned, the questions asked by men Nancy can only assume are dealers go unanswered. 

          Where is he? Where is he staying? Who is he working for? Who is he working with? Where are our...

The questions and their resulting blows go on until she's spitting blood, head shaking dutifully from side to side. Angry she may be, the betrayal bitter on her tongue, but Nancy is no traitor. She still cares about him, and so she won't be the reason he's found dead in the morning.

❝ No, ❞ said for what has to be the hundredth time, a gasping breath let out when a fist finds her rib and punches. Fuck. ❝ — I'm not — going to say anything. ❞ In truth, it's almost pathetic — they've been at this for hours, and for these men to continue to try and pry information from her is damn near laughable.

Or, it would be, if one of them didn't pull out a gun.

          Then we have no further use for you.

A silenced shot to her side is followed by them finally retreating, the warehouse eerily quiet. Breathing is difficult, the air tasting of rust, and when Nancy glances downward, she can already see the blooming crimson.

Act quickly, Nancy.

As one hand shifts to put pressure on the wound — and god, does that make her wince — the other shakily retrieves the cell phone in her pocket. Her location is sent to him thanks to the SOS app she'd installed with only two pushes of a button.

                          15 missed calls. 10 voicemails. 5 new text messages.

Boris knows they'd found her, then.

Only after sending her location does Nancy dial; he answers after only one ring, his panicked voice washing out her rattling breaths.

                                           ❝  are you hurt?  did they hurt you?  ❞

❝ Yes. ❞ Talking takes too much energy, her whimpered groan unable to be stifled in time as her fingers press harder against her side. God, her fingers are already stained red. ❝ Send — not you. Dangerous. ❞ For all she knows, they're still outside and waiting for him to show up; poised and ready to kill. 

Stay awake, Nancy.

A  wave  of  guilt  had  washed  over  him,  anxiety  and  fear  and anger demanding  to  be  felt  all at once as  he  listened  to  Nancy’s  strained  voice  trying  to  give  him  instructions.  She  didn’t  want  him  to  come  to  her  and it made perfect sense why, but  he  was  already  well  on  his  way  and  would  get  there  faster  than  an  ambulance  from  the  nearest  hospital  would.  Of  course,  he  wouldn’t  tell  her  that. He  knew  what  Nancy  was  like.  Like  him,  she  was  stubborn  and  argumentative, but he knew to take precautions when nearing the area.

❝ Fucking bastards. Save  your  breath,  but  if you could please answer me this—what  did  they  do  to  you, and how many were there? ❞  Boris  asked,  his  lips  pressed  into  a  hard  line  and  his  brow  furrowing  as  all  the  possibilities  raced  through  his  mind.  Was  she  stabbed?  Shot?  Horribly  tortured?  The  thought  made  an  uncomfortable  knot  form  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach, a curse spoken in Russian bitterly muttered under his breath. He didn't need anything descriptive, just an answer in three or less words would suffice: Shot shoulder, three. Or stabbed chest, two. Whatever it may be. It took everything in him not to ramble out apologies to express how sorry and ashamed he was that this happened to her, but that time would come.

𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙸𝚂 𝙿𝙰𝚅𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙾𝚅𝚂𝙺𝚈: " YOU'RE NOT SLEEPING, YOU'RE NOT EATING … I'M CONCERNED ABOUT YOU. " i barked out a laugh that sounded almost like choking. to me, concern was just like dust on an old wooden cabinet. fine dust accumulation on wood actually caused more damage than people liked to believe. under a microscope, dust sometimes had SHARP EDGES ENOUGH TO CUT little by little at the polish and eat away at the wood over a long period of time. notoriously, people didn't like to dust. instead they'd rather watch their furniture decay, replace it with a newly polished design, and discard the old one out into the rain for the garbage men to pick up. no one would ask the cabinet to fix the dust, but nobody is out here doing anything about it; nobody has done anything, nobody will do anything. if you're going to rot, i decided, you might as well FUCKING ROT.

