Beyond The Void || doctor who

Chapter Nine: The Doctor, The Party, and The Attic

One thing was for sure: Elaine's comparison about teenagers and wild dogs was quite accurate. As Jess followed her friend's loud footsteps throughout the confusion, she could hear – and feel – the intense music overpowering all of the shouts and chants and other nonsense teenagers usually got around to at parties.

Plastic, red cups littered the mansion. Small items of clothing were strewn over furniture. Some guy in his underwear was trying – and failing – to climb the twelve-foot-tall Christmas tree decorated ornately in the center of the main lounge. It was as if someone reset their minds to zero, and the only instincts they had were destruction and idiocy.

"So," Jess said, her forearms crossing at her rib cage, "this is what your parties look like."

Elaine's steely eyes dazzled in sarcastic delight. "Isn't it just beautiful?"

Jess couldn't stop the small laugh that burst through the deafening noise. "Totally, yeah."

She tucked a stray piece of hair behind Jess's ear. "Do you want anything? Beer? Champagne? A juice box?"

"Would the juice be alcoholic?"

"I'm afraid so."

Jess smiled and shook her head. "Nah, I'm good. I think I'm gonna go find out where the Doctor's been hiding ..." her voice trailed off as she carefully stepped away, the pack of juniors making an infinite maze around her.

It didn't take long to find him sitting alone in an abandoned part of the house. As Jess removed the large poster of a famous boy from a British-pop band, the small, square door brought back memories of her first visit to Elaine's place – without the teenagers and the loud music, that is. She turned the knob delicately, almost sure she wouldn't find the Doctor in there, but, of course, she was wrong.

As she crawled through the short hall and up the crowded stairs, she found it intriguing that he stood out more than anyone she'd ever known. His tweed jacket pooled behind him, his red suspenders vibrant in a room full of dull color. He was like a sign that blinked fluorescent lights and read "Look at me! I'm worthy of attention!"

"Hey," she said, fixing the hem of her dress as she sat next to the Doctor, her head bowed in an attempt not to hit it on the ceiling.

"Hey," he repeated, fiddling with his sonic screwdriver. She realized how out of place this was for him. From the wild party, to the dusty – and secret, although nothing's very secret around the Doctor – attic, to the alcohol placed in every liquid.

"Did you dance?" she asked in an attempt to make conversation. Being a full-time fangirl whose only needs were a laptop, wifi, and fast-food, she never really was the person to go to in terms of small talk.

"Nah, I didn't – oh!" His eyes finally met hers, and he struggled to get up – bumping his head in the process. "Wow – your face is ... different. But a good way different!"

Jess could feel the blood rush to her cheeks as the Doctor nervously wrung his hands.

"Yeah, um, thanks – I think."

She could automatically feel the regret bubbling up in her chest. She hated make-up. She never wore it, and she didn't really ever want to. Although she never judged anyone who did wear it, her personal belief was that make-up was a lie. That people painted their faces everyday so that they could feel more accepted in a strict community full of liars and thieves who only wanted money and others' pride. That this world she lived in was so corrupt – so broken – that people had to wear a different face in order to go outside.

And the fact that she felt more acceptable with it on made her want to throw up.

Jess only looked up when her neck began to ache.