@dahliancgra • ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ɪʟʟ ᴘᴜᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ ɪɴ ʏᴀ ᴛᴏᴏ
🕊️ he’s covered in glitter. it’s in his hair, making constellations on his neck, striping the highlight on his cheeks. his jeans were originally distressed, but now they’re grieving- holes torn so wide that they barely even qualify as clothing. it’s been a wild night- the smell of prosecco on his breath would be able to give that away were his state of disarray to give it a chance. it’s a sad sort of beauty- he glows, legs - unarguably his best feature - on full display (there’s glitter on those, too, as well as highlight. it was a full look) stumbling around on his glow in the dark platform sneakers with an itch in his nose.
it’s an itch he can’t scratch with his cherry red nails. besides, picking your nose is gross.
he’d lost blossom and cas and mallow; who likely would have distracted him from the urge. they won’t be looking for him; not because they’re not good friends. they’re the best friends he could have asked for. but they know what he gets like. and when he’s this drunk, bad cola comes out to play.
he doesn’t even know where he is. somewhere in itaewon. he’s stumbled down more than a few dark alleys, and everything is empty. that is to say, everything is empty until he stumbles down another little closure; and in the glow of the street lights, he can make out broad shoulders; a tall figure, walking in his direction.
it’s enough of a sight to be scared of, in cola’s current state. strangers approaching, when you’re shitfaced wasted. mysterious man is just passing by, he tells his brain, but his heart doesn’t listen and begins to beat faster instead. his footsteps try to quicken but the platform shoes are a death trap and the threat of twisting an ankle is the threat of not being able to run, and so cola instead just stops, because that’s inconspicuous as it gets. at a halt, doll faced and glassy eyed and covered in glitter and highlighter with legs-on-full-display, he stares. and he really, really, really hopes that it wasn’t It from the novel It approaching because if it was, he’d probably be dead before he could finish the run-on sentence in his brain’s panicked narration and that would be a-
(just kidding, it’s not It from the novel It.)
as if god was trying to say ‘as a matter of fact’, the source of cola’s anxiety passes right under one of the flickery streetlights, and the figure illuminates and reveals itself matter of factly as a friend, not a foe, certainly not a nebulous extraterrestrial taking shape as a clown/teenage werewolf/swarm of flying leeches- which is good, because he wasn’t down to have any limbs torn off or to have an orgy in the sewers.
no, as a matter of damn fact, it’s just sean.
sean is probably somebody to fear. cola doesn’t know anything for sure but he does get a vibe from him, and his vibes are seldom wrong. there’s just something he doesn’t trust, it doesn’t compute in cola’s mental registry. to risk using the same word a third time, something isn’t right about the man. he’s not somebody you’d want to, quite literally, cross in a dark alley. but what makes it funny is, sean is a monster that cola- skinny little cola in all his makeup and his light-up shoes painting the alley floor rainbow colours- has tamed.
when dealing with deprived people, you see, it’s important to remember that most of them would do anything for a little bit of affection.
“what a dumb place for our paths to cross.” the words try to drip from his mouth like honey, but remember, he’s a little drunk, so it’s not the most mielleux utterance. “funny though, i think you’re gonna come in handy tonight.”
throwback to that aforementioned itch in his nose. here’s somebody that has (suspected) loose morals and no real notoriety by face; he’s exactly what’s needed- a bridge between coke and cola, one that wont collapse underneath rainbow light sneakers and drop him into an ocean of scandal and public statements about thinking it was sherbet, honest.
“i need you-” he says, moving closer, swaying slightly under the influence of that fucking prosecco. “-to procure me an... illegal substance. i can give you the details of the dealer. i can set it up, i just need you to get it from him to give to me. i’ll even share.”
who could turn him down? he’s cola- cola with his legs out. he was unturndownable. if that wasn’t enough, he flashes that baby smile of his. maybe cola was the It from the novel It of the night. perfectly fatal in his own right.