#katya-centric

•••

Sometimes, Katya likes to look back and reminisce. (It’s not sometimes. It’s so much more than sometimes.)

She pretends things had gone differently, pretends they had the happily ever after they were both so desperate for.

Despite anything she says, she misses Violet. Despite anything she says, she still loves her.

How did everything end up this complicated?

•••

It starts simply, deceivingly so.

It starts with kisses backstage, where the cameras don’t pry. It starts with touches in the bathroom, whenever they find the time. It starts with love bites, carefully placed on nights they snuck into each other’s hotel rooms.

It was quick, easy. And Katya loved it. She would never understand why Violet chose her– her, of all people. Not Pearl, Miss Fame, any of the willing suitors throwing themselves at her. (Well, to be fair, their options were a bit limited due to filming, of course.) (But still. There were plenty of others.)

It didn’t matter why, not to Katya. She was grateful, like a pet begging for every scrap of attention thrown her way. She had never thought someone like Violet could ever want her.

•••

Sometimes Katya wonders if Violet ever thinks about her as she thinks about Violet. She wonders if she ever goes back in her head, into the memories of their time together. She wonders if she remembers it at all.

Katya does.

Katya remembers every single detail.

•••

“Oh, oh oh, oh, fuck me!”

Violet’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she bounces up and down on Katya’s cock. They’re not even fully de-dragged, but Katya popped her tuck as soon as Violet pulled her to the back after a particularly hectic runway.

She’s not even wearing a condom, Violet didn’t bother bringing any. “It’s fine,” she had said. “I’m clean, you’re clean, fuck me.”

Who was Katya to say no? (She couldn’t.) (Katya never could say no to Violet.)

•••

Katya remembers the very first time she ever laid eyes on Violet.

‘Oh wow,’ she thought. After that, her mind went pretty blank.

•••

The first time they kiss is right before––

No.

No.

Katya doesn’t want to do this anymore. It hurts too much.

•••

After Drag Race was over… Well, what did she expect? Eliminated fifth, it wasn’t that bad.

As soon as it was over, she sent Violet a text. Nothing demanding, nothing suggestive. Just a simple hello, an acknowledgement of their relationship.

Read 10:46pm

•••

Three days later, she finally receives a text back.

Come over. I want you.

It’s almost midnight, but Katya throws on some boy-clothes and rushes halfway across the city. Katya never could say no to Violet.

•••

The next morning, Violet makes her coffee. They don’t speak, they never have. It would feel like a betrayal, jeopardising something sacred they share.

She only stays long enough to finish her coffee and get dressed. 'Violet is probably busy. She isn’t a loser, not like you. She doesn’t want you here. You don’t belong here.’ As Violet closes the door behind her, all Katya wants to do is rush back in, pin her against the nearest wall, and kiss her until her lips are bleeding but she’s begging for more.

Instead, she turns and walks away.

'Nice self-restraint. This is why you don’t have a boyfriend. Coward.’

•••

The pattern continues.

Violet texts her in the middle of the night a couple of times a week, Katya rushes across the city, they fuck, and Katya leaves the next morning. They never speak. They don’t go for coffee. They don’t see each other’s shows.

It takes about a month and a half until Katya finally breaks down. She starts bawling on the subway; it’s 1 am and she’s on her way to Violet’s. She tells herself she doesn’t know why she’s crying, that she’s just being silly.

By the time she gets to Violet’s, she’s dried her tears and everything is fine. (It’s not.)

Violet takes one look at her, and Katya sees something, something fragile and fleeting and soft in her eyes. She takes her hand and pulls her inside, waits while she takes off her shoes and jacket and leaves her overnight bag in the hallway. Then she smiles at her, a brief little thing with the slightest hint of teeth, and pulls Katya into her bedroom.

That night, Violet is tender and soft and kind and all the things they have never been before. The next morning, Violet brings her more than just coffee– she brings her an entire breakfast platter, with toast and jam and croissants. And Katya looks at her, confused and surprised, and she thinks she almost catches the hint of a blush on those pale cheeks.

