dracula ,

“ hey, ” drink lands on the bar next to the other with a gentle thud, standing a touch too close for complete strangers. but desperate times call for desperate measures. “ don't look, but the guy over there isn't taking a hint. even when i half lied and said i don't swing that way, so like… ” breathy laughter falls from her lips. “ do you mind kissing me? pretending to be my girlfriend for like ten minutes until he gets the point? ”

as the woman spoke, her gaze drifting subtly over her shoulder to the man in the corner. his suit was slightly off tailored, which meant he probably bought it second hand, or he was just lazy. his hair combed back with enough gel, that she could see in a few years time that hairline would be pushed back another inch. dark irises flickered back to the other, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards. "happy to oblige." with that, she leaned forward. her hands on either side of the others jaw, pulling her into a softer embrace. the kiss was slow, deep enough that she could taste her liquor of choice, and a tinge of something sweet. pulling back only after she skimmed her lesser with teeth. when she glanced back at the man, he was gone. "i think.. he got the hint. i'm uh, angel, by the way."

as  she  grabbed  the  necessary  equipment  she  stored  in  the  bathroom  for  times  like  this,  she  thought  long  and  hard  about  blue's  words.  mainly  about  how  they  made  her  feel.  she  knew  he  had  no  ill  intent  in  anything  he  did,  but  it  didn't  take  away  her  worrying.  it  just  amplified  it.  “well..  i'd  prefer  to  know.  i  worry  about  you  regardless,  blue.”  she  sighed,  before  looking  at  him.  “but  it  helps  to  know  why  i'm  worrying.  or  at  least  what  i'm  worrying  about.  just…  just  don't  lie.  not  to  me.  and  not  when  you  know  i  won't  judge  you.”  never  once  had  serenity  judged  him.  not  for  a  single  thing.  so  she  just  wanted  to  be  let  into  his  world.  even  if  she  thought  he  was  too  good  for  it. 

it  didn't  help  the  men  he  worked  for,  were  generally,  not  great  people.  it  was  better  that  he  had  her  as  much  involved  as  he  let  his  sister  be,  which  was  not at all.  the  last  thing  he  wanted  was  one  of  them  to  pay  for  something  he  fucked  up.  in  his  head,  lying  kept  them  safe,  less  curious.  but  she  was  a  lot  like  brina,  and  the  worrying  was  worse.  made  you  ask  more  questions.  get  less  answers.  and  it  made  him  feel  like  shit.  worse  than  the  black  eye,  or  a  split  lip.  "i  just,"  he  exhaled,  scratching  his  temple  with  his  index.  a  nervous  habit  he  picked  up  sometime  as  a  teenager.  "i  want  to  give  you  better  news.  i  want  to  make  things  good  for  us.  i  won't  be  doing  this  shit  forever,  ya  know?  just  for..  a  while.  until  my  mom's  hospital  shit  is  paid  off,  and  the  lawyer  and.."  if  he  kept  thinking  about  all  the  beginnings  to  ends,  he  wouldn't  stop.  "has  uh-  has  brina  been  around?  you  didn't..  tell  her  where  i  was,  did  you?

he didn't want to have the conversation she was leaning into. he always pulled away from it, refusing to acknowledge the truth. gently, he leaned over her and turned off the water. then reached for the towel to wrap around her frame. he helped her dry off, careful with the shower door when helping her step out of it to. "you don't have anything to be sorry for," he muttered finally, a lull of it under his breath. "why are you sorry, baby?" his hands gently squeezed her shoulders, blues memorizing versions of her that had come before this. it was hard, it was really fucking hard. they were young, and reckless, and hurting each other to hurt themselves because they didn't think they'd deserved any of it. any ounce of happiness that he felt now. and that hurt just the same. but they had done it, they had made a life, and they had a daughter who was beautiful and full of everything he could have ever hoped for. he wanted her to be happy, he could raid the earth for a cure to the emptiness inside her, and he would bring her back each time if that didn't work. time and time again, until the inevitable. "you don't have to be sorry.." he repeated himself again, trying to find the words. tying to find himself. "come on," he nudged her to follow him. "just come lay with me for a little bit, until the girls get home.."

