Status: closed @riverpatel
Location: apartment of abundance
Angel never registers the tears sliding easily down her face. She silently listens to the sound of their collective breathing, in and out, in and then out as her eyes look directly into the warm depths of theirs. Together, they lie on River’s bed, facing each other and inches apart. She blinks slowly with a pleasant heaviness weighing on her eyelids. This is happiness, beautifully contained inside of her – even if it’s artificial, brought on by the aid of some substance. Is there really a difference? Who cares when it makes her feel like this? Joy is scarce, and she’ll take it in any form she can get it.
Her fingers lightly tap against their jaw, their facial hair gently scratching her fingertips as a slow smile spreads across her lips. And there it is, that affection that comes out of its hiding place when there’s something in her system, and only then. “I’m like really fucking high,” Her voice escapes hardly above a whisper, a laugh forcing her over onto her back as she throws an arm across her face. This is what she expected when she got their text. To hang out, to listen to music, and to get wonderfully, wonderfully high. But it occurs to her then that she hears nothing coming from the record player. Angel drops her arm above her head into the pillow and turns her head to look at River. “I think the music stopped,” She says, a giggle following closely behind the words. Why is she giggling? Why’s everything suddenly so funny?