“I think you need this. Need and deserve it.” Violet breaks their sacred, unspoken law without so much as blinking, and all Katya can do is nod slowly.

•••

Now, looking back, there were so many things Katya should have said to Violet over those next few weeks together. Maybe, just maybe, that could have changed something.

She should have told her how beautiful she was hanging upside down in the air, legs split, muscles tense. She should have told her how gorgeous she was cinched into a corset and painted for the gods at 8 in the morning. She should have told her how funny she was when she thought no one was paying attention.

There were so many things Brian should have said to Jason as well.

He should have told him how ravishing he was having just woken up, bathing in the golden glow of the sun. He should have told him how kind he was when he was trying to kiss the pain away, even when he didn’t know what was wrong. He should have told him how stunning he was sat on his balcony late at night, looking over fashion magazines and sketching new looks.

Would that have been enough?

Maybe Katya was never enough.

•••

After Violet’s coronation, Katya doesn’t hear from her. ‘She’s busy. Touring, doing shows. She’s a winner. What are you?’

Katya throws herself into drag, and doesn’t think about Violet at all. (She does. She thinks about her all the time. Every night when she falls asleep, she wishes it was Violet laying next to her. Every time she touches herself she wishes it was Violet’s delicate hands. The void she left behind is endless.)

The next thing she knows, rumours are sneaking their way through the community. Violet has met someone. Violet Chachki might have… a boyfriend?

Katya cries herself to sleep that night, and this time she doesn’t pretend she doesn’t know why.

•••

The next time Violet and Katya are in the same city is several weeks later. This time, Katya doesn’t expect anything. Violet has a boyfriend and she hasn’t even talked to Katya for months. That’s why, when her phone buzzes at 11:49pm, she doesn’t open it– whatever Trixie wants can wait until morning. Barely a minute passes by, and then another buzz.

“Jesus Trix, what do you want?” she mutters to herself.

A third buzz. 11:52pm.

Katya sits up and flips her phone over. Three unread messages from one Violet Chachki.

come over, you know where i am

hurry up

love, vi

And as much as it shames her, Katya can’t lie. She’s out the door in under four minutes. Katya never could say no to Violet.

•••

Violet opens her door and immediately pulls Katya inside, her hand pulling at her shirt. Before she’s even taken her jacket off she’s pinned against a wall, Violet attacking her mouth like a starving woman presented with a buffet.

Before she knows it, her jacket and shirt are a pile in the hallway, and Violet pulls her into the bedroom like it’s second nature– it probably is by now. And now Violet is half naked, and she lays down on the bed and spreads her legs, beckoning Katya to come closer. Katya strips down to her underwear, just a simple pair of red boxer briefs, and crawls towards Violet, her mouth trailing kisses all up along her legs. She purposefully avoids the crotch, determined to be a tease. Instead, her kisses continue upwards, across her stomach and stopping for a while to pay attention to her nipples– Katya knows Violet has sensitive nipples.

And it’s there, looking up at Violet’s moaning face, hairline beaded with sweat, feeling the hard outlines of her erection through her little black jockstrap, that Katya knows she can’t do this anymore.

She pulls back, and Violet looks down at her, confused.

“Why’d you stop?” she says breathily, and then grabs onto Katya’s chin. “Get back here.”

She tugs gently, and her frown lines deepen as she realises Katya isn’t going to cooperate. She scoffs.

“Fine then.” Violet props herself up and looks at Katya, expecting her to make a move or say something.

But Katya (as she always is, it seems) is tongue-tied. (No, not always. Just around Violet.) She swallows once, twice, licks her lips and tries to say something– she wants to say something. Finally, her vocal chords cooperate.

“You… you have a boyfriend, Violet.”

'Really? Really bitch? That’s the best you can do? Pathetic.’

Violet looks aside for a moment, and Katya can’t decipher one bit of what’s happening behind those dark eyes.

"Screw him. I want you.”

Now it’s Katya’s turn to look away. “Yeah, exactly. You are screwing him. You shouldn’t want me. You don’t want me.”

This time, Violet looks Katya right in the eye.

"Who… the fuck are you to tell me what I want?”

