greek tragedy

PEACH CAVANAUGH. CREATIVE WRITING & PHILOSOPHY AT CORNELL. BARTENDER AT BAR ARGOS.

“In order to write about life, first you must live it.” — Ernest Hemingway

watching asher perform is a marvel that peach considers herself lucky to be able to witness. he's such a fucking natural, his passion and talent palpable, and it's no surprise that he fucking kills the set, peach watching from backstage with a shit eating grin, even as her heart aches. she watches the crowd eat it up, the energy crackling in the air even after asher and his band make their way off the stage, move to a different area so that people can congratulate him. she's quick to hug him and congratulate him herself, but she doesn't linger, instead moving off to the side as countless others come to him and congratulate him, and she's expecting that it'll continue this way, chatting with their mutual friends that come to say hi, but eventually, it dwindles down and there's only a few people left, peach watching asher from across the room, unsure if she should leave as well. before she can make the decision, suddenly the last of the stragglers are gone, and it's just the two of them alone, and the tension that fills the air is almost stifling. "hey," she greets as her eyes meet his, leaning against the wall behind her as she wrings her hands, biting down on her bottom lip nervously.

“You’d be surprised. It’s like they’ve broken their tastebuds enough to reject anything good. That group was here the other day, and they swore one of the drinks was wrong because it tasted too good. All that happened was that another bartender had added more lime to make up for everything they opted out of it,” He said, voice low but complaint still loud enough to reach her as he moved back and forth behind the counter. 

Bartending had been the easiest gig he could pick up without much background in anything else. Though, Bediah had much more familiarity with it than he did other things. Growing up in the Florida Keys, and even more so on Duval Street, every turn had a small neon taunting liquor. He’d sit next to his father on the bar stool crunching ice and stealing garnishes while he tricked bartenders into getting refills and tourists to treat him. Bediah would watch the flourish of colors and the ear piercing shake of cocktails for hours. Watching, however, didn’t last long. He’d eventually find himself standing on the tips of his toes once the bar was closed rummaging around to fix his father something while the old man hissed what he wanted, choking on snickers. It wasn’t hard to fall into the business of indulging someone else until whatever they said became a drone under a slur. 

“So, where were you?” He asked. Bediah was known for listening at the bar, even if he didn’t talk much because he was biting his tongue. “Is impressionism the art with all the dots, and the blank canvases that sell for half a million that I could do with 99 cent paint?”

peach can't help but raise her eyebrows in amusement at the story that bo relays to her, glancing towards him every few seconds as she continues collecting the glasses that need washing. "too good? jesus, they're those kind, are they?" she replies with a shake of her head, giving a hum. "good luck with that one. honestly, with groups like that, i like to offer special made up drinks just to see their reaction to it. they either completely love it, or hate it. most of the time they love it, though. offer some complete bullshit, and see what they say," she goads, mostly telling the truth, but also wanting to see the customer's reactions to bo's suggestions, definitely in need of the amusement.

Professor. Three syllables was all it took to make his breath draw in sharply— it curved from her and he wanted to taste it on Peach’s tongue: what was he, he’d ask, and she’d say it again and again, until the evening was pierced by the early rays of morning. Mickey’s reaction was ragged, there was no room for elegance in the confines of a car and he crushed a kiss to that simpering mouth, feeling the ache of resistance when her fingers twined in his dark hair. “You know me,” he said, the words hot against her lips, “I’d bend over backwards for my students.” Their bodies took up too much of the cramped cabin, Mick lamented over how he couldn’t reach her— his fingertips did the traversing that his mouth wished to do, skimming over fabric and long limbs. “Besides, I have a late start tomorrow.”

***

mickey's reaction to her words has a deep sense of satisfaction pooling in peach's gut, a smirk rising that's almost immediately smothered by the crushing kiss that she eagerly returns. "and as your student, it's my aim to please you, professor." her grip in his hair tightens as she lets out soft sighs into the kiss, mouth moving eagerly as her other hand travels to his belt, skimming just the barest brush of her fingertips over his crotch before her hand is landing on his thigh, giving a teasing squeeze. "guess we can take our time, then, if you have a late start. what's our first lesson? i've got to make sure i get an A+."

Len held up her phone as she walked in, the cracked screen a dark void. “My phone died,” she pouted, as if no other excuse was necessary, like the device was a living thing that required an appropriate timeline of mourning. Usually she relied on Willa to ensure she made it to work at a reasonable time, but their manager had made the fatal mistake of not scheduling them together, which in turn made it entirely his fault. She offered Peach a crooked smile, tucking past her and pressing a smack of a kiss to the high point of her cheek. “It’s so sweet of you to cover for me, this is why you’re my favourite,” she teased, a phrase she offered often and to everyone, while looking under the bar for her apron. “How’s it looking out there? Worth me touching up my makeup or is it just uglies?” 