i stood up from my rather depressing horizontal position on the floor and immediately staggered. my legs felt light and somewhat detached, like A BOLT HAD LOOSENED in there somewhere, and i stumbled forward, kicking over a bottle of wine and catching myself in the nick of time before my head collided with the door frame. i was grateful the bottle was dry, but fuck. when did i manage to drink the rest of that? " boris— " i said breathlessly. his name sounded satisfying in my mouth, so i kept saying it— " boris boris boris boris boris. look, man. gimme a break, alright? " my words ran together like a TRAIN WRECK, one word crashing after the other in a slurry, drunken mess. " i'm still - y'know - recovering, or whatever, but i'm doing so much better than before. like so good. i have all this extra energy, and like, look— you can barely even see the scar now! see? "

❝ Tch. Much better? My  god,  look  at  you.  You’re  a  mess,  Casper, ❞  Boris  murmured,  a  look  of  doubt  etched  into  his  features  while  his  gaze  fell  on  the  misshapen,  jagged  scar  that  marred  the  other’s  flesh.  Surrounding  the  wound  itself,  the  skin  was  red  and  angry  and  looked  like  it  was  badly  in  need  of  cleaning.  ❝ You  aren’t  going  to  be  able  to  paint  anything  if  this  gets  much  worse,  eh? ❞  He  asked,  just  as  Casper  had  tugged  his  shirt  back  down  and  continued  on  to  ramble  about  how  he  was  ready  to  bounce  back.  Maybe  it  was  partially  true.  Maybe  the  motivation  was  there,  but  how  Boris  saw  it,  he  had  a  few  steps  to  go  before  he  could  genuinely  steer  himself  back  to  where  he  wanted  to  be.

" i was always semi good at soccer . i wanted to be on the volleyball team at my last school but they pretty much laughed at me because i was scared of the ball. so my two options are soccer and frisbee . " she threw out , dark eyes beginning to get tired as the sound of chirping from crickets had began to sing from around them . " feel free to just pick the one that confuses you less . but then i'm all in for s'mores . " rachel smiled softly, eyelids fluttering closed as they could no longer keep open their eyes , just deciding to listen to the outdoors around them.

the tents were pretty spaced out , the adults of the trip planting them that way on purpose . they were lucky that there wasn't anyone yelling at them for being this close , but she wouldn't count on it staying that way . the next campsite of a student was at least 20 feet out from her , and boris's tent was closer to kayley's than it was to hers .

rachel mustered up the strength to open her eyes , using his body as a tool to stand up on her feet shakily . " i should go to sleep, i'm worn out. " worn out from her first ever date , which she was still reeling from. " youll have to go on your own back , i'm afraid i'll fall over if i even think about walking any further than in my own tent. " she laughs , exasperated and pointing backwards.

They  started  off  the  day  like  everyone  else,  breakfast  first  being  provided  for  them  in  the  main  building  and  allowing  them  to  engage  in  conversations,  and  then  they  were  off  to  officially  start  the  day  of  games  despite  Boris’  reservations  about  it.  Soccer  seemed  like  the  simplest  option  with  the  least  rules  to  learn,  and  Rachel  had  told  him  that  he  could  pick  whichever  one  he  wanted  and  that she  would  go  along  with  it,  so  that  was  the  one  he  ended  up  deciding  on.

At  the  designated  area,  students  were  divided  up  into  teams  and  given  coloured  pinnies  to  indicate  friend  versus  foe.  As  agreed  upon,  Rachel  and  Boris  were  on  a  team  together,  and  everyone  was  given  a  few  minutes  to  practice  and  warm  up  before  the  game  would  begin.  Boris  was  kicking  the  ball  back  and  forth  with  Rachel,  only  he  was  struggling  to  keep  it  straight  when  the  distance  grew  too  great  and  Rachel  was  forced  to  run  after  it,  and  he  didn’t  have  time  to  practice  it  further  because  it  was only minutes later that it was being  announced  that  they  would  be  starting  soon.

rachel doesn't want to think about reggie liking her anymore , it almost made her feel embarrassed . so she doesn't continue that part of the conversation to save herself from the humiliation that is her feelings . " well, if he does like me , i'm sorry to him . " she shrugs , finishing the small lollipop and throwing the stick into her makeshift garbage can that was just a plastic bag .

a cold hand is pressed to her back - and with a gasp, rachel pushed him over slightly with her hands. " your hands are freezing , you dick . did you carry six million ice cubes in your hands all day ? " rachel accused , eyebrows narrowed as she moves his hand into hers , trying to warm him up further by rubbing both sides of his hand with both of her palms. the motion almost like starting a fire . " you're so annoying . " she mumbles with the intent to warm him up .

