the scene where i swallow your heart.

Declan put on an expression of faux hurt. He wasn’t sure the last time anyone was actually able to upset him, save for his father. But his father was always the exception to all of his rules. The one hurt that never quite healed, and never would. Leila, on the other hand, her words flew over him as if they had never been spoken in the first place. It was hard to take her seriously, and yet a large part of him wanted to be near her more. Not because of anything as stupid as attachment, but because of what she represented. Wealth. Power. Words that screamed out to Declan, begging him to make them his own. And he was determined that one day he would. “Interesting that you’d say that, considering the fact that I never see you in the areas I am. Almost as if maybe I don’t scare you, but my world does. Or maybe it doesn’t scare you. Maybe you’re merely curious but too unwilling to admit to that.” Declan moved back in his seat, practically reclining. “It’s alright to admit that I’m interesting. I’ve got no one to tell, sweetheart.”

Complete nonchalance was its own kind of power. It meant that she could slouch lazily in her seat and bat her lashes, eyes wide, utterly uninterested in how it looked to the casual observer. Only that she thought it would amuse, this strange abrassive boy from the wrong side of the city. Not because it mattered at all – of course it didn't – but because it was new. Different. Refreshing, in a way few things were when your life had been reduced to a long line of plain old fine. “Yep, it's definitely because I think it's scary or interesting, not distasteful.” Leila shrugged, unrepentant. “You're different. New. I don't know if that necessarily means interesting. In fact, you're an arrogant arse enough that I think if you were rich and better dressed, you wouldn't be interesting at all either. Not that people would believe you if you told them anyway. Nobody thinks sweet, perfect little girls like me are capable of fraternizing with boys like you.”

a really good present, at least as far as valentina nott was concerned, was not necessarily the most expensive purchase of the season, but it definitely had to be thoughtful and personal and therein lay the problem. val loved a lot of people and she loved them a lot which meant that the holidays often meant endless stress over what to get her absolute favourite people in the world.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Reed jested in turn, placing a finger over his mouth in a hushing motion. “Being Loser Lite is like being a Lite beer. No one wants to be a fuckin’ watered down version. That’s why I have since devoted my life to being a full-fledged bastard rather than half-arsin’’ it.”

“Yeah, that ain’t working so well for you, mate. I don’t know if I’d call you a full-fledged bastard, really. Maybe a bit of a loser, but you’ve gotta really nail being a real fucking piece of shit to nail that bastard title, innit? That’s what we call the rotten shite wankers who beat their families and shit on their friends and all that. You really are a Miller Lite at heart. Who would have thought?”

“He’s got the seventh-most scored goals in a bloody world cup. I mean, people aren’t just going to let that go, no matter how awful of a person he is. The kind of thing where you hate the sin but y’just can’t help but support what he’s doing.”

“As much as it pains me to say this, that’s not much to write home about, is it? Our poor three lions are more like three blind mice, if their performance in recent years says anything. Besides, there’s Klose and Ronaldo and Pelé and another Ronaldo and they’re all loads better? You’d think he’d care more about not being a piece of shit if he can’t keep his game absolutely clean, wouldn’t ya?”

“Inviting me for a drink? Careful there Leila, someone might think you’re friends with someone like me.” Declan sat down anyway, making as much noise as possible, never worrying about embarrassment. As a child he would have cringed away from making such a scene, but as an adult, if you could call him one, he became unconcerned with such things. Survival and entertainment. The very two things that drove him, and one of the leading backers was sitting right across from him looking as she usually did–unimpressed. “Surprised I haven’t seen you come around. Figured you would’ve needed to go shopping sooner rather than later. Did I finally scare you away?”

“No matter, it’s easily explainable. We do a lot for charity, as a family.” Had it been anyone else, she might not have been as arch nor made a joke as easily mistakable as an insult, but with Declan, it was okay. He wasn’t important enough to impress and not ambitious enough to charm — the freedom to not care how she presented to someone struck her frequently in his presence as something alarmingly novel. As new as it had been to not be constantly latched onto another person like their more amicable shadow, it was just as unnervingly unusual to be this new kind of bold: confident in her actions not because the right thing to do had been ingrained in her so deeply but because she knew what she wanted and she knew that she could get away with doing it. Still, the smile she turned on him lifted the corners of her mouth in an image that was the very image of insolence, the face she had turned towards her mother since childhood, on every rare occasion she was caught colluding with her brother and his antics. “Addicts need frequent hits,” she responded, prim and polished and entirely too proper for the purpose she knew him for. “Besides, I think you think you’re much scarier than I think you are. Personally, I feel as if you might find toasting over a cosmo scarier, especially if it had a pink umbrella in it.”