the feeling of having him this close again made it hard for her to focus, the only one who could read her like the easiest book. while being a mind breaker to others. the mention of her strings makes her roll her eyes, “ i have never heard you complain about it though. “ light eyes piercing through his, gaze falling to his lips for a second before looking back up. “ you have to admit though .. “ index finger now finding the collar of his shirt, slowly sliding it up and down, “ .. life’s more fun with me around. “

"fun,"   he   repeated   though   it   was   more   of   a   huff   of   breath   than   anything   else.   "it's   better   when   you   actually   stay."   the   constant   back   and   forth,   he   wasn't   sure   how   much   longer   he   could   take   it.   his   heart   already   felt   like   it   was   cracked,   bruised,   stitched   again.   just   for   them   to   run   it   over   a   third,   fourth,   fifth   time.   slowly,   he   inches   forward,   and   it's   not   her   lips   that   his   thumb   drapes   over   this   time,   though   he   had   thought   about   them   ever   since   the   last   time   she   left.   when   she   rolled   her   eyes,   he   gently   cups   either   sides   of   her   jaw,   bringing   her   to   look   at   him.   "what   if   i   start?   complaining?"

the wine is like an old memory itself, if there wasn't so much distance, physically and metaphorically, between them, it could've been mistaken for a night from years ago. " the stain is still there. " no amount of any cleaning agent could get it out of her carpet, her dad had nearly lost his mind when he saw the red splotches along white. she had blamed it on spilled makeup rather than reveal the truth, as if he was naive and couldn't hear them drunkenly rushing to clean it up, getting distracted by each other instead. " it's hidden underneath a rug, of course. " it could be said for a lot of things. all these memories, covered up and forgotten underneath bandages she had forged for herself. only to stumble back into him, and have them pulled off one by one. she'll take another drink at the thought. she doesn't wince at the word, like she would have used to but she takes note of the apology, the way his voice is soft in a way she hadn't experienced in ... years, even before they had officially parted ways. being someone's dad didn't make them a father — hers was buried next to her mother in a mausoleum at the roswell cemetery. it hadn't been easy to explain the dynamic growing up, even harder when alivia had came into the picture and she suddenly had a sister. it was easier to explain her adopted dad and her mother as a relationship between best friends, and he had known the entire time that parker wasn't his — but had stepped in to be a father anyways, loving her from the second they heard her heartbeat, as he had said. she hadn't found out until her fifteenth birthday, the first crack in her perfect world since the death of her mother, and when she had developed second place syndrome. " surreal, a little weird. i spent my entire life with all these questions, wondering why i wasn't good enough for him, or something, and when i got there i didn't even have the guts to actually ask. " what good would it have done besides provoke a spiral? she'd finally accepted her life for what it was, she had her dad and her sister, plus what had been the recent addition of the twins at the time. she was grateful for the experience, and she had kept in brief contact with him since. mainly photos of her and alivia, where you could see the features they had both inherited from him side by side. the same slope in their nose and the shade of blue that adorned their eyes. " we mainly talked about my mom. " she knew a lot about her, from her dad to her old friends that would run into parker and gush about how much they looked alike, but it was never quite enough. " i wanted to see her from his perspective, you know? "

"of   course,"   added   in   the   same   tone   that   she   did.   the   corners   of   his   mouth   twitching,   the   craters   in   his   cheeks   deepening.   he'd   spent   enough   time   in   her   room   to   know   which   rug,   and   where   it   was.   luckily,   close   enough   to   the   vanity   that   she   could   spring   some   story   about   makeup,   or   whatever   else.   still,   it   wouldn't   get   the   smell   of   berry   out,   and   he   can   almost   relive   it   now,   as   he   takes   another   sip.   he   straightened   a   bit,   but   his   attention   was   on   her   fully   in   a   way   it   had   never   been   before.   he   had   always   been   easily   distracted,   half   listening.   but   his   apologizes   often   sounded   real,   he'd   say   and   do   anything   to   get   back   into   her   good   graces,   get   her   to   forgive   him   just   so   he   didn't   have   to   be   alone   that   night.   sometimes,   he   liked   the   feeling   of   being   love,   the   most.   it's   why   he   had   always   picked   her,   over   some   meaningless   hook   up.   he   wanted   to   feel   loved,   he   wanted   all   of   her   attention   but   only   on   his   terms.   it   was   a   cruel   thing,   what   he'd   done   to   her.   but   he   tried   to   focus   on   other   things,   the   conversation   at   hand.   was   better   to   keep   her   talking   instead.   at   the   way   she   described   it,   how   she   had   always   thought   she   wasn't   good   enough,   a   second   choice,   he   knew   the   wounds   ran   deeper   than   just   him.   but   he   hadn't   helped.   he'd   only   chosen   her   when   it   benefited   him.   he   should   just   take   alivia's   advice,   leave   parker   the   hell   alone.   "nothing   he   could   have   said   would   have   made   you   feel   any   better."   he   said   then,   his   gaze   sweeping   over   her   for   a   moment   of   understanding.   both   in   how   he   knew   her,   once,   and   the   person   here   now.   "what   did   he   say?"   he   kept   his   tone   calm,   even,   softer   than   it's   usual   grit   she'd   gotten   used   to   over   the   years.   "about   your   mom?"   he   took   another   drink.   "was   he   surprised   to   see   you?"   he   wondered   what   he   would   have   done,   if   a   girl   showed   up   on   his   doorstep   ten   years   later,   with   his   eyes,   and   the   memory   of   someone   he   knew   once   or   twice   before.   would   he   look   at   her   like   a   ghost,   or   a   daughter?

