@prolonglaughter sent: their parties were tasteful, if a little loud.
‘tasteful’ isn’t a word elena is sure could be used to accurately describe the rager going on inside those doors, but luna’s sincerity is like honey oozing down her throat, leaving the laugh that follows smooth and filled with a surprising warmth.
it’s an impressive feat - most of elena’s laughs are rather hollow these days, as much effort as she puts into warming up her vocal cords before she leaves her room for the day, practicing for perfect pitch (the girl who lost her parents has only one line, with just a few variations: i’m fine, thank you, she tells the mirror before turns toward the door, lingering for a moment more to steel herself for a day of convincing the world she means it). they never quite reach her eyes, and the only relief elena can find is that no one ever seems to notice.
this one does, however, and she’s not quite sure how to handle that; it should be a victory, surely, but it frightens her to think what comes after victory, that it might be an isolated event. it’s that thought that prompts another sip of her beer, makes it almost tempting to head back inside - old elena would have loved it in there, soaked up all of the attention and bluster and noise, and maybe it would come back to her like muscle memory, like riding a bike, like driving a car.
driving a car. she laughs again at the sick irony of that, but the bitterness has crept again, roughened up what the other girl’s earnestness had gentled to butter.
it doesn’t sit right in her throat, and elena’s fingers slide down over her thighs and around her legs after sitting her beer beside her as if to hold herself together, mold all of these pieces of her that no longer have a place into some kind of recognizable shape - old elena and new, sad elena that doesn’t have the energy to pretend to be old elena anymore. she doesn’t know how effective it is, but she does know she doesn’t want to go back inside, that she’d rather luna’s genuineness soften something in her again. "tasteful, huh?” elena asks with her own sincere warmth, finding the courage to continue, “hey, luna? do you mind if i sit out here with you?”
