CHERIE AMOUR.

Hazy and honey-eyed, she stares at the twinkling lights like it’s the moment before she falls asleep. Ignoring the vague nausea in her stomach, she tries to find patterns in the lights as if they’re constellations, but no avail. The room is a dingy attic surrounded by instruments and wires – supposedly where the band practices, though she couldn’t tell considering everyone else was hearing them back in the basement. Some My Bloody Valentine wannabes, from what Cleo could hear from a distance, tarnished with a pop punk vocal. It gave her a headache. Legs stretched out on the cushioned bay window seat, she’s barely able to think about the physical impact of her legs breaking through the glass and her body falling before the door opens abruptly. I want a love that falls as fast as a body from the balcony. “Jesus!” she exclaims, individual hairs on her neck standing up in surprise. “Ever heard of knocking? I could’ve been… easily fucking someone. Luckily I’m just here for refuge. Do you need something?”

There’s a headache that’d been brewing since the moment Teddy woke up, from lack of sleep or lack of hydration he’s unsure. He remembers finding a simplistic diagram about how to calculate what a headache means when he was about 19, thought it would save lives of university students everywhere. His girlfriend at the time, a bio-med student, had merely given him a side eye and scoffed at his efforts. He remembers her now, surrounded by students, for once miserable amongst a rambunctious crowd and unwilling to create some sort of chaotic atmosphere to liven up the party. Amsterdam was so much classier than New York, Teddy felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. There’s no necessity for goodbyes - looking around now, Teddy’s unsure if he could name a single person in the stocky living room he’d been posted to for hours. The search for something to distract him, something to put his mind at ease had been a failure for the most part, he reckons, until he sees Ivy Mason on his walk home, “Ivy,” her name passes through previously frowning lips with an ease that sounds almost dreamlike, an uncharacteristically small grin replacing the negative connotations he’d been wearing before, “too long.” It’s out of habit when Teddy wraps an arm around Ivy’s shoulders, guiding her along as he continues to stroll home, “You heading home too? I was at this party before, but… dunno. I was excited for Amsterdam but now I feel a bit homesick. Apparently I can’t handle a party without someone cursing a plague upon both houses.”

        ‘ teddy. ’ she repeated once more. though spoken out of tenderness, it was another game she played to prise out some semblance of feeling, hoarse voice lingering on each syllable. names gave one power. she’d done the same to rhett, to rory, to every other person moments away from being wrapped round her little finger. but tonight the name was a force of habit rather than a vying for control. she’d long fallen out of that habit, at least with him.

The copper taste in his mouth was unpleasant yet not unfamiliar. Accompanied by the sting of his lip, he could safely say that his night was going downhill, not that he’d expected it to go another way when he’d stepped out of the toilets with the girl who’d been making eyes at him from across the bar with her boyfriend right beside her. Touching his fingers to his lip and looking down at the blood now coating the pads of them, nearly black in the dim light of the streetlamp, shadowed by a figure coming to a pause near him. He braced himself for another round, though when he looked up it wasn’t the roided out brute from the bar. “Corn syrup,” he said with a slight wiggle of his fingers. “You wouldn’t happen to have a napkin would you?”

Sometimes, in conversation with Ivy, he felt like a hitchhiker that had been stood out for hours with an increasingly tired thumb. It was like her attention was always somewhere else, a high chaired infant with eyes that insisted on not tracking the spoon, no matter how many times their parent cooed their name. He didn’t mind, though – in fact, he understood. He wasn’t particularly enthralled with himself, either. “Tough blow,” Jude deadpanned as Kevin’s face fell, eyes flitting elsewhere as he angled his vase onto enough of a slant that the gin met his mouth. Tongue pressed hard to the roof of his mouth as he stomached the taste, it was with the light clear of a throat already growing hoarse that his eyes flit to study Ivy, making it just in time for the tail end of her question. Kneading together lips left subtly damp by liquor, Jude reached up to itch at his tear duct with a chipped teal fingernail gnawed blunt  – Teddy had painted one, the other night, and they’d both gotten too distracted before he could finish the job. “Not really,” came as he appraised her expression, apple of his throat bobbing with a barely noticeable swallow. He had the kind of look on his face of somebody contemplating something: to jump off the cliff or stay clinging to the ledge, to actually press play or to live a life forever staring at a screen on pause. Then, as if dispelled by a sudden gust of wind, it was like they’d only ever been discussing something as mundane as a weather forecast. Slate blank. “Dunno if I really have a type, to be honest. Uh… Someone that makes me laugh, I guess. But I don’t like to date, so…” trailed off without fruition, attention waning with the realisation that he was beginning to crave a cigarette. Reaching down to fumble for his packet, it was with the lid flipped open and one wordlessly jut in Ivy’s direction that he nodded towards the back door, wordlessly conveying that he was heading out there whether she joined him or not.