cranium   stills,   eyes   blinking   as   saint   takes   in   other's   words   with   mouth   wide   open. “  in   love   ?  ”   he   repeats   tensely,   not   quite   sure   where   to   place   her   question.   ivories   glide   over   plump   bottom   lip,   brows   furrowing   in   confusion.   “  when   you   know,   you   know   and   i   do   know.  ”   cryptic,   hopes   to   drag   it   out   until   forgotten.

she's   not   sure   she   even   knew   what   the   sentiment   meant.   she   knew   that   you   were   supposed   to   feel   something.   that,   people   in   love   did   crazy   things.   the   only   person   she   had   ever   loved,   was   six   feet   underground   in   their   family's   plot.   when   you   know   you   know,   it   sounded   like   a   children's   make   believe,   something   your   parents   told   you.   "do   you   know   my   middle   name?"   her   brows   pinched.   before   he   or   the   silence   could   answer.   "favorite   color?"   her   expression   shifts,   it   wasn't   unkind.   she   did   care   about   him.   sex   was   just   easier,   made   her   feel..   less   numb,   usually.   "did   you   know   i   had   a   twin?"   of   course   he   didn't.   she'd   never   told   him.   standing   up,   she's   pacing   deeper   into   the   bedroom.   "i   keep   having   this,"   she   exhaled.   "you   know   like,   when   you   think   you're   on   the   brink   of   some-   idea?   like..   like   it's   on   the   tip   of   your   tongue."   she   turned   back,   dark   irises   clouded.   "i   keep   thinking,   i'm   going   to   feel   something.   i'm   going   to,   i'm   going   to.   and-   all   i   feel   is   this   awful   nothingness."   her   throat   bobbed.   "do   you   ever-   feel   that   way?"

“  liar.  ”  there  was  no  hesitation  in  her  words,  just  slight  irritation.  she  didn't  like  the  dangerous  shit  that  blue  would  get  into,  and  she  would  tell  him  a  million  times  if  that  would  mean  he'd  stop.  but  he  wouldn't,  and  the  part  of  her  that  knew  that  was  strong.  so  she  didn't  fuss  at  him  for  it…  not  too  much  at  least.  “  shut  up  and  sit  down.  ”  she  huffed,  grabbing  a  rag  and  pouring  a  bit  of  alcohol  on  it.  “  if  you're  going  to  lie  to  my  face,  and  least  don't  let  it  be  fucked  up  when  you  do.  ” 

the  term  made  him  squirm,  an  uncomfortable  warmth  settling  under  his  gaze.  not  because  he  wasn't  one,  a  liar,  that  is.  but  because  it  reminded  him  that  it  was  true.  his  tongue  pushed  against  the  inside  of  his  cheek,  and  the  muscle  in  his  jaw  twitched  before  loosening.  he  didn't  argue,  considering  he  knew  which  battles  to  pick,  this  wasn't  one  he  wanted  to  add  fuel  to  flames.  maybe  despite  his  lying,  he  liked  feeling  taken  care  of,  too.  which  made  him  not  only  a  liar,  he  thought-  but  selfish  too.  he  waited  for  her  to  get  what  she  needed,  hands  in  his  lap  while  he  pulled  at  the  loose  threads  of  his  jacket,  then  he  sat  back,  giving  her  extra  room  to  work  where  needed.  "i  don't  mean  to  lie  to  you,"  he  finally  said,  gaze  shifting  when  he  broke  the  silence  to  linger  across  the  edge  of  her  features.  "i  don't  like  you  worrying."  the  same  reason  he  lied  to  his  sister  too.  or  his  mom.  who  told  him  he  was  more  and  more  like  his  dad  everyday,  when  he  did.