***

peach's jaw drops and she gives a dramatic gasp when she sees the phone, unsure exactly why that would warrant her being late but not questioning it further as she leans into the affection, a grin spreading across her lips. "you poor thing!" she replies as she rests a hand on her forearm, giving it an affectionate little squeeze before leaning against the nearest wall, tilting her head as she watches her. "hmm, the usual. not much worth looking cute for," she laments with a shrug and a sigh. "not that you'd need to touch up your makeup, anyways. you look stunning, as always," she compliments, a twinkle in her eye as she regards her longtime friend, blowing her a playful little kiss.

location: bar argos

closed for @peachcav

avoiding peach was easy given the fact that they didn’t have the same friend group anymore now that they were both out of high school. her jealousy of the relationship that she once shared with damien was still as strong even to this day despite the fact that they hadn’t been together for years. it was her that had his heart first and she hated the girl for the whole that she treated him. it had been awhile since she had seen her working at the bar, always coming when she wasn’t there and avoiding her like the plague that she was. however on this night it wasn’t an easy fix to get away from her as she was there for a friends birthday and couldn’t avoid her. she moved to the bar to order drinks and rolled her eyes when she was her bartender. “just great,” she muttered under her breath. “just a tequila sunrise with extra tequila,” she spoke but her eyes remained on the wall behind her, the tone of her voice monotone. “could you move any faster?”

***

dread fills peach as soon as her eyes land on simone across the bar, already anticipating the hostility that she's sure is going to be tossed her way by the other girl, something that's been a constant ever since she and damien had ended things. or, peach had ruined things, rather. she doesn't really blame her, not really, not when she feels she deserves it all, but it's still uncomfortable, and she feels her hackles rise when simone finally speaks to her. "you got it," she replies with a nod as she begins making her order, letting out a sigh and clenching her jaw as she holds herself back from giving a snarky response. she's not usually one to take other people's shit, giving back what she's been given, but she allows it when it comes to simone, if only for the fact that she feels like she deserves it, to some degree. "sure thing," she grits out, giving her a sickly sweet smile as she quickens her pace, setting the drink in front of her as soon as she's finished. "anything else i can get for you?"

Damien turned his head to look over his shoulder in the opposite direction. His life had always been intertwined with hers despite the fact he had created as much distance between them as he could after she dumped him for Asher. He tried for a few months but watching her with the other man was too much. He brushed his tongue along his lower lip as he turned his head to look back in her direction, noticing her closing the distance between them. His postured straightened, the irritation already across his features even though his heart was beating quicker than it had in a while. He knew he shouldn’t have held too much against her, it wasn’t as if he was blind to her fucking obsession with the other man in their friendship group but he hated that after their break up he felt like he had just been a pawn for her to play with until the guy she actually wanted decided to want her back. He shoved his hands into his pockets, a low scoff leaving his lips as he rolled his eyes up, turning his gaze from her. “Peachy.”

His eyes dropped back down to her, trying to ignore the absolute ache in his chest as the memories of their friendship flashed through his mind. His whole life had been tangled up in her and it was all thrown away over the choices she made. His jaw clenched as he took a little step back to create some distance between them. “And you?” He asked, shifting his gaze elsewhere once again because fuck, looking at her really fucking sucked.

***

seeing damien in person intensifies the ache inside of peach's chest that's been knotted and festering inside of her since the last time she'd seen him, when he made it clear that he no longer wanted to speak to her and that he didn't want her to be a part of his life. his reaction to her presence wasn't a surprise, but it still stung, causing her to flinch even as she nodded, giving him a small ghost of a smile in response. his use of her name as an answer to her question, almost mocking, has her chest aching, the first real word he's spoken to her in years, and it leaves her feeling hollow. "oh," she nods, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat, doing her best to keep her eyes away from his exposed skin, looking into his eyes instead, but finding herself averting her gaze almost immediately. "good. that's good. i think. you seem to be doing well. i want that for you."

“Oh.” His blush? Not going away anytime soon. The splotchy pink hues might as well have been tattooed in a band across his cheekbones at this point, his thoughts stalling out as he tried to recover from the double entendre. Henley was lucky that he didn’t stutter another variant of ‘uh, duh, um’ before managing to ever so eloquently answer: “Okay.” Did that actually make any sense after what she’d said? Oh well. He tried to shake off the lingering embarrassment, raising a hand to card through his hair while sinking onto the empty barstool to his left. His head bobbed, nodding along obediently and watching her skilled movements until their eyes met again. He felt caught in her gaze, like a fly settling into honey. “Well, I do like sweet things,” he offered with a hopeful tinge. Maybe Rowan hadn’t been completely fucking with him – just maybe. “Henley,” he introduced, forearms folding together on the bartop. “My name’s Henley. But, I mean… I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to keep calling me birthday boy. Fine by me.” Exhaling a gentle chuckle his head tipped to one side. “What should I call you?”

