1.1 | constellations of you and me ✓

06 | horologium

IT'S TOO LOUD. Chase's hips sway as she dances freely to Elton John and Pink Floyd, fingers tightening around her half-broken plastic pink microphone (Eloise assumes it's from the dollar store, like a majority of the useless items laying around in their apartment). The girl's dark hair sways behind her shoulders like a thick curtain of solid ink as Eloise leans back against her spot on the couch; Parker rests her head on the other end of the sofa, mouth curled in a soft smile.

She's missed this. Missed spending time with her friends. After the incident at Adrian's private apartment (not the one he shares with Jonah), she's been sensitive and flighty. Her father hasn't called her at all, though, so at least some things were starting to go her way.

Chinese containers litter the coffee table and their fridge is stocked with overly-expensive dark chocolate ice cream (with oreos to compliment).

Girls night.

"—we're just two lost souls, swimming in a fish bowl."

Eloise rolls her eyes wryly, gaze sparkling as Chase adds dance moves from the 1980s, throwing her arms back and striking odd poses that, on anyone else, would've sent them straight to the hospital. Parker joins her a minute later, slim body languid and loose and lustrous, and they move to the beat of Pink Floyd together. Last night, Chase had woken up screaming a certain name that sounded awfully familiar, but all three girls ended up sleeping in the same bed.

Parker saunters over to Eloise and grins her dazzling smile. "C'mon, El. Please?"

Eloise chokes out a half-laugh before she's suddenly pulled roughly on her arm, eyes widening in shock before she's dragged in front of their television. Chase switches the music from Floyd to Rihanna, determinedly passing the microphone to the Korean girl. There's a beat of awkward silence as Eloise clears her throat, oddly nervous and wildly chaotic at this impromptu dance recital. She's clad in baggy sweatpants and her hair is slightly oily, but she's happy. Happier, at least. The frenzied cacophony in her head starts to die out, until all she can hear is her quiet laugh and all she can taste is molten chocolate on the tip of her tongue.

She sings horribly off-pitch into the plastic mic, and they all start laughing in trembling fits, heart light and stomachs full.

The anchor dragging her down lifts just a bit—not enough for her soul to breathe, but enough to lean back against the soft chest of darkness. Sometimes she just needs to let go.

***

"So," Parker drawls slowly with raised eyebrows, "you didn't go for it?"

Eloise laughs. "Oh, God—are you sure you know Chase?"

The younger girl across from them sputters and throws her hands over her head dramatically. "I hate you, El," she cries out, face falling in Eloise's lap.

Playing with Chase's dark locks on her legs, she begins to braid it absentmindedly. "I shouldn't have left the party without you, though," she admits, tone soft and regretful. "I'm sorry."

Chase sits up violently fast and parts her full lips. "You—you're sorry? El, I left you! Mierda, I was going crazy because I didn't know where you were."

"It's no one's fault, dumbasses," Parker replies dryly. "At a party like that, it's impossible to keep track of your friends. But lesson learned: we always use the buddy system." A pause, and then a tender glance at Eloise. "How are you doing?"

She twists her hands in her lap nervously and closes her eyes for a slight moment. Jonah had stuck true to his word and was successful in getting Jayden Bradshaw written up for sexual assault and underage alcohol consumption, but the most uncomfortable thing to come after was the stares.