" his name is neil, " she dead - panned, as if that was enough of a reason not to do it ––– distaste more than clear in her tone. brows furrowed instead, " you're gonna tell me you've already made the arrangements and everything ? i could care less about some type of neil. you're the only reason i said yes to this in the first place. "

“yeah,” his brows furrowed. “like neil armstrong, or.. neil diamond. i don’t see what the pr-” but as she continued, guilt had settled in the pit of his stomach. they were friends, they had been friends for awhile. same friend groups, small town, they went to the same parties and the same bars. it had never been a problem for him before. sure, she was attractive. but there was more than just that to get his attention. the problem started earlier in the summer, when they first started the class. when they talked more, spent more time together, went from being surface level heys at a bar or at his friends of her friends. he figured out small things about her, little things that started to stack up before he could really see it. he went from indifference, to knowing her take out order,. how she liked her coffee in the evenings, favorites movies– most of which he hasn’t seen, and the fact that her shitty boyfriend wasn’t actually shitty. but he was boring. and now she was going to marry boring. “no,” he said finally. “i wouldn’t switch you without telling you, but..” his tongue pushed against his cheek. “i’m going to be in the ring more often, training. you know? i don’t want you to feel like i’m not.. available.”

“ i was grounded for two weeks after that. ” it’s lighthearted, but thinking of her dad and drew in the same equation made her feel uneasy. he had loved drew at the start, had always said how happy he was to see his little girl so in love with someone, and towards the end — maybe even the middle — he despised drew. it’s another person, who if he were here, would be shaking his head in disapproval for letting him back into her life, even if it was just surface level. he had watched her cry countless times over the boy, sobbing until it seemed like her lungs would give out and she would flatline on the spot. he didn’t know how to console her — she didn’t have a mother to help her work through her heartbreak — all he knew was to turn his hatred and anger for his daughter towards drew. she’s nodding her head to his answer, her feet whipping around to head towards the kitchen, expecting his footsteps behind her. he knew his way around, they’d spent so much time here — it was the designated spot, considering the tension under his own roof. he probably had spent more time in her room, than his own during those years. she’s heading towards the wine cellar, returning moments later with the bottle in hand. “ you always liked this one. ” she shouldn’t remember so easily, all these little things about him. she’s not even sure if he still likes it, but she won’t ask — part of her wants to pretend she still is sure of who he was. she’s taking the corkscrew to the bottle, opening it and pouring a generous amount into both of their glasses. “ athens is amazing. ” there’s a certain spark in her eyes, one that comes with genuine excitement. she loved talking about her travels, what she’d done and who she’d met — how it had changed her life for the better. “ a little bit of everywhere. i spent the most time in europe, though. paris was my favorite. ” it had always been her dream to visit it, even before she knew that her blood was there. he probably remembers all the times she had talked about wanting to go. she had finally been able to meet her biological father, getting to close the chapter of her life that she had spent only knowing of him as a ghost. “ i finally went. ”

