god speaks in tongues.

location: hell’s kitchen availbility: closed @killthekvng​

Zelda had walked by the little hole-in-the-wall join twice before she finally found the meetup point. Its inconspicuous demeanor was probably the reason why Sanctum led her there, though Zelda couldn’t fathom why. Didn’t they have enough goons to carry out their bidding already? Just because she knew how to use a camera, that didn’t mean she was made for stakeouts. Thank goodness she didn’t have to do it alone, though not knowing who her partner was beforehand didn’t ease her nerves at all.

At least I get to spend hours in a heated car, she thought to herself as she tightened her faux-fur coat around her shivering body. It was brutally cold, and she eagerly peeked inside every passing car to see if she recognized its passenger. And after a few misses, she finally found the one she’d been waiting for. And found out why Sanctum had kept the driver a secret from her.

❝ No way, ❞ she said, her voice getting higher as all her adolescent anger and heartache came crashing down on her. ❝ Why are you here? ❞ It was a pretty dumb question to ask, but she was holding onto hope that his answer wouldn’t have been the same as hers.

perhaps the most IRRITATING aspect of the sanctum was that the information given to you was all that you would receive. any questions further and a raised brow and questioning of loyalties ensued. it was the reason for the quiet obedience and acceptance of a small card had ensued, the card holding nothing but a single address, neatly printed onto the center of the crisp white rectangle. the dates and times were given in person, and knowing them, they were not to be repeated.

the day of, the time of, a sleek, black bugatti enters onto the scene, HAZEL hues scanning for any familiar faces. perhaps he had been partnered with someone new, but even then, with the amount of meetings the members were coerced into attending, even unfamiliar faces held familiar features.

this is not the case, however, when he finds himself pulling up on a more than recognizable face. a deep sigh shakes his chest before windows are rolled down. “why on EARTH would i be here if it weren’t for the same thing as you? get in the car. i’m not fucking waiting around.”

– JUST THE SIGHT OF HIS FACE FORCES HER TO CONFRONT SO MANY THINGS that she can’t talk about sober. however, she can’t help the feeling that washes over her – safety. it’s something she’s always associated with hunter, how even on her darkest nights he’s able to pull her back from the brink with just his voice. the gentle touch of his hand is enough to send a shiver through her, to make her want more, and that’s how she knows she’s wasted (if it wasn’t evident already.) hunter isn’t hers to want. it takes a moment for glazed eyes to snap out of their daydream haze, but she nods slowly.

“oh,” she says, and laughs, putting her hands on his chest for no reason in particular. she can’t help but be a little touchy in this state. the texts she’s sent come rushing back to the front of her mind, bringing redness to her cheeks. “god,” she sighs, “and you still came? you’re still going to tolerate how needy, pathetic, and desperate i am?” the same words from the sanctum meeting echo in her mind and they sound even more true when she’s the one who says them out loud. 

but still, it’s not enough for her to push herself away from him, to let go. in every sense of the word, she’s still tangled up in him and even after all this time, she can’t seem to cut him off. sure, she can put her walls up every time she’s sober, but it’s in these moments that she breaks – she can’t help but need him. she looks up at him, glitter and tears dotting the corners of her eyes. “not really,” she says, voice shaking, “i couldn’t stop thinking about – everything." 

“hey.” it holds a certain tone of REBUKE, starkly contrasting the gentler tone he reserves for her, though even that is considerably more tender than any complaint he would have towards anyone else. “you’re not any of those things. i’m here because i want to be, not because i see you as needy or pathetic.”

the warmth that spreads across his chest at her touch has him taking a step closer, closing off the distance between them as the tremble in her voice forces his arms around her. there are numerous times in which he questions his choice of leaving her when he did. the fact of the matter is that there would have been no way to have convinced his father OTHERWISE, this he knows. there is always the never ending ‘what if’s that clutter his thoughts from time to time, however, and this is one of them.

