ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE

“Oh – A guy at the coffee shop in the town decided to harass me into giving him my phone number so I decided to give him your number. I don’t know what’s worse, him or the fact that I know your number by heart. Either way, I hope he enjoys sweet-talking his way into your heart instead of mine. You can thank me later.”

     “I don’t know my number by heart,”  Florence scoffed, sat next to her dorm room window.  With Britt in class, she’d taken the chance to have a cigarette.  ‘Bed rest’ was driving her stir crazy, but Emma was a welcome distraction.  “I might need to cut you off soon, but...  it does explain who that dick pic was off.”   

the unanswered pleas of her sister were heard with ease from the moment chrissy came out of the elevator. she shouldn’t have expected anything different from florence. she always had a taste for the dramatics. however, chrissy wasn’t as easily pleased with her outbursts nor would she allow her to get it her way. after everything that happened the last thing she needed was for her sister to get in danger once more. the attacked had reminded her of how fragile life actually was, it reminded her how mortality worked. only in moments like these chrissy would truly care for those she called her family.

entering the room, a glare of disdain settled in hardened features. it was pathetic seeing florence like this. if the situation was reversed, chrissy would have probably acted in a similar notice. perhaps that was the reason it bothered her so much.             ‘            STOP. you get in bed, right this moment. no discussion, no dramatics. you are going to listen and do as i say.               ’                    the ice cold stare was saying enough. she wasn’t going to tolerate any of this and if she decided not to listen, the consequences would be her own doing. 

     Her heart sank.  Chrissy.  She’d have rather Moira turned up to check on her;  at least her mother might’ve had a bedside manner.  Her sister’s orders were enough to silence the room.  The nurse must’ve felt Florence freeze, her struggling stopping, and let her go.  Florence’s attention, however, stayed on her older sister.  She stayed where she was, stood by the side of her bed, not wanting to give into the commands so easily. 

     “What are you doing here?”  she choked out.  Perhaps it was an unfair question.  Chrissy was her sister  -  had their roles been reversed, Florence would’ve visited her  -  but it’d always been difficult to imagine Chrissy caring.  Under the other girl’s glare and her head pounding, it was impossible to meet it with one of her own.  Or any composure.  Florence’s bottom lip wobbled.  “If you’re here to tell me I’m stupid, I don’t want it.  You can get out.”

Noah wasn’t really paying attention to the others around them. His eyes were concentrated on Florence. He watched as she twirled under her arm. He chuckled, “I hope you’re not getting dizzy.” He started swaying his hips along with hers. Their bodies were awfully close, maybe a little too close for a cocktail party. However, Noah didn’t seem to care. He was trying to have fun. He was going to show Florence a good time as well since she wanted to dance. Eventually, he took her by the hips to help her keep her balance. 

     “I won’t,”  she tried to insist, still laughing, even if she was slightly off balance.  His hands hands on her hips were a welcome addition, Florence feeling their warmth through her flimsy dress.  Not that she needed the encouragement.  Her own hands made their way to his shoulders, Florence letting her hips sway, body brushing against his.  She kept her eyes on him, leaning closer.  “I think we’re causing a scene,”  she whispered, well aware of the eyes on them.

– EVEN WITH HER PLETHORA OF OTHER CONCERNS, odette’s mind has been on florence since that night. naturally, their fallout had been AWFUL, but she never wanted things to end on the note they did. and she never wanted them to stay that way forever. she feels increasingly guilty for pushing florence away, but even more so for how she’s acted since. what’s happened has made her WORRY about florence – no matter how much she wants to forget, she still cares. 

odette has been to the hospital wing before, and usually it’s quiet and eerie. she doesn’t think she’s ready to see florence lying there. but she should’ve known – that was never like florence. the scene that unfolds before her almost brings a smile to her lips, to see the youngest vanzin still fighting. it was so like her. 

breath hitches as she’s unsure how to interrupt and make her presence known. “you should probably…listen to her,” odette says, stepping closer, “besides, the longer you stay here, the more classes you can skip.” she says that with a small smile, shrugging her shoulders. really, she’s just glad to see that florence is alright. 