”I am no one. I don’t matter to you, Violet. I never have. I’m just a toy, someone you know will always come running whenever you fucking say so. Well fuck you. I’m not going to be a part of whatever goddamn plan you’ve got, trying to get revenge on your boyfriend for not getting you expensive enough earrings or some bullshit.”

Violet sits up straight and gives Katya a light shove so she’s no longer anywhere near her fading erection.

”Oh yeah, of course,” she says, her voice snide. “As always, Violet Chachki, the bitchy, rotted cunt, shadiest queen, using you, dirtying you. As if you aren’t already the biggest whore on season 7.”

Katya’s throat feels clogged, and she looks down. ‘It’s true. Everyone knows it’s true, you disgusting bitch.’ She’s always made light of it, used it as a joke to try to make it less hurtful. But hearing Violet, Violet, tell her that… It stings. It does more than just sting; it’s a fucking swarm of angry wasps.

"Yeah, yeah, you know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am just a big whore who will screw anyone and everyone just to feel something. Maybe I’m just a pathetic drug addict who’ll never amount to anything real, who’ll never get back all that time lost to meth and cocaine and alcohol. Maybe I’m an awful fucking drag queen whose jokes are lame, whose wigs are messy, whose outfits are downright ugly, whose makeup is terrible. But you know what, Violet? I’m fine with that. At least I’m not so desperate for attention that I’m cheating on my loving boyfriend with some fake Russian skank. At least I’m not toying with people like you are. At least I am trying to make good decisions. You do not have the moral high ground here.”

If Violet feels any kind of guilt or remorse, she doesn’t show it. The Ice Queen– fitting.

Before she can reply with someone scathing enough Katya will actually burst into tears, she stands up and puts on her pants which had been abandoned next to the bed.

“I’m going now. Have a nice fucking wank.”

•••

Looking back, Katya knows that was only the start. Looking back, she wishes she had run as far, far, far away as possible from Violet motherfucking Chachki.

•••

Barely a day goes by before she hears the news. Violet Chachki just broke up with her boyfriend.

Katya scoffs and throws her phone onto the sofa. She is determined not to fall right back into Violet’s arms. (She’s a liar. She knows that if she drops her focus for just a second she’ll go running right back.)

Indeed, two nights later, Violet forces herself back into her life.

come over

i want you bitch

This time Katya is the one to leave Violet on read. She won’t let herself be manipulated again.

seriously? leaving me on read?

mature

ughhh i broke up w my bf

Katya wants to text her back, wants to unleash her anger with scathing remarks. She wants to hurt Violet, for all the things she’s done to Katya, all the times she’s played with her emotions. But she controls herself.

20 minutes later, when there’s a knock on her door, Katya is all out of self-restraint. And she knows, she knows it’s Violet. And she knows she shouldn’t open the door. And she knows that Katya never could say no to Violet.

"Finally,” Violet says as she opens the door.

As always, she stomps right in like she owns the place and takes her jacket and shoes off.

“Violet,” Katya starts. “What are you doing here?”

”I broke up with my boyfriend, like you wanted. Now pin me to the wall and fuck me, you idiot.”

"Violet…” Katya says, a sad, cold feeling now spreading through her chest. “That’s not how this works.”

"What do you mean, of course it is. I’m single now, so you don’t have to feel guilty about fucking me anymore.”

”Look, I don’t think I can do this. Regardless of if you have a boyfriend or not. We’re not… we’re not right for each other. We don’t want the same things. And you saw how nasty we got to each other the other night. This arrangement will never work out.”

Violet looks aside, her face falling. “Look, this can work. We can make it work.”

Katya shakes her head. “We don’t want the same things out of this. You just want a quick fuck, someone you can depend on to always come running, someone always at your beck and call. And I… I was okay with that in the beginning. But now… I want more.”

Violet looks at her, and her dark eyes soften. “Who said I don’t want more, too?”

Katya snorts and almost laughs. “You? Violet Chachki? Never thought I’d see the day.” Then her face goes serious, and she continues. “Stop playing with me. It’s not funny.”

