CATACLYSMIC

indie oc, written by nona. semi-private & selective.

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                         ❛   R O R Y​ ——

                    ezra knew a guy, he’d said as an early promise of the night; a precursor to something extraordinary bound to happen. he knew a guy who was twenty-two and would buy them booze ( not that there wouldn’t be enough floating around for them to mooch off of, & stevie already had a proven ability to get her and ezra free beers by kissing the guy who held them ) ( it’d happened ONCE, however, right before ezra decided he’d rather be sober than watch his girlfriend do that ). seeing as her own boyfriend had yet to turn twenty-one, and his chances of being carded were often at the flip of a coin, it was a good idea for someone else to do it, on nights they simply didn’t feel like trying. tonight was one of those nights.

                    …unfortunately for her. because other men just COULD NOT be trusted. not when it came to stephanie rose’s needs & wants. for there she was, having asked for a bottle of red, not specifying where to get it or the amount of body she’d like – and they hadn’t delivered. she felt pathetic, standing there with JUG WINE ( a fucking jug of wine? why the fuck was that even a thing? ), a crazy straw sticking out of it. she’d hoped, at the very least, for something cheap that tasted strained through a coffee filter & left open overnight. what she got tasted – admittedly – sweet and significantly better than she expected, yet stephanie couldn’t hide her own distaste as she sipped slowly, watching the thin crimson liquid travel up through the loops and swirls of the straw. a little something fun for you, they’d said, before the two men ran off to say hi to some people and hopefully talk to the band before they went on.

                    it was almost dangerous, drinking something that tasted so sweet. subconsciously, she supposed, it was why she almost preferred harsher flavors – amber spirits that made you cough, that were to be tossed back quickly before they settled in your mouth. they were QUICK and to the point. they got the job done with the least amount of fuss – EFFICIENT. drinks like margaritas or martinis ( or sweet wines ) were too fun. they brought you back in for more, and when you can’t taste the alcohol, you forget you’re consuming it. & so she sipped absently.

                    it was then that her eyes began to wander. there was only so much for stevie to do as she waited in line for the bathroom – something people seemed to linger in, seeing as it was unisex, and she was sure she’d wind up having to piss in a sink. it wouldn’t surprise her, certainly. & considering she’d never been great with small talk, she hadn’t bothered to try with any strangers. whether or not she needed more friends. that was a subjective opinion, anyway. so when someone stood behind her, the line condensed and forcing bodies close to each other as the small venue filled, she paid no mind. the overhead lighting, transitioning from a purple glow in certain areas to green or red bulbs in others, dim enough to bathe the area with a darkness just bright enough to see in, yet low enough to induce a certain aura of intimacy between individuals, held her attention. there wasn’t live music yet; just something playing over the speakers that she vaguely recognized. some 90′s american band, she assumed, judging by the insistent guitar and drum riffs.

                    just as she craned her neck to count how many people were ahead of her ( if it was over eight, she’d just go do her business outside ), the girl behind her spoke. it took a moment for stevie to realize she was addressing her. she had to turn to shake her head and lean in.

                 ❛     PARDON?— i didn’t quite catch that, sorry.

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                          ❛    E Z R A​ ------

                  ❛     fine, fine— just ONE more. i mean it this time.

                     of course, however, that was almost exactly what she’d said about her last drink. and the one before that, and the one before that, & she was now, somehow, on her fourth bottle of mike’s hard lemonade. her dour expression didn’t last long, much like the promises she’d made herself, as she finally gave way to a playful smile – they both knew it wasn’t true. because the sooner they stopped drinking meant the sooner the night would be over, and the sooner they’d be back in the hotel: sharing a bed, yet sharing the room with her sister. the thought of how many she’d consumed so far brought her palms to her stomach, beneath her t-shirt to touch bare skin, the heels of her hands pressing into her hipbones. she freed one to reach for the opened bottle ezra now offered, breath letting out.

                    everything felt BLOATED: the sky, the very stars in it, the w a v e s she could hear but not see, the air against her skin. she tilted the bottle back for a long swig; eyes closed and the world swayed with her. though stevie wasn’t sure just how inebriated she was right then, seeing as she’d yet to stand up since they’d climbed up onto the lifeguard tower, she felt acutely aware of every passing second & sensation – each moment distended, allowing her to perceive them all. she felt the stars, not far away and separated by vast open space, but right there in her mouth, right there in the lifeguard tower, metal slick with condensation. the night felt damp against her skin, air t h i c k with humidity and clinging to her; briny against her lips and within her hair, between her bare toes. the ocean, black and endless, white foam illuminated by moonlight, undulating out like it wanted to touch her.

                     she wanted to be touched. her gaze turned to ezra, watching him watching her, then watching him watching the ocean. a part of her wanted to crawl over to him, away from her spot leaning against the railing ( which had begun to dig into her back, but… whatever ), and a part of her didn’t want to move – didn’t want to disturb the PRISTINE, unaffected silence. to move would be to break it all, like thin glass settled over the environment. stevie stared at him, wishing, for a moment, that she’d brought something to paint with. she wanted to capture how perfect he was right then: all disheveled, hair mussed by the sea breeze, the skin of his throat taut as he swallowed the last of his drink, lips swollen and red from her own. perfect and pristine and hers, hers, hers.

                     her legs uncrossed to stretch out to him, though he was too far to reach— which, unfortunately enough, prompted stevie to speak at last. her laugh happened first, voice following after and entangling in its residual tone.