“I know you.” Ethnicity aside, it would come as no surprise to find people struggled to think of the pair as related. Valentina was like the sun, a flaming ball of fire and warmth, dominating the space she occupied and the attentions of anyone within her vicinity. Parties and people were her thing, everything about Valentina Nott was extravagant – nothing was ever half attempted. Adara, by contrast, was like the moon. Subtle and quiet, not always noticed yet eternally present. She preferred her reading nook by the window, curled up with a book watching the snow kiss the ground as silence cocooned her, comforted her. Yet, Valentina Nott was more important to Adara than any book, than any window seat with snow and silence. Not even Adara’s own twin sister could draw Adara out of the castle of snow and ice she withdrew into like Valentina could. Had anyone else except Valentina attempt to coax Adara into attending a party, a scene Adara wholeheartedly despised, the question would not have been dignified with an answer. But this was Val, her favourite cousin, so she paused in her examination of the ( infinitely more interesting than a party ) bookshelf to level her cousin a look. “You would still have Molly there to help you represent the Nott family, would you not?”

“Good, then you know I don’t back down so easily.” The twist of her lips betrayed a spirit not easily concealed in the girl, one that spoke of an unyielding spirit and uncompromising values, of a girl who liked getting her way and knew how to butt heads until she did. But she also knew – and she knew that Adara knew, more importantly – that there was little she wouldn’t change for those she loved as she did her family. The party was not a compulsion, it was just an invitation. Valentina liked celebrating and happiness and being surrounded by all of her favourite people, and her party was the perfect opportunity to do so once a year. It would hardly feel complete without Adara — even if she was a retiring presence, time spent with her cousin was time treasured deeply by Valentina and kicking off the holiday season would hardly be complete without it. Besides, she had already placed an order for a case of Jinro soju and somebody had to help Brent drink it. She smiled sunnily under Adara’s arch expression. “I would, and Persephone. They're both infinitely more trustworthy about the party scene so I'm assuming they will anyway. Maybe the Aunt and Uncle earlier in the evening too, if they aren’t working. So now all we need is Lucy, Sibella, Brent, and you.”

“The fact that you even thought that gives me the heebie-jeebies. Come on, then, hand it over. Don’t want to fall down on the job of not being bored. ‘Cause it’d absolutely be a right shame, and if there’s one walk of shame I’m doing, it’s not going to be that one. You joining?”

"Of course! It’s only day drinking if you do it alone. With friends, it’s just getting the party started a little early and no shame in that. Well, unless you have good reasons to not be having a party anyway.”

“I thought we agreed to NEVER speak of that incident when we both got high caliber jobs. We shook on it and everything.” Scarlett held no shame, however, and was not beneath even suggesting, though it was in jest “But what about this? A nude beach? Or better yet: a resort? A cruise? I’ve always wanted to go to the Caribbean, honestly, and while I love my work, I could use the step back away from such high-strung people.”

“I dunno, I’m fairly certain I could pull anything off, including a cassock. I can’t believe you’re even suggesting I’d look horrible in it. And here I thought you were gaining some sort of faith.”

“Labs are more helpful for me because they are hands-on and I can put what I have learned into practice, you know? But I can only imagine how tiring dance exams would be. They’d be physically demanding and I can see why papers may look better in comparison. All I know is I’m one of those people who wants to fall headlong into the holiday spirit once you hear those sleigh bells start to ring.”

"To be fair, everything at uni looks much better from the other side. I’ve only got a couple of courses left so it’s barely proper uni anymore and let me tell you, I’d take labs and exams any day of the week if somebody else can cook my dinner. The holidays have that down pat: lots of Christmas parties and excuses to not care about anything productive.”

“The worst slobs do, Zarah. They’re leeches but they set certain standards that further propel them into slobdom.”

Vilda was down before she even had the chance to process the words, just barely stopping herself from face-planting the asphalt. ‘Fuck me.’ Wincing at her scraped palms, she pushed herself off the ground, shooting her an appreciative smile. ‘Thanks for trying, at least.’

The brief beat of laughter that escaped Zarah – surprising even her – was as vibrant as her copper crowning glory. “If that joint effort failed, you must be clumsy. Your palms seem to have suffered the worst of it.”