"I’m not playing with you!” Violet exclaims. “Look, in the beginning, yes I was just looking for a quick fuck, and the way you looked at me… I knew you were perfect. But… the more time we spent together, the more I started to realise I was catching feelings for you.”

”So you ghosted me?”

"Well, kind of yes. Look, I didn’t know what else to do. I thought that by getting a boyfriend I might put some distance between us. But I don’t want him, I never have. I want you.”

Violet looks up at her and her eyes are big and wide and sensitive and Katya just–

“I-”

And then the last of Katya’s self-control breaks and she pins Violet against the nearest wall, kissing her violently. Violet moans and entwines her fingers in Katya’s short hair, digging into her scalp.

“Don’t–“ she punctuates every word with a kiss to Violet’s neck. “Ever. Play. With. Me. Like. That. Again.”

“Never,” Violet moans. “Never, never, never.”

She’s a liar. They both are.

•••

It doesn’t take long for everything to fall apart. Really, Katya should have seen it coming. She never should have gotten her hopes up in the first place. She was only ever setting herself up for heartbreak.

•••

They wait two weeks before they go official. Honestly, Katya’s surprised it hadn’t gotten out far before that; drag queens are notorious gossips. It’s at one of Violet’s gigs, in front of hundreds of people. Katya comes out on stage and Violet introduces her as her boyfriend (she can’t deny the butterflies in her stomach every time she hears the word) and they kiss, right there. It’s live-streamed on Instagram and now absolutely everyone who’s anyone knows. It takes only a few minutes before the messages start rolling in.

Violet’s dating Katya? Ew.

She could do so much better, wtf is she thinking

there’s a 10 year age gap! this is creepy af

Katya’s a hot fucking mess, Violet needs to get her shit together and date someone worthy of the crown

who even is that fake-Russian skank??

After the show is over, Katya takes a picture of her kissing Violet’s cheek and posts it on her Story. 'Yes, the rumours are true!’ she captions it. 'Violet Chachki is officially my boyfrienddddd' And Violet laughs and gropes her ass and nuzzles herself into Katya’s neck.

"This is going to be wonderful,” she murmurs, definitely leaving makeup stains all over Katya’s neck.

And Katya wants to laugh, press a kiss to her head, and whole-heartedly agree with her. But she doesn’t. 'You’ll never be worthy of Violet, you pathetic drug-addicted whore. Everyone already hates you. You don’t belong here.’ And she wants to ignore the voice in her head, wants to disagree with it and say it’s wrong. But she can’t. She’s all too afraid that it might be true.

•••

They go wig-shopping together, and Katya sees the shop girl give her the side eye. They take a stroll in the park, and Katya hears two teenagers whisper about them. They meet with some other season 7 queens, and Katya knows their reads are more than just jokes.

They’re laughing… they’re all laughing. What are they laughing about? Is it her? Is she the butt of the joke? She feels her breathing get shallow, and she tightens her grip on Violet’s hand, who’s sitting next to her.

“Violet…” Katya leans in and whispers in her ear.

Violet doesn’t seem to hear her, too caught up in laughter and… flirting? Is she flirting with Fame? Katya knows, she knows Violet has always liked Fame just a bit too much and now, now she's cheating on her, cheating on her with Miss Fame of all people and, and that’s not fair that’s not okay Katya needs to go she needs to leave right now and she’s bringing Violet with her before she leaves her please please please please Violet don’t leave me please

She grips Violet’s hand even harder, resisting the urge to physically pull her away. “Violet, please, we need to go.”

This time she hears her, and turns to look at Katya with a confused smile. “Why, babe? We’re all having a great time, no need to leave so early.”

Katya looks at her intently, and Violet seems like she’s starting to notice the incredibly tight grip on her hand and the panicked look in her eyes. Her face falls. 'Well done, Katya. No wonder Violet's cheating on you, all you ever do is make her upset, hold her back, you're ruining her don’t you see don’t you realise–’

“Yeah,” Violet says, looking concerned. “Yeah, yeah, I am getting pretty tired actually.” She turns to the rest of the girls and gives them a smile. “Sorry guys, but Katya and I really should be heading back. I’ve got my corset on way too tight and–”

“Yeah yeah,” Pearl laughs. “Go fuck, we get it, you’re young and horny and in love.”

