— ow.

Slip dress sliding off one shoulder and a bottle of rum in the crook of her elbow, Maude looked like a slashed Uber rating waiting to happen as she stumbled headily into the ladies, making a beeline for the end cubicle. The American’s aren’t fond of queuing, Kath had told her as she’d bustled jumpers into her suitcase eight years previous when she’d first set sail for the States. Don’t you go getting caught in that impatient but stoic queuing lark or you’ll be hanging around all day. So, manners be damned, she’d stormed into that cell like she owned it, although she wasn’t in the cubicle thirty seconds before she found herself joined, knickers round her ankles and a baggie in her hand. “Am I not after locking that thing?” Maude uttered mostly to herself while the other profusely apologised. “It’s fine. All girls together or whatever those lezza P.E. coaches used to say to stop you making a fuss about other girls peering at your snatch.” Lifting the key of powder to her nose, Maude took a hearty sniff while the sound of her wee trickled to a halt, knees pressed tight together. “I’m not a homophobe, by the way. I mean… As much as being raised Catholic allows you to not be so, for there’s always some level of internalised homophobia under the hegemonic values intrinsic to the education system…” Biting down on her lip, Maude pulled up her fishnets and flushed the toilet as she corrected her skirt. “But me ma’s a gay. I probably am too. Are you wanting a key?” Holding out the baggie, she found herself asking if this flyaway creature wrapped in silk was too demure for ketamine. “It’s not the hard stuff, don’t worry. It’ll just… mellow you out. Align your chakras and that.” Despite the queue, she roune herself wanting to stay in the cubicle, this perfect little cocoon where nothing could touch them. “Did you ever see that video about how when a guy’s creeping you have to ‘do the face’. With herself… Jenna Marbles, that’s it! Bit problematic now, I guess with the ableism and all that, but you could always do that. Or get off with me, make him think he’s barking up the wrong tree.” Her shoulders shrugged, one lock of peroxide hair twirled around her finger as she reapplied her ashy mauve lipstick in the mirror. “Honestly, I don’t mind. Mind you — some fellas propper dig that, don’t they? Could be a bad move.”

Winona busied herself, looking down at her black manicured fingernails, suddenly getting the urge to scratch at the man’s throat. Leave a venomous mark like Sigourney Weaver in Holes. She had watched that scene growing up, breathlessly enthusing to her friend seated next to her on the couch. That. I want to be like that. Vicious an untouchable. But instead she found herself crouching in a bar bathroom with a girl she could barely understand, the single drink she’d had already clouding her head. “Aren’t Catholics the ones with the guilt? I wouldn’t know. I think my family’s religion is Hollywood and cocaine. Saw my dad snort a line of my mom’s tits once. Exhilarating,” she explained in a monotone, with all the enthusiasm of a reluctant teenage bering forced out of bed. “Hmm?” She asked, turning her head around finally, unlatching the door, the baggie filling her with equal parts excitement and repulsion. You don’t do that anymore, she chided herself. She didn’t avoid drugs out of any sort of addiction or aversion to anything too reckless. Her abstention was more monk-like. Repentant for sins of the past. Maybe she did understand Catholicism after all. “Maybe just a little. A baby bump.” Something to relax her, she assured herself. After that asshole outside. “Don’t fake it on my account,” she replied primly, falling into the affected robotic tone she took on around strangers. “Normally, honestly, I’d just kick him straight in the crotch. But the bouncer here already hates me. Would loathe to get banned from the most popular bar on campus.” “Even if I think karaoke should be outlawed and punished criminally.” Her eyes flitted to the mirror, taking herself in luxuriously. Her ego was fed easily and often. “Alright fine, we can pretend to be... whatever. Look in each other’s eyes like we would never ever touch a penis. so romantic,” she offered, rolling her eyes. 

ELO IT’S ME OLIVE with another beautiful sexy chara pinterest is HERE

‘Um, yeah.’ Leo’s jaw clenched at the words as she willed herself to take a deep breath, nostrils flaring as she did. She found herself staring at the ceiling, eyes almost stuck there like she genuinely couldn’t bring herself to look at her sister. If asked to describe Darby in three words, it’s safe to say that ‘frustrating’ would be in the trio. It was also times like this that she (begrudgingly, but still) found herself almost understanding why her father acted the way he did with Darby. He was cold and sometimes even cruel, but a hard swallow and teeth biting down on her tongue were the only things keeping Leo from exclaiming, ‘Are you fucking stupid?’ Sighing and bringing her hands, pressed were together in a prayer-like position, up to her lips, Leo finally spoke. “Why didn’t you just throw it away?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “It doesn’t matter if she didn’t just get out of rehab. You shouldn’t just give people your random leftover pills, Darby. Jesus, what if something happened to her because of you?”