        a force of habit she frowned upon at the best of times, ivy had found herself settling into a steady rhythm of boredom, a new amusement to be found, toyed with as a cat does a mouse. it was when kevin’s face fell that she glanced away for good. her eyes crawled along the fissures of the kitchen’s tiling, the patches of rust that marred the sink she’d perched beside. ‘ was i too harsh? ’ never mind that kevin remained beside them ; it was only jude that she could focus on, the smoked glass vase of gin in hand far more interesting than the lacklustre expression the other boy dulled with cheap beer. ‘ someone funny, that tells all the jokes for you. ’ she’d long picked up the skill to mask incisive remarks with a smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes, a voice bordering on obscenely sweet. ‘ how convenient. ’

Unable to locate a glass to drink from at the party, instead Jude had settled for a vase with a lone daffodil drooping to death inside, water emptied out and replaced with gin. Swallowing down a mouthful besides Ivy next to a counter in the kitchen, Jude watched on in silent, increasing disbelief as a broad shouldered stranger told them about how he wanted, and quote, a ‘big tiddy goth girlfriend’. “…So, I guess what I’m saying is, I think you could work.” With a nod at Ivy, the self identified ‘Kevin’ set the previous axis of conversation completely askew, tone derailed from lighthearted jest. “I mean, you might not fit most of the package, but the ‘girlfriend’ part suits you quite well, I’d say. Yeah? What’d you think about that?” Eyes immediately flitting towards Ivy’s in an attempt to gauge her reaction, Jude worked through a dazed autopilot, even in his liquor tinged condition, to decipher any levels of discomfort. Then, he aimed the short exhale of a scoff in Kevin’s direction. “Think that’s, uh… Dunno. Maybe the furthest thing from a compelling come on that I’ve fuckin’… ever heard, potentially,” he informed, clocking the fact that Kevin was continuing to eye Ivy and reaching out to ‘honk’ his nose once out of nowhere, rudely claiming his attention to give her an out if she didn’t want it. “Fuck, sorry. Was that invasive? Must be something in the water.” @heavnlyed​

        cross-legged atop the counter, splintered linoleum cool against her ankles, it felt every bit an afternoon home from school to gossip in warm sun. though the silk slip was a far-cry to starched uniforms, cabernet sauvignon having usurped a capri-sun and the outside light a cheap fluorescence, the feeling remained. eventually her cheek had landed to meet a raised knee, face askew in a grin. jude talked for her ; always did, it seemed, animated against the lull of a smile stretched across her face, muted laughter. ‘ huh? ’ glassy-eyed, ivy’s stare moved from jude to kevin, his face reddened now and words stuck in the throat like a fly to honey, back to jude. ‘ i could work. maybe. ’

IT   WAS   FUNNY   HOW   THIS   WAS   TECHNICALLY   HIS   BOAT,   but   he   hadn’t   ever   stepped   foot   on   it   until   tonight.   His   family’s   riches   were   FOREIGN   to   him,   something   that   his   father   kept   well   shielded.   He   wasn’t   sure   if   the   Dean   hated   him   more   because   he   reminded   him   of   his   late   mother   or   because   he   was   eerily   similar   to   his   late   grandfather.   Bash   had   decided   to   skip   the   entire   champagne   flute   ordeal   instead   nicking   a   bottle   of   champagne   as   he   contemplated   WHY   the   fuck   he   was   even   here.   In   his   defense,   it   wasn’t   like   he   had   a   CHOICE.   His   father   was   precise   with   his   threats,   able   to   control   Bash   in   a   way   that   no   one   else   could.   Maybe   that   was   one   of   the   reasons   why   Bash   believed   his   father   when   he   reminded   the   boy   of   how   he’d   ALWAYS   need   him,   even   as   he   was   striking   him   with   countless   blows.