part  of  him  thought  that  he  shouldn't  have  access  to  this.  little  details  on  her  life,  the  things  that  were  hers.  memories  that  he  had  no  part  in,  because  they  were  good  for  her.  it  was  good  to  be  able  to  separate  from  him  and  go  to  these  places,  travel,  without  every  corner  being  tainted  with  the  things  he  had  said  to  her.  even  worse,  the  things  that  he  did.  drew  would  have  never  put  his  hands  on  her,  rarely  fought  at  all  because  the  sheer  rage  that  was  nestled  inside  him,  passed  down  from  father  to  father  alike.  he  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  it  anymore.  he  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  that  anger.  but  just  because  he  never  hit  her,  hadn't  meant  he  hadn't  struck  her.  he'd  damaged  her  heart  beyond  repair,  watched  it  as  she  ripped  it  out  of  her  chest  still  beating  and  handed  it  to  him.  let  it  bleed  out  on  the  floor,  before  he  gave  his  to  someone  else.  it  wasn't  fair,  the  fact  that  he  had  given  someone  else  everything  she  had  begged  him  for.  they  hadn't  even  needed  to  ask.  the  worst  part?  he  married  her.  the  best  part  of  his  life  was  because  of  her.  but  it  didn't  mean  that  his  happiness  at  the  time  wasn't  at  the  expense  of  someone  he'd  once  claimed  to  care  about.  he  took  the  glass,  drank  from  it.  and  she  was  right,  he  did  like  it.  "this  is  a  good  year,"  he  muttered  a  bit  under  his  breath,  taking  the  bottle  to  examine  the  label,  and  being  hit  with  a  whirlwind  of  sleepless  nights.  "i  remember  climbing  the  tree  outside  your  window  to  get  in  your  room,  we  drank  a  whole  bottle  of  this  stuff,  and  spilled  the  second  one  on  the  carpet."  because  they  had  been  making  out  and  her  foot  had  kicked  it  by  accident.  he  took  another  drink.  when  she  mentioned  paris,  his  eyes  pulled  upwards,  met  with  hers,  and  his  shoulders  visibly  softened.  even  when  they  were  together,  rarely  had  he  ever  been  gentle.  "you  met  your  dad?"  he  realized  the  qword  was..  insensitive.  the  old  him  would  have  brushed  past  it,  but  the  person  he  was  now  pause,  shaking  his  head.  "sorry,  i  mean-  your  biological  dad?"  the  reason  she  shared  half  her  blood  with  alivia,  he'd  always  wondered.  "how.."  brows  pinched,  uncuffing  the  sleeves  if  his  shirt  and  rolling  them  up  his  forearms.  "how  was  it?  him?  i  mean?"

of course he was back . he never left . even when he was miles away , an entire continent away , he lingered around every inch of his childhood home . the home he was raised in by a single mother , who relied on the drugs his father provided . who needed them more than she needed him . eventually , it would take her life , too . corey looks at her then and nods , "last night ." spent the night in prison just because they could hold him just to prove a point though it never lasted . his father , corey's grandfather , was too important to screw over . so they had to let milan off the hook . it was his pride and joy knowing he got one over on the cops . it's how corey knew he could do whatever he wanted , too , and get away with it . except most nights , he wasn't so lucky . he looks at her and thumbs over her chin before opening the car door for her to settle inside , going around to the other side and sitting in beside her . when they're away from the noise , he looks over at her , elbow rested on the space between . "talking about it won't change anything ."

the party is left behind, now only the distant hum of the radio turned down into a whisper, and the engine of the car down a dimly lit road. she's staring forward, thinking. thinking about all the ways, if she could, that she would save him back. milan had made it a point to wedge himself between them, plant doubts. and she's not even sure if it was malicious, or just who he was. that they didn't keep good, pretty, porcelain things like her for very long. it wasn't in their nature to stay. that corey would grow tired, or bored, or hungry. that alivia's expectations were too high for him, that being vicious could somehow make you incapable of love. she leaned over, taking his hand from where it rested on the console between them, brought his hand to where she kissed the spaces in between his knuckles. even if they were bruised. even if they were marred. "it could change how you feel," she added softly. knowing that whatever it was, always stirred after milan. waiting. they couldn't know it, the trajectory of where their life was heading. how calm, and beautiful, and painless, free of anger. free of generational curses. right now, all they knew was that they wanted it. and maybe if she wanted it bad enough, the universe would listen. "you know.. i'd go with you.." but she knew the answer to that too. "i'm not afraid of milan." or his anger, or his blackened tongue.

there she is . the corner of her mouth lifts ever so slightly , leaning up to place her lips against his in a gentle kiss . a notion rare for someone who liked it rough in order to forget , convinced she deserved nothing less . who wasn't good enough to be soft with . who didn't know how to stomach it . being with him changed a lot of things for her , showing what it meant to love and be loved , to know that someone out there could see the ugly in her and find it beautiful . her head was a scary place , one she hated to live in . wishing she could turn off for good . it's why she was desperate to silence it -- she couldn't bare the weight of it all . he'd done everything he could to protect her . and for someone who claimed she didn't want nor need to be saved , he kept her from drowning beneath the current . nods her head , tracing the outline of his jaw , using that to ground herself in order not to fall back to her dark place . "mhm ," the memory flourishes the serotonin she needed in order to remain at ease , "three in a jar before we let them go ." because she told effy that fireflies were just like them -- better free than trapped . her eyes flicker between familiar pools of baby blue , nearly replicas of her own , "tonight ?" wonders if she'll be able to make it far enough , but doesn't voice it out loud . choosing to live in a fantasy world . sometimes it was better than reality , even if she never used to do that before . no , reid belle watson was a realist . she knew who she was , trash and all , and she held that title like a badge of honor . but this fantasy was the only thing that helped her remain present , besides the man before her . "except i don't plan on letting you go ," not willingly , at least . despite her many , many attempts at pushing him away over the years . he stayed . he always stayed .