She suddenly felt very small, the target of Leo’s rage, feeling the girl’s irritation hitting her in waves even from across the room. She had been thoughtless when she gave the pills to Selene. A transaction like many she had done before. The past few years had been spent in survival mode, constantly licking her wounds and shadowboxing with unseen opponents of her addiction. Now Selene had been dragged into the rig with her. “I-I don’t know,” she admitted, fingernails digging into her palm, the other still clutching at the pages of her book. “I’m sorry, I was’t thinking,” she protested in a hurried voice, biting the inside of her cheek after she spoke. “I really didn’t mean for anything bad to happen.” Her mind tried not to drift to all the nooks of her room where there might still be pills hidden, stashed away by her high self in case she ever needed them. “You believe that, right?”

Even if there was a hint of hesitation, which there didn’t seem to be in his drunken state, Holden knew deep down he’d probably follow Darby anywhere. He couldn’t explain it, but there was always something drawing him near to her. A history, maybe. A wildness they shared. It seemed like even if he tried, he’d never be fully unentangled from her and maybe he didn’t want to be. It probably wasn’t right, maybe history had proven that it had never had been between them, but he didn’t care. Much preferring to put blinders on and go after what he wanted in the moment. “Trap you? Not sure if that’s possible. Knowing you, you’d find some way to escape. I’d have better luck with someone else. Someone more… unsuspecting. But it wouldn’t be —” he paused, a bit taken aback as her lips grazed his neck. Not that he was objecting in the slightest. It was quite the opposite judging by the almost mischievous grin that took over his expression. “Half as fun.” He told her, his hand finding itself sneakily onto her waist. A familiarity to it like he’d done it a hundred times before. “Must be my lucky night. Well, for now, that is.” He repeated her words with a smirk, drawing nearer and nearer. “Guess that means I need to keep an eye on you. Charm you into having mercy on me.”

She kept finding herself pulled back to Holden, unable to let go of him, despite all evidence that she should. He reminded her of a better time in her life, one that felt both painful and euphoric to remember. Trapped. That was hw she felt sometimes, like they were destined to relive the same moments again, come back to each other. But she wouldn’t fight it if she could. Her head swam with the closeness of him as her lips grazed his neck, leaning back to take in his reaction, feeling lightheaded from the alcohol. Grateful for his hand on her waist, if at least to pull her into the moment, steady her. Teeth dragged along her lower lip, feeling where this was heading. But she wouldn’t stop it if she could. It would be like trying to press on the brakes after you’d already careened into a tree, head on. Her head tilted, shaking her hair out of her face to look up at him, hand resting on his chest. “So far, so good. I’ll allow to you live. Nor now,” she repeated, practically tasting the alcohol on his breath, she had drawn so close to him. Hesitantly, she closed the distance between them, her lips hovering in front of his, barely a sliver of air between them. “Is this a bad idea?” She questioned, although it was more of a statement. Yes. It was, But here she was anyways. 

even selene can’t help the small breath of laughter that leaves her lips. she tries to keep it down, though, because she knows the librarian (she’s friends with her, really, however sad that sounds) and sometimes the elderly woman lets selene check out more than the permitted amount of books, and she doesn’t want to ruin this good thing she’s got going on. when she speaks then, she tries to keep her voice just above a whisper. “yeah… it was weird. i was in there alone for so long and suddenly? everyone was there. so weird.” at the mention of will she looks back down at the book in front of her, tries her hardest to maintain a  stoic look on her face. she wonders why she even has to try. it is easier to not wonder, actually, because her mind starts going into unknown territory. instead, she tears her vision away from her book and makes herself look at darby and shrug. “i don’t know. he’s– i don’t know.” momentarily, she shakes her head, and she thinks she’s gonna stop speaking, but curiosity gets the best of her. “have you noticed how his eyes always change color?”

The subtle change on Selene’s face, the way it took her a second to respond, made Darby want to break out into a grin. But she held it back, wiped it away, face casual as Selene looked up at her. “No, I haven’t really noticed. Although we usually only hang out at like, 3 AM. Maybe I’ve been too tired to notice, she suggested, trying to wrack her brain, think back to what color his eyes actually were. “Spend a lot of time gazing into his eyes while everyone mounted a rescue mission?” She teased gently, poking a finger into Selene’s arm. Talking about the other night made a feeling of guilt rattle around in her head, kicking at the sides and aching to be let out. She hadn’t even realized how terrible the night could have ended until Leo chastised her. Her impulsivity made Darby act like a car without a driver behind its wheel, but Selene had stood in the path. “Hey, um, sorry for giving you the uh, that bottle of stuff the other night? Some people have pointed out to me how horribly that could have ended,” she offered suddenly, flashing the girl a strained smile. “You’re okay though, right? All ten fingers and toes intact?”