Violet laughs, blows everyone kisses, and the two get up and leave the café. As soon as they’re outside though, Violet drops Katya’s hand and turns to look at her, something dark behind her eyes.

“What the hell is going on with you lately? You’ve been acting so… weird!”

“Weird? What do you mean weird?” Katya laughs, trying to hide her nervousness and fear. (From the look on Violet’s face, she’s not convincing anyone.)

'Great fucking job Katya, you’re pushing her away from all her friends. She’s bound to hate you now if she doesn’t already! You are ruining her life. You’re stealing away her youth, wasting her time, her talent, she’ll never forgive you. Nobody wants you. You’re pathetic, totally irredeemable, absolutely–’

“Katya!” Violet snaps, pulling her out of her spiral.

“Y-yes?” she says, and she knows it’s coming, fears the very worst.

“Where do you go, Katya? You keep disappearing when I’m trying to talk to you.” Violet doesn’t look angry, not right now. Just… sad. Like she doesn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing. It’ll be fine, really.” And Katya gives her this bright, beaming smile, and it’s so fake, surely Violet sees it.

'Please, Violet,’ she begs with her eyes. 'Talk to me, I need you. Please.’

Violet doesn’t say anything, just smiles and takes her hand again. “Yeah, alright. Just a bad week, huh? We all have them. Now come on, let’s go home.”

Katya nods, and pretends like her insides aren’t shattering into a thousand little pieces.

•••

Violet slips off Katya’s cock with a soft moan, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“That was wonderful, babe,” she says, rolling onto her side next to Katya and nuzzling into her neck; Katya hums vaguely in agreement.

It only takes twenty minutes or so until Violet is deep asleep, snoring softly. She looks so beautiful like this, dark, glossy hair spread out in a wild halo around her head, face relaxed and smooth, a slight smile to her lips. Katya’s heart aches, because she loves her, she really does. But she knows this will never work. She can’t enjoy a single moment they have together, her mind only ever buzzing with painful and aggressive thoughts. She misses the times when they lazily fucked through the night and all the way to the morning, when Katya didn’t worry about their relationship apart from whose turn it was to make morning coffee, when things were simpler. Nothing’s simple anymore.

She extracts herself carefully from Violet’s arms and makes her way onto the balcony, cigarette in hand. The city skyline is a certain something to behold, even in this cloudy weather. As she smokes, she does her best to think of absolutely anything aside from Violet and their relationship.

She can’t think of a single thing.

She stomps out the cigarette and heads back inside, throwing on a pair of black jeans and a collared shirt. Shoes on, toiletries fetched, bag slung over her shoulder.

She’s out the door in under four minutes.

•••

The next morning she has seven missed calls.

And thirteen texts.

Missed call from Violet Chachki.

hey where are you?

i’m worried

please call me

Missed call from Violet Chachki.

bitch wtf

seriously??

Missed call from Violet Chachki.

I’m going to FUCKING STAB YOU

Missed call from Violet Chachki.

Missed call from Violet Chachki.

Missed call from Violet Chachki.

katya this isn’t funny

i’m getting worried

please call me back

katyaaaaa

katya you whore

i’ll suck your dick so good you see stars

Missed call from Jason Dardo.

please come back brian. i love you

•••

Katya isn’t a cold-hearted bitch, regardless of what Violet must think. She really isn’t. (She doesn’t answer Violet’s texts though. She doesn’t call her back, despite the begging that is so uncharacteristic she’s almost concerned.) (That’s a lie. She is concerned.)

She takes a few days off.

By “taking a few days off” she means she stays in her apartment and doesn’t answer anyone’s calls or texts. She runs out of food within 36 hours, having stayed mostly at Violet’s recently, but decides it’s not worth the trip to the grocery store. It’s not worth risking bumping into someone she knows. It’s not worth the pain of the outside world taunting her.