he wouldn't say it, but he hated the way she said tonight. like it wasn't set in stone, like she wasn't sure if she would be around long enough to see it. sometimes it felt like he was already looking at her ghost, watching as the pieces of her slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. the more he argued with death, the more he had chipped away at himself. "you can keep me," he said softly, under the faucet of the shower head. he kissed her cheek, then her nose, then the other. maybe sometimes he did it for more of his own benefit, reminding himself she wasn't an illusion, that she was still here. that he hadn't lost his mind entirely to the thought of losing her, and the approaching inevitable. "keep me in a jar, set me on your nightstand." he nuzzled her again, breathing in the smell of lavender shampoo. "put me in your pocket." the grinned pulled at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn't the kind of smile you had when something made you happy. it was the kind of smile that happened when you knew, the worst was coming. someday, whether he chose to believe it or not, death would run out of patience, and drew? out of bargains. "i love you so much, i think.." his brows pinched, his throat bobbed a bit as the words threatened to cut him from the inside out every time he thought about it. the magnitude of it. "i'd fuck it up.." he shook his head then. "being a dad. being.. here without you. it'd-" breath exhaled, shaken, gnawing at the back of his mind. "it'd kill me.. you know..?" surviving this was better than the pain of not. he tucked more blonde behind her ear, willing her to look at him. "i love you so much. you know that, don't you? i'd do anything in the world for you."

grabbing  her  arm,  he  stops  her  short,  shuffling  her  back  a  few  paces.  ‘  don’t  be  an  idiot.  take  the  money.  ’  he  looks  at  her,  waiting  for  her  to  meet  him  halfway  but  she  doesn’t  —  so  he  takes  in  the  obvious.  tired  eyes  and  the  same  anger  that  used  to  stare  back  at  him  every  day.  the  same  hopelessness.  ‘  what  the  hell  are  you  doing,  mar  ?  ’  it  comes  out  rougher  than  he  meant.  ‘  you  think  he’d  want  to  see  you  like  this  ?  ’

he sounded like her brother, which flinched inward a shard of glass she hadn’t been expecting. what was one more scar? one more bleeding gash? his digits wrapped around her arm, and her throat tightened, heart thudded. but there wasn’t really anything left of it, was there? it was buried. in a casket that should have been made for her. he would have hated it, told her parents that he’d rather be sent off on a boat, ignited by flame like a viking. or turned to ash and spread across the ocean so he could finally visit all the places he’d never get to go. instead her parents carved his name on a polished, shiny, fucking rock. while the worms and bugs poisoned themselves on her treacherous love. “he doesn’t want anything, river.” her tone cool, but there’s hurt beneath it. stirring, raging, roaring behind eyes that were heavy. and tired. “he’s dead.” she pulled her arm back, to no avail “what are you even doing here? did my parents say something?” she’s sure they wouldn’t, they were happy to be rid of their daughter. would trade her for him, if her soul could even get into heaven.

the apartment felt perilously close to normal this morning as the muted glow of dawn slips between half-drawn blinds, her still here. a dangerous illusion. his gaze lingers on the cash only after she spoke, jaw tightening as realization settles in with all the grace of a knife between ribs. he’d left it there without thinking — or maybe he’d thought about it too much. maybe this was easier than acknowledging the precarious attachment taking root where neither of them had intended. his eyes drop away from hers. “ that’s what this is, isn’t it ? ” the words sound hollow even to him. “ take it. ”