While  Rachel  kept  his  hand  between  her  own,  attempting  to  warm  it  up  using  the  method  of  friction,  his  other  hand  gripped  the  blanket  that  was  draped  around  his  shoulders  to  keep  it  in  place.  ❝  Sports?  ❞  Boris  grimaced,  unsure  yet  if  he  wanted  to  attend  or  try  to  skip.  He  didn't  play  a  lot  of  sports  growing  up  because  he  was  homeschooled  so  much  of  the  time,  and  whenever  he  did  have  the  option  to  attend,  it  was  always  an  infrequent  thing.  For  that  reason,  he  didn't  know  very  much  about  the  games  and  the  rules  the  came  with  them.

A city that never sleeps — casinos, strip clubs, restaurants, bars — neon lights everywhere, keeping a night sky free of stars. Christ, it couldn’t be further from life in Hawkins. Even after everything, the very last place Nancy expected to end up was Las Vegas, investigative work or not.

Still, she goes where she’s needed — the reports from Las Vegas all pointed to something going on here, though that shouldn’t be a surprise; crime is all the more noticeable in cities. 

There’s something here worth writing about — Nancy just hasn’t found it yet.

( Because, no, people do not want to hear about the millionth store robbery or mugging. )

While the hour is late — a quick glance at her watch reads 1:30AM — Nancy knows she won’t be sleeping tonight. There’s too much work to be done, a notebook and pen tucked away safely in the bag over her shoulder, yawns and sleepiness be damned.

It’s this that sees her entering a 24-hour coffee shop, their menu vast and offering a decent spread of both teas and coffees alike. She orders one of each with a pastry for good measure.

The shop is a charming place, considering its location — while Las Vegas is bustling outside of these doors, this shop offers a much-needed sense of tranquility. 

There aren’t many people inside, though that isn’t a surprise; who would want coffee or tea at such an hour, unless they were doing some kind of work? 

A quick glance around shows only two other occupants — and it’s with widening eyes Nancy realizes she knows one of them from an early year of High School, before they’d moved away.

Sitting  at  a  table  with  a  coffee  in  front  of  him,  though  a  line  of  cocaine  was  currently  doing  most  of  the  work  in  keeping  him  awake  and  alert,  Boris  was  texting  a  client  on  the  phone  he  used  for  work  when  he  heard  someone  address  him  by  his  first  name.  The  voice  was  vaguely  familiar,  but  he  couldn't  quite  pinpoint  it.  His  phone  lowered,  dark  eyes  darting  to  the  source  of  the  sound  to  land  on  none  other  than  Nancy  Wheeler.  He'd  never  been  very  good  with  remembering  names  or  numbers  or  addresses,  but  the  important  ones  and  the  ones  who  left  an  impression  stuck  with  him.  Nancy  was  one  of  them.  She  was  someone  Boris  initially  thought  studied  and  worked  too  hard  and  needed  to  loosen  up  a  little,  but  she'd  been  kind  to  him  in  high  school.

❝  My  god.  Nancy?  ❞  She  actually  remembered  him?  Boris  was  long  since  used  to  the  friends  he'd  made  moving  on  and  forgetting  about  him,  which  wasn't  something  he  resented  them  for  or  held  against  them,  but  it  did  become  exhausting  to  form  bonds  and  constantly  have  to  lose  them  while  growing  up.  Needless  to  say,  it  warmed  his  heart  to  discover  that  she  remembered  him  enough  to  recognize  him  even  after  five  years  of  zero  contact  had  passed.

" what about you ? is kayley your little girlfriend ? " she dismissed , immediately changing the subject with a slight scrunch to her nose. of course reggie wasn't her boyfriend . she didn't even know what having a boyfriend was like in the first place . rachel scoots over to make room for boris , tapping the ground with their palm .

it wasn't that rachel hated kayley . okay , that was a lie . she hated that girl , and has been 3 seconds away from a physical altercation on more than one occasion because of her big mouth and rachel's short temper . but nevertheless , if boris is happy - she can put aside her sour attitude in the name of friendship . they wanted nothing more than to see boris thriving , whether it was with the wicked witch herself or not . rachel leaned over to grab her blanket , draping it over their shoulder , then moves one side to cover boris up almost automatically .

