Eleven O'Clock Number

MUSICAL #27: FAME!

27: EVEN WHEN I WAS ON THE CUSP OF DEATH YOU DIDN'T USE WATERPROOF MASCARA

« i'm young, i'm healthy, i'm gonna live forever! »

BY THE TIME Allison arrives, Lydia's apartment is empty.

She manages to let herself in, because she has a spare key, something that Lydia's parents entrusted her with (or rather, her mom with) when they realised Lydia might need something if they were away.

Now, Allison's inching her way into the dim apartment, letting her hands curling into fists despite herself.

"Emmett?" she says, and her voice comes out a lot higher and more fragile than she intended it to be.

"In here, Allison," he calls back, and the sound of his voice, calm and steady, eases her slightly.

She follows it to the bathroom in Lydia's room, and approaches the doorway to see Lydia herself hulking over the sink and spluttering into it. Emmett is standing close, a steadying hand on her back. The image sends Allison reeling - she's never seen her best friend look so...weak.

"Lydia," she breathes.

Lydia pauses to turn around, and her face scrunches up when she catches sight of Allison standing the doorway, before turning back to the sink. "Allison," she chokes, bending down lower. Allison barely manages to suppress a wince at the retching sound that follows. "You're not..." she coughs, bringing the back of her hand up to wipe sloppily at her mouth. "You...why're y'here?"

Allison glances briefly at Emmett, who purses his lips. "She's still drunk," he explains, making a face. "Like, really drunk. She's been talking total crap for the past two hours. I wouldn't take anything she says seriously."

"Sh...shuddup, Em - Emmett," Lydia slurs, retching into the sink again. "I'm f...fine."

Allison bites her lip. "Emmett, you can go home," she says softly. "I'll be able to deal with her."

"Are you sure?" Emmett frowns. "I can -"

"It's fine," she shakes her head, before offering him a smile. "Thank you."

"No prob," he glances at Lydia, who's clearly not registering their conversation. "Just make sure she's okay. For me?"

"Of course," Allison nods, thinking that it'll be for her too. "She'll be fine."

"Okay," he gives Lydia one last look, before turning back to Allison. "I'll, uh, I'll show myself out. Promise you'll call me if you need anything?"

"I promise," she nods.

"Okay," Emmett takes a deep breath, then expels it. "Okay. I'll see you later."

Allison nods in confirmation, already turning her attention back to Lydia, who is retching anew. "Yeah."

Emmett leaves after that, and a few seconds later she hears the click of the door as he exits. Lydia gags again and Allison moves closer, trying not to look too hard at the sink as she turns on the tap in an attempt to flush it out.

"Christ, Lydia," Allison mutters as her friend lets out a heaving cough, followed by more vomiting. "What the fuck's gotten into you?"

Lydia blinks lethargically, but doesn't look up. The smell of vomit combined with the stench of white wine that's rolling off her in waves is almost too much for Allison's senses. "Wh - wha -"

"You're never drunk," Allison says, even though she has the distinct feeling that attempting to communicate with an extremely intoxicated Lydia isn't exactly going to be a fruitful endeavour. "And what's with the throwing of random parties?"