how this place could feel warm, and then cold all of a sudden. as if someone had opened a window, to the freezing breeze of his indifference. she knew better, at least she had once before. she had known that working for that place would send her down a rabbit whole she hadn't the strength to climb out of again. knew that taking the loan was the first thread to her unraveling. and every day it grew bigger, and larger, crushing her under the weight of a never ending debt. she stared at it, blankly, her eyes glossing over but not in tears. in something worse. realization, maybe. that this wasn't something she could get out of unscathed, without scars, without bruises. "that's what i am then," it's huffed, hurt. "a fucking.." her gaze blinked, lashes wet. but she wasn't sad because he hurt her feelings. it's an angry, desperate kind of tears that she barely even lets fall. a singular streak down her cheek, then gone. "business transaction." she'd grabbed the robe, pulling it on over her frame, tying it tight in order to keep her insides from spilling out on the floor. "like a fucking lamp." or a doormat, or whatever other object in the room. meant to be turned on and off, or stepped on.

when clear instructions were given to him he'd assumed it wasn't as serious as she's now making it, which caused a twitch in his brow, “ how's he gonna think something's going on if i'm just standing here? ” speaks in just enough of a whisper for her to hear, searching the room for wandering eyes before settling back onto her, “ i told you when we started this an' i'm telling you now. no one is gonna find out. ”

“these are—” her voice cracked, then lowered. “these are bad people enzo.” eyes darted behind him, lifting her chin so that she can see past his shoulder. the bouncer was talking to a client, a regular that went by the name pigeon. she’s not sure what his actual name was, or what he did, but she rarely ever knew those things. the lounge valued privacy. faked privacy, that is. all she knew was that from the other girls he was well versed in the art of secret telling. the boss must’ve used him as some sort of messenger, but he preferred blondes. so she didn’t get the pleasure of having him as a regular. still, the bouncer was distracted. her heart started to beat louder, tugging him out of sight and down the velvet clad hall, with all its ropes and promises of gold. until they were in a room, one of the private lounges. locking the door behind her, she takes off the silk robe and tosses it over a eccentric sculpture in the far corner. where she knew the cameras were. he’d seen her naked, and yet somehow being here, being dressed like this place—it made her feel raw. made her want him to close his eyes, to whisper dont look at me when I’m like this. she liked him knowing her the way she was. she tugged him towards the couch, her knees then planting on either sides of his hips as she turned the music up to drown out their voices. if there was a mic, she didn’t know where it was. “they’re going to expect you to pay.” before he could counter, her eyes narrowed down at him. “i like you.” heart thuds faster. “i don’t want this to feel like a business transaction.”

scoffing,  her  gaze  narrows.  ‘  you  don’t  really  get  to  just  change  your  mind,  either.  ’  the  damage  was  done  —  there  were  things  they  couldn’t  take  back  and,  somehow,  she’s  convinced  herself  that  she  grew  up  a  little.  that  she  was  better  than  this.  but  it’s  harder  to  keep  herself  fooled  when  most  nights  still  end  the  same  way  —  with  him.  tearing  each  other  apart  then  licking  the  wounds  clean.  she’s  far  from  admitting  the  bitter  truth  —  that  she’d  rather  be  here,  stuck  and  stubbornly  at  his  mercy.  so  she  doesn’t  answer,  motioning  for  her  jeans  instead.  ‘  give  it.  ’  and  with  her  patience  already  running  paper  thin,  she  only  gives  him  a  second  before  she  decides  to  compromise.  ‘  fine.  you  want  to  talk  ?  ’  she  makes  her  way  back  towards  him,  slow  to  cinch  the  distance.  ‘  ask  me  if  i  fucked  him.  ’

there’s a darkness that sparks somewhere in the cavern of his chest, still holding the denim. eyes flicker to the curve of her mouth, and outline the words that echo in his head. he didn’t have to ask, saw the way brims taunted upwards. like she’d been waiting for it, waiting to spill it with his guts all over his own fucking floor. his gaze narrowed, engulfed was any light from before, peering back at her was only the pits of onyx. his subconscious rattled, shaking at the bars of his patience. if he wasn’t erratic before, his sudden calmness should be the threat. like big bold letters of a warning side, caution. his head tilted, dragging heavier lids back to her gaze. “did you fuck him?” it doesn’t matter who, didn’t matter if she enjoyed it, if she came or if she did it to spite him. he’d already decided then and there. he was going to hurt her back. worse. the denim shrugged across the small space between them, tossing it back to her like she suddenly meant nothing to him. “get out.”