On the second day, Violet knocks at her door; she knows it’s Violet without even looking through the peephole, because she isn’t exactly subtle about it.

“Katya!” she yells, banging on the door furiously. “Open up, you whore!”

Katya does not open up. She buries her head under three pillows like that will somehow make her problems go away. Violet doesn’t stop banging.

”I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you, but I’m not leaving until you let me in!”

A few minutes pass, and Katya is still, listening carefully, hoping Violet will acquiesce and walk away. (She won’t, Katya knows she won’t. She knows Violet too well to think that. Say what you will of her character, but there is no denying Violet is relentless in her pursuit of what she desires.)

“KATYA!” Violet shouts suddenly, hitting the door violently until Katya is sure she’ll have bruises the next day. “What did I do? Talk to me!”

Under her pillows, Katya bites back a sob. It’s not Violet’s fault, none of this is. 'But you’ve made her think so, you pathetic meth head. Look at what you’ve done to her. Man the fuck up, go out there and look at what you’ve done to her.’

“Brian…” Jason whines and he’s not shouting anymore. “Brian, please.”

There’s a whimper, and Brian thinks he hears sobs. He must be wrong– Violet Chachki never cries.

(Maybe Jason does.)

•••

It takes an hour for Violet to stop banging on the door, but she doesn’t leave. Katya knows because she could only take 15 minutes of hearing muffled sobs through the door until she had to go look through the peephole, had to see with her own eyes the pain she’d caused.

Now they’re both sitting at the door, only a few inches separating them but somehow worlds away.

Jason is still crying.

“Please just talk to me. I love you, and I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. Don’t drive me away.”

And Katya breaks right apart.

”It’s not your fault,” Brian whispers through the mail slot. “None of it.”

His voice is thick with tears and pain and love, and the suffering only an addict knows. He bring his knees to his chest and rocks slowly against the door, hands shaking.

“Brian, please,” Jason says, and he’s not just saying it, he’s begging, and the action is so uncharacteristic it prompts an entirely new wave of sobs from Brian’s chest.

“Jason, this will never work. We both know it. We should just step away now before it–“

”No! You’re the only one who thinks this won’t work. I know it will. And I’m not leaving.”

Brian snorts. “Yeah, I got it. You’re not leaving. That’s pretty obvious by the fact that you’re camped out outside my door.”

”No, that’s not what I meant,” Jason sighs, and sticks his fingers through the mail slot, waggling them in a ‘hello’-like gesture. “I meant that I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving you. No matter what, I’ll be here for you.”

Slowly, Brian moves his hand towards Jason’s outstretched fingers. “You’re sure?”

Jason’s fingers curl around his. “Of course.”

Then there’s a laugh, Violet’s vaguely condescending cackle. “Now will you let me in, bitch? My Moschino is getting dirty.”

•••

Katya wishes the story would have ended there. She wishes they had had amazing makeup sex, followed by an impromptu joint gig, followed by a beautiful happily ever after. (Well, to be fair, the first two did happen. Sex, the best yet, then a gig, where they kissed and danced and teased each other. But they didn’t talk. They never, ever talk. Somehow, their old rules, even after all this time, were still in place.)

No wonder it all fell apart in their hands in a matter of weeks.

•••

It starts with a bad day.

Katya spilled coffee on her favourite dress, two of her wigs were tangled beyond repair from transport, and Trixie was angry with her because apparently she had scared her new boyfriend off. (“Though really Trixie, you deserve better anyways!”) All in all, this day was not going in her favour.

Violet and her had arranged to go have dinner together at some fancy Japanese restaurant, the type that had chandeliers in the bathrooms (in the bathroom!) and served every plate with 24-karat gold flakes all over the dish. Needless to say, not exactly Katya’s scene. But she’s there anyways, and she’s dressed up as fashionably as she can muster, because she knows that’s what Violet wants. (It’s always what Violet wants. Katya never could say no to Violet.)

“Hey babe,” Violet says and presses a kiss to her cheek as they enter the restaurant. “How’s your day been?”

“Absolute shit, you?” Katya answers with a sort-of half laugh.