A   party   was   the   last   thing   he   wanted,   really   not   in   the   mood   to   watch   Teddy   dancing   with   all   of   his   countless   other   lovers.   Especially   if   that   lover   just   happened   to   be   KYLE.   It   was   pretty   fucked   with   how   many   people   at   Lockwood   had   deliberately   tried   to   break   him   and   Teddy   up.   But   what   was   more   fucked   was   that   it   actually   WORKED.   Bash   just   wasn’t   in   the   mood   to   party   with   deceptive,   selfish   shits,   not   sure   of   who   he   could   even   trust.   Not   sure   if   he   COULD   even   trust   anyone   at   this   point.   Surprisingly,   he   was   happy   to   have   found   Ivy.   If   he   had   to   have   company   for   his   self   indulged   pity   party,   he   was   glad   it   was   with   her.   With   a   sigh   he   gave   a   nod   of   his   head,   taking   a   swig   from   the   bottle   before   trudging   up   the   stairs.   He   offers   it   to   her   before   collapsing   beside   her   with   a   huff,   “I   fucking   hate   everyone.”   A   bit   of   an   exaggeration,   no   doubt,   but   not   far   from   the   truth.   “Don’t   just   rely   on   the   slasher   to   stab   you   in   the   back.”   Words   were   slurred,   annoyance   was   evident   as   he   sighed   and   stretched   backward   before   his   back   collided   with   the   ground,   “Sorry.   I’m   grumpy.   What’s   fucking   new?”   After   a   moment   he   turned   to   face   her,   only   mildly   disorientated   hues   taking   in   the   sight   of   her,   “You   look   really   pretty.   What’s   been   up   with   you?  Seems   like  I   only  ever  see   you  at  parties.”

        she turned to face him with the agility of a young girl atop monkey bars, all scraped shins and a braveness that needed no hand extended out for balance. daring still was the arm that left its grip to reach for the champagne bottle, wiping away the dribble of it that ran down her chin after bringing it to her lips. ‘ you don’t sound as scared as some of us are. ’ as her, a coward who’d never quite settled after her first brush with the featureless horror. she shifted in place, as if it were enough to do away with the sombre air that gripped round her. ‘ that’s right. you only see me at parties, ’ the smile grew slowly, corners of her eyes hardly crinkling with the expression. ‘ people tell me that a lot. or the other way around, and only see me on campus. depends. ’

it depended on the person, the time, the day. of whether she kept to alma’s side at gatherings, a pair of marble statues with delicate features engraved to pass over the room ; or perhaps it was her tangled in another conversation with rhett in the furthest corner of a library, lost to a painful silence and hopeless answers with a bitter aftertaste. in previous times she’d been comfortably glued to teddy’s side as bash had been, so unlike the uneasy shadow the balcony light casted across both their features. ‘ would it be so bad to remain that mysterious? to only be seen in one place. i’d like that. ’ nail cuticles picked at doggedly, red raw and angry and hidden under the billow of her skirt, a tired face caught between elaborate hair and the delicate glitter of jewellery on her throat, there were parts of her tonight she hardly saw as pretty.

Eyes carefully examined the watercolor sunset that the universe had seemingly laid out in front of them, fingers clutching the railing of the deck. It’s moments like these that they find their own solitary to be comforting, the hustle and bustle of the party drowned out by their own brooding. It’s comfort that they find in themselves, the lavender hues blending together against the magenta to create something that many would only ever dream of seeing. They can tell a figure has come beside them, a simple smile twisting across the corners of their lips as they press their glass to them, taking a small sip of their chosen drink of the night. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Their voice breaks through the silence after a few beats, hazel hues tearing away from the world’s very own creating to gaze onto the face they’d come to know well. “It’s something I feel like I could never recreate. All of this. They really outdid themselves. We all did, actually,”