“i’m sorry.” apologies are ever lacking if they are strung through his own words. a hand intertwine in brown locks to press against the nape of her neck while the other slides down her back to rest at the small of it. there are times when he questions if he ever could offer her what she needed in this lifetime and in the majority of those times, he answer is set in stone even before the question is asked. it was evident they were never meant to be, and yet in an open defiance they had broken the UNSPOKEN rule. would they have been happier playing by the guidelines? it’s something he hesitates to ask himself, and so taking a step back, he quietly adds. “let’s get you to bed.”

naila gives hunter a long, narrow eyed look of pure annoyance before she grinds out, “i would have fucking preferred my cigarettes, asshole.” with that naila turns away from hunter to jab her finger at the button on the door beside her, winding down the window until there is enough room for her to throw out the tampered with pack of cigarettes in annoyance. naila winds the window back up before she’s reaching for her heels, scowl still in place as she roughly tugs both the stilettos off with a snappish grumble of, “god, you’re so fucking annoying…” naila tosses both of her heels to the side without care, sitting back up irritably before she’s glaring at hunter and snapping, “why is it that you get to drink but i don’t get to smoke? how is that even fucking fair? i didn’t stop you from gulping down that bourbon like it was your job, did i?”

these fits are something hunter has become ACCUSTOMED to by now. the ability to turn her words into white noise with minimal effort came in quite handy in times like this, and with his tie loose around his neck, cufflinks loose as well as a few buttons on his pressed down button up, eyes flutter shut. it’s a luxury he is only handed for a few seconds before a sigh rips apart the silence he had kept up on his end, and his hues are visible once more. “i don’t know in what fucking world drinking and smoking are the same fucking thing.” the foot one of her heels had happened to fall upon kicks it aside with much more annoyance than is laced in his voice before he’s continuing. “you don’t need to smoke, naila. you just want to. fucking TODDLERS know the fucking difference.”

V! MAGAZINE VALENTINE’S DAY EDITION featuring naila arvidson & hunter reeves 

"at some party ten years ago or something like that. bitch got mad i said her name wrong or some shit. i knew this bitch was crazy when she ran across the room to correct me. like fucking chill.”

“fuck, marry, k —what’re we, in middle school? ... fuck, alright i guess my girl EVIE for fuck since we’re already fucking, i’d marry ESME, and that leaves kill for ZELDA. my bad, b.”

the congested streets of new york were not fit for driving, which was why the title of easiest way to get around manhattan had been given to the tracks. the SUBWAY, however, as hunter’s father had informed him, was much too uncivilized and filthy for people like them, and so after half an hour of being stuck in traffic, the chauffeur double parks in front of their destination. having sent the text giving her time to finish up getting ready five minutes ago, he expects her soon enough. hues follow her steps towards the car once a familiar silhouette takes his ATTENTION, and a smile breaks out onto his lips once the distance between them is minute enough. “well damn if i knew you were gonna take this long, i could’ve also taken my sweet ass time.”

“ZELDA in high school. m’sure everyone knows about that and … ESME, but i’m not sure if i can say that it’s all in the past.”

@killthekvng

– DRUNK NIGHTS ARE KNOWN FOR RISKY TEXTS. but is it a risk if you already know the outcome? for esme, these texts are not characteristic for giving her a thrill; they’re her safety, her solace. only when she’s fucked up does she feel comfortable saying the things that she could never say when sober.

she lost angel hours ago, and now she’s stumbling up the stairs to her penthouse apartment, already forgetting what’s been sent from her phone. a thing of the past, really; i’m sorry about what i said. / i miss you. / sometimes, i’m really scared. / no, never mind. / can you come over? / i miss you. / i don’t want to sleep alone. the same fingers that typed out such dangerous messages are now fumbling for keys, dropping them on the floor as soon as they’re found. esme laughs at herself before falling into her apartment, coat, keys, and purse tossed on the floor in a dizzy hurry to collapse onto her bed.

she’s engulfed by the mattress, head spinning as she tries to catch her breath. as she reels, esme tries to recount the night – she can’t remember what pills she’s taken, she’s lost count of the shots. there’s glitter in her hair and smudged across her face and rips and tears line a new pair of tights. she’s overwhelmed by it all and as she stares up at the ceiling, she feels trapped: what if she exists as only this moment? this is all she gets – stuck with her mistakes, unable to move forward?

a turn of the doorknob jerks her out of her daze, but her heartbeat doesn’t slow down. afraid she’s going to be robbed (maybe she should have locked the door) she grabs an umbrella from the hall closet, poised to attack, but she immediately drops it when she sees who it is. “oh my god, hunter,” she laughs, catching her breath. the texts she sent earlier are a distant memory. she rushes toward him, a soft and goofy smile present on her features, “what are you doing here?”