                  ❛     PAY ATTENTION TO ME. whenever you ignore me, i stop existing, y’know. i need you to look at me so i feel real.

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                         ❛   F E L I X   ——

                    she’d always been in the chronic habit of neglecting to check the weather. it was a practice that, more often than not, resulted in a certain lack of preparedness when it came to her attire – on sunny days, she’d be stuck in a sweater because it was the l o o k she’d settled on; on rainy days she’d be underdressed, wearing heels with little to no traction on the slick pavements, and holding a feeble hand over her head as if that did anything at all to protect her hair. ergo, it was ironic, really, that on a day she now planned to spend inside, she’d caught the forecast on television. it was with quiet reverence that she did, coffee mug held close against her lower lip & hand briefly forgetting the eyeliner she’d put on thirty minutes before, as it reached up to rub a remnant of sleep from her eye, smudging the careful lines a bit. albeit, total coherency was futile and lacking before she’d properly awakened.

                    just as the reporter spoke of the rain, stevie vaguely registered the dull patter of it on the windows, lulling and consistent. a quick glance around told her that she should’ve tidied up a bit more than she had: after finally doing the dishes the night before, she’d put a few more mugs and various wineglasses in the sink, a dirty plate from her bedroom, and moved the previous night’s work from the dining table to her bed before giving up altogether. there’d been enough to set up as it was, what with felix coming over… any minute now.

                    it wasn’t that they were late – it was likely just that stephanie had gotten up too early, and now time passed interminably. one cup of coffee, then two, then she made more because that’d been the last of what was left that morning. the curtains had been thrown open, and she’d paced round the sofa; even sprawled across it, to imagine what it’d feel like to be in a subject’s position. WEIRD, was what it was— and there wasn’t even anyone in the room. scrutiny felt strange upon her body, even only imagined, and gentle observations were undoubtedly what stevie had always preferred. in a moment of sheer curiosity, she untied the knot of her robe ( rosy pink, velvet, with wide sleeves and a hem that swept the floor as she walked – elegant and outdated, and a STEAL at a thrift store in new york ) to feel the air – to truly establish what felix would be in… any minute now.

                    but then, she had to scramble, the sound of the buzzer nearly making her jump out of her skin. her robe was knotted around her waist hastily once more, mid-run to the door to buzz felix in over the intercom. or, at least, who she assumed was felix. occasionally  it’d be a stranger, just pressing numbers and hoping someone in the building was home to let them in.

                  ❛     hey, felix? you can come on up and inside. have fun on the stairs.

                    stevie hoped the smile in her voice conveyed itself, as she left the door unlocked to rush up to her room & grab an extra robe for her company, unsure if they’d want it or not.

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               ❛   J A C O B   ------

      It was late – the night inching towards two. He supposes some consider this morning, but he’s most awake during the late hours of night. It’s when he gets the most work done, when he felt capable of relaxing just the same. But the city never slept, and that was something he admired. He sat on the rooftop of his apartment complex smoking a cigarette while looking down at the city. Whenever he heard the presence of another, he looked over and smiled briefly. “Looks like this is the place to be tonight,” he joked.

                    she’d been within an inch of shying away--- a lone man on a rooftop in the dead of night didn’t exactly paint an inviting picture. even if she recognized him. though she’d forever be unable to identify all tenants within the building, for she was never one to linger in the lobby or dawdle along the stairs, they’d crossed paths a handful of occasions before. brief eye contact, the hint of a smile, before she'd avert her gaze -- uninterested as ever; her own mind set on simply going to and from her apartment. & now here he was at two in the bloody morning, smoking and attempting a joke. her hand lingered still in midair, mind flickering over the seconds that’d passed and whether it was worth it to stay up on the roof. she could always ignore him, of course. have a smoke on her own & give straightforward signs to leave her be.

                    ------then her hand dropped to the deep pocket of her robe, felt among the drape of fabric there to find she’d forgotten her own lighter. conversation was no longer an attempt on his part. it was now a must lest she go back downstairs. she opted for the former.

                 ❛     yeah, i’m here for the party. but what’s the occasion?

                    an effort to further the exchange, though her sarcastic tones often displayed a disproportionate, insufficient amount of lightheartedness -- dry humor was often her forte. as she spoke she moved toward him, pulling out her own cigarettes, the unopened plastic cool against her palm as she began packing them. the hem of her robe trailed along the floor; a swoop of e l e g a n c e added to her step, despite the potential wear & tear of velvet fabric.