***

his blush and reactions to her teasing are too endearing, nearly causing her to outright giggle, but she contains herself if only to not give him the wrong impression. she didn't want him to think she was making fun of him, or laughing at him, only with him. the hopeful tinge in his response has another smirk forming on her lips, biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying anything more as she continues making his drink. "henley," she repeats before she's giving a hum, a twinkle in her eye as she glances at him before pouring his completed drink into a glass for him, adding an extra cherry on top. "birthday boy henley, who likes sweet things. what else am i gonna learn about you tonight?" she flirts, batting her eyelashes at him as she pushes his drink across the bar towards him. "you can call me peach." she holds up a finger towards him. "and before you ask, yes, like the fruit. and yes, that is my real name." she lets out an exasperated little giggle, before her expression changes and she's raising a brow at him, a slow, mischievous grin forming. "you know, peaches are sweet."

She felt like something remarkable under Peach’s glow— in the warmth of her friend’s affection she was something inspired and untouchable, the two of them became capable of anything. Peach and Rowan represented the stretch of long days in hot summers that were filled with possibility, each held up the other in places that they would have otherwise failed: as a trio, they were unstoppable. Sage reached for her glass as Peach studied her work, a muddy mess of colour that looked better as she tipped back the wine and drained the contents, and she was pleased only because she had pleased the other. Acrylic paint transferred from hands to glass to cheek to mouth, Sage shifted in Peach’s twined grip to press her forehead to the other’s. “It’s yours, it couldn’t belong to anyone else.” The tips of her their noses brushed and she laughed, tucking near-white hair behind her best friend’s ear. “You should do one of me, next.”

***

the touch of sage's forehead to her own has a sweet sigh escaping peach's lips, her words seeming to have a double meaning that peach tucks into the space in her heart reserved solely for the girl in front of her. she melts into sage's touch instinctively, letting out a soft hum as she tips forward so that their lips are hovering, just barely touching as their breaths mingle, soft words spoken against them. "paint could never do you justice, sagie. you're a work of art," she murmurs, one of her hands reaching for sage's waist, fingertips slipping just beneath the fabric of her top so that she can brush her skin, just wanting to feel her, feel the skin she's mapped with her hands and mouth more times than she can count at this point. "but i'd love to try. over and over again."

Even through the loud music, Peach’s shrill was undeniable. Willa’s body tensed at the sound, shoulders dropping and knees locking just as the taller blonde’s body collided with hers, engulfing her in a warm hug. Willa loved peach, she made shifts go by faster and often and lightened the mood, but her excitement was bone crushing. “It’s been barely 4 days,” her words were muffled as her lips were pressed up against peach’s clothed shoulder. Still her arms wrapped around her friend briefly before taking a step back and putting space between them. “You’re going to snap my back with your love one of these days,” Willa playfully swatted at Peach with the wet rag in her hand. “There’s literally nothing to tell, you know this place doesn’t offer too much excitement during the week, but I did expect to see you here at least one of those nights. What kept you away for so long?”

***

"yeah, and 4 days is way too long! i feel like i've missed so much," she whines in response, heart warming as she feels willa's arms wrap around her, returning the hug that peach engulfs her in. she can't help but giggle at her friend's retort, rolling her eyes as she moves back, dodging the wet rag with a yelp, her eyes widening as she moves to poke her in the side, giggling all the way. "ugh, finals," she laments with a pout, rolling her eyes before her head is tilting to the side, a slow smirk spreading across her lips. "well, that, and getting my back blown out. but, y'know. as you can see, lots of very important stuff." she bites back a giggle as she raises her brows playfully, suggestive.

with peach approaching him, dom’s good mood for the day is gone. really, all he wants is some cotton candy grapes from one of the vendors at the farmer’s market, and they’re fucking seasonal. peach is ruining his excitement for them just by her presence, and thank god he isn’t actually eating any when she approaches him or else he probably would’ve thrown them up. bile is already producing at the sight of her, honestly. he thinks they were born with a distaste for each other, not just because of their parents feud. “peaches at the farmer’s market, who would’ve fucking thought,” he retorted, a grimace darkening his features. “what do you want?”

***

a mirthless laugh escapes her lips at his poor attempt at a joke, her eyes narrowing as rage fills her petite frame, hands nearly shaking with it. "ha ha, how original." she rolls her eyes, holding herself back from grabbing one of the fruit in front of them and chucking it at him. "for you to drop dead," she responds with a sickly sweet smile, head tilting as she glares at him. "but unfortunately, doesn't look like that's happening any time soon."