Twisting the knob, Leo took a breath before entering, a final attempt at keeping her composure, keeping it all collected in a tightly bound box inside of her. Her brows bumped together at the sight of Darby, her messy hair and the dark, remnants of eye-makeup that made blue eyes that much more severe. They couldn’t have looked more different in that moment, Leo thought, her being clean-faced and rosy-cheeked and Darby sporting the same sort of look she’d be seen in across the glossy pages of Page Six, a magazine that Leo recalled her boarding school peers gossiping about as she would make her way down the corridor, whispers like ‘They’re really sisters?’ bouncing off the walls as she willed herself to pay attention to anything else. Leo shrugged and shook her head, picking up a pink sweater discarded on the floor and folding it as she shook her head before scoffing dryly. “Yeah, well,” she trailed off before clearing her throat. “Look, I’m just gonna ask: did you give Selene something on Halloween? Like, drugs?”

Darby would always be the messier sibling. It had been a fact cemented by their parents’ attitudes towards the girls. While Leo had rejected New York society and cameras in favor of boarding school, Darby had become their darling. Well, in a sick sense. They fawned over her like passerby's craning their necks at a car accident. Leo’s question made the color drain from her face, like she was ten again and had been caught sneaking around in their father’s office. “Um, yeah,” she admitted, averting her eyes from her sister’s, looking down at her book, clutching the pages tighter. “I had some vicodin lying around. I figured it would be best to get it out of my room. Selene seemed interested, so,” she rambled out, speaking too quickly, wondering briefly if she had done something wrong. “Why? She didn’t just get out of rehab.”

                    Hate. If there was one thing he hated it was that word. He found it ugly; utterly distasteful; it would be his last resort to explain how he felt about a person. The only time he’d come even close was with his father, and it was not nearly as intensified as the ultimately cutting word that was ‘hate’. His loathsome feelings for his dad were dull, suspended overhead like a large, minatory cloud, and though they were impenetrable they were not a threat. He didn’t hate anyone. How could you? Why would you, when your energy could be placed into something pleasurable? His brows had initially creased. This was a familiar tone with Darby. Though he could not remember exactly what she’d said during their other instances of confrontations he felt the vague similarity of it all; the way she jumped to a drastic assumption about how he felt about her. He knew she didn’t want to be disliked. No one did, but he was perplexed as to why she would assume he did. He wouldn’t be here if he did, and if that was not obvious he had to wonder if it was merely her own feelings about herself fogging up her lens. Perhaps. He shook his head, “I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you, not once,” And then, venturing out onto a limb, “… You believe me, right?” He asked, looking over at her now, and he noted that something had settled on her face, whether it be contentment or something more complacent he couldn’t discern. His question was integral, at least to him; he needed her to understand that he didn’t have an ill-will towards her this time. A corner of his mouth formed a faint smile, “Well, what do you think would keep you from getting lost then?” A home. A beacon. A string. They sounded off in his head like cannons— answers to her dilemma, but he was curious to see what she said first. He wanted to listen.

                    He shook his head, his smile widening, and he almost emitted a small laugh— not at her brother but at the mention of ‘press’, “If it makes you feel better I don’t know a single person who actively reads the paper, including myself,” He admitted, truth in the fact that the printing press, at least in today’s age, was utterly irrelevant, “It’s hard to even find people who read books anymore, but, you’re aware of that,” He spoke softly, a hand having left his pocket, moving at his side. Then he listened, watching her features as she spoke of her mother, a woman obviously consumed by addiction and then her father, negligent. An insight into the Albright girls, and if this was a tame and customary glance at their parents it was no wonder they both acted in antagonistic ways. At least his father hadn’t turned to narcotics. He could’ve, surely, in his issues but he didn’t. His footsteps had slowed, and he was looking down at her, inspecting her, “… You can keep rambling if you’d like,” He offered, everything between them at this moment utterly confidential, and he exuded that sentiment as he spoke, “—You don’t have to know ‘why’ right now.” Harry assured, and he realized their interaction was something of a soundboard and a girl who perhaps just needed to talk. But hadn’t that been how they’d always engaged?