     In that moment, Florence hadn’t been thinking about visitors.  She’d been thinking about getting out.  But, if she had been, Odette wouldn’t have been top of list.  After the reception she’d received at the cocktail party, she’d have been at the bottom of it.  But, there the blonde stood.  At the sound of her voice, Florence froze, looking over at the other girl in pure confusion.  There were tears in her eyes, her head pounding from the hysterics and the nurse still had a hold of her forearms.  All she could do was stare, mouth open mid-protest as she wondered, not for the first time that day, what the fuck was going on?

As Odette’s words finally sank in, a tearful yet incredulous laugh bubbled out.  “Do you think I could get the rest of term off?” she asked, her voice thick and words stumbling, but Florence latching desperately onto the normalcy.  She pulled her arms free of the nurse, using her free hands to wipe the tears from her face.  

she’s quite the charm for a dealer, it’s no wonder why she has customers lined up all the time. quentin seemed to take a liking to her and how she ran business, at some point, making lip curious as to why. now, he can see why— she was quite a charming one. “this?” he holds up his glass, slightly towards her. “water,” he says with a mischievous smile dressed on his lips. he tilts the glass back a bit to allow the water to flow down his throat, the familiar sting being a sense of relief to him. “and may i ask what’s yours?” he continues as his eyes fall to her drink.

     Florence’s laugh was a soft one, and more than a little mischievous.  Something told her she’d found someone she could have fun with.  It made a change from a good portion of the people at the party.  “You don’t think a Russian girl would know vodka when she smells it?”  she teased, having leaned forward when he’d lowered his drink and had a sniff, the smell all too familiar.  “Mine is my own secret recipe.  Guarantees a good night, every time."  

“You have to– to let me see her, I’m– I’m family,” stuttered Maggie at the reception desk of the hospital wing. “They called me.” 

No one ever actually called her instead of texting, so when her phone had audibly rung and woken her in the early hours of the morning from where she’d fallen asleep after the cocktail party, she’d instinctively reached out in the dark and answered groggily. But the bleariness of sleep had vanished instantly as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line. She’d only picked up a few words - don’t be alarmed, your sister Florence, attack, concussion, knife, hospital wing - before she was out of bed and flying towards the hospital wing, in her pajamas and bare feet. 

“Please, where is F– Florence Vanzin?” she begged the receptionist at the desk again, her eyes darting around the room for any sign of her other family members– surely they’d been called, too. It was hard to breathe, like she was sucking air through a straw; her vision began to blacken around the edges. She curled her fingernails into her palms and pressed hard, trying to get herself to calm down. Pull it together. A nurse appeared behind the desk and gestured for Maggie to follow her. He said something as he led her down the hall, but she couldn’t focus on his words, only on the fact that Florence was here, and Florence was hurt. 

Down the hallway, he opened a door and brought her into a room where Maggie was immediately greeted with the alarming sight of her sister shouting and struggling against a nurse who was trying to guide her back towards the hospital bed. “Flo,” Maggie cried, rushing over. Turning on one heel, she addressed the nurse, with an uncharacteristic confidence only instilled by the concern she had for her sister. “She told you to let go of her.” She took a deep breath. “But Flo, you’ve– you’ve got to lie down. They said you have a– a concussion, please, just. Lie down.” She reached out towards Florence as if to touch her arm gently, before pulling back, remembering that she’d just said she didn’t want to be touched. But nothing could tone down the relief she felt that there was physical, ocular proof that her sister was alive, she wasn’t dying. 

     ‘Flo.’  Florence’s head snapped around.  She was suddenly free of the nurse’s grip, who seemed more ready to listen to her sister than her, and half tried to push herself back up.  But, the hysterics had taken it out of her.  Head pounding from either her concussion or her crying, she couldn’t tell, she didn’t make it further than the edge of the bed.  “But, Mags - “  she tried to protest, less passionately this time.  Florence’s voice was smaller, choked up and desperate.  “I’m losing my head in here.”

Maggie had always been Florence calm.  Her presence was a cool hand on the forehead, or a breeze on a long, hot day.  Florence’s shoulders sagged in defeat, not quite soothed but not aggravated more.  The nurse hovered, then moved away, seeming to decide Maggie had the situation under control.  Florence pushed the palms of her hands against her forehead, as if it’d somehow stop all the noise in there.  “Can I not just... just have a walk.  To my dorm.  Please.”