Violet chuckles and runs her hands through her hair in a practiced motion, then checks her face in a little portable mirror from her bag. (It’s flawless as always.)

“It’s been fine,” she says, taking Katya’s hand. “Busy as always, but I’m working on my album right now and I’m pretty excited. I’m loving it so far.”

“Girl, you’ve been working on this album for like forever by now, when’s it coming out?”

“Soon, soon I promise!”

Katya laughs, hands flailing a little. “How soon is soon, like will I be dead before this thing actually drops?”

Covering her mouth with her hand, Violet snickers lightly. “Well, honey, considering your age, I can’t give any guarantees.”

Katya fakes a small laugh, not wanting to show that that remark hit just a bit too close to home. 'You’re dying, you stupid bitch. Old and ugly, goddamn crack addict. What does Violet even see in you? Chain smoking like you do you’ll be dead before you turn 50, and considering your other habits… just give up already. Die now and Violet will move on, don't drag it out painfully for years and years, ruining her, destroying everything she’s worked so hard for, only to drop dead when she’s what? Thirty five? Fuck off.’

Thankfully, the universe is merciful and that’s exactly when the maître d'hôtel greets them and shows the pair to their table. It’s a booth in the back of the restaurant, with soft cream-coloured cushions and a golden oak table. It’s beautiful. (Not that Katya would ever pay this ridiculously exorbitant price, even for this type of dining experience. 'Oh yeah, what would you rather spend it on? Meth?’) (Shut up, who told you you’re allowed in the parentheses?)

Soon enough, a waiter comes to take their orders and bring drinks. As Violet sips on a sauvignon blanc, Katya takes a gulp of water. (She’s never been a wine-person, always preferring cheaper stuff with higher alcohol content; wine was just something to be stolen from parents when truly desperate for a drink.) They peruse the menu in comfortable silence. '60 dollars for one dish? You’re way out of your league here, best you just order whatever Violet’s having.’

Sensing Katya’s discomfort, Violet places a hand on her thigh, grounding her. “Don’t stress, you got this. Don’t think about the price too much, just get whatever sounds good.”

“I don’t know what sounds good… I only understand half of these words, and I speak like four languages!”

Violet laughs and gives her a light tap on the nose. “Oh shut up, you don’t speak four languages!”

“Well…” Katya stops for a moment to think. “Kind of. English fluently, Russian and French almost fluently, a bit of Japanese, and a dash of Portuguese. So if I get one point for English, 0.8 points each for Russian and French, 0.5 points for Japanese, and 0.3 points for Portuguese, that adds up to what… like three and a half languages?”

“First of all, it adds up to 3.4 points,” Violet says, trying (and failing) to contain her grin. “Second of all, I’m pretty sure that’s not how you measure language proficiency.”

“Well I’m the one who speaks 3.4 languages, not you! I think I’m the real expert on how to measure language proficiency here.”

Violet laughs, and when she does (as with everything she does), Katya’s world rearranges itself to center around her. She’s her anchor, her beam of light, guiding her and keeping her grounded. Katya needs her. 'But Violet doesn’t need you, now does she?’

•••

They’re heading out. The sky is darkening quickly, but as of yet still dripping with the colours of sunset, the last remnants of the day’s light painting the buildings around in broad strokes of gold. As they walk down the wet pavement (it had been raining all day), Violet hums to herself. It’s strangely endearing.

“Oh hey, this is the bar Pearl told me about last week,” Violet says, pointing to a crowded façade lit in dark neons. “C'mon, let’s grab some drinks.”

Before she can even respond, Katya’s being dragged towards the crowd doused in purple and red light, drowning so entirely in it that telling them apart is near impossible. She shouldn’t be here, she knows she shouldn’t, not now when she’s exhausted and vulnerable. She has drowned in these lights, in these crowds, far too many times before. She knows what it leads to.

Seemingly sensing her hesitation, Violet gives her a small kiss just to the right of her mouth. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

And Katya lets herself be pulled into it, even pastes a smile onto her face to mask her worry; after all, Katya never could… well, you know the line by now.

