Black Crescent Bay

AMC Pacer

A/N:
Howdy, slags!!!!!

Y'all gaying and slaying or do I gotta get involved???

This is a threat btw. Y'all don't wanna see what happens when my mf bisexual ass gets involved.

Hint: gay and slay shit 😌💅💅💅
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I went to class the next morning. I didn't want to sit around and wait for him to come kill me. And I figured he was less likely to murder me in broad daylight surrounded by all my classmates. At least, that's what I'd hoped.

I made it to my first class: "Denim or De-Not?" 30 minutes late, but I made it nonetheless. I was wearing a hoodie with it tied tightly around my face so I couldn't be seen, and sweatpants that were about eighteen sizes too big. I even wore loafers. I wanted nothing more than to blend in. If he was lurking around, he'd never spot me. Even if I was horrifically out-of-place among my fashion-forward classmates.

A few audibly gasped at my lack of appearance, even the professor, who then thanked me for showing up at all. I barely tuned into the debate: "Was Britney wrong for the denim-on-denim or could we finally forgive her for that wretched mistake?" I couldn't care less. Denim doesn't exactly exist in my wardrobe, even just for laughs.

It was harder to fade into the background of my next class. We were all forced to participate and Madame Karpe pulled me to the side to scold me one-on-one. The fashion-don't I pulled on our lead when I was exhausted was inexcusable and nearly cost me my place as the seamstress on our next production. I apologized and explained, but she was hearing none of it.

"I can't have our lead going out onto that stage looking like a burlesque dancer. This is a serious production, Esmarie." I knew it was serious then because she rarely admitted to knowing our first-names. I was always Ms. Kestrel.

So not only was this guy haunting my dreams, he was also ruining my chances of having a future in theater fashion. If he didn't kill me when we saw each other next, I vowed to kill him. It was the LEAST I could do to pay him back.

At even the slightest diss of his existence, my brain thought it was apt to replay the vision for me. I clenched my thighs together in annoyance. Screw him, and NOT literally. The very thought made me sick and there was nothing my brain could do to convince me to enjoy it.

Class ended just as I finished stitching the dress together appropriately this time. I doubted I'd proven myself to Madame Karpe or the lead, but at least I fixed my previous mistake.

And it wasn't like I wasn't battling exhaustion either, I was powered by nothing less than hatred in its purest form. It was like an inferno in my veins. I hated him, and I hated even more that my body was trying to convince me that I didn't.

"I'll see you all at the docks tonight, right?" Madame Karpe called out happily as we spilled out of the double doors of the black box theater. It was annoying, honestly. Acting as if she didn't just disregard my physical issue and threaten to take away my promising future. She looked at me as she said, "You'll be there with the costumes, right, Esmarie? Or should I ask someone else to bring them for me?"

I shook my head, trying to hide my rolling eyes and grumble, "No, ma'am, I'll be there."

"It's at 6:30. Don't forget. If you're not there, remind yourself what we talked about." Her eyes were narrowed. It was a thinly veiled threat.

I decided to skip my next class. Who needs math anyway? I stuffed the costumes in my bag and hid away in my car, stitching the remaining sequins into the lead's costume and getting a headstart on the male lead's hem.

It was bound to be crooked, what with how densely packed all of my supplies were in the passenger side of my sky-blue AMC Pacer. I wasn't too stressed as I'd sewn in tighter places, and it wouldn't be too hard to fix. And it would at least show that I'd made an effort to complete something. Even if it was the worst piece of fashion that theater had ever seen.

I was lost in the music banging through my headphones and was making a grand start at fucking up everything that the male lead was expected to wear when there was a light tapping. I assumed at first it was the beat of my music. Or my headphones breaking with static.

I looked up between songs when it continued, staring absently through my front windshield.

I shrugged and continued on with my half-assery. I heard it again. The light tapping. Then heavy knocking. Then I saw something black in the corner of my eye. I flinched back from the window beside me when I registered his shadow.

"What the fuck?"

Heath laughed.

He gestured for me to roll down the window, and instead, just to annoy him, I opened the door.

"You should've seen your face." He giggled, "What are you doing out here? We missed you in math. And you missed, perhaps, the most dumbest class we've ever been forced to suffer through."

I sighed, "Where's Waverly?"

He smiled and pulled me to my feet. I tossed the fabric to the passenger side. "Going to lunch with a beau she met at the party."

I scoffed, "She managed to meet someone in between you two dancing nonstop?"

"Oh, trust me, we met many men. They were all very impressed with our performance." He gave me some serious side-eye, "I'd ask you if you were, but you disappeared like a whore in the night."

"Excuse me, I did not disappear. I went home." I checked my watch, "Now if you'll excuse me, I actually have to disappear on you again. Theater is meeting at the docks. Stupid promo video for the production."

He actually gagged, "Ew, have fun."

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A/N:

Y'all ever just think about how if you were a mermaid? And you turned into a mermaid Everytime something wet touched you? You would literally never be able to get head again? Cuz saliva is like half water and half pussy ass bacteria? At least in YALLLLS mouths that's what it is.

This is a psa to brush your mf teeth. I can smell your breath from here.

Xoxo,
handmaidenofvenus
venus_in_fleurs