#oliviajcrvis

[lolacarrington]

₩ - Abi

@abigcilx

₩ our muses are caught in a thunder storm together

There were hardly any times when Lola desired to reintroduce alcohol back into her system. After all, her mind was far more occupied nowadays than it used to be. There was little incentive to feel the alcohol coarse through her bloodstream, numbing her feelings entirely and cause her to lose all inhibitions. Moreover, the fact that she was now carrying child meant that such desire to reach for the liquid was far less than it ever used to be. Yet, now, the fact that both Lola and Abi were sat apart at a reasonable distance in Julian’s apartment, closed off by the sound of thunderous and extreme weather was reason enough. She remained perched upon the far end of his table, still wearing his shirt from before he left, attempting to reconnect her phone’s signal failure but to no avail. She didn’t dare glance over at Abigail, for the fear of lashing out was far too great, or even saying something irredeemable. 

“Where’s Julian?” Abigail’s voice broke through the silence that Lola had so finely managed to temper. Lola finally lifted her head from her phone screen, taking a few seconds to ensure that she didn’t deliver an insult immediately.

How she longed for that bitter and burning taste in that very fleeting moment.

“He’s stuck the station.” Lola replied after a few seconds, knowing desperately that she’d have to keep herself busy or else she’d drive herself mad. There was a sudden drive to have Julian right there in that room to defuse the lingering and ongoing tension — plus, she couldn’t entirely help but to worry about him. The Carrington pushed herself off the table, heading into his kitchen and retrieving an apple. She took a firm bite of the fruit, the tension palpable, almost deafening. The apartment was surrounded by the sounds of rain continuously hitting against the window, no voices, no movement. It was until Abigail took the plunge once more, clearing her throat.

“I think we should speak.” Abi suggested, but Lola rolled her eyes far too quickly for any form of discourse to even begin.

“I would rather get hit by the C train.” After all, she was the type to hold a firm grudge. She returned to her seat, hands back to her phone, attempting to refresh any sort of apps or continuously attempt to make her messages send. “Let’s just not speak until the storm clears up and Julian comes home, okay?”