That’s how Katya finds herself sitting in a crowded bar at 10:34pm on a shitty Friday. Violet’s laughing at something or other, socialising with two men next to them. They’re attractive. Katya wishes they weren’t. She takes a large gulp of her water and flags the bartender down for a refill. It’s her third glass. Violet sips at her cocktail and looks over at Katya and her embarrassingly large glass of water.

“You sure you don’t want some?” she asks, giving her tempting glass a little shake. (Wait, no. The shake was tempting. The glass was tempting? Katya’s lost her train of thought already.)

Katya prepares herself to say no, rolls the word around in her mouth and forms the two simple letters with her lips as she’s done hundreds of times before, faced with even larger temptations than just a small glass of a sickeningly sweet alcoholic drink. And then she looks over at the two young men next to them, handsome and fresh-faced; she thinks of Violet’s remark about her age, in that exorbitantly-priced restaurant with its complicatedly-named food; she remembers the judgemental looks and snide comments, both online and in the real world– and as much as it shames her, pains her, makes her sick to her stomach, her voice does not cooperate with the word on her tongue.

“Okay.”

•••

That was the turning point, wasn’t it? The catalyst, the one little word that started this dramatic spiral. It didn’t take much, did it?

Trixie says it’s all on Violet. She calls her a bitch (and not in the affectionate way Katya does) and says she was “enabling” her. Whatever that means.

But Katya thinks Trixie’s wrong. Katya loves Violet, still does after everything, still does after all the pain she put her through. And so she can’t help it– it’s not Violet’s fault, it never was. It’s all on Katya. Weak, jealous, insecure Katya. Hey, look at that, little voice– you’ve escaped the confines of your quotation marks.

Either way, whoever’s “fault” it really was, the spiral happened. And it wasn’t pretty.

•••

It starts small. It always does.

A mojito with friends. A glass of wine with dinner.

Then a shot in her morning coffee, just because.

Then whoops, no it’s not a bender it’s just been a rough week, and really, it isn’t that bad. (It is.)

And then vodka just won’t cut it and maybe just one line will be enough, just something to take the edge off because she had another argument with Violet this morning and she hasn’t been sleeping well, and you know, it's hard okay don't judge–

•••

Trixie’s the one who finds her eventually, cracked out on a dirty bathroom floor.

“Oh honey…” she says, more to herself than to Katya.

Katya looks up at her. “Violet?”

“No, not Violet. Come on, let’s get you home.” Trixie helps her up, supporting her as she struggles to walk.

“Where’s Violet?” Katya asks, pupils dilated.

“That’s a good fucking question,” Trixie mutters to herself, as if Katya isn’t standing right next to her.

“I love you, Violet,” Katya mutters, eyes focused on the air in front of her, as if there’s something (someone) there that no one else can see. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I–”

•••

That’s what Trixie says happened anyways. In all honesty, Katya doesn’t remember any of it. Maybe that’s for the best.

Trixie took her to crash at her place, and Katya’s thankful for that. She’s also thankful her phone seems to have disappeared some time over the last few days; she’s not quite sure she’s ready to face Violet’s worried messages and missed calls. If there even are any. Maybe she’s forgotten all about Katya.

“Look, Katya, you don’t have to go back to her. Just stay here for now, we’ll figure everything out…”

Somehow it’s Trixie’s attempt at convincing her not to go back to Violet that finally convinces her to do exactly that.

•••

Violet holds her in her arms for hours upon hours. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please don’t ever do that to me again.“

Katya nuzzles into Violet’s chest like it’s the last safe space on the planet. "I love you, too.”

And they kiss and they kiss and they kiss and Brian looks up. Jason meets his gaze and he's crying and it breaks Brian’s heart.

And neither of them can think of a single way they could possibly make this work.

“It’s over, isn’t it?”

•••

i miss you. call me?

Read 10:46pm.

A/N number two, linking the AO3 version again while i’m at it:

“thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed.

sorry if it feels a bit rushed, especially the end, but i really laboured over this for a whole month. i could never actually write a full-length story, this was difficult enough.

if you have any questions or thoughts, please leave them in the comments; i’d love to hear them, negative or positive!