#fameled

       “---hey, rachel!” his voice is not louder than the music, despite the effort with which he’d put forth the call. it’s only after he speaks that he understands his tongue feels a little bit numb, and that the strain in his chest is just his body trying to remember how to breathe. because, kids, drugs and alcohol are bad for you. he doesn’t feel concerned, though. in fact, he feels elated: he’s finally crossed the line from just high to lost. and that’s the feeling he’d been aiming for since before this party even started.        when he’s hit this point, none of his thoughts stick into place, none of his limbs twitch and shake. he’s a little obviously past the point of no return--- slurring and looking momentarily confused as he makes his way through the crowd--- but he seems relaxed.         “rachel,” he says again once he reaches her, and he smiles warmly as he reaches for his phone. “let’s take a picture together.”

               “sorry, some of my classmates... i’ve seen your photos.  evan’s photos, i mean.  they’re incredible.”

         were there a tie to complete his pseudo - formal attire, she’d undoubtedly be tugging on it and dragging him down to her height to level a rather unfair playing field.  for now, she’s content with splaying her hands across his chest, fingers hitching into the fabric of his button - down, the skin beneath imprinted by the outline of her nails.  thin lips tug into a self - assured smirk, head tilting slightly to one side.        ‘ i think the marks you left speak for themselves.  my back looks like a war zone. ’