“I don’t know. I don’t really know you, I’ve realized. Beyond that you used to listen to me very well. Which I always appreciated, more than you knew,” she told him, eyes narrowing at the boy, skeptical of his statement. The people she knew oscillated between warmth and cold easily, vitriol like second nature. Her father had cut her off emotionally as soon as she put on her first pair of combat boots, drew on the walls in permanent marker. Not the angelic, perfect daughter he had hoped for. It would take them a second try to get that right with Leo. The Albright’s had always made it clear that if they could have chosen a child to lose, it wouldn’t have been James or Eleanor. It would have been Darby. The disappointment. “Sure, I believe you,” she said hollowly, trying to will it to be true. “It wasn’t just papers. It felt like I was being prodded, over and over again by needles,” she stated plainly, although she gave him the hint of a smile at his joke. “Again, I don’t know. The best psychiatrists in New York have tried to answer your question. I think the best wya I can picture it is that I’m like a kite without a line. Nothing to keep me from floating away. I’m just waiting to get caught on a tree,” she joked dryly, fingers itching towards her pocket, the cigarettes she kept there now instead of baggies of pills. One destructive habit for another. 

“Do you mind if I smoke?” She asked him suddenly, needing to steel herself if she were to keep discussing her family. Even if she didn’t trust him completely, this was better than keeping everything stuffed in. A cathartic blood letting. Normally she wouldn’t have asked, would have just taken the cigarettes out, blew smoke directly in the other person’s face. but she was treading lightly with Harry, cautiously. “Think the only time I ever saw my dad smoke was right after my brother died. He stood outside the hospital and lit one up, lke second nature. Even though mind you, I’ve heard him decry cigarettes as the devil my whole life. Think that’s the closest I’ve ever come to seeing him experience genuine emotion. I swear, a cinematic single tear rolled down his cheek. Then he was all business again, making phone calls, planning the funeral. Funny,” she stated, voice devoid of emotion, pulling a cigarette out and plopping it in between her teeth. 

He felt antsy being here, not really doing anything or saying anything of substance. Picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his pullover, he contemplated how long he would need to stay here to have fulfilled his social quota for the night. The phone in front of him on the table offered him the opportunity to call his dad, try to find some new thing to say to him that he would pay attention to. Or he could call his mother or brother to see what they were up to and find out what new standards Hugo would have to hold himself to. He stood up abruptly, catching the chair before it clattered to the floor. Grabbing the phone and putting it in his pocket where it was hidden, he started walking when she came up next to him. His brows pulled together as he opened his mouth to question her. At her words, he forced a smile onto his face, throwing an arm over her shoulder and pulling her close into the side. “Why don’t you go find someone else to hit on. Someone single. Or do you like flirting with girls with boyfriends so you can pretend that’s the reason they rejected you?” Perhaps he had taken it a bit too far, but it was a rather uncomfortable situation and he’d rather it be completely crushed now. After the man left, with a few muttered curse words on his way out, Hugo stepped away from Darby. “If you did marry him, I’m sure you could have gotten a lot of money out of him.” It was an attempt at a joke to ease whatever tension he felt, but it fell flat.

she is sat, stiffly, at a table in alderidge. her head has been stuffed inside of a physics textbook for at least thirty minutes now, only just interrupted by the steps of someone coming closer to her. that’s the thing about libraries, every sound is amplified. selene likes this; she likes the silence, but also the way every little movement is important, emphasized by the quiet. she lifts her head and sees darby there, standing above where she sits snug at a small table in a corner. selene shifts in her seat, pulls out the chair next to her and beckons the other girl to sit down. when she’s done, she contracts herself back into something resembling a ball of yarn on the seat, her entire body engulfed in a sweater that is about 4 sizes too big for her. “fancy seeing you here. have fun at the halloween party?” @darbyalbright​

Tweed blazer slung over a bralette, Darby had gotten a raised eyebrow from the librarian checking student ID’s at the entrance as she buttoned the center button. She had gone to the library with the intent of catching up on work, but, easily distracted, she headed towards Selene, slight nod of her head in greeting. She rubbed at the turquoise eyeliner under her lids, smudging the blue slightly. “Finally recovered from my hangover. Although I hear you got stuck in some sort of trap door?” She questioned, looking at the girl quizzically. “Hear Jade and Will did too. You guys should have just left her down there. Been like sorry, goodbye!” She joked, her distaste for the Vassar girl dripping off her airy, breezy tone. Settling into the offered chair, Darby sat criss-crossed, leaning her elbows on her calves and putting her head in her hands. “Speaking of Will, how’s my favorite little Italian? Miss that weirdo. I want to boop him on the nose.”