She paced.  Lie down, lie down, lie down.  It was all she kept hearing from the nurse, from the police, from well wishers.  Florence couldn’t.  Concussion or not, she was starting to feel like climbing the walls.  'Just a walk’,  she’d begged, but it was ‘out of the question’.  There were a whole host of logical reasons, too  -  she’d suffered a head injury, she needed to be questioned  (so many fucking questions), her attacker was still out there.  That didn’t stop tensions from rising.

“No, no  -  you listen!  I want to go to my dorm.  I’m not staying here!  I can’t...  I... I  -  please.”  Her pleas fell on deaf ears, the nurse trying to guide a distressed Florence back to her bed.  She only struggled more.  “Stop!  STOP!  Don’t touch me-”  her breath hitched  “Please.”

                    he would never admit it, but parker, for once in his life, is avoiding people. parker, the people-pleasing, extroverted, care-taking parker … averting his glance every time any one of the four vanzin siblings even seemed like their gaze was being thrown his way. god, why’d there have to be four of them? certainly, it felt different when he and shia were together. it was like he was given a new family, with finally an inkling of how it felt to have siblings for once. he got on with them well, florence especially, and in hindsight, took their friendship for granted. things were still … well, weird for parker. shia could have moved on quickly, for all he knew, but parker had been fighting himself from stealing glances toward the other. he couldn’t allow himself that luxury, didn’t deserve it altogether. he was just undergoing the mission of dodging sebastian on his way out to the restrooms when he bumped into someone, just inches away from causing disaster via mixed drink. and of course, just his luck – the previous owner of the fruity concoction was none other than florence herself. “dance? i’m … maybe s-shit … i’m so sorry,” he apologizes, reluctantly looking her in the eyes, a remorseful look on his face appearing for more than just feeling sorry for the drink he spilled. “i’ll get you a new one,” he says before hurrying off quickly, not wanting to face her, not right now. there was a reason he was avoiding them, if not only for preventing memories of a better, warmer time from resurfacing.

     To say Florence was away with the fairies would be an understatement.  There was a heady concoction running through her bloodstream, and even as she smiled up at Parker  (blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil), it was a solid second before her brain truly registered who she was talking to  -  by which point, he was making his escape.  Florence blinked after him.  ‘Exit, pursued by a bear’,  she thought lightly, before choosing to follow.  She moved through people in a dreamworld, but managed to find Parker eventually.  “It’s just a drink, Peter Parker,”  she teased,  “you don’t have to shoot off like that.  Now, if you’d spilled my coke...”  she shook her head, indicating it’d be a very serious matter.  “What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

he’s heard of her before, the dealer; my secret stash, quentin used to tell him. lip’s seen her around at parties and in the hallways but they’ve never shared an actual conversation. somehow, the two are back to back in this ridiculous party before she sways around, asking him something he couldn’t quite get. he smiles, realizing that she’s had a little something to get her mood and spirits up for the night. “you got a little something under your nose,” he teases before taking a sip out of his own drink— just straight up vodka. 

     Florence hadn’t been paying any attention to who she’d been talking to.  She may as well have been chatting to herself, in truth, so away with the fairies.  It turning out to be Lip was a happy accident.  She knew of him better than she knew him.  But when Florence was met with a charming smile, she couldn’t help but flash one of her own.  A deft finger gave her nose a quick brush.  “My hero,”  she laughed, eyes falling on his drink.  “What’s your poison tonight?”

sebastian had run into most, if not all, of his family, despite his younger sister, florence. she was always a bit harder to track down, a drifter, coming and going as she pleased ── and part of him knew she was going to arrive late just to make a small show of it. just as he was thinking that, he heard her familiar voice before he looked over his shoulder, drink in hand. she stood, grinning, far too giggly to be sober, swaying ── the sight made him laugh before he was drinking back more of his alcohol. “you know, drugs always make you a bit more flighty than me,” he acknowledged, before raising his glass in the air towards her as a mock cheers. “what are we playing with tonight, dear sister?” his voice teased, although the question’s seriousness brewed behind it.

     Florence would know her brother’s laugh anywhere.  Her head hazy, it took a second to spot him in the sway of people around her.  “Sebastian!”  she greeted was a raised glass, voice a warm and giggly mix of affection and excitement.  “Just a little sniff here and there,”  she smiled in a would-be innocent way, tapping the side of her nose.  “But...”  her voice dropped, a devilish grin on her face.  “I might have something else for us to try.”