a year and a half has past and his bed still feels achingly empty without her. it’s almost IMPOSSIBLE to say how he had endured the vast amount of space his dwelling provided before she had filled it up, but now it somehow TAUNTS him, reminding him of what had been and how he had lost it all. in all honesty, the fault laid on his shoulders for believing he could make any of this work. the moments with her almost stripped away every idea he had of what he should be and allowed who he was to breathe.

while his decision to end things had not been his own, there was no denying that some part of him knew the trouble he was separating her from. it was trouble INGRAINED in his very fiber, something he could not remove from himself, and so the only logical step to take had been the one that resulted in what they were now. strangers, polite smiles, and unanswered whats ifs. yet, she calls, and he has no choice but to answer.

i’m sorry about what i said. / i miss you. / sometimes, i’m really scared. / no, never mind. / can you come over? / i miss you. / i don’t want to sleep alone. 

is he strong enough to truly let her go? or is he just selfish enough to keep her at arms length where she is distanced enough to keep SAFE, but close enough for him to come running back? every time his digits wrap around her door knob and step into her home, the very questions run back to him, but the moment he lays eyes on her, they wither away. “you said you didn’t want to sleep alone. is everything alright?” a gentle hand reaches up to cup her face, and though his words are steady enough, worry settles into his features.

“i’m not very materialistic if that’s what the question is. i don’t think happiness is attached to any thing. we get new shit all the time and happiness related to that is only ever temporary. i guess my happiness is still rooted in the past, but even then, it’s only ever in that fleeting moment.”

“only twice. shit doesn’t always work out.”

@killthekvng

naila smile was picturesque and downright pristine until the moment they began to pull away from the speakeasy. it was only then that she allowed the hand she was using to wave at their onlookers to drop, and only then that she allowed her mask to melt away, leaving behind only an irritable eye roll and a fierce scowl as naila glares out the window. she only flicks her gaze to hunter once as she angrily snaps, “well, that was a fucking shit show.” before she’s reaching into her purse to search for her cigarettes, needing a smoke now more than ever. but when she pulls out the package the only thing in it are a row of slim nicotine patches, a sight that only infuriates naila further as she turns to glare holes into hunter for a few moments, raising the package pointedly as she snaps, “are you fucking kidding me, hunter?”

fingers curl underneath the silk settled TIGHTLY around his neck, loosening the restrictions of the expectations of the sanctum as well as the ones he had placed on himself. the event had asked for much from every single person present, and the more than abrupt drop of naila’s facade reminds him that he is not alone in pretending to be who he is not. the chauffeur patiently waiting for their ARRIVAL opens up the door for them, and like the gentleman that he is ( or the one the public notices ), offers a hand for naila to grasp while getting in before following suit. “what the fuck are you on about now?” exasperation clings to every word that spills from his lips before the reason behind her annoyance becomes evident. “what, would you have preferred the gums instead?”

– THEIR RELATIONSHIP WAS BUILT IN THE DARKNESS. secrets whispered in quiet rooms, the new york skyline at night stretched out beyond the window view. these moments were spent far away from the prying eyes of the public, something they didn’t have the luxury of right now. she feels like a deer in headlights now, so vulnerable in his presence. it lacks the safety she craves and she just wants him to put his arms around her and tell her it’s okay, she’d doesn’t have to pretend. but there’s a space between them that can’t be closed right now, and it draws her back to reality and makes her angry. “no, stop,” she protests, shaking her head, “don’t – don’t look at me, don’t say things like that.” her teeth drag across her bottom lip, willing herself to stay as strong as she’s pretending. “last week, when i called you i – i shouldn’t have. i’m sorry. i talked to naila tonight and…i really should stay away from both of you.” but whether she’s strong enough to do that is another matter entirely.

“wait, no. esme —” he begins as if there is something else to be said, like there’s some way he can convince her otherwise, but the fact of the matter is that their relationship was no longer what it had been. gentle touches that spread fire through his skin were now cautious grazes that lingered much too long. hours of conversation in bed together, soaking in the rays of the sun were now shameless hours in the night in which one of them was anything but sober and the other was too weak to reject the calls. whatever he could have said would not have been ANYTHING worthwhile, yet letting go of whatever remains of their relationship is too much to ask of him. “i don’t care when you call me or what you say when you do. i’d rather it be me than anybody else.” why this had been the first honest thing she had heard from him in a long while was beyond him. “you ... what did she say? ”