With  the  blanket  draped  over  both  of  them,  he  scooted  a  little  closer  to  her  side  and  pulled  his  knees  to  his  chest.  Desert  climate  was  hot  throughout  the  day  but  god  did  it  get  cold  when  night  time  rolled  around.  ❝  Kayley  isn’t  my  girlfriend.  She's hot, yah, but mostly  I  buy  weed  from  her.  ❞  Boris  shrugged  and  gave  a  glance  in  the  direction  of  where  he  knew  her  tent  to  be.  ❝  She’s  dating  this  Mike  guy.  She  wants  to  break  up  with  him  but  she’s  afraid.  I  feel  sorry  for  her.  ❞  He  knew  Rachel  didn't  like  her  and  that  there  was  a  lot  of  rumors  circulating  about  her  at  school,  like  how  she'd  sleep  around  and  cheat  on  everyone  she  was  with,  but  she  was  also  really  misunderstood.

they both follow behind kayley, who seemingly had an issue with every spot reggie had gestured to, and once they found a spot, it was all the way in the back. rachel's eyebrows narrowed for a quick moment , eyes shooting kayley daggers as they place their hoodie down for reggie to sit on while rachel excused herself to go get popcorn and drinks for the two of them. boris can get his own date things, and rachel is currently setting kayley on fire with her mind as they buy a large popcorn, and a drink to share with reggie. it wasn't like reggie was being a class act asshole either , but the way kayley was condescending towards him made them want to punt her in the face . nevertheless, rachel sets the popcorn down, and sits on their hoodie without a second thought , scooting closer to reggie with ease.

the movie wasn't terrible. wasn't their type of movie, but rachel found some of the things the minions did silly and hilarious. rachel wasn't the type to brush aside animations, especially because it's an under appreciated art form, however - they believe that movies can also be silly and fun, which is what the despicable me movie was . they even cried a little bit, but it was a good thing it was dark outside and rachel wasn't next to anybody but reggie . both humiliating, and humbling. rachel said goodnight to boris ( and kayley, but mostly boris) while reggie walked her back to her tent to say goodnight. they gushed about how fun it was , and how they would like to do it again ( just them, next time ) and suddenly rachel was left blushing like she was a 12 year old girl after reggie planted a kiss on their cheek.

There  was  a  bit  of  talking  before  they  were  made  to  quiet  down  because  the  movie  started  playing,  and  it  turned  out  to  be  one  that  was  actually  pretty  funny.  Childish?  Definitely,  but  the  little  yellow  guys  were  surprisingly  comical  and  had  Boris  laughing  out  loud  or  at  least  cracking  a  smile  multiple  times.  It  was  safe  to  say  that  it  wasn’t  the  worst  movie  that  had  played,  and  perhaps  it  was  made  even  funnier  because  of  the  lingering  weed  in  his  system.  Kayley  was  giggling  at  some  parts  too,  sometimes  leaning  over  to  playfully  bump  her  bony  shoulder  against  him  and  whisper  something  in  his  ear,  which  would  in  turn  have  him  laughing  too.

The  rest  of  the  night  went  by  quickly  and  soon  Boris  was  saying  goodnight  to  Kayley,  who  was  being  beckoned  by  her  friends  to  come  hang  out  in  their  tent  for  a  little  while.  He  used  that  time  find  Rachel  sitting  in  front  of  her  own  tent,  squealing  excitedly  into  her  hands  because—it  was  obvious,  he  didn’t  even  need  to  ask—they’d  hit  it  off  really  well  with  Reggie.  She  was  happy,  giddy  like  a  little  kid  on  Christmas.

❝  Yah,  it  was  funny.  Those  little  yellow  things—Minions?  Stupid,  but  hilarious.  ❞  There  wasn’t  a  whole  lot  to  discuss  about  it  beyond  that,  so  he  moved  easily  onto  another  topic.  ❝  Is  he  your  boyfriend  now?  Reggie. ❞