rager teenager! – piper & dante
Sept 2, 2021 16:17:10 GMT -5
Post by fox on Sept 2, 2021 16:17:10 GMT -5
"There's Bastian," Pearl says, clinging onto my arm in excitement and maybe a few months ago I would've had some interest in Helen reincarnate –
A hundred eyes follow him across the room, and he's just infernally beautiful – like the kind that could start whole wars between seas and mountains and gods. But ya girl is trying to bang before she dies a virgin, and there's no time for chewing on sweet, puffy daydreams, or enacting a ten year scheme to get a Fray to date me. I'm coming up with an action plan. Tonight.
The music at this party bounces around like bubblegum, stretching and pulling in my arteries until I feel like it’s about to burst in my brain, oozing pink. On my fourth drink now, I’m pure energy.
"Pearl," I turn to her, "Tonight, I’m going to have sex."
I got new stationary, so I've been working on my to-death spreadsheet. Like, I'm still unsure when to actually kick the can though? When I turn eighteen? Or hold out until twenty-five? It honestly seems like it all goes down from there based on what I’ve seen in my sixteen years of fieldwork.
Dying according to life is messy, tragic, and unfun, and I'm over that.
I'm going to be dying according to me.
Like when I was ten, Clementine threw me a surprise birthday party – except, it's kind of fucking brutal as a kid to think all your friends didn't care about you? Plus, I'd been manifesting my double digits since the moment I'd turned nine and she really didn't capture the space-plus-unicorns theme I wanted. Then, in the chaos of birthday paraphernalia and rituals, I gave Jasper Calloway a bloody nose when he popped up in my face.
I hate surprises, death included.
It must be the Virgo in me.
Anyways, it'd be a total loser move to have not even, at the very least, kissed someone before I died. I want to hear the swelling orchestral movements, I want to see my life in slow motion, I want to feel like my whole existence has become more exquisite, more magnificent, more meaningful because of it.
My world, but in glitter.
"Dante. For that to happen, you have to actually talk to someone?" Pearl's implying that I'm some kind of misanthrope that's been hibernating in her chrysalis for the past few months yet failed to emerge any prettier than bug goop – which is totally true, but this attack is still completely uncalled for.
Swiping her drink out of her hands, the atmosphere already feels like soft fuzz on my skin. I drink. It tastes like a thunderclap in electric blue, struck by lightning now burning through me.
Okay, okay – looking around the party, everyone's grouped up, wearing the impenetrable social armour of numbers, but there's one girl standing alone near the punch bowl. Not someone in my class, but I've seen her around the jungle of hallways. Her name is…? Piper? Oh yea, Piper-something, and she somehow got cursed by the shaman of rumours and fell off the high school food chain but I don't even know what happened.
Whatever, she's pretty so who even cares!
"Help me look hot," and I'm already unbuttoning the collar of my shirt for some damn clavicle action, because that's all I’ve fucking got. Pearl lends me her lip gloss, it tastes like strawberries, and here. I. Fucking. Go.
It feels like air is rippling in the room. When I walk towards Piper, I'm holding my breath, and in my first inhale to say something, the feathers in my stomach float and dive, fluttering all around me. I'm standing right in front of her, holy shit, say something.
"Hi," what am I doing, "I'm Dantalion," who am I, "Do you want to hook up?" Oh my god.
A hundred eyes follow him across the room, and he's just infernally beautiful – like the kind that could start whole wars between seas and mountains and gods. But ya girl is trying to bang before she dies a virgin, and there's no time for chewing on sweet, puffy daydreams, or enacting a ten year scheme to get a Fray to date me. I'm coming up with an action plan. Tonight.
The music at this party bounces around like bubblegum, stretching and pulling in my arteries until I feel like it’s about to burst in my brain, oozing pink. On my fourth drink now, I’m pure energy.
"Pearl," I turn to her, "Tonight, I’m going to have sex."
I got new stationary, so I've been working on my to-death spreadsheet. Like, I'm still unsure when to actually kick the can though? When I turn eighteen? Or hold out until twenty-five? It honestly seems like it all goes down from there based on what I’ve seen in my sixteen years of fieldwork.
Dying according to life is messy, tragic, and unfun, and I'm over that.
I'm going to be dying according to me.
Like when I was ten, Clementine threw me a surprise birthday party – except, it's kind of fucking brutal as a kid to think all your friends didn't care about you? Plus, I'd been manifesting my double digits since the moment I'd turned nine and she really didn't capture the space-plus-unicorns theme I wanted. Then, in the chaos of birthday paraphernalia and rituals, I gave Jasper Calloway a bloody nose when he popped up in my face.
I hate surprises, death included.
It must be the Virgo in me.
Anyways, it'd be a total loser move to have not even, at the very least, kissed someone before I died. I want to hear the swelling orchestral movements, I want to see my life in slow motion, I want to feel like my whole existence has become more exquisite, more magnificent, more meaningful because of it.
My world, but in glitter.
"Dante. For that to happen, you have to actually talk to someone?" Pearl's implying that I'm some kind of misanthrope that's been hibernating in her chrysalis for the past few months yet failed to emerge any prettier than bug goop – which is totally true, but this attack is still completely uncalled for.
Swiping her drink out of her hands, the atmosphere already feels like soft fuzz on my skin. I drink. It tastes like a thunderclap in electric blue, struck by lightning now burning through me.
Okay, okay – looking around the party, everyone's grouped up, wearing the impenetrable social armour of numbers, but there's one girl standing alone near the punch bowl. Not someone in my class, but I've seen her around the jungle of hallways. Her name is…? Piper? Oh yea, Piper-something, and she somehow got cursed by the shaman of rumours and fell off the high school food chain but I don't even know what happened.
Whatever, she's pretty so who even cares!
"Help me look hot," and I'm already unbuttoning the collar of my shirt for some damn clavicle action, because that's all I’ve fucking got. Pearl lends me her lip gloss, it tastes like strawberries, and here. I. Fucking. Go.
It feels like air is rippling in the room. When I walk towards Piper, I'm holding my breath, and in my first inhale to say something, the feathers in my stomach float and dive, fluttering all around me. I'm standing right in front of her, holy shit, say something.
"Hi," what am I doing, "I'm Dantalion," who am I, "Do you want to hook up?" Oh my god.
