Categories > Original > Drama > Pocket Change
had a drowning dream
0 reviewsJoss finds that alcohol is not the reprieve she so desperately seeks.
0Unrated
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Pocket Change
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[02: /had a drowning dream/]
Elysia has disappeared into the washroom, leaving Joss and Edson to watch while Fiorel heals Chale. Fiorel takes his left hand in hers, straddling his waist for a better vantage point. It is the salt in Joss' never healing wound.
Fiorel grins down at Chale, running her hands over his newly-healed chest; the wound Joss had actually been able to treat healed perfectly, regardless of her amateur first aid. She hates not being able to do anything for Chale. She hates having to watch as he fawns over Fiorel. She hates /him/.
She is wearing his shirt and holding a bottle of one of his beloved Smirnoffs. It burns down her throat and makes her feel woozy.
She doesn't notice.
Takeo emerges from the washroom. He raises a hand to rake back his locks as he walks; they fall into their usual place. Fiorel and Chale have since risen and are also moving toward the bar. Takeo takes the stool on Joss' left; Chale sits on her right. Fiorel gracefully places herself beside Chale.
"Molson."
"Smirnoff."
"Scotch on the rocks."
Edson laughs, their orders in front of them in a flash.
"Like you needed to ask?"
Takeo flicks the top off of his bottle and takes a swig. He drapes his arm over Joss' shoulders, raising an elegant brow at her.
"Vodka, Jay?"
She shrugs. "Well, y'know..."
He smirks at her, drop dead gorgeous, and takes another gulp. "Sure you can hold it?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she can hear Fiorel giggle, melodious and pretty and irritating.
"No. Not at all." She takes a bigger gulp, flinching as the liquid ravages her throat. "Does it matter?"
"Hn." He splays his fingers against her neck and jawline; they are artist's fingers, long and adept. "I would suppose not. You're in good company- so to speak."
She can hear Chale drumming his fingers on the counter. Fiorel and Edson share a joke. Takeo's fingers dance along the side of her face, flitting about her cheek's edge. He is entirely too close, but never close enough.
The lines on the counter are blurring.
He's watching him caress Joss, just a step below fondling the girl. The two are both drinking, but only one of them is drunk.
Joss is losing her inhibitions and Takeo fucking knows it.
Chale doesn't know what to do. He tightens hi grip on the neck of his bottle and stares idly at the sink, ignoring the conversation to his right. All he's aware of is how Takeo-fucking-Lyon is taking advantage of Joss. He never needed to force himself on anyone, he just needed the aid of alcohol to garner an invitation.
Takeo leans forward to murmur into Joss' ear; Fiorel brushes her fingers against Chale's hand.
"Hey," she prods, "what's up?"
He shrugs at her, takes a sip of his Smirnoff.
"Well, I went shopping today and I wanted to show you what I bought."
She's giving him a coy smile. In his peripheral vision, he can see Edson busy himself with some dirty glasses.
"Come on, Chale." Fiorel's fingers dust his exposed wrist. "Let's have some /fun/."
To his left, Joss and Takeo begin to leave.
"You're becoming quite inebriated, Jay."
"Your mom is quite ine-- ine--!" She hiccups, fisting his shirt to steady herself. "Whoa."
"Whoa, indeed."
His hand presses gently against the small of her back, urging her up the stairs and to her room. Clumsily, she manages to push the door open and stumble inside. Takeo follows, albeit more elegantly, and shuts the door behind him. He sits her down onto the bed and helps her take her shoes off. When his fingers brush her ankle, she shivers.
"Why did you drink so much?"
She holds her hands face up, /I don't know/, and shrugs. "Keep up with you?"
Takeo looks up at her and chuckles. His eyes and his laugh and his uncanny physical resemblance to an adonis make her mind think crazy thoughts- crazy, wanton, skin-on-skin and hands and lips. She's unaware that she has given voice to these thoughts until Takeo begins to laugh.
"My, Jay, that was a little... /tame/."
She stares at him, stunned, and then bursts out laughing. Takeo's lips quirk. She laughs so hard that she begins to cry. He sits beside her and stays for the whole time.
When she's calmed, he stands.
"Get some sleep. You're going to have a fucker of a headache in the morning."
She grabs two of his fingers, unable to catch the whole hand.
"Please don't go."