@heavnlyed

Beyond bored of listening to a frat boy speak (he’d barely dressed according to the theme on the grounds that it was “far too fuckin’ girly”), Lana waited until he’d only just lit the joint in his hand, about to pull it in and take a first drag, before gently slapping it out of his grip. “Pat a cake!” she declared with boundless enthusiasm, giddily springing up onto the toes of her feet once she gauged just how irritated he looked. It was only at a glance down, however, that she realised the newly rolled joint had ricocheted off of the end of Ivy’s shoe. “Oh, whoa. Nails singed down to the bone! It’s like a free toe salon or something. Sorry, total accident.” Eyes flitting towards the frat boy’s face of utter disbelief, she plucked up a lone shoulder in means of shrugged explanation. “That wasn’t an accident, though. If I have to hear you complain about some girl’s ‘inverted nipples’ one more time, I genuinely might go 2007 Britney and shave my head bald. Misogyny’s kind of crusty, full offence. Let’s make like the French revolution and behead this loser, am I right, ladies?” @heavnlyed

        the voice a mosquito’s buzz in an ear, the blare of music that swallowed up the room could do little to drown out the words. no matter how intent ivy’s eyes were as they rested on lana, shone in barely-masked fascination as the other spoke, he cared little for it. chad – or chris, or creed, a name easily forgotten come the morning, seemed to pay no heed to the heads leaned towards each other, the eyes to the floor that wished he simply wasn’t there. but he wasn’t so astute. unable to take the hint he’d forced his way in with a distasteful joke, all she offered to the broken conversation a harsh roll of the eyes. empty highball in hand, the glass shifted uncomfortably between her palms in a silent prayer for an escape, a distraction, anything. 

the reverie fractured at the sudden heat at her toe, foot drawn back sharply. ‘ ouch. ’ she squinted down, face distorted comically. ‘ looks like you might have to chop it off, doctor. you can’t save this one. ’ joint crushed beneath the toe of her shoe, she straightened to link her arm through lana’s with a grin, jock left agape with no goodbye. she raised the glass in a silent cheer. ‘ i bet that was cheap stuff, too. come on, i want another drink. ’

        she’d never felt so ruined, so spoiled, in the same room as another until now. maybe uncertainty reared its ugly head without alma beside her, arm linked at the crook of the elbow, to generously pour wine into her cup with a soft whisper in the ear — you’ve nothing to fret about — but alma wasn’t here now. it was only ivy. with the lull of a budding headache at her temple, chapped lips bitten rosy and alone, perhaps the face she’d picked from the crowd of doll-white faces and ruby lipstick was her best choice. delilah bernardi dressed in intricate gold, as pristine as they came, as fascinating as a glass swan rested in the palm. was she silly to ever think that rory would give her the time of day, when she’d rotted to the core and delilah remained untainted? it might’ve been self-doubt, raspy and unsteady in the corner of her mind that whispered it, though it was enough to force her to down the last of a badly-made gin and tonic. 

        the top of the yacht’s quieter. an out of bounds sign shoved aside, lock picked by a stranger’s nimble hands, the balcony light left on by its previous visitors – the perfect escape. from there the horizon seemed to have grown twofold, its last shred of pale indigo lost to a navy blanket scattered with stars. ivy cared little for the skirt that brushed her ankles, the hem bunched up to her knees as she climbed to sit atop the railing, legs dangling in the brisk winter air. the chatter not quite enough to meet her, all she caught in the last mouthful of a crystal flute upturned were the fading notes of a joy division song, the grit of ian curtis’ voice dying with the evening light. fitting, but not quite, perhaps only with the dark scuff against the toe of a pale heel.

all too soon the silence was broken. footfalls that echoed hollow up from the staircase, a soft exhale at the doorway. nerves clutched at her throat, crawled on the skin. turning round to face the newcomer had become painfully slow to expect the worse. it was the quintessential scene to a horror film, girl alone, partygoers below oblivious as she met her demise. but with familiarity of the face behind her came a long exhale, wry grin on her lips. ‘ oh. bash. you should sit up here, too. ’ a hand extended cautiously. her nails wrapped around the steel to right her balance, nervous laughter hot where it sat at the tip of her tongue. ‘ and don’t fall. ’

popping in to say hi ...... n that i’m currently busting my ass over two essays due next week BUT i am keen to post a few cute lil closed starters later today for ivy and des ( i decided on the fly that des wld be attending the party ..... begrudgingly... and very likely wearing an actual potato sack or smth close to it ) so please ! 

ivy mason — — lockwood rococo formal.