Sky Above is an asset in a collection of ways: It pays generously, considering Kaya mostly lounges about and talks clients’ ears off, Astra’s sweet and, above all, she lets Kaya take freebies home. Little sachets of dried rose and lavender sit snuggly between Kaya’s folded clothes, and there’s the perpetual smokiness of burning incense clouding her room, even with an equally perpetually open window.
Her roommates aren’t exactly sticklers for teetotalism, they know she smokes up every now and then, when the itch is dull enough to abate after a toke or two. The open window is a cordiality, the rest, a potent attempt to rid her clothes and hair of the clinginess of weed. It works– tends to, anyway. It’s all about the timing.
Kaya’s never been too good at that. Malik had taken care of those finer details in the past: Their little sis only had to parrot whatever time coach had said to attend meets, competitions, even practice, and they would be yanking her disorganised ass out the front door and into the car. Now, she struggles to find an easy enough routine to stay on top of. Particularly when her thoughts are as cloudy as November skies.
Today they’re practically in a fog. There’s no way in hell Kaya’s surviving an evening like this sober; maybe she’d been a little generous packing her blunt, and maybe she’d nodded off after the last tangy inhale. The good thing, at least, is that she’s far too stoned to entertain the panic that would otherwise throttle her jackrabbit heart, and she arrives with a languid, drowsy gait.
“Heey,” she greets her family, pink eyes fading back to white (praise the eye drops jostling about in her backpack) as she sinks, lazy smile in place, into her usual seat. “My, uh, driver was, like, so annoying. He kept saying that I had to pay, even though I’d done the thing where you pay once you book…” she trails off with a vague wave of her hand, expression utterly dismissive.
There’s a lecture on the tip of Malik’s tongue. It’s one Connor’s been on the receiving end of too many times, and Malik is fairly sure he’d be able to communicate it with only a look. It’s one that very clearly says: stop throwing your sister under the bus. It’s all they can manage to communicate before they’re interrupted by the creak of the front door.
Usually in this context Kaya’s presence would be a relief, but as she continues speaking, Malik’s eyes continue narrowing. It isn’t a surprise, really, but she’s high. While she may be meticulous about keeping the pungent, sour smell of bud away, the slow drag of her words and the slight dilation of her pupils is enough to indicate, to Malik at least, she’s swallowed down some kind of depressant.
What they don’t understand is how Kaya thinks she’s getting it passed their moms. Lori’s a nurse for God’s sake… And while she does flash a knowing glance Malik’s way, neither of them say anything. It’s become commonplace in this house, even more so given the siblings’ age. They were all adults now, older, wiser, and perfectly capable of addressing an issue and confessing truths when the situation calls for it. It’s one of the few things Malik tends to disagree with their parents about.
“Right,” Malik says succinctly, deciding not to dwell much more than that.
Then they’re on their feet. “Well, think we just gotta heat the food up a lil’ bit. I’ll pop it in the oven. You guys want anything to drink?” ( @scggy )
jealousy settles in at the idea of kaya coming to dinner stoned when soggy was far too nervous to take a hit in his car beforehand. it’s nuzzling between furrowed brows but the feeling isn’t enough to wipe away his pure amusement at the fact. after his eyes scan the room in attempt to read if anyone else had picked up on her intoxication, his face positions into one that says do you have more without, hopefully, making it obvious to his mothers. ( or malik, for that matter. ) who was undoubtedly the golden child, a fact that connor would be covetous about if he wasn’t equally aware that, with all the stress he put on the family, their moms needed a personality like malik’s.
and it showed. especially when they hop out of their seat to set up dinner properly while soggy had been trying to telepathically ask kaya where she got the bud from. “ i’m good with just water. ” is his first response, though quickly followed by “ actually, let me help. ” while he’s certain they were capable of handling re-heating the food on their own, it beats any small talk that could come up, and hopefully forgives the fact that he was late.
it was peculiar to think there was a time where the five of them could enjoy dinner like a real family and less like strangers. when the laughs outweighed the bickering, they were younger then. naivety was prominent. he scoots his chair back, the sound scraping against their floors as he stands on his feet. “ water, kay ? ” because, you know, cottonmouth.