His face is hard to read. She wishes she knew him better.
She wishes he would stay.
Pocket Change
-------
[02: /had a drowning dream/]
Elysia has disappeared into the washroom, leaving Joss and Edson to watch while Fiorel heals Chale. Fiorel takes his left hand in hers, straddling his waist for a better vantage point. It is the salt in Joss' never healing wound.
Fiorel grins down at Chale, running her hands over his newly-healed chest; the wound Joss had actually been able to treat healed perfectly, regardless of her amateur first aid. She hates not being able to do anything for Chale. She hates having to watch as he fawns over Fiorel. She hates /him/.
She is wearing his shirt and holding a bottle of one of his beloved Smirnoffs. It burns down her throat and makes her feel woozy.
She doesn't notice.
Takeo emerges from the washroom. He raises a hand to rake back his locks as he walks; they fall into their usual place. Fiorel and Chale have since risen and are also moving toward the bar. Takeo takes the stool on Joss' left; Chale sits on her right. Fiorel gracefully places herself beside Chale.
"Molson."
"Smirnoff."
"Scotch on the rocks."
Edson laughs, their orders in front of them in a flash.
"Like you needed to ask?"
Takeo flicks the top off of his bottle and takes a swig. He drapes his arm over Joss' shoulders, raising an elegant brow at her.
"Vodka, Jay?"
She shrugs. "Well, y'know..."
He smirks at her, drop dead gorgeous, and takes another gulp. "Sure you can hold it?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she can hear Fiorel giggle, melodious and pretty and irritating.
"No. Not at all." She takes a bigger gulp, flinching as the liquid ravages her throat. "Does it matter?"
"Hn." He splays his fingers against her neck and jawline; they are artist's fingers, long and adept. "I would suppose not. You're in good company- so to speak."
She can hear Chale drumming his fingers on the counter. Fiorel and Edson share a joke. Takeo's fingers dance along the side of her face, flitting about her cheek's edge. He is entirely too close, but never close enough.
The lines on the counter are blurring.
He's watching him caress Joss, just a step below fondling the girl. The two are both drinking, but only one of them is drunk.
Joss is losing her inhibitions and Takeo fucking knows it.
Chale doesn't know what to do. He tightens hi grip on the neck of his bottle and stares idly at the sink, ignoring the conversation to his right. All he's aware of is how Takeo-fucking-Lyon is taking advantage of Joss. He never needed to force himself on anyone, he just needed the aid of alcohol to garner an invitation.
Takeo leans forward to murmur into Joss' ear; Fiorel brushes her fingers against Chale's hand.
"Hey," she prods, "what's up?"
He shrugs at her, takes a sip of his Smirnoff.
"Well, I went shopping today and I wanted to show you what I bought."
She's giving him a coy smile. In his peripheral vision, he can see Edson busy himself with some dirty glasses.
"Come on, Chale." Fiorel's fingers dust his exposed wrist. "Let's have some /fun/."
To his left, Joss and Takeo begin to leave.
"You're becoming quite inebriated, Jay."
"Your mom is quite ine-- ine--!" She hiccups, fisting his shirt to steady herself. "Whoa."
"Whoa, indeed."
His hand presses gently against the small of her back, urging her up the stairs and to her room. Clumsily, she manages to push the door open and stumble inside. Takeo follows, albeit more elegantly, and shuts the door behind him. He sits her down onto the bed and helps her take her shoes off. When his fingers brush her ankle, she shivers.
"Why did you drink so much?"
She holds her hands face up, /I don't know/, and shrugs. "Keep up with you?"
Takeo looks up at her and chuckles. His eyes and his laugh and his uncanny physical resemblance to an adonis make her mind think crazy thoughts- crazy, wanton, skin-on-skin and hands and lips. She's unaware that she has given voice to these thoughts until Takeo begins to laugh.
"My, Jay, that was a little... /tame/."
She stares at him, stunned, and then bursts out laughing. Takeo's lips quirk. She laughs so hard that she begins to cry. He sits beside her and stays for the whole time.
When she's calmed, he stands.
"Get some sleep. You're going to have a fucker of a headache in the morning."
She grabs two of his fingers, unable to catch the whole hand.
"Please don't go."
His face is hard to read. She wishes she knew him better.
She wishes he would stay.
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