SOMEWHERE DOWNTOWN May 17th w/ @peachcav

Damien decided to get a jog in before his shift at the bar. He panted, tilting his head up towards the sky as he put his hands on his hips. He bent down, sliding his hands onto his knees as if it was going to magically fix the sore feeling coursing through his calves. He brushed his tongue along his lower lip as he stared at the ground for a few seconds before standing up, reaching up to the front of his shirt, pulling it out then back in, fanning himself. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, spotting her almost instantly but before he could look away the two of them made eye contact. Fuck. He had been so good the last few years, dodging her at every turn especially after she flaunted him around. He noticed her closing the distance, the hint of irritation already on his features. There were plenty of snarky remarks he wanted to make but he hadn’t spoken a single word to her in years… Why waste his breath now? 

the sight of damien nearly causes peach to lose her grip on the cup clutched in her hand, her jaw dropping as she takes in his form, both familiar and foreign to her simultaneously. it's been years since she's gotten more than a glimpse of him, and she can't blame him for not wanting to speak to her or be around her, not after what she did. but it didn't stop her from wanting to talk to him, her bones aching with the need to move closer, to wrap him up in her arms and tell him how sorry she is, how she wishes she could take it all back, and go back to when he was still one of her closest friends. her feet move before her brain can tell them to stop, moving closer and closer until she's standing right in front of him, her eyes staying on his and trying not to stray to the muscles and planes of his body that her hands had memorized once upon a time. "hey," she greets lamely, giving him a sheepish smile as she shifts nervously from foot to foot, the first thing she's been able to say to him in so long, and it cuts a little that they've gotten to this point — this awkwardness, when conversation used to flow freely between them, easy as breathing. but that was then, before she messed it all up. "how have you been?" she asks as a follow up, because it's a general enough question, and she aches to know.

.

If people were canvases, Peach Cavanaugh was a masterpiece etched into the gesso— something permanent, there was little that Sage could do to make her best friend more vibrant, her hand didn’t have the talent to make her more beautiful. Whatever record she had playing on her crosley had come to a spinning halt ages ago, but the two of them acted as though music still weaved between them, making their movements fluid and graceful where alcohol had stripped it away. “You’re already a work of art, I’m messing it up,” Sage moved back to the canvas, considering with a faux seriousness until she began to paint. Peach was sharp angles and bright colours, and all the love that she had for her seemed to take up the entire space, when she finished she stepped back, beaming at the dripping mess of wet paint. “I think it’s my best one yet.”

the words immediately have peach shaking her head, the flush already present on her cheeks staining deeper as she steps closer. "you could never mess it up. you only make things more beautiful," she tells her as she leans against her side and rests her cheek against her shoulder, letting out a soft giggle as she watches her paint. her chest clenches and warms as she watches the canvas transform, like a new life form born entirely of the sticky sweet love they share. she twirls and refills their glasses as sage meets brush with canvas, their wine glasses a paint-smudged mess already, a work of art in their own right now. at sage's words, she turns her attention back to the canvas, a bright grin spreading across her lips as she steps closer. "i love it," she says, awed, eyes twinkling. she wraps an arm around sage's middle and presses a sweet kiss to her jaw. "i'm keeping it."

fanmix yourself! a peach cavanaugh playlist.

a current favorite song — where you are, pinkpantheress ft. willow

a song that would play in the movie trailer of your life — xs, rina sawayama

a song with a story behind it — you, regard ft troye sivan & tate mcrae

a song you’d make out to — aphrodite, rini

a song that reminds you of your favorite season — summer in new york, sofi tukker

a song from a favorite band/artist — night sky, chvrches

a song that cheers you up — greek tragedy oliver nelson mix, the wombats

a song that reminds you of home — i like me better, lauv

a song that makes you think about the future — while we’re young, pegasus bridge

a song you prefer to listen at night — @elio.irl, elio

a song you play when you’re sad — chaotic, tate mcrae

a song with lyrics you’d like to tattoo on yourself — keep your head up, ben howard

a song you know all the lyrics to — tongue tied, grouplove

your favorite cover of a song — tessellate, ellie goulding

a song that describes your default mood — believer, american authors

relief floods through peach's frame when she sees len walking through the door, nearly an hour late for her shift. she's been glancing at her apple watch almost constantly for the past forty-five minutes, riddled with worry over her friend's near no show. "oh my god, there you are!" she greets when the other girl is close enough to hear without raising her voice, a bright grin spreading across her lips. "i was wondering where you were! i covered for you. is everything okay?"